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Chapter Text

It was almost funny in retrospect. For all the pain and misery that he had endured under the burning heat of those suns for the past years, this one moment slipped effortlessly past his defences. More akin to a single drop of water trailing through his very soul than the harsh cuts of sand that whipped into a frenzy around him. 

Between one moment and the next Obi-Wan Kenobi, who still struggled to think of himself as Ben, found himself pulled gently from a light meditation beneath the twin suns into a world of inky blackness. 

Despite the simple fact he was no longer where he’d quite reasonably expected to be, Obi-Wan did not feel the usual rush of anxiety and adrenaline that heralded even the slightest deviation from the routine he’d curated for himself over the years. It was with an unnatural tranquillity that Obi-Wan finally opened his eyes to look into the shadowy depths of his new location. 

“Oh,” he said. His voice also came out smoother than he expected. It took a second to realise that what he was missing was the newfound scratch that had developed from the desert. Tatooine was not particularly amenable to the upkeep of a healthy body as he’d noted quite quickly. 

“Hello there,” he said. 

“Hello there indeed,” the Daughter replied. It was hard not to look at her, and not only because she did in fact supply the only source of light in this darkened void he found himself in. Her impossibly soft skin and gently flowing hair that disobeyed all kinds of laws of reality emitted the same gentle glow he remembered from neigh on a decade earlier.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Obi-Wan ventured carefully, once it was clear she was waiting for him, “But I seem to recall you died.”

She smiled. “An astute observation.”

Obi-Wan waited now, hoping for some further explanation. She shifted ever so slightly. Her eyes never leaving him though, as if she were still in the process of measuring him up. Though for what he couldn’t tell. 

“Thank you,” he ventured. By all rights Obi-Wan thought that he should be freaking out. Just a little. Or maybe a whole lot. Either one would work, but he found himself still eerily at peace. Admittedly, he’d gotten quite used to rolling with the punches more often than not - a galactic war and a lifetime of Force nonsense would do that for you - but for now it simply seemed he couldn’t dredge up the energy to splutter or suffer. Not here. Not in her presence. 

The Daughter’s smile tightened, a hint of sadness clouding her perfect features. 

“I have brought you here,” she said, her hand sweeping through the darkness with ease.

“Yes, I assumed as much,” he agreed rather amiably. Though his attention was quickly grabbed by the near imperceptible hint of lights erupting quietly around him. As if summoned by her movement thousands of miniscule pinpricks of light emerged from the darkness. Obi-Wan had spent countless hours of his life looking out of starship windows glimpsing the vastness of the galaxy around him which now seemed to be brought back to him all at once under the Daughter’s heavy gaze.

“Might I ask why?” 

Why me. Why here. Why now. 

Each of those questions and more were packed into his words and he had no doubt she understood exactly what he was asking, even if he himself hardly could. Considering his recent occupation in the meat packaging plant out in the Dune Sea, he felt rather qualified to say he definitely wasn’t getting paid enough to understand what was happening around him now. This was a scale of Force intervention he couldn’t remember in his lifetime. The first inkling of discomfort entered his mind now, because while he stood there basking in the unflinching Light of the Daughter, he could hardly help that his closest point of reference to this intimacy of the Force came from the day of the Purge. Never before had he so keenly felt the severity of the Force’s weight in his life until it was being torn from him all at once. 

“You were told once,” she said serenely, “That my family and I are the Past, the Present, and the Future of the Force.” 

He nodded. It seemed like the polite thing to do. 

“I died.” It was a statement. A matter of fact that Obi-Wan certainly wasn’t about to try and counter her on. “I died and our last hope for balance failed this galaxy.”

Obi-Wan flinches. How could he not?

She carried on regardless, sparing him a compassionate glance but unwilling to hinder her words for his comfort. “My family was destroyed when we brought you three to our home. I hoped, when my brother killed me, that your time on our planet would have been enough to prevent the darkness my brother so craved from encompassing the galaxy.”

Her words halted, the first hint of hesitation she had shown in whatever uncategorizable passage of time had occurred since he had… arrived? Been summoned? Entered?

Since he had lain eyes on her in this space. 

“I was wrong.” Then she moved. Her delicate, powerful hand reached forward and found its purchase on his shoulder. Obi-Wan felt electric. He hadn’t even noticed before then, but until the Daughter had made contact Obi-Wan hadn’t properly felt his own body. He had been disconnected from this new reality. What he now recognised as his own limbs and chest and head had been little more than a fabrication of his mind. Yet under her touch the Force pulled him into place, piecing him together all at once until he couldn’t remember what he had felt like before. Now he was supercharged with the thrumming energy he had felt so detached from in his desert exile. 

He felt whole. 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” her voice shook him from whatever quiet, overwhelming revelation he was having. “This cannot go on.”

“My Lady,” and oh. It wasn’t just his voice that seemed to have come back to this place free of Tatooine’s ravages, his every joint and muscle felt refreshed and renewed under the Force’s kind attentions. “It has already happened. I wish it weren’t true, but there is little more I can do than keep my vigil. I am watching over the boy.” Tears he has stubbornly refused to shed for years once again try to surface. He pushes them away with practised ease. “The girl is safe too. I have ensured they are far from his mind and all I can do now is wait.”

All at once Obi-Wan feels the desperate urge to prove to her that he is doing his best considering the circumstances. He didn’t want to even think of what it would do to him if she so much as suggested his efforts here had all been for naught. 

“I am willing to train him when he is older. But they deserve a childhood not lived in total fear. I could not keep them with me, not when that would ensure they grew up hunted. At least now, I am watching over. From a safe distance.”

It was an argument she no doubt was well aware of. But in his defence Obi-Wan hadn’t ever had the chance to say it aloud. Not once in five years had he been in a position for anyone to listen to him. For anyone to approve of the desperate plan he and Yoda and Bail had had to concoct in mere moments when all they had wanted to do was mourn. In the years since Obi-Wan had made his pitch over and over to himself in the quiet coldness of night. A mantra that proved to himself that one day all this pain would be worth it and the empire would crumble at the hands of its harbinger's own children. 

The Daughter’s smile finally left her face. 

“I understand, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You made your choices. You have kindled the hopes on which you believe can return balance.” He nodded mutely. “I am not here to admonish you.”

“Then why, my Lady, why are we here?”

“I am the Past, the Present, the Future of the Light.” She reiterated, as if that would clear everything up for it. “This Present is untenable. Yet time is… not as effective upon me as it is you.” 

Her brow furrowed minutely, as if she was busy trying to turn the limitations of the Common vernacular into something that would articulate her sheer Otherness. 

“It has taken me millenia… no. Centuries? No. Days? No. Years? Yes. It has taken me some years to gather my strength in this time, my Present is clouded and my Past is corrupted by my death. I am nothing more than my Future.”

Obi-Wan nodded. It still seemed polite. That didn’t stop him from still being terribly confused of course, but he could at least uphold some semblance of manners in her presence. 

“Your path forward may work,” Obi-Wan desperately controls his instinct to shudder at her lack of conviction, “Yet it comes at too great a cost.”

“If my path forward is not correct,” he said tentatively, “What would you suggest instead?”

At this she smiled again. Her lips stretch further and wider than before. A true smile, not just the gentle lift of lips he now understood to have been her attempt to keep him calm and collected when brought here so suddenly. This was a smile of joy, of anticipation.

“I intend to send you back.” 

“Back?”

“Back.”

No matter how frankly ludicrous this whole situation was, Obi-Wan was no idiot. He knew exactly what she was suggesting even if the mechanisms of it were nothing but an obfuscated mystery of the Force on a scale so vast he couldn’t comprehend it in its fullness if he had tried. 

“When?”

The Daughter shifted once again and Obi-Wan noted that those pinpricks of light he’d seen earlier had crept closer to him throughout this conversation. Now the inky darkness of the void was being quickly surpassed by the bright fullness of a million stars drawing closer and closer to him. He spared them a glance only to turn away at once, their encroaching brightness beginning to fill each empty space of blackness with their purity. 

The Daughter’s hand that had first touched his shoulder in an offer of comfort drew up, scalding his neck with the power brimming beneath her skin until her palm rested against his cheek. He tried not to shudder at the sudden intimacy of another being so close to him. It had been years since he felt a touch this tender and compassionate. The Daughter brought his face up until he was looking into the fathomless depths of her eyes.

Around them the stars dutifully pulled further in, all hints of shadow were being chased from his periphery but Obi-Wan couldn’t give them a moment's notice. Not when the Daughter was looking at him so knowingly. 

“Tell me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, when do you wish to go?”

Later, he would question whether there should have been more than a mere second of hesitation before his answer. Before he condemned himself to a life re-lived. 

Yet in that moment, in the perfect, brilliant, blinding Light of the Force, in a time that didn’t truly make sense to him, he found the words slip past his lips with unhesitating ease.

“To the beginning.”

The last image he saw, as the gently burning light began to flood his vision was the Daughter as she pulled back from him. Her eyes never left his, and her joyful smile settled back into a serene look of more than confidence. He felt his consciousness slip, a single drop of water succumbing to the encouraging pull of the Force, and he understood her expression. It wasn’t happiness, not yet. 

It was hope. 

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan blinks his eyes open. For a singular, hysterical moment, he thinks he’s finally gone insane. It seems apt. Maybe he really should have listened to Beru more when she told him how bad the suns stroke could get, even when he’d always adamantly assured her he had everything under control. Admittedly, he did still appreciate how often she would drop by with extra water they’d farmed if they were having a lucky spell. 

He blinks again, and, to his genuine surprise the image before him doesn’t falter or fade back into a desert mirage. Instead, Obi-Wan Kenobi finds himself on an awfully familiar J-Type 327 Nubian Royal Starship. More than that though, he finds himself staring right at the face of fourteen year old Padme Amidala, Queen of Naboo, dressed as a handmaiden as she quietly conferrs with her double. 

He laughs. 

Obi-Wan laughs loudly and brightly for the first time in years. His body shakes with the effort and for once he doesn’t bother trying to suppress the tears that spring to his eyes. He can’t even tell if they’re tears of joy or rage or the ever present guilt and mourning that has haunted his every step for five long years. If anything, they feel too Light for all of that. Like that brilliant touch of the Force back in that timeless void is still spilling out of him as he adjusted to this new (old?) reality. 

He giggles quietly at the inexplicable buzz that seems to hum through his every atom, adjusting back into a body that feels so familiar yet so long lost. The noise earns him another series of worried glances and now that he’s pretty sure he’s not going insane he’s able to actually pay attention to just who is looking at him. Padme, it seems, was not alone in jumping in surprise at the noise; all of the handmaidens startle at his outburst, though Obi-Wan hardly cares to do more than flap his hand about in a vague attempt at reassurance. Padme moves forward, shaking off her handmaiden’s warning hands as they try to quite reasonably stop their queen from approaching the mad Jedi master cackling to himself.

At that thought though, Obi-Wan registers a forgotten feeling of weight hanging by his neck. His hands, suddenly lacking half their usual callouses, reach up to tug at his own padawan braid in morbid curiosity. 

Ah. A correction then: apparently the poor Nubians are instead watching a mad Jedi padawan cackle to himself. If anything that seems somehow funnier to the somewhat delirious man. 

He quiets down quickly enough, though a slightly dopey grin can’t be banished from his face as he looks right at his no-longer-dead friend. 

Padme in turn, looks like a healthy mix of worried and confused. 

“Padawan Kenobi? Are you quite alright?”

Obi-Wan huffs another quiet laugh. “An excellent question,” he says airily. 

Unsurprisingly she doesn’t seem particularly reassured by that. Obi-Wan watches, amused, as the determination he was so very familiar with from his Senator - no, queenly - friend, emerges. 

“I believe we would all quite appreciate an answer to it.” She is gentle but firm with her tone. It’s not hard to see the political ruler he remembers so well; compassionate yet unyielding even in the face of his apparent hysteria. 

“I imagine you would,” he said. At this point he’s still feeling far too giddy to quite figure out how he wants to proceed in this timeline. He can hardly go about announcing his rather unique travel without first considering his upcoming strategies. And if he’s to be honest, a small, admittedly petty part of him, is absolutely delighting in watching Padme’s face pinch in irritation as he avoids answering her. But that’s what one gets for hiding a secret marriage to his padawan for years in one’s potential future though. Thank you very much. 

“Has something happened?” She asks carefully instead, still not letting him get away with his empty deflections, “You were just meditating as I understand it.”

Ah. He looks down at himself, noting that yes, he did seem to be poised for a meditation. 

“I suppose so Sen- ah, Your Highness,” Obi-Wan corrected himself quickly, wary of Padme’s current role. She is no longer the senator he once knew, it would be to everyone’s benefit that he starts to reign in those outdated impulses now before he gets himself in a real mess. The people he knows from his past life are different here, he reminds himself sharply. He’ll have to keep that thought at the forefront of his mind now. 

Padme freezes. So do all of her handmaidens.

Ah. Perhaps a little too close to the forefront it seems.

“What did you just call me?” Padme’s voice is deceptively calm. Honestly Obi-Wan almost wants to commend her on how well she was keeping her composure, considering how he blindly just admitted to knowing the true identity of the Nabooian Queen. Oops. 

“Apologies,” Obi-Wan offers her a guileless smile, “I seem to have gone too far in my meditation. The Force works in mysterious ways after all, I appear to have gotten myself quite turned around, Padme.” 

He throws the handmaiden dressed in Padme’s regal attire a nod of respect. She inclines her head in return, though only after a moment’s confused hesitation. 

Satisfied he has smoothed his blunder over with only the mild consequence of everyone else thinking he is either lightly mad or them suddenly questioning whether or not they ever actually understood what the Force is, he turns back to Padme. 

Her piercing gaze is quite impressive, he had admired it many times on the occasions he was subjected to a senate hearing, always quietly pleased that at least he would be able to watch her upturn her opponents entire argument with naught but a look should she so choose. Now though, having it levelled at him for the first time in far too long, he is reminded just why it is a dangerous idea to have Padme Amidala as an enemy. 

His smile twitches but still doesn’t slip from his face. How could it when he was here, feeling his friends ire pulsing so carefully yet so alive in the Force next to him. 

“Padawan Kenobi,” absently he wonders if she thinks repeating his name so much is particularly helpful or just another clever intimidation tactic, “I’m rather curious what in the force led you to confuse me with my Lady.” 

It isn’t posed as a question though it would be an insult to his own intelligence to assume it a simple observation. He contemplates toying with her further. Playing dumb. Maybe throwing out another “the Force works in mysterious ways” for good measure. There were plenty of times where that strategy worked well enough to end a conversation. Kriff, he could probably irritate Padme enough she would leave him alone, note him a lost cause and carry on. But- 

But he misses his friend so dearly. 

“I can tell you,” he says carefully, weighing each word before he utters them, “but not yet. Not here.”

He casts a glance around the ship, at the various handmaidens succeeding quite well at pretending like they’re not eavesdropping. Honestly he assumes their act would hold up to anyone who wasn’t a Jedi. A shame for them that he can see right through the ruse. In front of him, Padme swallows whatever feelings of affront she gets at his implication of distrust at her staff. 

“I look forward to your explanation.” 

He smiles brightly at her, probably it's a bit much compared to her begrudging tone. Ever the polite queen she is though, Padme smiles back at him before drawing back to the safety of her handmaidens. 

The ship quiets down after his outburst, everyone mutually agreeing to leave him to it as they wait. It is only now that he takes the time to take stock of his surroundings. Embarrassingly he realises that to only now check his situation is a pretty abysmal reaction time though he forgives himself for it just this once considering his rather extenuating circumstances. He reaches out tentatively to the Force. 

All at once he feels an overwhelming rush . An almost unbearable wave of connection, of light, of presence . His reach stretches further. He pushes and pushes and pushes the boundaries of his awareness, drunk on the feeling of happiness out in the galaxy. He welcomes the flood. Lets it fill him, carry him further and further. In the Force he feels thousands of distant pricks of light. The Jedi. His family. 

They’re so far, so spread out across the galaxy but here and now they feel so tantalisingly close. Like he could reach out and-

Anakin. 

Obi-Wan’s breath sharpens at the blinding pulsing light quickly honing in towards him. Of course. The twin temptations to either laugh or sob wage their own war in the confines of his heart. He is an old fool not to have thought about just why he is back on the Nubian ship waiting. They were waiting to leave Tatooine. 

They were waiting for Qui-Gon. 

Now that he’s searching for it it takes less than an instant before Obi-Wan is reaching out and feeling the old-new-broken-fixed-lost-returned- living bond he shared-shares with his master. The war in his heart doubles in strength but still Obi-Wan sits, patient and collected in his appearance. He stills his energy in the Force too, no matter how much he wants to let it swirl and storm in time with the suddenly beating pulse of the Light he is feeling. 

He gives himself three whole seconds to bask in the joy of these revelations before he casts his mind back. Buried in his memories he recalls the first time he lived this day, he remembers how his impatient meditation had been disrupted by a sense of danger in the force. How he’d moved to the front of the ship and seen a young, blond haired boy charging up to them and yelling frantically that “Mister Qui-Gon” said they had to take off now . 

Obi-Wan pulls out of his current meditation filled with a sense of determination he’d thought lost. He stands swiftly, passing by the calculating eyes of the young queen and politely knocks on the pilot's cabin. 

Captain Panaka opens it, only a twitch of his eyebrow showing his surprise at Obi-Wan’s presence here before Master Qui-Gon’s return. 

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan says brightly, “we’re in danger.”

The captain pauses, as if waiting for Obi-Wan to laugh it off and get back to his meditation. “Pardon?”

“Danger. We’re in it.” He takes advantage of the captain's stunned silence to slip past him and start firing up the engines. The captain whirls around. 

“Sir, surely you do not intend to leave the planet without your master?” 

“Of course not. I intend to go to him now and make sure he and the boy make it to the ship safely before their pursuer catches up.”

Obi-Wan speeds through the ships start up procedure with an ease his youthful body would not have been able to achieve a mere hour ago before his current conscience returned to it. The captain pauses for a moment before apparently deciding that as long as Obi-Wan didn’t appear to be initiating a mutiny against either the queen or his own master, that he would trust Obi-Wan’s assertions that danger was in fact afoot. 

He, rightfully, sits himself in the pilot's chair, leaving the copilot space for Obi-Wan. Frankly Obi-Wan is amused more than anything, it has been quite some time since anyone has flown him around. It feels like a charming novelty to watch the captain defend his place at the forefront of the ship. Regardless, it works well in Obi-Wan’s favour as he directs the ship towards the twin beacons of light that herald his master and padawan. And, now that he is searching for it, he finds the steady, shielded darkness of Maul’s shadowy presence in the Force. 

Were he not chasing after Qui-Gon and Anakin of all people, Obi-Wan would almost be inclined to smile at the familiar presence of yet another force user long since lost to him in the isolation of his future. 

The ship crests a nearby sand dune, staying low to the ground just as Obi-Wan instructed. Soon enough he catches his first glimpse of them with his own eyes. Qui-Gon and Anakin. Alive. Here. And getting chased by a kriffing Sith. 

Because of course they were. 

Obi-Wan stands again, and turns to the captain. “If you could slow down a fraction or two before we get to them, and preferably turn so the portside exit faces them, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Captain Panaka looks up at him with a frown. “Whatever for?”

Obi-Wan flashes him a grin even as he moves to the door, his lightsaber a familiar, comforting weight in his hand. 

“Well Captain, I certainly imagine it will make the jump a fair bit easier.” 

“The jump-?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t wait for him to put two and two together. He has a sith to go menace. 

It is with only a small degree of surprise that Obi-Wan finds himself facing Padme’s stern expression as he exits the cockpit. Her hands are on her hips in that way he only ever saw while she was undercover. Padme would certainly never let a queen or a senator of her standing be seen looking like an exasperated parent who’s been trying to wrangle their kids for the three hours straight. Obi-Wan is pleased to see it now, it feels like a secret. A part of Padme the outside world never gets to see. 

She cocks her head to the side, studying him closely. 

“The queen would like to know why we have taken off before Master Qui-Gon has returned.”

“Does she now?”

“She does.”

“Well I suppose you should let the queen know that we are simply meeting Qui-Gon and-“ Obi-Wan falters for just a moment, though he’s sure she saw it he pushes on.  “We’re meeting Master Qui-Gon on his path, I’m afraid he is in danger.”

At this Padme’s eyes widen. She searches his face for some sign of… something. Whatever it is she finds is enough though. She nods curtly towards him before stepping smoothly out of the way. He offers her a quick thanks then strides toward the exit. 

He lets himself indulge in a frivolous use of the force to press the open button for the door. A rush of excitement filling him at just that small action. Five long years of knowing he would be hunted down on sight for the mere suggestion of being force sensitive has conditioned him to view its every use as a thrill. 

The hot desert wind that has defined his home for half a decade sweeps up to meet him as the creaky groan of the bay door opening mid-flight drowns out all other sound. Captain Panaka does an admirable job of slowing the craft to an acceptable level for any overambitious Jedi about to make poor decisions. They’re already turning in a gentle arc, as Captain Panaka brings them through a path that will land Obi-Wan practically right in front of Qui-Gon and Anakin. Or at least it would if he was going to wait for the ship to still. 

But Obi-Wan has now caught sight of the third figure in their little chase. Qui-Gon doesn’t seem to have registered his pursuer yet seeing as he is only looking up at the ship, and Obi-Wan swaying casually in its open doorway, with confusion. More importantly though, Obi-Wan can see Anakin, in all his tiny child-sized glory struggling to trudge through the unforgiving sand behind his master. He’ll have to berate Qui-Gon for marching so far ahead of the boy when they’re not in such an exposed location. Obi-Wan has over a decade of experience confirming the fact that any amount of time with Anakin left remotely to his own devices in any sort of situation that could potentially end in danger will indeed ensure that trouble will follow close behind.

And on this day trouble comes in the form of a black and red Sith apprentice who is about to find himself against a far more experienced opponent than he expected.

Obi-Wan tracks the Sith’s approach carefully. His speeder is quickly closing the distance between him and Obi-Wan’s pair of idiots that have made the blindly dumb decision to slow down at his approach. Despite the distance between them and the rush of wind, Obi-Wan just knows from the expression of awe that has graced his padawan’s face that Anakin is too busy taking in the sleek exterior of the Nubian ship to pay attention to anything else. Qui-Gon on the other hand is far too focused on trying to decode what the hells Obi-Wan thinks he’s up to. 

With a roll of his eyes at both of them. Obi-Wan decides he can only hold off these equally sensitive reunions for so long because Maul has crested the second last dune in his way and Obi-Wan needs to ensure that both his idiots are going to be safely stowed aboard this ship before he can close the last of the distance. So with another quick thrill of excitement and trepidation all blended into one, Obi-Wan throws himself effortlessly from the moving ship. 

His feet fall smoothly into the shifting weight of sand. It is but a moment’s work to adjust himself upright. Apparently his padawan self had far more energy to pour into his jumps than the body he just left behind. That’s going to take some getting used to. 

Obi-Wan straightens from his landing stance to find himself caught directly between his padawan and his master. 

“That was wizard .” 

Anakin’s voice is everything to him. It’s memories that come flooding back. The good, the bad. The years of constant laughing. Those final screams. 

Obi-Wan tries to smile. Anakin doesn’t recognise just how strained it is.

“Get down!”

Obi-Wan doesn’t hesitate at the sound of Qui-Gon’s shout. He lurches forward, one arm twisting around young Anakin’s small waist while the other cradles his head, pulling him into Obi-Wan’s chest as the older man yanks them out of the path of Maul’s speeder seconds before the burning hiss of a red saber passes right through where the child was just standing. 

He cradles Anakin closer for a moment, checking that he is in fact alright. A hysterical thought enters his mind about the sheer irony of the Daughter sending him all the way back here only to fail spectacularly in the first three seconds spent in Anakin’s presence. Though of course Obi-Wan was fast enough and the child in his arms is quick to squirm away so he can peer eagerly over Obi-Wan’s shoulder to see what is almost certainly a very entertaining lightsaber battle behind him.  

The roar of the ship's engine is a blessing in that moment. Obi-Wan turns to face the noise, calculating just how close Captain Panaka was apparently willing to bring the ship round without accidentally burning anyone from the sheer volume of heat coming from the thrusters. Well, it’ll have to do. 

“Hello young one,” Obi-Wan says. Anakin’s wide eyes swivel to him. “Would you like to try something fun?”

Anakin purses his lips, his gaze flicking uncertainly back to where Qui-Gon is deftly parrying Maul’s savage attacks. For the moment Obi-Wan doesn’t sense an excessive urgency from his master but he’s not particularly willing to draw this out for long. 

“Master Jinn will be fine. I’m about to help him. But first I have to get you to safety.” He explains in as patient a voice he can, despite how his blood churns at the thought of Qui-Gon locked in a fight against Maul without Obi-Wan by his side.

Anakin, thankfully, nods. Already Obi-Wan can feel a bright, trusting warmth from the boy. He tries not to let his heart ache too much in response. 

“Get ready.”

“Ready? Ready for wha- AHHH!”

He doesn’t get to finish his question before Obi-Wan is taking advantage of both this conveniently spry young body, and his master-level expertise in the Force to throw the child through the air. A tiny part of his mind considers this justice for the many many times he knows his padawan had insisted on throwing Rex at their enemies with even less warning than Obi-Wan just gave him. Anakin’s yelp of surprise quickly shifts to a whoop of excitement as Obi-Wan carefully guides his descent into the open door of the ship. 

Another second to check that the boy did indeed land safely, and a glimpse of a few handmaidens rushing to his side is all the reassurance he needs before he can finally turn his attention back to the fight. 

Even though this entire interaction happened in a matter of seconds, it is hardly a comfort when Obi-Wan is left facing the sight of his master in battle with the man who killed him. 

Maul, irritatingly, is actually a rather good swordsman in his own right. Qui-Gon is most certainly the one falling back to the defence between the two of them. Obi-Wan sees him stumble back, his footing uncertain under both the furious blows of his opponent and the shifting sands of the desert. Maul, on the other hand, prowls forward. His dual saber is a powerful threat of burning red. He’s just toying with Qui-Gon. That much is clear to Obi-Wan. 

He can only assume Maul’s blind hatred of the Jedi is the only reason he isn’t actually trying to end the fight yet. He wants to hurt Qui-Gon too much to kill him swiftly. 

Good thing Obi-Wan has always liked messing up Maul’s twisted idea of fun. 

“Maul dear,” his voice raised to be heard over the sound of the ship's engines. He knew he was heard when Maul himself slipped, his shoulders tensing unnaturally at the sound of his name. Qui-Gon takes advantage of the moment to throw himself back, refinding his footing. “You’re shorter than I expected.”

“What did you just say, Jedi scum?” Maul hisses as he turns. His saber still faces Qui-Gon, discouraging any ambitious attacks while the sith trains his attention on Obi-Wan.

The Jedi saunters forward with an unsurprising calmness. He has been on far too many battlefields in far worse conditions than this to feel like Maul poses nearly as much of a threat as he thinks he does. Obi-Wan’s lightsaber turns on with its own hiss. Beautiful blue light spills against the churning orange of sand. He twirls it effortlessly. To Maul it surely looks like a show of bravado but its more practical purpose is to just realign Obi-Wan with its weight and speed. A master dueller he may have been, just as much as he is currently decidedly out of practice. 

Maul draws himself up. His posture realigning as he finds himself stuck between the two Jedi. 

“You’re just a tad shorter than I thought,” Obi-Wan continues conversationally. It was probably the lack of the metal legs now he thought about it. This is all pre-bisection of course. 

Maul spits at him. Rude. 

Over the sith’s shoulder Obi-Wan gets to experience the pleasure, once again, of making Qui-Gon Jinn stare at him with mounting confusion and horror. Despite the circumstances it brings another smile to his face for the mere sake of baffling his master. 

“Hello Master,” Obi-Wan greets him properly, “Fine weather we’re having.”

He doesn’t know what response he would’ve been given because Maul seems to have promptly decided that Obi-Wan is exactly his least favourite type of Jedi: an alive one. 

Without making a sound the sith darts forward, his sabers whipping through the air only to be met with his own blue saber. Obi-Wan cocks his head at the movement.

“My dear Maul, surely you can do better than that?”

Maul bares his teeth in a grimace, swiftly shifting into a rapid fire string of attacks that Obi-Wan bats away with relative ease. He’s rusty, and he knows it. There are a handful of occasions where Obi-Wan overestimates just how quickly he can get into place to rebuff an attack, or he miscalculates just how smoothly he can switch between this body’s favoured Ataru versus his mind’s familiarity with Soresu. Obi-Wan feels the familiar sensation of his body falling back into a familiar, hyper focused haze of battle. Their sabers clash again and again, an elegant, ferocious dance that has the pair of them twisting and circling around one another. Sand is kicked up and swirled between them at the rapid shifting of their feet. Each opponent trying to outmanoeuvre the other. 

At some point Qui-Gon must have pulled himself from whatever remnants of shock had overtaken him because Obi-Wan can tell the moment he has broken through Maul’s defences. An uncomfortably familiar scent of saber-burnt flesh fills the air and Maul whirls around, forcing Qui-Gon to dart back out of range. Obi-Wan notes the way Maul favours his right leg now. He stumbles back in an obvious attempt to ensure neither Jedi can crowd him in. Obi-Wan obligingly moves closer to his master. And the ship. 

“Master.”

“Padawan.”

Obi-Wan feels a thrill run up his spine at the sound of his master’s voice directed at him again after all this time. But despite what years of fighting by Anakin’s side may suggest, the middle of a fight wasn’t actually the best time to catch up. 

“The hangar door is open,” Obi-Wan observes quietly. Both their eyes are locked onto Maul who in turn is staring right back at them. His brow furrowed in rage and pain while he watches them talk just out of his earshot. 

“It is.” Qui-Gon agrees.

“After you.” 

Without giving him time to respond, Obi-Wan leaps once more at the Sith, this time bringing all his energy forth into his own series of rapid fire offensive attacks. He feels Qui-Gon hesitate, obviously wanting to help his padawan but Obi-Wan doesn’t have time to monitor his rebellious master’s attempts at helping. Obi-Wan needs time to figure out what to do with the Sith apprentice and thus has no intent to actually kill him right now. Maul shall survive this fight just as he did last time around. 

With a forceful push at their bond Obi-Wan encourages Qui-Gon to please get a move on. Reluctance radiates off the man but even he can sense the need to exit this situation with both a child and a queen aboard the ship waiting for them and their protection.

Obi-Wan doesn’t see him jump up to the open door, too busy pushing past every one of Maul’s increasingly desperate attempts at a defence. Unsurprisingly it seems the sith has spent far more time honing his offensive skills. A quiet satisfaction builds under Obi-Wan’s skin as he feels the tide of his fight with Maul stretch outside of his own strengths yet Obi-Wan still feels himself continue to gain the upper hand. 

This is no place for the showdown Obi-Wan has no doubt is coming between them though, so at Qui-Gon’s next tug at their bond Obi-Wan dutifully finishes his current attack and in the scant moment Maul takes to recenter himself, Obi-Wan leaps. He gracefully flips through the air, a backwards somersault executed with the ease of youth and the grace of experience in a way he never has before. He likes to think that any outside observer would consider him a rather magnificent sight just then. 

This time he lands without slipping. The door already drawing back into place as Qui-Gon almost certainly pressed the controls before he’d even made it halfway through the air. When the door finally clicks back into place, and the roaring of the desert wind is locked behind the ship’s shields, Obi-Wan turns around. 

Chapter Text

He thinks someone must have punched him. Admittedly, he didn’t see them. And there’s no one in his immediate space but regardless, someone must have just hit him squarely in the chest because he can feel just how the air in his lungs is forced out of his body in a pained jolt. 

The other theory, that Obi-Wan quickly dismisses, is that the sight of Qui-Gon Jinn, Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala all standing before him, alive , is suddenly too much for him. 

Obi-Wan offers his three observers a wonky grin before he stops trying to battle gravity and simply lets himself fall to his knees. 

“Padawan!” Qui-Gon lurches forward to grasp him by the shoulders, saving him from the embarrassment of face planting right in front of three of the most important people in his life. “Padawan, what’s wrong?”

An excellent question master. Truly. Obi-Wan wishes he had a good explanation to share. But even as he feels a building pressure of light-master-padawan-padme-here-life-dark-memories-future churning through his mind, he knows well enough not to start such an important conversation with “oh nothing much, just time travel”. Instead, he absently pats at his master’s hand which is gripping his shoulder far tighter than necessary. Obi-Wan cherishes it. “I think I feel rather dizzy Master.”

From a certain point of view, he’s right. It’s not necessarily a physical dizziness, just the whirling maelstrom of thoughts that are barraging against his every sense. So not much different from usual really. 

“Who was that?” young Anakin asks curiously. Obi-Wan looks over to see the boy looking confused more than afraid. Of course he would be one of the first people to encounter a sith in centuries and walk away with nothing but idle wonder. 

“A very dangerous man,” Obi-Wan says solemnly. Force help him, this time round he will ensure that Anakin has a healthy respect for the threat that the Sith actually pose to their galaxy, “If ever you see anyone with a lightsaber like ours, but it is coloured red, you must do your very best to make sure they don’t come near you.”

Anakin’s brows furrow but he nods decisively. He doesn’t really understand, not yet. But Obi-Wan appreciates the attempt. 

Qui-Gon’s lips purse at the interaction. His eyes flick back to Obi-Wan who dutifully pretends not to notice the sheer intensity of Qui-Gon’s studying gaze. Though suspicious or not, he’s a Jedi Master for a reason and soon pulls himself back into, at least the appearance of, tranquillity. Obi-Wan feels him shuffle a little as one hand leaves him to draw Anakin closer.

“I don’t suppose we had time for a proper introduction. Anakin, this is my padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan, this is Anakin Skywalker.”

The boy proudly sticks a hand out, just as Obi-Wan is sure his mother taught him to. After a moment’s silent hesitation Obi-Wan feels his own hand reach out, engulfing Anakin’s. 

“You’re a Jedi too.” Anakin declares confidently, “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleased to meet you, Anakin.”

Whatever structure of polite niceties is quickly unravelled though as Anakin grins at him, a spark of mischief in his eyes that Obi-Wan is far too familiar with. “Do you think you can throw me like that again sometime? It was pretty wizard.”

Obi-Wan laughs. “Well, certainly not inside the ship I should think.” The child’s face falls. “But I suppose I’ll see what I can do when we get to the temple.”

Anakin beams at him then and Obi-Wan can’t help but drink in the sight of this brilliant, shining, happy child. 

Sensing the attention of the other jedi and the queen that stand before him Obi-Wan reluctantly draws his gaze away from Anakin. Looking too long at Qui-Gon feels like a recipe for disaster, so he tactically doesn’t. It’s just the strategic choice, obviously, and has nothing to do with the storm of feelings that threaten to choke him at the mere sight of his master. 

Despite the decades between their last meeting Obi-Wan is certain he just needs a little more time. He needs to think about… well, pretty much everything. To that end he gives Qui-Gon’s hand another gentle pat, but rises to his feet on his own. 

He turns to Padme, who’s calculating gaze is a surprisingly reassuring constant. 

“Padme, I was wondering if you might assist me to my quarters. I believe I need to rest shortly. The dizziness will pass, I am sure of it.”

Qui-Gon most certainly has something to say about this, but Obi-Wan is quick to reach forward to Padme, who by instinct offers her arm for support as he looks ready to tip over again at any moment. He glances back at Qui-Gon as they shuffle off.

“Master, perhaps you can assure Anakin’s comfort aboard the ship while I meditate. Then we can discuss… well, we can discuss all that.”

He doesn’t phrase it as a question, just as he doesn’t give his old master time to challenge him. Obi-Wan is a General thank you, he is more than capable of giving orders and knows when they deserve to be followed.  

Padme quietly leads him to an enclosed room out of sight of his master, padawan and the handful of handmaidens that are aptly watching their every move. She supports his weight admirably, though he does try not to put too much pressure on her anyway. She may be an incredibly strong ruler but she admittedly is also a fourteen year old noble who isn’t exactly known for her muscle mass. Obi-Wan is seated then on the sparse bed he had been assigned for the journey to Coruscant. Padme hovers nearby, betraying only a small trace of her uncertainty in the force while Obi-Wan collects himself. He cracks open an eye to look at her.

“You can sit if you’d like. Though I am sure standing there is perfectly fun too.”

She huffs at him, her irritation at his impertinence evident, though he can also detect begrudging amusement radiating from the young queen as she does decide to seat herself gently beside him. 

“Are all Jedi quite as dramatic as you and Master Jinn?” Her head tilts imperiously upwards as she talks, every inch the royal she is despite her common appearance. 

“Oh no,” Obi-Wan laughs, “We’ve always been quite the trouble makers. I wouldn’t take any of this as a standard.”

Padme dutifully considers his words, gauging him for sincerity. “Curious then, that the Chancellor would send you two as diplomats to resolve Naboo’s blockade.”

There’s a question buried there. Overwhelmed though he may be, there is a surprising stability that comes from playing the game of politics with Padme. She was one of the few politicians he could stand to debate in good faith with during his past life. It helped to know that even when their views differed, she would always afford him the respect of due consideration and that fundamentally they shared a base intention of just wanting to bring good to the galaxy. 

“In our defence,” he says airly though he slumps back against the wall behind him, his legs sticking over the bed’s edge comically, “We didn’t even get a chance to prove our negotiation skills to you. The droids attacked us under the Trade Federation’s order. We may attract or make our fair share of trouble, but I assure you your majesty, I am in fact rather well practised in the arts of diplomacy.”

His eyes had slid shut again throughout the conversation, so he didn’t see the way Padme froze tightly at the formal address, but that didn’t stop him from hearing her sharp intake of breath.

“Padawan Kenobi, you seem to have gotten myself and my queen confused again.” 

Once again he cracks an eye open to observe her. She sits poised and graceful at the edge of the bed. Her posture impeccable, her knees folded immaculately in the traditional arrangement for an upper class Nubian. She is studiously avoiding his eyesight, instead staring ahead with careful, controlled stillness that he recognises from years of watching her suffer through Senate meetings where she appeared to be the only voice of reason in that expansive cavern of a room. 

“Your majesty, I assured you I will reveal all later.” Okay maybe not all . But that hardly matters in the moment. “I assumed that as we are in private I did not necessarily need to keep up a ruse of ignorance. Though I certainly can if that is preferable.”

Padme sniffs and it is only slightly haughty. “You Jedi presume too much.”

At that he laughs again, a soft chuckle more than anything. “Now that I will happily agree with.”

She seems surprised by his lack of jumping to the Jedi’s defence. “Oh?” She asks mildly, “Why so?”

“We have been living so long in a time of peace,” he says absently, carefully constructing his words for the context of a galaxy pre-clone war, “It’s a gift, of course. That generations of children have grown and aged with an understanding of cooperation, of diplomacy and peace treaties.”

“Are you saying the Jedi are complacent because the galaxy is not filled with danger at all times?” Her tone tightens, affronted at her own inferences.

“No, no. Not that. I believe the Jedi are working as hard as possible to maintain that peace. We’re taught to believe in balance, to seek out peaceful resolutions where possible.”

“Your fight with that cloaked man seems to imply otherwise.”

“Now your majesty, that was not a situation where peace talks would have served me in any way other than giving him a chance to put his saber through me.” She concedes his point with a hum, though it’s mostly a prompt to keep him talking and he knows it. “At the heart of it we are peacekeepers. I believe that truly. Our knights may be skilled with a saber but that is not all that a Jedi is.”

“Then if you believe your people are successfully working towards your goal of peacekeeping, why do you think the Jedi are too presumptuous?” It’s a fair enough question. And Obi-Wan can see why the young queen is probing further. It is rare enough for anyone in the galaxy to spend much time with a Jedi, let alone to get to engage with them about what it means to be a Jedi. Yet he can’t help but shy from his own answer. 

It suddenly feels like too much to put into words all the ways the Jedi’s presumptions about the eradication of the Sith, about their trust in the senate, about their faith in the clones, it’s too much to articulate to this already overburdened fourteen year old who is trying to save her own people, let alone a broken future. 

Instead, Obi-Wan offers her a smile, tinged with all the brimming sadness he can’t truly eradicate. 

“I believe the stability we have enjoyed for so long is under threat. There are problems beyond the scope of the Jedi, and none of us should let our guards down. Systems that started us on this path of peace have had many years to grow and warp. Not all the blame can be placed on one clearly defined enemy, your majesty.”

He shuffles a little, energy swiftly draining from his body but his own insistence that Padme should know this now pushes him to keep speaking. It feels important that she knows. That at least she can see where he’s coming from. Something deep inside tells him he’ll be needing her support in the times ahead. 

“Instead what we presume is our faith in the unobserved, unmonitored holistic changes in our very way of life. We are on the precipice of change, your majesty, I can only hope we will see the future clearly, for all it may hold.”

Padme, brilliant woman that she is, clearly registers the note of finality Obi-Wan holds in his words. She doesn’t respond immediately, as he knew she wouldn’t. Instead they sit together in a companionable silence as Obi-Wan tries to order the barrage of thoughts and strategies that he must consider in the coming days, and she in turn takes her time to evaluate his words, turning them over in her mind until she can draw forth her own conclusions. 

“You are an interesting man Padawan Kenobi,” she ventures to say after some time passes between them, “I look forward to the explanation you promised me, and until then I shall consider the thoughts you have shared with me. Though now I believe I must return to my queen.”

He hears the joke in her tone. It gladdens him that she is apparently allowing his breach of her anonymity in good humour. He also does not miss how crucial a level of trust she is placing with him. He sits up properly now, as she prepares to depart. “Of course, your majesty.” 

She throws him an impressively long-suffering look, considering that to her they met a mere day ago. “Padawan Kenobi, I’m sure I needn’t remind you not to be addressing me as such once we exit this room. Please, call me Padme.”

“Of course Padme.” She looks appropriately placated. He grins. “On the condition you call me Obi-Wan.”

She fluffs up indignantly, clearly torn between not wanting to betray her own measures of courtesy related to his title, versus her instinctual understanding that fundamentally Obi-Wan Kenobi is an innately irritating person when he wants to be and he will be taking advantage of her title in turn if she uses his. 

“Very well, Obi-Wan .” She stands primly, her glare still measured with good humour, “I look forward to talking to you when you have recovered from your ‘dizziness’.”

Without another glance back at him she turns and exits the room, presumably to confer with her handmaidens, without the prying eyes of a Jedi following her every move.

Once she has left, the metal door closing with a reassuring click, Obi-Wan falls back onto the bed. He wasn’t wholly lying about the dizziness. After all, even if he has no real point of reference for what Force-Goddess imposed time travel does to a being’s body, he is feeling its rather potent, overwhelming effects. More importantly than that is that right now Obi-Wan is feeling an unfamiliar ache right across the bottom half of his head. His cheeks are burning with a strange tension, his lips still curving up despite the piercing sensation. 

It takes an embarrassingly long time of Obi-Wan running through all known afflictions of muscle atrophy, to his own medical history of autoimmune diseases to try and categorise this strange ache which feels different to him than the pressures of the Force settling his conscience back into his old body. Finally though, after he finds his mind drifting to the friendly huff of irritation Padme had given while exiting, he feels himself smiling broadly and comes to the sudden realisation that that is exactly his problem. His cheeks are burning not with disease or damage, but the sheer amount of smiles and laughter that have accompanied him since the moment he found himself awoken in this time.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is happy, and he is more than willing to take any pain that may accompany that miraculous fact. 

-

The door’s muffled slide is warning enough that Obi-Wan is no longer alone in the quiet room but he hardly needs it. He was already acutely aware of this particular force signature and had been constantly tracking  its presence on the ship at all times since he boarded. Qui-Gon is a hard man to miss on a good day but in such an enclosed space Obi-Wan couldn’t have ignored him if he tried. 

Now, with his old long-deceased-never-died master in the same room as him Obi-Wan finds his presence almost unbearably close. He’d spent so much of his life missing him that it felt almost a betrayal to all the grief to simply slip back into old habits. As if nothing was wrong. As if Qui-Gon's death at the hands of a Sith wasn’t the catalyst for the events that shattered the republic itself. As if his passing hadn't heralded a sign of all the darkness that would come to plague Obi-Wan. 

“Padawan,” Qui-Gon’s voice carries a hint of trepidation, no doubt at Obi-Wan’s nonsensical behaviour as of late, “I am well aware you are not asleep.”

The bed dips beside him as Qui-Gon makes himself comfortable. Obi-Wan gives himself a few more seconds in the reliable comfort of ignorance before he opens his eyes to look again upon his master. 

“Hello,” he croaks out. 

“Hello Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon searches him, both with his eyes as he catalogues the visible exhaustion that has left Obi-Wan prone in the bed for the last… however long since Padme left. Obi-Wan has spent all that time weighing up dozens of different plans and strategies. Any number of ways that he can approach the oncoming darkness, yet none of that seems to have scratched the surface of the responsibility that now weighs him down. 

Qui-Gon seems to have made the decision to bring forth the whole “reconnect with your no longer dead master” agenda point without even checking in with Obi-Wan’s immense to-do list he has been carefully crafting. How very in character. Obi-Wan’s lips twitch at the reminder. In his defence though it would have been pretty wild for him to have known that they were even in need of an emotionally confronting, time-travel shenanigan based reunion. 

“Are you feeling up to talking?”

“Must I?”

“I would certainly like an explanation for this afternoon. You haven’t seemed yourself.”

He wanted to laugh at that. Or maybe cry. Of course Qui-Gon wouldn’t recognise the man he has become in all these years.

“No,” Obi-Wan agrees mildly, “I haven’t.” And offers up no further explanation. 

Qui-Gon sighs. “That’s not overly helpful my young padawan.”

“Master,” he says tentatively, “The Force has been communicating with me rather… directly.” Yes, that seemed apt. “I believe it would be best for me to wait until we can speak with the council personally before I act too hastily.”

Qui-Gon hums thoughtfully, definitely not pleased with not having any answers, but also not wanting to discourage Obi-Wan’s own path to connect with the Force. He waits, curious to see which preference would win out for his master when Qui-Gon acquiesces. 

“Very well. Is there anything you can tell me now? Such as why you had Captain Panaka take off before we arrived?” He pauses with a faux casualness that immediately puts Obi-Wan back to the familiar chastisements of his youth, “Or perhaps why you seem to already know the name of that man? Maul, did you say?”

Ah. Whoops. 

“Didn’t he just strike you as a Maul?” Obi-Wan’s crooked grin isn’t fooling anyone, “Like how some folk look like an Anakin, or a Mace. I mean, you can’t tell me Master Yoda doesn’t look exactly like someone named Master Yoda should.”

Qui-Gon’s lips twitch in a betrayal of amusement. “That’s certainly one explanation I suppose.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan nods sagely, “The Force led me to the conclusion that no other name but Maul would suit a man like that.”

“Oh? It seems the Force is choosing to be quite direct in its communications with you indeed.”

“Very much so Master.”

Silence spills between them as each man gages who will be first to call out the simple fact Obi-Wan is lying through his teeth. Thankfully, all the excitement of the day means that Qui-Gon is all too wary to press the issue, which Obi-Wan is more than willing to take advantage of. He blinks owlishly up at his master, pouring as much youthful innocence into his expression as possible. It feels like a stretch for a man of his age but Obi-Wan spent too many years watching Anakin and Ahsoka wheedle their way out of every possible responsibility not to know how to optimise his new age for personal gain. Predictably Qui-Gon caves in a matter of seconds, his shoulders hunching in defeat. It’s nice to know that the man learnt long ago not to challenge his padawan when he’d got his mind set on a plan. Particularly when Obi-Wan had already announced he would speak about his peculiarities soon enough once they reached the temple. 

Qui-Gon eventually moves to stand but pauses before leaving. “Anakin has been asking after you. I think you’ve earned yourself a fan.”

Obi-Wan swallows the surge of emotions that accompany that sentiment. “Oh.”

“Shall I tell him you’re still feeling unwell?” 

He can feel Qui-Gon gently prodding at him through their bond, curiosity and an uncharacteristic tentativeness as his master tries to understand just what’s happening in his padawan’s head. Best of luck to him figuring it out. 

“Yes. Yes I don’t think I’m quite ready for… guests.”

Qui-Gon nods and slips quietly from the room. 

Obi-Wan slumps back into his bed. It doesn’t feel right, not yet, to see Anakin like this. He’s not quite sure he can stomach another prolonged one-sided reunion. And despite how readily he used it as an excuse, he is in fact finding the pull of exhaustion as his mind and body are still struggling to reconcile. He lifts a hand to his face out of habit and he weighs whether or not to actually listen to the call of sleep when he comes to the startling, and drastically disappointing realisation that he doesn’t have a beard anymore. 

A shift of his head also brings to mind just how short his hair is. Obi-Wan does not consider himself a vain man but with a few years of hindsight, and a very opinionated padawan, he long ago came to the conclusion that this particular look was not one of his best. Sleep calls to him once more. He resolves, with his last traces of consciousness, that it would be in his best interests if he put “grow back my beard” onto his agenda. 

At least that gives him an easy project to work on. A simple step one. Step two is just to save the galaxy. No problem. 

-

The rest of the journey back to Coruscant passes with surprising ease. Though that may also be attributed to the fact Obi-Wan spends the vast majority of it either asleep or in a deep meditation. Qui-Gon pulls him aside once to see if he is perhaps in need of a mind healer when they return to the temple. He doesn’t need to say it outright for Obi-Wan to know he’s also asking if Obi-Wan is trying to skirt around an immediate need for medical attention by passing all inquiries off with the statement that he “needs to talk to the council first”. 

Reassured that at the very least Obi-Wan isn’t in any imminent danger, and likely pleased that he was finally getting at least the recommended amount of sleep, Qui-Gon leaves him be for much of the trip, though curiosity radiates from him more often than not. 

Anakin sagely accepts his assurances that Obi-Wan will hang out with him after they arrive at the temple, only relenting once he’d promised to show Anakin the temple’s hangar where the Jedi’s fleet of starships are held. 

In an unexpected turn of events it is Padme who filled most of his time between sleep and mediation. Occasionally she would hint ambiguously towards the conversation he’d promised her, but she too didn’t press the issue, clearly having intuited his distant approach to everyone aboard the ship. Instead Obi-Wan finds himself drawn into endless discussion with the young queen.

Sometimes her handmaidens would join them, which fascinated Obi-Wan to no end. He watches the way Padme encourages their participation, seeking their input and reaching out to the more hesitant members of her party. He watches her make space for each young woman to have a say, even - or especially - if it happens to challenge her. She’s unafraid to press them, or him, for further information the moment anyone brings up a topic she isn’t familiar with. 

Together they debate and question each other’s backgrounds and beliefs. They talk of the ways that Nubian high culture operates and where the Jedi fundamentally differ. They drift effortlessly between topics, each challenging the other to consider and reconsider their stances on a seemingly endless volume of topics. More and more often he finds himself reminded of his months with Satine, or the dinners he used to share at Bail’s table. 

Padme herself seems to enjoy their debates with just as much, if not more, fervour. Throughout their trip she continues her disguise as handmaiden. It takes him a while to narrow it down, but Obi-Wan begins to suspect she wants that freedom to express herself in the ways she never can under a crown. At one point she starts arguing so passionately about Obi-Wan’s definition of “duty” that she actually stands up just to start pacing, her hands sweeping through the air as her voice raises higher than he thinks he’d ever heard. All at once she notices her own outburst, a blush flooding her cheeks when she remembers that Obi-Wan does in fact know she’s a queen. Any embarrassment is quickly dismissed though when she sees his amused grin and she takes that particular opportunity to just get louder and louder. Qui-Gon ends up poking his head through the door in a mild alarm. He sees her suppressing her own laugh though, so he counts that as an overall win to him. 

Still, he enjoys their talks, even as he finds himself somewhat underhandedly using her for information. He can’t help but direct their conversation around to the intricacies of Nubian politics and how much power and influence, say, a senator might acquire. How one such as, for example, senator Palpatine would go about acquiring allies and establishing deals on behalf of Naboo. And also, hypothetically, when a senator might be shirking in their duties of reporting their actions to their queen. Or if, in theory, someone of a senator's political standing wished to acquire more power, how would one do that?

Padme purses her lips at that. 

“Padawan Kenobi, are you thinking of joining the Senate? I rather thought the Jedi were not ones for politics.”

He laughs softly, if a little strained, “Oh no your majesty, I wouldn’t dare go into politics myself. I don’t have the constitution for it I’m afraid.”

She concedes to his retaliated use of her title, settling back in her seat to look curiously at him. “You don’t strike me as someone lacking in constitution Obi-Wan.”

“Perhaps not,” he offers her a slight shrug, “Though the point stands. Politics is all a bit too rich for my blood. If I had it my way I would never have to step foot in the Senate building ever again”

At that Padme pauses, her head tilting adorably in confusion. Of course Obi-Wan would never point that out aloud unless he wanted to understand just how much power that small body could pack into a punch. “But you serve the senate directly, do you not?” 

“The Jedi swore their service to the galactic senate many years ago, yes.” He concedes, “and we have followed that promise with great honour.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”

“But the senate we swore ourselves to has changed.”

She scoffs, “You can hardly pretend that’s a surprise. It’s the nature of democracy to change, to adapt to the people’s current wants. Do you wish to suppress the public’s growth?”

He in turn scoffs at the obvious antagonism in her words. “Of course not Padme. Next you’ll accuse me of wanting a galactic empire to come and override everything the republic stands for, leaving it all in the hands of one man.”

She rolls her eyes at his dramatics. Frankly he was just proud he’d gotten through all of that with a straight face. 

“Then what are you proposing? That the Jedi wish to abandon the Senate?” 

“No,” he says slowly. “But the system we are in is too faulty to continue on unchallenged.”

She hums a mild assent. “What does that practically mean for the Jedi though?”

Obi-Wan would like to know the answer to that too. He has spent much of his time turning that exact question through his mind in his meditations and has come to very few strong conclusions. The Senate’s corruption is no secret to him, in fact it is no secret to anyone who has interacted with it before. Obi-Wan doesn’t know the true extent of where Sidious’s machinations ended and the sincere incompetency of the galaxy’s elected leaders began. Still, that does little to reassure him. Additionally, one could not discount the influence of the corporate bodies that have infiltrated the Senate’s systems. Without a people to be beholden to, factions like the Trade Federation have no doubt sown seeds of distrust and manipulation across the Senate at all levels. 

Looking at Naboo’s own current situation Obi-Wan can already see the subtle puppeteering of Sidious; influencing the Trade Federation’s blockade on his own home world, while presenting as the public face of the poor beleaguered planet in the Senate chamber. 

“We need a level of autonomy,” Obi-Wan settles on eventually, “There are so many worlds in need of support that the Jedi’s services could in theory be manipulated to serve any number of agendas, at least by those with particularly astute minds.”

“But surely one could turn around and accuse the Jedi of trying to uphold their own agenda. If you were to break the agreement with the Senate to pursue your own ends who's to say you’re not doing it for some other nefarious purpose”

She makes a good point. It’s part of why he cherishes these conversations. His instincts are being fuelled by years of retroactive self flagellation and her critical eye has worked wonderfully at curbing some of his baser instincts. He had little more to do on Tatooine than look back at how he could have possibly found himself there in the first place. Much of his time was spent trying to retroactively trace the possible trails of corruption and malicion that he and the rest of the Council had missed, too distracted by the intricacies of war and politics. 

“Indeed. What would you propose we do then your majesty?”

Padme quirks her lips at the address. 

“The Jedi are peacekeepers, yes? The Senate calls on your services not just because you possess your fine skills with a saber, which I’m certain come in handy often enough. More significantly though, you serve as a neutral party to the many conflicts throughout the galaxy. Your powers are impressive and mysterious and the like,” she waves a hand through the air, evidently indifferent to the neigh impossible feats of the Jedi now they’re talking politics, “But what the Senate, what the galaxy , needs is the Jedi’s allegiance to fall with the concept of democracy itself. Not the individual people occupying the seats at a given moment.”

Obi-Wan sits back, observing her carefully. “What does that mean for us?” 

His prompting is resolutely ignored while Padme traces his thinking through her own words, drawing out his ideas and seeing for herself how they fit with her own worldview.  

“I think you’re right, if the system truly is as broken as you suggest, then it would theoretically be possible for factions of the Senate to direct the Jedi’s collective attention to a more targeted series of issues. Which could indeed leave the Jedi functionally in the dark on other matters entirely. At that point it would be difficult to assign blame to the Jedi themselves for merely following the Senate’s orders, but due to the sheer volume of collaboration necessary in proposing and ascertaining the Jedi’s assistance on a matter, it would be difficult to pin any particular Senators as responsible for this failing in oversight.”

Padme’s lips purse once again, concentration etched into her every feature. Obi-Wan questioned the wisdom of consulting a fourteen year old for her political insight only once before the girl in front of him promptly eradicated any doubt through her sheer veracity and intellect when it came to matters of state. She was elected queen of an entire planet for good reason. The Nubian meritocracy was embodied by the prodigious politician sitting before him, perched upon two extra pillows to afford her a little more height so they may speak eye to eye.

“Padawan Kenobi you have given me much to think about,” a rare smirk crosses her features as Obi-Wan cringes at the title. 

“Thank you for indulging my curiosity, your majesty.” 

She rolls her eyes at the obvious payback. “Yes well I don’t suppose we shall have the chance for another talk like this before we arrive. 

She was of course right, Captain Panaka had dropped in earlier to announce they were mere hours away from Coruscant now.

“I shall have to confer with ‘my queen’ now, we must strategise for our appeal to the senate. Senator Palpatine will be meeting us upon arrival and-“ she pauses, “Obi-Wan? Are you quite alright?”

Obi-Wan was not alright. Not alright at all. 

He’d spent much time imagining his confrontation with Palpatine. The emperor who took the galaxy from him. He’d expected lightsabers and a gruelling battle. He hadn’t thought to expect the man to be welcoming them off the ship and leading Padme into her role of dissolving Chancellor Vallorum’s rule to make way for his . 

“I’m fine,” he spits out curtly. Not cruelly, just. Curt.

Padme seems entirely unconvinced. “Are you familiar with Naboo’s Senator?”

“We haven’t met personally. I am… familiar with his work though.”

Whatever Padme wanted to retort to that was swiftly interrupted by the swish of the door opening and Rabe peeking her head in to summon Padme back to her handmaidens. 

Obi-Wan took the diversion offered and promptly nodded in farewell to the young women before slipping out to go meditate. He didn’t need to look to feel Padme’s sharp eyes following him out the door. 

Soon enough the Nubian ship was touching down on Coruscant and Obi-Wan found himself already clinging to the beaming beacon of Light in the Force as they edged ever closer to the Temple. He’d missed his home terribly and was endlessly thankful he’d never come back to this planet under the Empire's rule so he didn’t have to think about how much it had changed. 

They landed smoothly, the ‘queen’ and her entourage exiting first to be greeted by the Naboo Senator. Obi-Wan’s feet seem to freeze against his will at the first sign of Palpatine’s gentle smile. He’d never learnt what happened when Mace and the other Councillors went to confront Sidious all those years ago but the man had emerged back onto the public stage scarred and deformed. Looking at him now he couldn’t trace the look of the evil emperor even when looking for it. Sidious is so well shielded in the force that despite Obi-Wan’s definitive knowledge that he was facing down a Sith lord, he can’t identify it at all. 

Qui-Gon steps up beside him, his hand coming up to rest in both comfort and query against his shoulder. 

“Are you well Padawan?” His tone hushed. 

Obi-Wan swallows thickly. Then, with no other choice but to carry on, he reinforces his own mental shields and strides forward, leaving Qui-Gon’s question unanswered. 

“It is a great gift to see you alive, Your Majesty.” Palpatine’s smile looks calcified on his face and Obi-Wan takes a quiet pleasure in watching the man have to feign niceties to the wrong woman. Padme is standing to her decoy’s immediate left, her eyes carefully analysing the Senator’s face though he doesn’t appear to notice. Too busy extolling his interest in the fake queen.

He introduces Chancellor Vallorum who in turn greets the decoy. Once again Padme’s true gaze is focused on evaluating the men before her and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think she looks like they are coming up wanting. 

The politicians turn, beginning to walk in towards the Senate building. Obi-Wan’s heart lurches at the sight of young Anakin dutifully following their steps, knowing that he and Qui-Gon were due to head to the Council without him. It feels sickly to see the young boy standing innocently next to the Senator. The only thing that holds Obi-Wan back from darting forward to sweep the boy into his arms and carry him far away from the manipulative bastard was the simple fact that Palpatine didn’t care about him yet. To him the boy must appear as little more than a minor irritant rather than a potential apprentice at this stage. 

And then they were gone. Padme and Anakin both jetting off accompanied by the man who ruined everything. 

Absently, he hears Qui-Gon telling the Chancellor that they had to speak to the Council and then he’s being led to a speeder and they’re moving further and further from the boy and the queen. 

Obi-Wan reverts to a light meditation, as he’s come to do frequently, and centres himself on the here and now, trusting that the other two will be alright and he will see them again. Sidious is by no means a threat to be underestimated but there do have to be some limitations to just how quickly he can cause chaos. He is a master of the long-game and Obi-Wan now must prepare himself to play it out, no matter the wait. 

Then there is the temple, and Obi-Wan breathes freely for what feels like the first time in as long as he can remember. 

His home is as magnificent and lively as he remembers. Better than that though, it is so brimming with life and Jedi and Light that even his last memories of walking through those hallowed halls, stepping past the bodies, can’t stain his view now. There are too many Jedi bustling about inside for him to pick up on anyone’s particular presence and what a privilege it is to miss them in a sea of the living. 

They begin their steady, familiar walk up to the council chambers. Half his attention is still running through what he is about to say to the council but the rest of his mind is free to marvel at the sheer volume of people passing him by. A handful take the time to smile or wave a greeting at him. Faces he hasn’t seen in years. Some who he last saw dead across a battlefield. Others he never heard from again after that day.

Those thoughts all get wiped when he catches a passing glimpse of Bant. She doesn’t see him, too consumed conferring with another padawan as they turned down a nearby hallway. He stares after the space she’d just occupied, his childhood friend alive again. He saw her during the war, saw the way it weighed her down. She’d felt the loss of her soldiers keenly, as did they all, but he couldn’t see any traces of that worlds-weary exhaustion in her now. Seeing such a familiar face, such a bright presence in the force that he mourned time and time again in the lonely desert nights brings the reality of his new life into a sharp, piercing relief. To live this again, to see her and everyone else he ever loved uncorrupted by misery is a gift and he can’t help but send a quick thanks into the Force, hoping the Daughter would somehow hear it. 

Far too soon Obi-Wan finds himself outside the High Council doors. He’d long ago lost count of how many times he had walked through them with the ease and confidence of someone who belonged there. He hadn’t been on the council for long, but it was a position he’d finally begun to feel he’d earnt after his years as high general. Now it was peculiar more than anything to find himself waiting patiently for them to grant him entry. 

Qui-Gon had been casting increasingly unsubtle glances at him through their journey. No doubt burning with curiosity about what Obi-Wan had been stalwartly denying to share on the ship. He continues to ignore his Master’s silent questions instead steeling himself for what was about to come. 

The doors open. 

Together, Master and Padawan entered the council chamber. They come to a stop together in the centre of the room, the watchful eyes of the council studying their every move. A strange sensation comes through the Force which takes Obi-Wan a moment to decipher. Ah. He’d unconsciously taken his place directly at Qui-Gon’s side as a fellow Master of the Order. 

Well, he reasoned, it was hardly like he wanted to step back two paces to his ‘rightful’ place as padawan, and so he shant. Various council members looked mildly displeased as he unspokenly declared himself of equal standing to Qui-Gon, who in turn only looks increasingly bemused at Obi-Wan’s uncharacteristic behaviour.  Mace and Yoda alone seemed to be ignoring his transgression, focusing instead on Obi-Wan in an entirely different, undecipherable manner. 

“Master Jinn. Padawan Kenobi.” Mace says evenly, though there’s a tinge of emphasis on Obi-Wan’s title that he resolutely ignores. “You have urgent news?”

“Yes, Masters there wa-”

“Indeed. We must repo-”

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon stutter to a halt at once, both confused at why the other was talking over them before Obi-Wan is reminded again that, yes, he is not in fact a Master of the Council anymore. With a slight flush of red staining his cheeks he defers to Qui-Gon. He’ll need to work more on upholding appearances in this timeline it seems. 

“Right,” Qui-Gon visibly recentres himself, “Well. Masters, we have requested this meeting to discuss not only the betrayal of the Trade Federation who attempted to assassinate both myself and my padawan, but also the presence of an unknown Force user we encountered, who engaged us in a duel with obvious intent to kill us.”

The Council is too refined to dissolve into surprised murmurs, but the Force echoes their discomfort loud and clear. 

“Unknown, you say? Not a Jedi, you think.” Yoda’s words are directed at Qui-Gon though his gaze rests heavily on Obi-Wan. 

“No,” his master continues swiftly, “Though he was trained in the Jedi arts. My only conclusion can be that he was a Sith Lord.”

“Impossible,” Ki-Adi-Mundi dismisses immediately, “The Sith have been extinct for a millennium.”

Mace goes to speak but Obi-Wan’s derisive snort is too loud for even him to ignore. 

“Have something to say, do you Padawan?” Yoda queries. 

“With all due respect, Master Mundi, we merely believe the Sith have been extinct for a millennium. Yet the observed presence of a darksider would surely indicate that our confidence in that belief should be questioned. The darkside is not nearly as familiar to us as it once was, we should hesitate to presume any of our conclusions about it.”

“Ah, hard to see, the darkside is.” Yoda agrees mildly.

“Yes,” Mace shifts in his seat, drawing the proceedings away from the impertinent padawan, “I do not yet believe the sith could have returned without us knowing. We will use all our resources to unravel this mystery. We will discover the identity of your attacker.”

Mace’s reassurance is kindly, though unnecessary. As evidenced by the way Qui-Gon interrupts his next attempt to dismiss them with a tentative “Well…”

The council peers at him, Master Jinn being already well known for his love of pushing the Council’s boundaries has long prepared them to expect resistance from the man.

“I believe my Padawan has something to say on the matter of our attacker’s identity.”

Cruel old man, throwing Obi-Wan under the speeder like this. He glares at his master for a second, just long enough for him to raise one eyebrow in return, the obvious you’re the one with all the secrets here going unsaid. 

“Indeed Masters.” Obi-Wan says, the very picture of serenity despite the swirl of trepidation that floods his system, “The man who pursued us was Darth Maul, a Sith Apprentice.”

This time the council does react audibly, a few murmured words or breath hitches. Everyone equally uncomfortable with Obi-Wan’s confident use of Maul’s name and title. 

“Know this for certain, you do?”

“Yes.”

“How?” Mace could thankfully always be relied on to get right to the point of a discussion. 

“The Force has been communing with me.” Obi-Wan has thought these words so many times it is something of a thrill to finally speak them to his audience. “I have been gifted a certain degree of foresight. There is a direct, Dark threat coming for not only the Jedi Order but the whole galaxy. This threat cannot be allowed to manifest itself.”

The council is listening, though plenty of them do not look convinced by Obi-Wan’s words. He’ll still take it rather than them throwing him from the room for insolence or some such nonsense.

“You claim you have been having visions?” Mace’s voice carries a tone of challenge, “I needn’t remind you that the future is always in motion. What you think you have seen may not come to fruition as you expect.”

“I should certainly hope not,” Obi-Wan grins ruefully. “But it would be incorrect for me to call them visions, per se.”

“What would you call them then?”

Obi-Wan turns to Depa Billaba now she’s spoken, her expression open and non judgemental. 

“The Daughter of the force has spoken to me.” 

“The Daughter?” Depa asked.

“Yes. I believe we have all heard tales of the Ones from the creche.” A few masters stirred, evidently connecting the dots quicker than he could say his piece but Obi-Wan carried on regardless. “The Father, the Daughter and the Son are residents of Mortis. The Daughter has reached me, across time and space and tasked me with ensuring that the future she has observed will not come to pass.”

Admittedly, it was a little underhanded for him to neglect that he had lived that future. But he was already trying to introduce the council to the mere existence of Siths again, let alone unprecedented miracles of time travel. He would have to seed the idea of that with them for some time before anyone would all be willing to accept his word. 

Master Mundi doesn’t bother hiding his scoff now. “Come, Padawan. Surely you do not expect us to believe in the creche stories? Many Jedi have searched for Mortis over the centuries. There is simply no evidence that the planet or its ‘inhabitants’ exist.” 

“Mortis cannot be mapped or found deliberately. Only those who are called to its surface can access the planet.” Obi-Wan’s voice carries certainty but none of the heat it had the first time he’d had to explain where he, Anakin and Ahsoka had been. He’d been challenged then too, despite having been a renowned general and with two other witnesses. He was not optimistic for his chances now, with only the word of a padawan and no proof of anything. 

“You were called to the planet?” Depa dutifully questions him, still trying to understand just what he is getting at. 

Obi-Wan pauses. From one perspective, yes. He still has distinct memories of their journey to the planet, and all the drama that ensued. Yet this body never had, and despite Mortis’s tenuous relationship to time, he could hardly think of a way to justify an interplanetary trip that even Qui-Gon wouldn’t have noticed while they were stationed on Tatooine. 

“No,” he settles on eventually, “I don’t know where the Daughter was when she spoke to me. I was in the midst of a meditation and found myself in some… void. I believe we were somewhere outside of time itself.”

He fields a handful of questions that he answers with varying degrees of uncertainty. Finally the council moves on, though not without many dubious looks. 

“Padawan Kenobi,” Mace’s fingers are steepled at his chin. The very picture of a stressed Jedi tightly holding it together. Obi-Wan had seen him like this many times during the war. He thinks this might be the first time he’s ever glimpsed it before then though. “You understand this is rather a lot for us to take on face value. We will need to work on ascertaining the veracity of your claims.”

Obi-Wan beams at him, which unsurprisingly does not reassure Mace at all, “Of course, Master Windu. Which is why I would like to request your presence to accompany Master Jinn and I when you ask us to return with the Naboo queen in the next few days. Then we may see if my knowledge of the future holds any merit.”

Mace’s eyebrows couldn’t climb any further up his forehead if he tried. “Is that so.”

It wasn’t a question, Obi-Wan nodded amusedly anyway.

“Master Jinn,” Yoda interrupts piously, “Thoughts on your padawan’s claim, you have?”

The room’s attention turns as one to his master. Qui-Gon is caught off guard for a second, his hand still thoughtfully rubbing at his chin from whatever he was thinking about moments before. 

“Ah, yes Master Yoda. I cannot confirm or deny Obi-Wan’s claim of meeting the Daughter.”

Through their bond Obi-Wan can very much tell Qui-Gon wants to pointedly remark how he didn’t even know Obi-Wan had done that because he hadn’t told him anything thank you very much padawan.

“But I am inclined to believe him. Since this… Encounter my padawan has exhibited some rather distinct shifts in personality that I have been unable to find reason for.”

Oops. 

“He has spent much time in meditation so I can assure you that at least his words have been carefully considered. None of which addresses the fact that when facing our opponent, Obi-Wan addressed the being as ‘Maul’ and he did respond with familiarity to the name.”

Obi-Wan can’t help the rush of relief he feels hearing his master choose to back him up, even if Obi-Wan really didn’t give him much time to prepare. He’d taken a gamble that Qui-Gon’s raw authenticity would either save or condemn him, but Obi-Wan was certain that if he had preemptively ensured his master’s cooperation the council would have been quick to dismiss their obviously contrived planning. 

“He’s a Zabrak.” Obi-Wan chimes in to the confusion of most of the room. “Maul? He’s a Zabrak. From Dathomir?”

Ah. Apparently that is not common knowledge yet. Though a few councillors look vaguely familiar with the planet’s name. 

“Very well.” Mace is quick to move on, but Obi-Wan is sure that many of them will be heading straight to the archives to verify for themselves what he has said. “We will discuss what you have reported here. May the force be with you.”

It is a clear dismissal though neither master or apprentice move. Instead Obi-Wan turns to Qui-Gon who has folded his hands into his sleeves, a subtle yet nervous habit Obi-Wan picked up from him long ago. 

“Master Qui-Gon, more to say, have you?”

“With your permission master,” he doesn’t wait for Yoda’s confirmation. “I have encountered a vergence in the force.”

“A vergence you say?”

“Located around a person?” Mace asks, his eyes involuntarily flicking to Obi-Wan who smiles mildly. 

“A boy.” Qui-Gon describes Anakin, his midichlorians and his general belief in the prophecy. Obi-Wan doesn’t bother interrupting the proceedings, allowing them to play out as before. When asked if he truly thinks Anakin is the one to bring balance to the force Qui-Gon is quick to answer.

“I don’t presume to-”

“But you do.” Yoda declares. “Revealed, your opinion is.”

“I request the boy be tested Master. Finding him was the will of the force. I have no doubt about that.”

The councillors are well past the point of withholding their disbelief. Obi-Wan enjoys the looks of blatant misgivings they receive as he had already been testing their beliefs with just the mention of the Daughter, let alone a prophecy thrown in as well. Everyone’s eyes dart to Mace who barely manages to contain the eye-roll Obi-Wan knows he wants to give. 

“Bring him before us then,” he concedes, his resignation clear. 

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon bow, then exit the room. 

“That went better than I thought,” Obi-Wan chirps to his master once the door closes behind them. Qui-Gon sighs. 

“I thought you might say that.”

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan is quick to leave his room once they return back to the temple proper. It earns him a mildly suspicious look from his master as he goes, but as much as Obi-Wan cherishes getting to spend time with him the rest of his family is outside those doors and he aches to walk amongst the Jedi again. Hardly anyone pays him any particular attention, which he soon decides to be immensely grateful for. It would be pretty embarrassing to have to explain why he keeps tearing up at the sight of a Padawan trying to sneak up on their master, or a crecheling toddling confidently after a Knight who hasn’t noticed them yet. He walks past scholars reading books and classes of younglings learning their first lightsaber katas. The Force thrums around him with the sheer feeling of rightness here in the temple. 

He wanders for hours, no real direction in mind. Instead he follows his whims, a level of freedom he hasn’t known in a decade. No one is hunting him, no one is trying to shoot at him or blow him up or conspiring to bring him to ruin. Nobody has even tried to assassinate him once since he arrived on planet, which turns out to be a rather nice way to live. Much easier than he remembered. 

Eventually his comm pings with a message and he’s only mildly surprised to see it’s Padme, requesting he come to her chambers to speak with her. Without a moment’s hesitation he turns on his heel and marches back toward the hangar and tries to prepare himself to reexperience the pain of Coruscanti sky traffic. Oh joy. 

Once he arrives a handmaiden opens the door for him, so he greets her by name and slips quietly into the room. The room is gorgeous, as expected. An opulent, beautiful suite already decked out in Nabooian art and artefacts perfectly curated to make its resident feel immediately at home. He rankles at the idea that Palpatine was probably the one responsible for this little move, certain that the man would have oh so casually thrown in the fact he has control over the minutiae of the queen’s visit and still manage to frame it as a personal gift to her. Still, he’s here for his friend, not a sith that he’d quite frankly rather not think about ever again if he could help it, and sure enough Padme is already waiting, now appropriately dressed as the queen herself. He bows to her which earns him a quirk of her lips, but not the true smile he was hoping for. 

“Your Majesty,” he greets.

Her eyes never leave his, the rest of her body held in perfect stillness before him. Her regal frame is almost indistinguishable from the statues surrounding her. “Padawan Kenobi.”

“Obi-Wan, please.”

“Then you may continue to address me as Padme, as per our deal.”

Finally a hint of the warmth in their friendship returns to the room, and only then does Obi-Wan register how cold and unsettling it had been before that moment. He searches the force and finds Padme, controlled though she is, radiating a disturbing unsettledness.

“Are you quite alright Padme?” he can’t help but ask.

She doesn’t slump, she’s always been far too regal for that, but it’s like the strings of propriety are cut all at once and Padme finally looks like a fourteen year old who doesn’t know how to handle the crises that have been handed to her.

“No, Obi-Wan, I do not think ‘alright’ is the word I would use.”

He moves to the seat before her, which had clearly been waiting for his arrival. “What has happened since we left the ship?”

“I came to this planet not only to speak to the Senate on my planet’s behalf you know, but I also sought the wisdom and support of my planet’s senator.”

Obi-Wan resolutely does not move a single muscle in his face, though from her sharp look he can tell she was expecting him to. 

“How did it go?” His tone is deceptively mild. She doesn’t even pretend to buy it. 

“You’ll be interested to know he shared some of the views we discussed in our travels.” Interested? Yes. Pleased? No. “He has informed me that the Senate is indeed corrupt and ineffectual. He tells me the bureaucrats have dug their claws into galactic affairs and they hold great power over the Chancellor.”

Obi-Wan settles the rise of indignant fury that wants to bubble up in his chest. Of course Sidious would be able to inform the young queen of the very faults he has sown into the democratic foundations of their galaxy. He’s positioned perfectly to speak the truth of the Senate’s failings while never implicating himself as their cause. It’s well done, he can grant him that, one strategist to another. Doesn’t mean Obi-Wan wants to stab him with his saber any less. 

“And what do you think of these claims?” He asks carefully, still unable to gauge where her conversation with the Sith has left her. From memory he recalls her being the one to call for the vote of no confidence in Valorum, an approach she hadn’t broached with him once this time around. He can only assume it was under Sidious’s influence that she even began to consider it an option. 

“I am inclined to agree with him.” Obi-Wan’s breath catches. “He and you have both led me to the conclusion that the Republic is not functioning as it should. It no longer follows the ideals of democracy and I fear he is right when he suggests that the Senate will not act swiftly to resolve my planet’s crisis.”

“But Padme-”

She holds up a hand, stopping his desperate rebuttal. “I am not finished, Obi-Wan.”

He shifts back in his seat, appropriately chastised before the royal, bizarre as it is to talk to a Padme who hasn’t already had years of smoothly interjecting into conversations with him. 

“He proposed a pathway to resolve this issue. He suggested I push for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum.”

There it is. At least Padme herself doesn’t sound particularly pleased by this suggestion.

“I told him that Valorum has been one of our greatest supporters. He thinks that it is the only path to a quick intervention, to have a stronger leader who can control the Senate.”

Obi-Wan waits for her to gather her thoughts.The space between their two seats is negligible but in the wavering silence between them he can only feel a gulf of uncertainty. Padme’s role in the mess surrounding Naboo cannot be downplayed and Obi-Wan is all too aware of just how events spilled into one another last time. Trepidation dances between them as he can do little more than wait for her to unknowingly decide on the shape of the galaxy. 

“I do not think I agree with him. But Obi-Wan I don’t know what other options I have.”

Finally Padme looks at him, a clear request for the help that she cannot vocalise is left between them. Obi-Wan can only be thankful that this time around she has sought his counsel and not been left with only Sidious’s poisonous ideas. The force seems to almost waver between them itself, a flood of connection, a spark of potential that tells Obi-Wan that they have found themselves caught in a moment of change. He can't help but reach out, his hand clasping around the tensely frozen grasp of the young queen until her eyes finally drag themselves back to meet his. He tries to flood his expression with the excitement, the hope, the belief that seems to sing under his skin now that she has cracked open the door to a whole new future.

“Why don’t we go speak to the Chancellor ourselves?”

“Pardon?”

“Well you say he has been a big supporter of Naboo,” Obi-Wan offers reasonably, “And Senator Palpatine seems to have enough confidence in his plan that suggests there is enough distrust and turmoil in the Senate that he could potentially be ousted in the first place. That leaves Chancellor Valorum in a rather tenuous position it seems. And significantly it appears that your favour could very well be the deciding factor of his career. I rather think he would like to know that that is indeed where he stands.”

He stands with far more enthusiasm than even he expected, extending a hand to help her up. Undoubtedly it breaks dozens of interplanetary laws of politeness but Padme still reaches unhesitatingly back to him, accepting the offer. Fueled by opportunity and a genuine want to push the boundaries of this past, he leads her from the room with purposeful strides, hand in hand with his friend. Ready to change the future. 

-

Obi-Wan imagines that Chancelor Vallorum didn’t normally look pleased to have a semi-rogue Jedi padawan and visiting queen saunter into his office with no warning aside from his aide desperately trying to both announce their arrival and beg them not to interrupt him. Still, Obi-Wan also suspects that the man is particularly displeased to see them right at that moment considering he’d already just called for (and is currently arranging) an emergency senate session for the sake of this exact queen. 

“Queen Amidala,” he says evenly despite the twitch of a nerve over his left eyebrow. “I did not expect to see you before the Senate hearing.”

“Thank you for taking the time to see us,” Padme says as she sits herself down on the absolutely unoffered seat before his desk. Valorum is well aware that he has no real choice but to accept this impromptu meeting without now coming across as unbearably rude to the Naboo queen. He shoots his aide a curt nod, acquiescing to their presence without a word. The aide shuts the door quietly behind her as she steps out of the room. 

Obi-Wan seats himself beside Padme while affecting all the airs of the renowned Jedi master he once was. He is under no illusions that Chancellor Valorum doesn’t know what his padawan braid symbolises, but he has found many people are aptly intimidated by any Jedi that looks even remotely like they know what they’re doing. After all, much of Anakin’s moodier teen years had worked terribly well in Obi-Wan’s favour by simply instructing the boy to stand in the background with his arms crossed and not saying a word. Those negotiations always seemed to be resolved rather quickly, with an above average volume of nervous looks darting towards his padawan whom Obi-Wan always assumed was busy thinking about which speeder bike he wanted to ‘improve’ when they returned to the temple later. The image of a Jedi was certainly something Obi-Wan was not afraid to take advantage of now that he finally lived in a time where his mere existence wasn’t met with violence. 

Valorum spares him a curious glance but his attention quickly diverts back to the imperious queen sitting before him, oblivious to the heavy weight of Obi-Wan’s thoughts. 

“Your Majesty, what can I do for you?”

“Chancellor, I have come to discuss the necessity of the Senate’s actions regarding Naboo.”

Valorum’s hands steeple before him, a sincere bafflement crossing his expression. “I confess I am confused. That is exactly what the Senate hearing tomorrow is to determine. I can hardly speak for the people’s decisions when they have not yet heard your plea.”

“Indeed.” Padme says breezily, “However I have reason to believe that there are forces at work that shall predetermine Naboo’s plea goes unanswered.”

Valorum doesn’t appear particularly shocked at this, which hardly fills Obi-Wan with much confidence about just how astute a leader he is proving himself to be. 

“And what forces are these?”

“For one, the Trade Federation. Their blockade of my planet, their current unauthorised occupation of my palace and their attack against the Jedi negotiators you sent to us should all have already been acted on by the Senate. I should not have had to come all the way to Coruscant to request the Galactic Senate does the bare minimum of their own jobs to handle these blatant crimes against their own rulings.”

Despite how well practised he is at negotiations, Obi-Wan still finds himself struggling to suppress a laugh at Padme’s matter-of-fact take down of the Senate. Especially considering the way the chancellor looks like he wants to chart the nearest escape route out of his own office just to avoid her. Idly, he wonders if Valorum regrets moving his hands so visibly above the desk where he and Padme can so clearly see the white knuckled tension that floods the unsettled Chancellor. 

“Your Majesty,” Valorum interjects, the vein above his brow twitching even more furiously than before, “I assure you we are approaching Naboo’s case with due consideration and-”

“Due consideration?” Padme is too regal to scoff in disbelief, but it’s a near thing. “Chancellor, you have been one of Naboo’s greatest supporters, which I am indeed thankful for. But I refuse to pretend that the Senate shares your kind regards. There is corruption seeded throughout the chamber and if you refuse to see it then I cannot rely on your good graces alone to ensure my people’s safety.”

“The rumours of corruption-”

“Are true.” She interrupts him with a certainty that rings true in the Force, though Obi-Wan is the only one to notice. 

Valorum hums disapprovingly, “Your Majesty, I think you’ll find-”

“That you do not possess the ability to control the very Senate you were elected to lead? Yes. I have come to that conclusion too.”

Admittedly Obi-Wan is enjoying this perhaps more than he should, but he’s quick to recognise that Valorum’s patience will soon run thin if they do not quickly shift to a more actionable course of discussion. It would be ten different kinds of rude for him to chide the queen aloud, or to reach across and give her some physical signal to change tacts. Not when their seats are so far apart and Valorum is far too well versed in politics to not notice the obvious agenda of his movements. So with a hope that young Padme will be amenable and not overly startled, Obi-Wan gives the back of her elaborate costume a quick tug in the force. Not enough to unbalance her, and well out of Valorum’s line of sight, but still an obvious enough intrusion that she would hopefully know his intent. 

She shoots him a quick look, her eyes hastily tracking his own serene expression. He sees her breathe deeply for a moment, centering herself once more before she turns back to Valorum.

“I did not come here today to squabble Chancellor,” She says carefully.

“Oh?” Valorum’s voice is as dry as a Tatooine wind. 

“I have been advised by multiple parties that the Trade Federation’s influence in the Senate, and its associated allies, are determined to ensure the continued oppression of my people for their own gains. Not only do I have a problem with the sheer volume of power the Federation has amassed within the Galactic Senate despite representing no people but themselves - but I have a problem with the influence the Federation appears to have over you , Chancellor.”

“Queen Amidala,” Obi-Wan interjects smoothly while the Chancellor splutters at her announcement, “Is not alone in these views Chancellor. As I am sure you are aware. There are members of the public who have begun to question whether, despite your good intentions, the mess of bureaucracy and legal loopholes have begun to hamper your opportunities to rule.”

In truth Obi-Wan recalls there having been a rather large amount of betting pools around Coruscant’s lower levels about whether the Chancellor would survive the end of his second term. Many Jedi feigned ignorance on these discussions publicly, though Obi-Wan also remembers Quinlan having ‘mysteriously’ come into a fair bit of money on his return to the planet after Palpatine’s rise to the position. 

“You wish to blame bureaucracy in a galactic senate for my failings as a leader, Padawan?” 

Ah. Seems Valorum really isn’t that happy with this little meeting.

“I did not say failings,” Obi-Wan corrects carefully, “I am merely reporting what others on this planet have spoken of. Surely you too can recall times you have tried to do true good in this galaxy only to be stopped by one quibbling faction or another? An occasion where you have tried to follow the sentiment of the law in pursuit of justice only to be held back by some ancient clause no one even remembers writing?”

“Yes… I can’t say I haven’t had my own struggles in finding quick action. But that is a part of the processes of democracy.”

“Then these processes are flawed,” Padme interjects, “The spirit of justice is being suppressed by bylaws and clauses and a chamber full of Senators who would prefer to please their sponsors than serve their people!”

“I understand your frustrations, your Majesty but what is it you expect me to do here? I cannot overturn a millennia of Senatorial malfunction in a day just because one planet is at threat.”

Padme rises up to her full height. It’s admittedly not much but the impeccable posture does serve to reinforce her proud, determined nature. 

“I expect you to think carefully on how you wish to proceed, Chancellor. Either you begin your work on reforming this Senate as it so desperately needs. Or I would find myself expecting a vote of no-confidence in your immediate future, if I were you.”

With that Padme turns, refusing Valorum time to craft his response to the underhanded threat levelled at him. She inclines her head in the barest signals of respect. “Thank you for your time today Chancellor. I hope you will think on my words.”

Immediately she strides out, walking with her impeccable grace from the room, Obi-Wan only a step behind her. They make it all the way to her speeder in silence. Only when they are settled in the back seats and Padme’s driver begins to route them back to the Temple does Padme let out a shaky breath.

“I certainly hope you are right, Obi-Wan, and that this was the best course of action.”

“I would never advise you against what I truly believe,” Obi-Wan promises her with a vehemence that surprises even him, “The Chancellor is deluding himself about his own effectiveness. Anyone with enough power behind them could compel enough Senators to turn on him. We must be careful who next takes on the role, it will become a tipping point for the fate of the galaxy itself.”

Perhaps that sentiment is a bit much to put on the already overburdened queen beside him but Obi-Wan feels certain that Padme’s allyship in his quest to change the future will be integral to his success. It is perhaps a gamble to put part of the galaxy’s fate into the hands of a friend. But Padme is exactly the type of person to get involved anyway, so he may as well ensure they’re working together now and save the hassle. She gauges him shrewdly, as he has come to expect. 

“Padawan Kenobi, the more you speak of this future you expect to happen, the more I find myself looking forward to that conversation you promised me.”

She smiles at him as if she hasn’t clearly declared that not only does she suspect his connection to the force has granted him insight of the future, but that she is expectant that she will have a role in his machinations. Her faith in his intentions to do good is clear or she certainly wouldn’t submit herself to the inferred indignity of letting a mere Padawan try to manoeuvre her own political career. He smiles back and she’s kind enough not to point out that it’s a little crooked, nor does she address the slight welling of water in his eyes that he quickly blinks away.

-

Obi-Wan returns to the temple and quickly resumes his general meandering about. He has much to consider and many plans to figure out how to enact but that all very much hinges on how tomorrow’s senate hearing goes. Until he can hear the results of that he’s committed himself to enjoying his time in the temple until he and Qui-Gon and Anakin are called in. As far as he’s aware the boy has already been tested while he was out and the council should currently be considering whether or not to take him in. 

Qui-Gon pings his comm once or twice to ask where Obi-Wan is. He answers honestly; the hangar, the Archives, the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the training salles. Qui-Gon doesn’t seem sure what his Padawan’s rogue wanderings are for, but Obi-Wan resolutely ignores his master’s increasingly less subtle hints to return to their apartment so they can talk. 

Eventually enough time passes that Obi-Wan receives his message to meet Qui-Gon at the Council room again. He turns on his heel, rerouting from the halls of healing where he’d been trying to see if Vokara Che was hanging around to berate the next generation of younglings for whatever ill conceived plans they’d concocted that had predictably ended with them in the halls. He’d missed the free entertainment of Vokara’s no-nonsense attitude when it came to getting the Jedi to please for the sake of the force, remember not to see which of you can do the biggest force jump if you still haven’t learnt to control your own falls . Instead he’d found her, still sporting her own padawan silka beads trailing against her lekku, and decided not to interrupt her time of learning. He looked forward to the next few years where she would rise amongst the healer ranks and continue her endless, hilarious chiding that would be levelled far more at his padawan than himself. 

Now, speaking of his padawan…

Obi-Wan's quick march back to the Council chambers is filled with yet more musing on how integral the next few minutes will be for Anakin. Obi-Wan is well aware that should it come to it he would have to leave the order to raise the boy again, on his own if he must, but even he can’t help pushing his hopes out to the Force that this timeline will allow him the gift of getting another chance to truly bring Anakin into the fold of the Jedi as his family. Without Sidious’s poison in his ears Obi-Wan knows he could truly be the best of them. But even as his sharp steps echo through the ancient halls, Obi-Wan can’t help the twinge of nerves that accompany his every move. 

He can’t see how, but it does feel just possible enough that his meddling in the past has been enough to push the Council’s opinions too firmly into the negative. That he has unwittingly condemned Anakin to exile by acting only with the best of intentions. So clouded are his thoughts as he walks, Obi-Wan manages to remain entirely oblivious to the many Jedi masters, padawans and initiates alike who swiftly step out of his way, their surprised gazes following the military-precise movements of Padawan Kenobi. 

Inside the council chambers Obi-Wan stands patiently beside Qui-Gon who rests a hand on Anakin’s shoulder before them. Once again Obi-Wan watches events unfold before him. He lets his mind continue to wonder as greetings are passed, announcements made and finally his master’s impatient redirection to the results of the Council’s decision. To his absolute lack of surprise Qui-Gon’s posture shifts irritably, though minutely, when Mace declares that Anakin is not to be trained. 

“No?” His master says with thinly veiled shock, “He is the chosen one. You must see it.”

“Mmm. Clouded this boy’s future is.” Yoda says, his eyes closed as he listens to the force. 

Obi-Wan idly starts a count in his head. One. Two. Three. Four. Fiv-

“I will train him then.” Qui-Gon declares, right on time. “I take Anakin as my padawan learner,” he announces it confidently to the room despite being fully aware this is very much not how any part of this should go.

This time around Obi-Wan doesn’t bother to look at his master with betrayal, not that he noticed it the first time. Instead, Obi-Wan takes the opportunity to cast a look at the other council member’s faces. To absolutely no one's surprise, not one of them look happy with Qui-Gon’s actions. A few are even giving Obi-Wan appropriately pitying looks as they’ve clearly connected the dots of what an insult Qui-Gon is giving him before the man himself has. Obi-Wan appreciates the sentiment, especially considering just how isolated and abandoned he’d felt when he was first this age. It is nice, now, to know that the councillors had clearly been radiating this empathy and care for him even if he hadn’t been able to pick up on it then. 

“An apprentice you have, Qui-Gon. Impossible, to take on a second.” 

“The code forbids it,” Mace is blatantly trying to remind Qui-Gon of the very clear rules he is already flouting spectacularly, though of course that doesn’t stop his next words. 

“Obi-Wan is ready.” 

This time Obi-Wan feels no need to defend his disparaged honour in the face of his Master’s unintended disrespect. So he doesn’t bother to interject either for or against this sentiment. There’s a moment of awkward silence where the council no doubt expects him to jump to his own defence. Instead Obi-Wan folds his arms patiently into his sleeves, not yet willing to add any more fuel to this particular fire. 

Frankly he expects the council to turn back to the issue of Anakin’s training, or Qui-Gon’s rule breaking but Yoda ignores the both of them, his old eyes staring deeply at Obi-Wan who doesn’t shirk under the grandmaster’s attentions. 

“What say you to this, Padawan Kenobi?”

“I am flattered by Master Jinn’s faith in my abilities.” Obi-Wan says mildly. 

Yoda as close to scoffs as he can at the obvious deflection. 

“Agree then, do you? Ready you feel, for your trials?”

“Well I can’t say I’ve ever done them before,” he says honestly, at least in regards to a traditional Knights trials. Sith killing hardly counts. “So I suppose I would have to find out when the time comes for me to attempt them”

A few councillors smile obligingly at his good humour in the face of his master’s social faux pas. And, he imagines, a few simply enjoy watching him be as indirect to Master Yoda as he usually is to everyone else.

Yoda hums. “Feelings you have, about the boy’s future. Share them with us, why don’t you?”

Oh of course now is the time the old frog wants to be direct. Obi-Wan stifles a sigh. 

“I did not think my insights to the future would need to be consulted, Master. The decision to accept a Padawan into the order is traditionally a task for the Council. And as noted I am, at least currently, still a Padawan.”

Only Qui-Gon seems to have missed Obi-Wan’s subtle dig at his Master’s lack of respect for Obi-Wan’s status as his current Padawan. Various other master’s raise their species's equivalent of eyebrows at his words. 

“Asking you now, I am, on your thoughts.”

Obi-Wan steps forward, past both Qui-Gon and Anakin so he can face Yoda straight on.

“I am wary to say too much as of yet Masters, so I hope you can forgive my hesitance to not speak too far out of turn. But if you are asking for my thoughts then I can tell you that I think this matter has not been given nearly enough time for you to conclude that Anakin should not be trained.”

“You think we are being hasty with our decision, Padawan?” Mace interjects, mild offence radiating off him.

“Not hasty,” Obi-Wan corrects gently. “But without all the relevant information I think. You may conclude that Anakin shouldn’t be trained at all. Or perhaps he would need the dedication and care of a particular master, and frankly I agree that Master Qui-Gon would likely be the wrong one for the boy.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t turn to see how Qui-Gon is taking that particular statement, though he does watch more eyebrow or eyebrow equivalents climb even higher across many faces. 

“More importantly though Masters, I think that the same test for force sensitive children we have given for centuries is not wholly reflective of Anakin’s unique abilities.”

Trust me , he wants to say, you all have no idea what he will be capable of.

“Suggest we do not know him yet, you do?” Yoda closes his eyes again, listening for something Obi-Wan can’t even begin to suspect. 

“Yes,” no need to mince his words here, “I propose that now is not the right time for this decision, not when the Senate has decided on Queen Amidala’s plea and she will be returning to Naboo. Her actions will have instigated the Federation to put pressure on her planet, and you will surely wish us to accompany her safely back. Particularly because of Maul’s presence which you will want to confirm for yourself I imagine, Master Windu, if you still intend to accompany us as I requested last time?”

Obi-Wan feels a hint of guilt at blatantly stealing all Mace’s agenda items before he got the chance to say them. But living through these same discussions again has brought the long forgotten memories back to the forefront of his mind and he truly doesn’t have the patience to wait it out when he still doesn’t know the Senate’s decision yet. 

Mace bristles at Obi-Wan’s implied expectation of acquiescence from the Master of the Order, but he knows he’s absolutely right in his assumption that Mace is in fact curious to determine Maul’s presence for himself, not to mention that Obi-Wan is also providing the perfect occasion to test his own self proclaimed future-foresight. In all likelihood the council determined that Mace would be accompanying them five minutes after he’d left the last meeting when Obi-Wan first proposed the idea. 

Still, Mace takes a second to weigh the proposal up again before agreeing that they would be leaving together early the next morning. 

“Young Skywalker's fate, we will discuss on your return.” Yoda announces, a clear dismissal. 

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon bow, so does Anakin a few seconds later after Obi-Wan gently nudges his shoulder with the force. Then they three file out of the room to prepare for their journey to Naboo. The last flight they took together in another life. Obi-Wan steels his resolve. 

This time, they would be coming back from that planet together too. 

Chapter Text

In terms of how to ensure one has the single most awkward space flight possible, Obi-Wan thinks he might have just figured out the absolute perfect way to do it. First, one simply has to have convinced a queen to challenge the galaxy’s elected ruler into personally ensuring political aid or threaten to dissolve his entire career. Then, accept the follow through of the Chancellor of the Republic taking that threat to heart which then leads to him publicly announcing his personal intervention into the planet's current unlawful occupancy. Thus you will have a queen returning to her home planet with a fully actionable battle plan to take back her palace by force if necessary, and you get to watch her have to evaluate her battle plans to accommodate for said Galactic leader who continues to spiral into deeper regret and confusion during every passing minute. 

Second, one must have underhandedly convinced the leader of the Jedi order to accompany you and your master and your padawan of another timeline, on this journey to intercede on a planet he had no intention of visiting. Make sure to have only convinced him to come with you to verify the fact that you know that the Jedi’s ancient enemy the Sith have returned for the first time in a millennia which would pose a significant threat to the entire order. Then, throw in your own master who is still silently seething at not only the Jedi’s leader for refusing to train the chosen one, but also you for daring to publicly suggest that you don’t think he’s necessarily fit to train the chosen one either. 

Then there is the chosen one, who is still very much a young boy who understands very little of the nuances that have resulted in all the adults around him behaving so out of character. Yet by nature of being the chosen one he is incredibly gifted in the Force which means he has absolutely picked up on the sheer volume of tension in the enclosed ship. Then have him attempt to befriend the young queen who is too distracted to give him her attention as she is busy trying to petition the Chancellor of the galaxy to gather yet more allies for their invasion of her own planet. Next, have the boy come to you to ask you to teach him about this whole Force business that both your master and the leader of your order are being too awkward about each other to explain to him. 

And finally try not to have a panic attack in the face of the young boy who in another life you knew to grow up and bring about the ruin of the Republic that you’re currently trying to save. As well as the life of your master who is currently on the last journey you ever knew him to take because last time you lived this life he was murdered in front of you and you can still hardly bring yourself to look him in the eyes because every second you draw nearer to that fateful moment the idea of going through all that again seems to become more and more painful until you can’t stand to be in a room with any of these people so you’ve made a tactful retreat to your bunk under the guise of meditating. 

Or something like that. 

Obi-Wan sighs and gives up on the pretence of meditation, even to himself. Frankly it was ambitious to try it considering the sheer weight of everyone’s discomfort in the Force around him. Of the many people on board this ship who have their own reasons to feel unsettled about their journey, Obi-Wan quickly decides that the queen and chancellor are likely to be his best bet to at least having a productive conversation. So he slips quietly from the room, careful to keep an eye out for wayward Jedi or almost-Jedi who might want to get some sort of a follow up conversation. Not that he’s avoiding them just that… well. 

He spies Padme and Valorum, as well as Captain Panaka and a woman that had been introduced as Valorum’s head of security, once again reviewing the holo image of Naboo’s palatial layout. 

“We should enter here,” Captain Panaka says, pointing at the courtyard Obi-Wan recalls from last time. He slips into the group's huddle without a word, falling into line beside Padme’s left while Sabe occupies her right, dressed in the Royal robes. Panaka acknowledges him with a nod but continues on speaking, outlining his proposed strategy for entering. The Jedi listens thoughtfully, all issues of the present fading away as years of wartime strategy meetings surface far too easily. Now, he finds himself challenging the Captain in ways he certainly didn’t last time. Now he offers minor corrections and suggestions that should save the invading party most of the casualties of last time. Additionally he proposes his own expectations of where the Trade Federation is likely to have stationed droids. Informed by both the vague memories he recalls from before he and Qui-Gon were split off from the group, and from his overly detailed understanding of a droid army’s strengths and weaknesses and how he would station them, were he the one in charge. 

He, Panaka and Mireena, Valorum’s chief of Security, cycle through their own ideas and strategies for some time. They weigh each option carefully and together decide on what is likely the best course of action to ensure swift success. He’s far too occupied in the discussion to notice either the growing looks of admiration and wonderment on the politician’s faces nor does he see two Jedi shaped silhouettes aligning themselves within the shadows behind him, their faces clouded from sight. 

“And what of your forces Chancellor?” Obi-Wan asks, though the question is really directed at Mireena who has proven herself quite the strategist. She looks to Valorum as a matter of course, though at his acquiescing nod she takes control of the answer. 

“My security forces are well trained though we don’t have large numbers,” she admits matter of factly. “To achieve the diversion we discussed, it seems the plains here,” she gestures throughout the holomap, “would provide our best bet for drawing the droid troops away from the palace. However,” she frowns, “There is practically no cover available. Three of our fighter ships are outfitted with enough munitions that we can at least count on air support but when it comes to the ground battles…”

Obi-Wan frowns, “What about the force shields?”

“What shields?” 

He turns to Sabe, though both she and Padme are well aware who he is really addressing, “The Gungan armies have their own shielding technology. Surely their troops will be using that to provide cover for the infantry and Valorum’s forces, while the fighters have air support covered.”

Everyone at the table stares at him blankly. Jar Jar, who has remained miraculously silent throughout the whole discussion blinks at him in confusion. 

“Padawan Kenobi,” Sabe says on Padme’s behalf, “We don’t have access to the Gungan shields. They have held a longstanding distrust of the Naboo people.”

Ah. Got ahead of himself again. 

“But surely you intend to request the assistance of the Gungans?” He asks. He’s not sure what part of history he must have influenced if this discussion was new. He’d somewhat blindly assumed Padme and Jar Jar must have discussed it at some point, though perhaps by changing her political agenda so suddenly he’d interrupted the chance for them to do so. 

“Do you believe the Gungans would be amenable to that request?” Sabe asks Jar Jar who stumbles his way through an answer that they all vaguely take in the affirmative.

Mireena hums thoughtfully when Jar Jar announces the Gungan history as a warrior people, and when he gives them even a rough estimate of the Gungan forces. 

“Their help would be invaluable in ensuring a success against the droids, especially if there are as many as Padawan Kenobi suggests.”

There are. He is both thankful and regretful for how clearly his first memories of this day have been returning to him. He’s been noticing it more and more as he relives these early days. That the old memories are more accessible than they have been in decades, like every moment he relives just brings them closer to the surface. Now his strategies are informed by first hand experience. And so is his grief. 

Eventually they land amidst the sweltering heat of the jungle, right where Jar Jar says they can enter the Gungan city, even though Obi-Wan knows they aren’t there by now. He considered giving everyone a heads up about the deserted city but truly couldn’t think of a way to spin how he’d gotten that knowledge. Particularly since Mace and Qui-Gon had both seemed to resolutely come to the conclusion they needed to monitor his every move now. Like if left to his own devices he’d simply slip away and get up to more trouble than he’s worth. He’s not quite sure why they both decided that but it hardly seems worth pushing them on the matter. So instead he waits patiently for Jar Jar to surface again where he can then lead them to the new Gungan hideout. 

Mace and Qui-Gon are conferring quietly while Obi-Wan sees Jar Jar off, though still within their new radius of making-sure-Obi-Wan-isn’t-up-to-anything. Vaguely, he wonders what has occupied them both so much, particularly since it is glaringly obvious neither of them have thought to hide the fact that he is very much the subject of discussion if their darting eyes are anything to go off. Dutifully ignoring their lack of tact, he takes a moment to check in on Anakin who has been drilling the Nubian pilot for what seems like the last two straight hours on every aspect of how the ship handles that the boy could think of. If he’d not been distracted by the Jedi’s mildly suspicious activity he might’ve thought ahead about how he’d essentially just roped himself into hearing about Anakin’s newest plans to refit a starship he doesn’t even own with a hyperdrive engine he most certainly can’t afford. It takes most of the time Jar Jar is still swimming through the lake before Obi-Wan can redirect Anakin to considering that maybe he should ask Padme if she has any old ships that aren’t currently in use during an infiltration that he could work on after said infiltration occurs. 

Satisfied that the boy isn’t about to pull their primary mode of transport apart with the screwdriver he stole from force-knows-where, and all the unbridled power an untrained chosen one can throw at it, Obi-Wan finally circles back to the two Masters. As soon as he’s within hearing distance of the pair they fall abruptly silent. He almost rolls his eyes at how transparent they’re being but manages to contain himself, barely. 

“Master Jinn, Master Windu.” He greets neutrally. “Jar Jar should be heading back from the Gungan city now.”

“Thank you Padawan,” Qui-Gon says. 

They all pause for a few seconds, Obi-Wan waiting it out while the masters try to smoothly transition away from having very clearly just been discussing his odd behaviour but not wanting to acknowledge it at all in case Obi-Wan started acting even more out of character. It’s almost tempting, just to see what they’d do. Instead he resigns himself to simply holding eye contact and watching them in return.

Mace, surprisingly, cracks first. 

“Padawan Kenobi, have you any further insights of the future that you wish to share now we are on planet? Do you believe we are approaching the darkness that the ‘Daughter’ warned you of?” 

Obi-Wan isn’t even offended that Mace is clearly dubious of his claims about the Daughter. If anything he’s grateful that at least he’s willing to listen. Privately, he weighs up his choices. It didn’t seem right earlier to just announce the Gungan hiding place, but a twinge in the back of his mind urges him to share a bit more honesty with these two now that they’re all waiting around the lake shore. At least now he’ll have a pretty immediate confirmation for the supposed future nonsense he spouts once Jar Jar returns. 

“Well, I can tell you the Gungans aren’t actually down there,” he gestures vaguely towards the lake. Both Masters could use a little work on hiding their sense of shock, or general unsettledness. If Obi-Wan were an enemy of any kind he could read them with far too much ease. Hmm. Perhaps the Jedi’s sense of security needed more work. Regardless of their expressions though, he carries on. “They’ve retreated to another location to avoid Federation droids. Don’t worry though, Jar Jar knows where they’ve gone.”

Neither of them look particularly reassured. 

“I also know where they’ve gone,” he adds just in case. “The Queen will win them to her side.”

“And the infiltration?” Qui-Gon asks, his hands once again folded into his sleeves, “You sound confident about all of this preparation but what about when we enter the palace?”

“Ah.” As best Obi-Wan can tell all the changes he’s made will ensure that the infiltration goes smoother for their party, but the mere fact he’s made changes at all means he can’t rely on his memories to assure him of victory. Any number of factors could mean the difference between life and death. His eyes flick to Mace on instinct as the man’s presence here is walking proof of this new timeline. “That’s a little harder to see Master.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, Maul is a dark presence, and as Master Yoda loves to remind us all: the Dark is hard to perceive.”

“You still believe he will be present?”

“He’ll be there.” Obi-Wan’s tone doesn’t leave room for argument, which is great because that’s right when Jar Jar resurfaces. If nothing else the Gungan can be relied on as an excellent escape from unwanted conversation. Obi-Wan drifts towards him, curious Jedi trailing in his wake. Jar Jar shakes the water from himself narrowly missing Obi-Wan who had come to a stop just out of range. Finally Jar Jar looks to them, with two Jedi waiting in suspense and one with mild curiosity until he speaks.

By the time he announces that the Gungans are all gone and Obi-Wan has all the confirmation he needed, he turns and begins walking in the direction that Jar Jar points out seconds after he’s already left. The Jedi masters turn to one another, an entire unspoken conversation passing between them before they too turn to follow the unruly padawan who is leading the way well before their own Gungan guide can tell them where to go. 

From there everything broadly occurs just as he remembered. Though this time Obi-Wan gets to enjoy the looks on both Mace and Qui-Gon’s faces when Padme reveals herself as the true queen of Naboo. He grins at his master when Qui-Gon promptly turns to him with accusing eyes, having just connected the dots for how much time Obi-Wan spent with the ‘handmaiden’ Padme and his absolute lack of surprise at her announcement. 

While she negotiates her alliance Qui-Gon drifts closer to Obi-Wan’s side, neither of them minding how Mace is also clearly listening in from his seat before them. 

“You didn’t feel a need to warn me that I have been escorting the wrong queen for a week?” 

“Why would I have done that Master? You seemed so pleased to have done such a good job. I wouldn’t want to take that away from you.”

Mace’s quiet laugh was duly ignored by the pair as Obi-Wan was busy radiating as much smug superiority as he could while Qui-Gon’s faux embarrassment provides the perfect excuse for him to not-so-subtly elbow his misbehaving Padawan in the side. 

“You’re a menace to your old master,” he mutters. 

“At least you can’t say I don’t keep things interesting,” Obi-Wan replies easily. 

“No,” Qui-Gon sizes him up, “I don’t think I can.”

-

The negotiations wrap up as expected, though this time with the added benefit of Obi-Wan getting to see the Gungans all appreciate the Chancellor’s security team's fighters. If anything they seem pleased that the Chancellor is supposedly such a brave man to come all this way. Obi-Wan suspects his presence only serves to reinforce the idea that Padme is a strong leader and worthy ally if she could manage to get the Chancellor of the republic here on her own. He certainly didn’t expect it, but it’s actually quite nice to see the bonds between the Gungan and the Nubian people strengthened by these changes. 

For Valorum’s part he looks only mildly regretful that to ensure his word holds any merit in the Senate he felt compelled to see this through to the end in person. Throughout the entire trip over to Naboo and during their time in negotiations with the Gungans, Vallorum had thrown plenty of lightly concealed resentful glances to both him and Padme. Hilariously, it seemed both of them had elected to respond with sunny smiles and false ignorance of where the Chancellor’s blame was coming from. Admittedly, the man has a good reason to be upset what with joining in on an invasion and its generally higher potential of getting shot at during the battle than just signing off on a paper about it back on Coruscant. But on the other hand Obi-Wan has already seen dozens of news articles on the holonet of people praising the Chancellor for finally sticking up for the democracy he’s meant to represent. 

If things go well for him here, Vallorum may actually have earned enough social goodwill from the public and some of the more scrupulous senators that he could actually start making some real changes. The tide of public opinion has begun to sway drastically since the moment the Chancellor stood up before the Senate and announced his intentions to ensure that Naboo’s precarious situation would be handled with grace and care. That the Galactic Republic would stand with its companions. That he would lead the charge himself if he had to. Obi-Wan could admit to himself that he is absolutely fascinated to see how this will all turn out, how a Valorum who is not beholden to the whims of the Trade Federation, and all the other commercial factions, will hold onto his seat of power now that Sidious’s first plan for him has fallen through. 

Soon their party, Gungan’s included, were marching through the swamp towards the plains where they’d decided to take their stand. Mireena and the Captain were coordinating their strategies with a few Gungan military leaders, maps of the area strewn about across the nose of a speeder bike parked at the very edges of the fields before them. It was a pleasant surprise when Obi-Wan found himself getting waved over by Mireena so he could lend a hand with the planning. 

“Padawan Kenobi is practically a master tactician in his own right,” Mireena explained swiftly and without any fanfare to the Gungans when they noted his presence with confusion. Obi-Wan ducked his head in thanks. And, perhaps, so that he could make sure he wasn’t blushing at the brusk praise. Stupid young body with its uncontrollable reactions. What a betrayal. 

Once he’d gotten his own face under control, the impromptu team of leaders quickly solidified their plans. It was fascinating to see how the Gungan leaders were so willing to adapt to the Coruscanti guard and vice versa. Not to mention how strange it was to have to couch any and all contributions he wanted to make regarding droid troop movements and optimal battle formations, as though his knowledge had only arisen from pure logic and Force nonsense rather than years of hard won experience in a galactic war that had never been fought. Thankfully his minor crisis of translation was easily dismissed by his companions who didn’t care how he’d got the information, just that he had it. The Gungans in particular seemed very excited to learn just how easily the droid necks could be separated from the bodies and how vulnerable a weak spot they really were. 

“Padawan, Captains,” Mace’s voice interrupts them eventually, “We are moving to the palace shortly if you’ll join us.”

Dutifully they trail after Master Windu, meeting up with Padme, her security team, the Nubian pilots and a fraction of Vallorum’s people who aren’t staying to support the Gungans. Padme leads their ragtag group through a series of secret passages into the city with confidence. The trip is conducted in near perfect silence with Padme being accompanied by Obi-Wan as her immediate protector while Qui-Gon and Mace monitor the group’s sides and rear from any potential pursuers. Miraculously no one has questioned Anakin’s continued presence with the invading troop, though Mace had certainly sent the boy a few dubious looks, seemingly uncomfortable with allowing a child into an active firefight. Obi-Wan certainly understands the hesitancy but for this day to run as smoothly as possible with as few casualties as they can manage, Obi-Wan is relying on Anakin to once again blatantly ignore orders and go blow up the droid’s ship. At least he can feel comforted that if there is the chance for Anakin to make as big a mess as possible - and if it can be achieved through flying recklessly and blowing up things he doesn’t really understand - then that’s pretty much a guarantee that he’ll get the job done. 

When they reach the courtyard Obi-Wan stands back to watch in wry amusement as Qui-Gon drops to a knee before the kid and wags a finger in his face in the most parently manner Obi-Wan has ever witnessed from the man.

“Now, when we get inside you find a safe place to hide and stay there.” Qui-Gon cautions.

Anakin nods dutifully, so full of an earnest conviction that Obi-Wan knows with absolute certainty is going to dissolve entirely in about, oh, ten minutes. 

After that it’s the work of only a few short minutes to have their party start ducking and weaving towards the palace entrance. A handful of scout droids catch sight of them but Obi-Wan crushes most of them with the force before they can say a word, having already sought out their optimal positions as soon as he entered the courtyard. It is only after they’ve made it halfway to the front door without incident before Mace notices what he’s doing. Obi-Wan resolutely ignores the way he cranes his head back, only now picking out the crumpled remains of droids he’d never even noticed. When he turns back his eyebrows have lifted high on his face as he peers at Obi-Wan with a truly unreadable expression.  

“Well done Padawan,” he praises faintly. Having not known what he expected the man to say Obi-Wan finds himself stumbling in surprise. Mace is capable of many things, yet this display of reserved admiration is not one that the time traveller had expected here in this moment. In fact it is solely because Obi-Wan is now compelled to examine just what he’d done to earn that response that he finally slips up. One of the few remaining droids in their path finally notices the encroaching party and sounds the alarm. Great. 

At the very least this does mean the Jedi can let their lightsabers do the rest of the talking for them. Between the three of them they get all of their party in through the doors Padme opens for them in a matter of seconds, with only one casualty and three unfortunate guards who got a blaster bolt to a limb or two. He can’t remember the exact numbers of how things went last time but Obi-Wan can’t help but be pleased that they already seem to be off to a better start. 

Together they charge for the hangar, Obi-Wan and Padme leading the way with resolute certainty. There is a brief, wild moment where Obi-Wan feels himself having to clamp down on a rogue smile that has crept up upon his face. It’s silly but there really is something almost fun about getting to take down all these droids again. Maybe it's the catharsis after years of inaction. Maybe it’s just the comparison of how much more smoothly and efficiently he can carve through his opponents this time around. His movements a blurred, practised dance of a Master Jedi facing down his most common opponents once again. Ease and comfort practically radiate from him with every effortless step. This time he’s weighed down by none of the uncertainty of his youth from before. Not to mention how much more effective his soresu form is in this fight than the old ataru he used initially. 

With three Jedi masters on their side, the Naboo party make it to the hangar much faster than Obi-Wan remembered. Once again Qui-Gon tells Anakin to find cover while Padme orders her men to their ships. Now though, Obi-Wan lets his attention follow the child absently to confirm that he actually does climb back into the cockpit of a fighter again. Some idle part of his mind that isn't currently focused on the swarm of blaster bolts filling the room wonders if he should have a sit down with the kid at some point to make sure he doesn’t really think that the inside of one of the vehicles that the army of droids are currently shooting at is a good idea in future. 

Still everything seems to be going roughly according to plan. The fighters take off, the droids are taken down and there are only a handful of wounded humans who managed to crawl to safety during the rest of the fight. Chancellor Valorum is looking rather shaken by the whole fight but he admirably pulls himself together enough to help handing out bacta patches and offering what aid he can. Another surprise is just how much of an asset Mireena and her crew end up being. While the Chancellor is helping out they spread out to secure the perimeter without any need for Obi-Wan’s meddling. An efficient team operating at the top of their game is a pleasant change of pace from Obi-Wan’s recent experience in the wastes of Tatooine. In fact, he’s so distracted by just how effective the plans have been up till now that he almost misses when Padme confers with Captain Panaka and assures him that the Federation Viceroy will likely be in the throne room. 

Anxiety pools in his stomach at the thought of what comes next, Padme’s words echoing in time with all the memories that he’s tried to quell for decades. He knows what is about to happen, with a dreaded certainty that could be coming from aching experience or the Force itself, either of which is enough to earn the thrum of adrenaline coursing through his skin. At the very least he feels an unknown tension release just slightly when Anakin, right on time, asks for them to wait up and Qui-Gon once again orders him to stay in the cockpit of the fighter. That he’ll be safe there. 

Mace, who has been trailing the Chancellor closely looks over at this but doesn’t put up any arguments which Obi-Wan is thankful for. Safe isn’t the word he’d personally use for the fact Anakin is very much about to go fly a ship into orbit around them to go blow up an entire station, but it is a harsh necessity that he knows will ensure their victory. Obi-Wan does his very best not to feel too much guilt at playing with Anakin’s security like this, but whatever minute signals he is putting out seems to be enough to draw Mace’s attention back to him as he stares searchingly at the padawan, though what he’s searching for Obi-Wan doesn’t know. However these thoughts are all dashed form his mind the second that the doors before them slide open with an echoing hiss.

It is almost a cruelty from his own mind to blend the wavering visage of his memory on top of the scene before him. What was once a foreign, misunderstood threat that would tear his life apart with one blow is now interceded with a simple Zabrak apprentice who is filled with youth and overconfidence. Obi-Wan looks his first nemesis in the eyes and sees a different life never lived in the face of the Sith standing stubbornly in his way.

Beside him Obi-Wan hears the hitched breaths and gasped shock of the Jedi. Both of them shift as one, an automatic drop into a ready stance to face this combatant even through their surprise as if Obi-Wan hadn’t very explicitly warned him of this happening. Or perhaps it’s because Obi-Wan very explicitly warned him of exactly this happening. Hard to tell. 

Qui-Gon pushes through their group first. “We’ll handle this.”

Padme doesn’t hesitate, “We’ll take the long way around,” she declares and leads her people away swiftly. She does shift her eyes to Obi-Wan on her way out, offering him a sharp nod of support and then she’s gone. 

Three Jedi move as one to form one body in opposition to the darksider. Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon and Maul all shift in sync, their outer robes dropping to the floor from an ease of practised movement. Only Mace stays vigil and poised. 

Maul falls back into his opening stance, the dual ends of his lightsaber hissing to life. This is met in tandem with a chorus of hisses as purple, blue and green light floods from the Jedi’s own weapons. Years of battlefield banter instincts surface in Obi-Wan’s mind wholly in spite of the sombre severity of the situation until sure enough he feels himself speaking before he can think better of it. 

“Lovely to see you again Maul. Truly wonderful weather here on Naboo this time of year, don't you think?”

“Jedi.” Maul spits at him, which is hardly an answer.

“Correct!” Obi-Wan commends him, “An astute observation.”

“Padawan,” Mace warns, his own voice thick with tension. All four of them remain poised, ready for the first attack move, but Obi-Wan’s attempt at a conversation has disrupted everyone’s plans equally. Neither the Jedi Masters nor the Sith apprentice feel sure of what secret game Obi-Wan seems to be playing without having alerted any of them to the rules.

“Master, I’m merely trying to be polite. How about a different topic?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, “Tell me Maul, how is your master these days?”

Maul sucks in a breath involuntarily, unsettled by Obi-Wan’s confident knowledge that the sith they’re dealing with is merely an apprentice. 

“Would you say he’s done well training you?” Obi-Wan takes a step forward, poised though not yet attacking, “Do you think he’s prepared you for this? To face three Jedi?”

Maul hunches further into himself, looking more and more like a caged, feral animal about to pounce. His gaze darts to the three burning sabers levelled against him. The calculations he must be running in his mind are practically visible behind his eyes as he weighs up how to handle three opponents at once. Certainly the Jedi are rather out of practice with duelling a Sith but so too have the Sith hidden for far too long from their own enemies. Here, only Obi-Wan alone can boast experience with truly facing down his sworn opponents. 

By now he has moved dangerously close to the Zabrak. Through the Force itself he can feel how Qui-Gon and Mace, left standing tensely where he left them, are both far too wary of disrupting this strange tension between them so have been . From here Obi-Wan can feel the radiant heat of Maul’s dual sabers. He can hear the harsh breathing and see the sharpened points of the man’s horns atop his head. Everything about Maul screams of his desperate, seething hatred of the Jedi before him and everything they stand for. And all at once all Obi-Wan can find it in himself to feel for the man is pity. 

“Maul,” He says, dropping the teasing lilt from his words, “You don’t have to do this. Your master has left you with impossible odds.”

“I will tear you apart little Jedi,” Maul snarls.

“No. No you won’t.” Obi-Wan doesn’t say it to brag. It’s an observation. A statement. A promise. “There is only one scenario where you come away from this alive Maul, and that is to put down your weapon and submit yourself to our custody. We will protect you. Your master will not bring harm to you under our care.”

Mace doesn’t need to say anything for Obi-Wan to know he is greatly displeased at this padawan negotiating with a sith on the order’s behalf, but Obi-Wan was once a council member too. Nothing he is saying goes against the council’s intentions and Mace is hardly stupid enough to interrupt now. Not when Maul’s attention has honed solely onto Obi-Wan and what he’s saying. Technically this marks the longest known conversation between Jedi and Sith in a millennia and neither of the other masters can help their curiosity at seeing how this will play out. 

“You think I will submit myself to you?” the Zabrak sneers, “Then you are even more foolish than my master told me.”

“I don’t think you will,” Obi-Wan concedes, “But I am asking you to. You’re a skilled fighter Maul. But you are outnumbered and out classed. Is your master’s approval worth the cost of your life?”

“You know nothing of my master.”

“I know that when you fail here today he will seek out another apprentice without hesitation. You are nothing but a tool for him. Should you stop being adequately of use he will toss you aside without a thought.”

“The little Jedi speaks of what he doesn’t know,” Maul’s growls have a raw, panicked edge to him. Obi-Wan subtly shifts his left leg to get a more stable footing for what he assumes is an oncoming attack. Though he can’t help but try again.

“I know more than you think.” he ignores Maul’s derisive scoff, “I know that he took you from Dathomir when you were too young to decide for yourself what shape your life would take. I know Mother Talzin gave you up willingly. I know he was your only option. I know you have lived a life moulded by the sith and you have never gotten to truly choose for yourself what you will do. So I offer a choice to you now Darth Maul,” Obi-Wan raises his burning blue saber before him, “Will you come with us peacefully? Or will you die here?”

Maul lunges. 

Obi-Wan’s blade is exactly where it needs to be, deflecting the rapid fire series of hits that Maul throws at him. Fury is powering his every movement but it makes him sloppy. The sith is relentless in his pursuit, pushing Obi-Wan back so ferociously he doesn’t even notice the masters’ movements until Qui-Gon and Mace are practically on top of them both. 

He stumbles under the sudden onslaught of lightsabers levelled against him. The three Jedi move as one, their sabers forcing the sith to drop his offensive moves just long enough for him to flip backward, his own sabers offering up a distracting blur of light which offers him just enough safety to dart towards the archway behind him. Without a moment’s hesitation Obi-Wan chases after him. 

As he turns and dashes deeper into the halls Maul sharply flings some debris against the door’s controls, opening it even as he brings both hilts up to secure his hold against Obi-Wan’s oncoming attacks. Immediately Qui-Gon appears at his side, then together master and padawan duck and weave around one another in a complicated series of steps that has Maul scrambling to keep up, his sabers glancing against their own for mere fractions of a second before he has to readjust to block the next oncoming hit. 

Mace prowls around the fight, circling to Maul’s exposed back even as the Zabrak hastily retreats further into the depths of the palace. 

For one shining moment Obi-Wan actually feels this is going extremely well which is of course right when Maul changes tacks without warning. He brings a booted foot up, kicking sharply into Obi-Wan’s chest. All at once the air in his lungs is expelled right as he feels his feet lift from the floor, his body flying across the room at the force, a pained gasp escapes from his body when his back finally slams against a wall. He crumples to the floor, winded. 

Maul doesn’t pay attention to him though, too busy turning the tide against Qui-Gon, his red saber darting into the gaps of space in Qui-Gon’s defences that Obi-Wan had so effortlessly occupied. From where he lays gasping across the room, Obi-Wan feels fear pierce through him at the sight of Maul gaining ground against his master. The man’s cruel sneer a painful reminder of the stakes of this fight. Now the fighting pair are moving faster than the eye can track but even from where he is, he can tell his master is flagging under the onslaught. 

Which is right when Mace charges forward. Just as his years of misplaced memories have always assured him; Master Windu is a sight to behold when he fights. The sole master and creator of Vapaad, a saber form based on the teetering control of the light and dark, enhanced by the very thrill of the fight, had always led to an entrancing display from Mace Windu when faced with a sith. The Zabrak roars with fury when a purple wash of light slashes out of the shadows, throwing him back into defence, cradling his seared ribs. Maul’s own fury and aggression seemed to fuel Windu’s sharp movements. Where Maul lashed out, Mace pierced, deeply and precisely. 

Qui-Gon is by no means a poor duelist but he is quickly getting left behind by the sheer speed of Maul and Mace’s movements. They were a blur of red punctuated by violet streaks. Obi-Wan rolls to his feet, his own saber called back to his hand and soon he too was throwing himself back into the fight.

Maul gets in a lucky hit that forces Mace away, the man stumbling back into Qui-Gon who has to abandon his current strike to stabilise the other master before he can fall. Immediately, Maul looks ready to pounce, distracted as the Jedi are but then he’s falling back, scrambling to right himself after the push of Force Obi-Wan just levelled at him. He bares his teeth at the padawan but Obi-Wan doesn’t care for any desperate intimidation tactics. Instead he charges forward, their blades clashing in a sizzling inferno of heat. Obi-Wan presses his advantage, locking Maul’s blade in place under the weight of Obi-Wan’s body straining against his. The sith’s footing slips, just slightly, but it’s enough for Obi-Wan to twist his wrist, the hilt of his saber turning minutely, but it’s more than enough when Maul screams aloud at the burning plasma against his shoulder. His knee jerks up, catching Obi-Wan in the ribs. Whatever pain that may have caused is quickly lost under the choked scream of pain he unleashes when a burning red saber pushes through his side. 

He drops back into a crouch a few paces away while Maul mirrors his movements from across from him. Both men grit their teeth, each pushing down the pain of seared flesh and weighty exhaustion that grips them tight. Obi-Wan has faced too many Sith not to have felt the effects of an earnestly lethal saber burn before, but this young body has none of the muscle memory, none of the hardened scars that served him well in the war. He aches and burns and can only find himself falling back to the urgency of danger and adrenaline to keep him on his feet now. 

By now they’ve crossed into the vast cavern of a room Obi-Wan recalls from last time, a series of bridges leading to the palace’s power control centre. A sheer drop on either side of the bridge adds a thrilling sense of danger that Obi-Wan has no time to consider because Maul is already pressing his attack again. Without a thought, Obi-Wan drops his body’s instincts to use Ataru when the threat presses in close, reverting instead to Soresu on pure instinct. 

Many years in a war far more vicious than this have ensured that his defensive skills have been honed to as close to perfection as he’s going to get so Maul is unable to land a single hit on him, no matter how much he screams about it. Mace seems to have recovered by now though as he launches himself over the duelling pair. His purple blade sweeps down upon Maul’s head who only just manages to bring his own saber up in time to deflect the blow, but it leaves his side vulnerable and Obi-Wan swiftly lands a hit against the man’s rib. Maul dodges before the blade can lodge in too deep but the uncomfortable scent of lightsaber burnt flesh wafts into the air. 

Maul doesn’t waste time though, pushing himself from their current platform so he isn’t boxed in between the two Jedi. He lands almost gracefully on a nearby bridge, though he visibly favours his right side where Obi-Wan just caught him. He and Mace move as one, Qui-Gon only a moment behind until they four are on the same platform again. 

Their battle is swathed in a burning light emitted from the power cells that their bridges circle. Swiftly, Maul adjusts his footing until he is backlit by the closest cell and the Jedi are forced to look into his haloed silhouette with blinking eyes. Once again the sith pushes his advantage, his foot darting out and this time kicking Mace from his tenuous position. The master falls from the bridge with a muffled shout of surprise. Some distance below a painful sounding thud assures Obi-Wan that Mace at least managed to direct his fall back onto one of the lower level platforms. 

For now they’ll just have to trust that Mace can get himself back up on his own because Obi-Wan can see Maul turn tail and run for the very same security hall that has haunted his nightmares for years. 

Maul slips past one of Qui-Gon’s more desperate swipes which only serves to block Obi-Wan’s own progress. The trio all sprint in a harsh chase toward the thrumming sheets of energy blocking the passage before them. This hall could spell salvage for Maul should he block the Jedi from their pursuit of him. Or it could herald the confined cage in which they would take down the first Sith in a millenia.

All too soon Maul has passed the first of the red security shields, the Jedi mere seconds behind him. Perhaps it is only because he is looking out for it but Obi-Wan alone seems to hear the mechanical click that signals danger, and only just manages to grasp the back of his master’s robes and yanks him back to his side a mere second before the shield closest to them reactivates, right where it would have sliced through Qui-Gon. 

And then they wait. 

This time, in perfect synchrony Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both fold themselves to the ground in a light meditation, accompanied by the buzzing hum of the energy shields before them. Obi-Wan doesn’t hear Maul pacing like a predator awaiting his prey like he did before. Instead, he lets his senses stretch out seeking as much peace as he can despite the circumstances.

Honestly he’d hoped that this particular battle would have already been resolved by now. He can’t help the spike of anxiety that comes with the realisation that once again it is Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon against Darth Maul. He knows with unwavering certainty that at the end of this hall is the room where his master was murdered, a moment of another history that he cannot allow to repeat ever again. It takes everything he has in him not to beg Qui-Gon to stay here, to wait for Mace while Obi-Wan deals with his first true enemy. He breathes in. The shield hums. Qui-Gon settles next to him.

No. This time is different, even if Obi-Wan’s fears don’t want to let him believe it. Mace is still here, and in all likelihood the Jedi Master is already making his way back up to their side. And now that he and Qui-Gon are together there is no chance for Obi-Wan to be left behind, locked behind a shield and unable to move while his Master is killed. And lastly there is Maul, who is not only hurt by Obi-Wan’s own blade, but he is shaken. He has been on the backfoot throughout this whole fight, Obi-Wan’s increased skill, his foreknowledge, and master Windu’s presence beside them have all turned this fight in their favour. 

Obi-Wan releases his breath. The shield comes down.

As one Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn ignite their sabers, meeting the Sith’s own weapon before it can hurt them. They come to stand at their full height in time with one another, feet shifting into their preferred opening stances. They step forward. Together they twist, their sabers trailing through the air mere inches from one another. Both directed in the same sweeping arc towards the retreating Sith. 

Obi-Wan feels his own sense of self loosen until he is a being of instinct and Light. His body follows ancient stances in total synchronicity with his master. They push united against Maul whose desperate strikes cannot find purchase against their impeccable defence. 

Distantly, Obi-Wan registers the return of Mace’s force presence. The man must be closing in, perhaps in the hall they themselves have only just left. But he doesn’t think further on it. Too engulfed in this most deadly of dances where he and his master have perfected every step. 

Maul flips and spins frantically, a frenzied attempt to avoid the barrage of assaults that the Jedi perform with ease. He hunches, favouring his side again and Qui-Gon sees it. Obi-Wan has no time to shout a warning before his master is diverting from their perfected choreography. Instead Qui-Gon drops his defence, transitioning elegantly to an Ataru attack that he has practised countless times. It is practically a second nature for him to lean forward, his saber arm extended in a flawless strike that should have pierced Maul through the heart. 

Instead, Obi-Wan can only watch with horror as Maul whips out of his stance, dodging Qui-Gon’s predictable attack with ease, and brings his own lightsaber down in a swift arc. Qui-Gon screams in pain.

Both Jedi stare in terror as Qui-Gon's arm falls, severed from his body in one hit. 

Maul’s deranged grin is the only warning he gets before Obi-Wan is flinging himself forward, blocking the sith’s attack against his master who has just fallen to his knees in agony, clutching the charred stump of his arm to his chest. 

Obi-Wan parries Maul’s next blows ferociously. Desperation and adrenaline sharpening his every move to a knife-edge. He attacks Maul in turn, shifting his defence into a burning offence that forces Maul to stumble back further and further from Obi-Wan’s vulnerable master. 

The rest of the world drops away, nothing is left but the two of them circling the chasm that Maul kicked him down last time. Now though Obi-Wan feels himself move in an echo of the past, slicing Maul’s dual saber in two and flinging the half he didn’t keep a hold of down the pit beside them. Maul falls to his back, unbalanced by the destruction of his weapon as he’s left with on the one saber to desperately bring before him, blocking Obi-Wan’s own hit.

Maul leaps to his feet running back the path they just tread. Obi-Wan can’t let him get back to Qui-Gon’s side so he gives chase, his feet pounding against the floor. His saber practically sings with his urgency. The Sith never makes it to Qui-Gon though, not with Obi-Wan forcing him to either still and defend or end up with a saber through his back. Yet again though, Obi-Wan finds himself with his own back facing the pit and he can’t be sure of just how close he is to that insurmountable drop. He shuffles his feet back minutely to withstand Maul’s next attack. 

The humming of the force shields drops away again and all Obi-Wan can hear is his own ragged breathing matching Maul’s. Both of them are panting with the effort of their fight, their faces dripping with sweat and their muscles shaking. Neither of them willing to give ground though, their blades once again locked in combat. Frantically Maul attempts to push Obi-Wan into the pit with his free hand, though he of course expects that and thrusts his own hand out, countering Maul’s push. 

Both their bodies are shaking with the effort of both the physical press of sabers and their competing wills in the force, neither gaining the upper hand. For a fleeting moment it seems hopeless. The saber burn through Obi-Wan’s stomach pulses in sharp agony right to the awful choked breaths of Qui-Gon somewhere just out of sight. This whole fight was meant to go differently, and yet here Obi-Wan stands on empty adrenaline and fear, Maul’s cruel expression mere inches from him. And then. Well, that’s when Obi-Wan watches a blade of rich, iridescent violet pierce through Maul’s chest. 

Maul’s mouth drops open in shock, his blade still hissing against Obi-Wan’s. Then all at once he plummets to his knees, the sounds even managing to pierce through the rush of blood in Obi-Wan’s ears. 

Mace Windu’s lightsaber is turned off with a simple click as the man looks down at the Sith dying before him. Obi-Wan spares the Zabrak a single glance before he’s scrambling to Qui-Gon’s side, checking his master over with desperate hands and searching eyes.

“Master? Master?!” Obi-Wan’s panic is bleeding through the force but he really doesn’t care. Not when Qui-Gon lifts his chin up, meeting Obi-Wan’s frightened expression with one of pained acceptance.

“I’m alive Padawan.” He says, “I think I have you to thank for that.”

Restraint be damned, Obi-Wan can’t help but throw his arms around his master, careful of his arm, though he still draws in Qui-Gon so quickly and tightly that the man lets out a surprised huff. For an agonising moment he feels no movement from the man in his arms until finally his master readjusts himself so he can lift his good arm and wrap it in turn around Obi-Wan.

They sprawl on the floor together for only a few seconds until Obi-Wan can wrangle his beating heart back under control and pull away, reassured by the comforting warmth of Qui-Gon's miraculous, living body next to his. 

After a moment that Obi-Wan can’t help but attribute to the quiet kindness he knows from his friend of another life, Mace approaches them, hobbling slightly. His loud movement’s afford Obi-Wan just enough time to wrest his expression back under his own control, which he very much suspects was Mace’s intent. He turns to greet the master jedi only to be shocked by the steady drip of red running down his leg. It seems that when Maul pushed him from the bridge that Mace landed poorly on the platform below, his leg breaking from the impact. It explains how it took quite so long for the man to make it back to them. Obi-Wan gestures for Mace to sit, ignoring the master’s complaints. 

Whether it is due to the remaining shake to his voice from having just seen Qui-Gon nearly die again, or the expression of a General who fully intends to get his troops out of this fight, Mace eventually subjects himself to sitting beside Qui-Gon while Obi-Wan resets his leg with years of practice in the field. Mace bites down any curses and even allows Obi-Wan to reset his dislocated shoulder once he makes the mistake of trying to awkwardly shift his hurt arm out of Obi-Wan’s sight. 

When deemed well enough according to Obi-Wan’s limited skills in field medicine, Mace turns to Qui-Gon, regret lining his features. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he says. 

Qui-Gon rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, despite how much pain he must be in. “Really Mace, I think I can forgive you for this, you seemed to be having a bit of a situation yourself.” He inclines his head towards Mace’s own injuries that Obi-Wan has only just stopped fussing over. 

Both men will be needing a medic shortly so Obi-Wan begins fiddling with his comm instead, seeing if Padme has already captured the Viceroy and might have someone available to send to their location. 

Despite this distraction, and the reassuring hum of his master in conversation beside him, Obi-Wan’s well earned eternal sense of paranoia whispers a quiet warning into his mind. He drops his comm, his lightsaber summoned to his hand in an instant from where he’d dropped it. He twists in place, his body whipping around faster than he thought possible. In his hand his lightsaber hums warmly even as it sinks into Maul’s heart. 

Obi-Wan gasps in shock at how close the Sith was, mere inches away where he’d snuck up on the Jedi trio. There’s a trail of his blood marking the passage he took as he’d crawled behind them. Obi-Wan watches in stunned silence when Maul’s own lightsaber clatters to the ground, poised to have been about to stab through Obi-Wan himself. Maul lets out one last pained grunt, fear and fury burning behind his eyes as he stares down Obi-Wan right until the Sith apprentice finally and truly dies.

Chapter Text

Three Jedi and a dead Sith wait in a stunned silence for the medics to arrive. Once or twice Obi-Wan catches the way Mace opens his mouth to speak only for nothing to happen, like he feels a need to discuss anything at all about what just occurred only to realise that the words are not there. He’s definitely giving Obi-Wan more than his fair share of attention considering he’s not even the one missing a limb right now. He was only stabbed a little anyway, not a single one of his major organs has been pierced, though neither of the other men looked particularly relieved by the certain confidence in Obi-Wan’s voice when he told them that. 

Eh. Can’t win them all he supposes. Still, their wait wasn’t too long, even if Obi-Wan couldn’t give more than a hazy guess of how many minutes passed while they three were sprawled out on the floor. He was in a state of simultaneous stress and pain and true, unbridled relief that the worst thing to come from this was the loss of a limb not a life. Qui-Gon seemed less than thrilled by the muted joy radiating from his padawan, but whether he chalked that up to relief at being alive, at defeating a Sith or that wild hysteria that could hit after a particularly tense battle, he didn’t share. 

Once the medics arrived and the Jedi could successfully deposit Qui-Gon into their capable hands, despite the man’s protests that he was “perfectly fine” and he “didn’t even need two hands to have a conversation”, Obi-Wan and Mace swiftly made their way to the queen’s throne room. Admittedly, Obi-Wan had also tried to get the master of the order to get better medical attention than the sparse field medicine he recalled, but that would’ve been a tough sell even in his past life. In this time the man didn’t spare the padawan more than a singular raised eyebrow before walking off. At the very least Obi-Wan had managed to wheedle Mace into accepting a bacta patch and a proper tourniquet for his leg. Small victories. 

During their walk through the reclaimed palace, a nagging feeling of unease keeps drifting through Obi-Wan’s thoughts. It is only as they step into the throne room that he finally realises that Mace has been following his lead to their destination without a single question as to how Obi-Wan already knows the way there. Certainly it is nice to be trusted but Obi-Wan has long since learnt not to blindly accept unexpectedly good tidings. Though whatever investigating he may wish to do at Mace’s intentions are immediately halted when he finally catches sight of Padme. 

The throne room is as resplendent as he remembers, all sweeping columns and polished stone. A testament to Naboo’s elegant architectural stylings that, against all odds, currently shows no sign of damage. He and Mace had encountered a few blaster scorches littered through the halls, though no bodies to indicate how the infiltration went. But here and now they can see the young queen standing tall, alive and determined as she holds her own blaster tight in hand while facing down the cowering Viceroy and his underlings. 

“Queen Amidala,” Obi-Wan calls jovially, quietly pleased to see how the Trade Federation members all jolt in surprise at his entrance. “I see things have gone rather well here.”

Padme, who of course doesn’t look remotely caught off guard, smiles at his voice. She leaves her gun idly trained on the prisoners as she turns to the Jedi. Her own expression doesn’t slip but he can see how her eyes dart worriedly to his empty side, “Indeed, and it is wonderful to see you here too Padawan Kenobi. But where is Master Jinn? Is he…”

“He’s alive,” Obi-Wan says, the honest relief and happiness that colours his tone is enough to brighten Padme’s own grin. 

“Excellent.” With a final imperious glare at the Viceroy, Padme swiftly instructs her guards to take the prisoners away to be held until further notice. At once her retinue jumps to attention, a unit of precision and experience that puts both the queen and the time traveller at ease that no further attempts at undermining her shall be made under their watch. When at last there is a modicum of privacy Padme glides effortlessly across the tiles towards the Jedi. “I can’t thank you both enough for your help in restoring my planet. You have done a truly great service to the people of Naboo.”

Mace bows his head in turn, matching Padme’s earnest formality. “Of course your Majesty, we are pleased to see peace restored to your home.”

“Assuming that peace really has been established? How did the Gungans fare against the droids?” Obi-Wan can’t help but cut in, nervous about his own meddling and its consequences. 

“They won,” Padme confirms without hesitation, a great weight lifting off Obi-Wan in the process,  “As I understand it, it was your proposed strategies which were of the greatest help against the droid army. Though we shouldn’t discount our unexpected guests and their assistance.”

“Unexpected guests?” Mace asks, looking equally as confused as Obi-Wan feels. He is quite certain that he had accounted for all known parties in this battle, including Valorum’s surprise forces.  

“Oh!” Padme brightens at their surprise, a trace of that sincere enthusiasm once again slipping through her regal mask, “Of course! You mustn’t have heard. Come with me, I’ll introduce you.”

She marches on through the nearest doorway immediately, rightly expecting the two Jedi to follow her. Mace sends Obi-Wan a probing sense of curiosity through the Force but he can only shrug his shoulders in answer, no more aware of what she is referring to than he is. They move into another opulent room that Obi-Wan can’t even guess at the purpose for, some other architectural masterpiece of Nubian artistic skill probably, but he doesn’t spare it more than a second's thought because Padme is already drawing her surprise guest towards them.

“Master Windu, Padawan Kenobi allow me to introduce-”

“Bail Organa,” Obi-Wan interrupts.

The other three all look at him stunned but Obi-Wan can’t find it in himself to care because he is far, far too busy beaming at the friend he hasn’t seen in years. The man that Obi-Wan trusted to care for one of the galaxy’s last hopes in another life. 

“I’m sorry, Padawan Kenobi, I hadn’t thought we’d met.” Bail says warmly despite the confusion in his voice. He offers Obi-Wan a hand which he shakes with a tad more gusto than necessary,

“No, I'm afraid we haven’t Senator, but it is a pleasure to do so now. I’m rather a fan of all the work you’ve done.”

Bail grins at that, a slight bashfulness Obi-Wan had never seen in the man before. “That’s awfully flattering Padawan Kenobi. I haven’t been in the senate long. I didn’t expect that you would have known of me in particular.”

Obi-Wan tries to tamp down on the pride bubbling within him. “Your integrity does you a great service, and it makes you stand out Bail. You’re a hard one to miss once you know what you’re looking for. I’m sure you have a fascinating career ahead of you.

Obi-Wan offers him another smile before stepping back dutifully to Mace’s side, letting the man make his own greetings to the Senator. Padme stays silent, watching Obi-Wan sharply. Once the other two had made their introductions though she chimes in again.

“Bail here arrived shortly after we entered the palace. He brought with him his own security detail to aid in our fight, as well as convincing a handful of other planets to join him in providing aid to my people.” Padme explains, her gratitude evident. 

“Please your Majesty,” Bail says again, that same surprisingly shyness surfacing, “You made a very fair point against the Senate’s complacency. I want to stand for change and equality in this galaxy, I think it’s only fair I do my part to provide help where I can. Your words had more impact than you might think.”

Now it was Padme’s turn for a rare show of humility, evidently not expecting to have Bail’s earnest goodness turned against her so swiftly. The Queen’s mouth drops open slightly in surprise at the sincere compliment which allows the Jedi to then get the rare joy of watching the regal Padme Amidala flounder for her words. 

“Yes, well. You as well- I mean to say, well, your help has been invaluable to my people, Senator.”

Vaguely Obi-Wan wonders if her queenly costumes with its heavy reliance on elaborate face paint and makeup doesn’t also serve to protect a flustered queen’s dignity by ensuring that Padme’s apparent tendency to blush furiously and brightly, a carefully maintained secret. He can’t recall her ever getting so flushed in the Senate chamber so it must be something she grows out of shortly. Still, it’s deeply endearing to see it here and now. Thankfully for her though, Mace smoothly interjects then, drawing the politicians back to the matter at hand by requesting a run down of what happened in the battle. If anything Obi-Wan found himself mildly amused at their rather unconventional version of a sitrep, he imagines Cody would’ve been able to tell him twice the information in half the time if he were here. Regardless it is nice to just hear the two of them report majority wins across the board.

“Then the droids all shut down at once,” Bail laughed, “Pretty convenient if you ask me.”

“At once?” Mace asked, his eyebrow quirked, “I thought we weren’t expecting the Nubian fighter jets to infiltrate the command ship’s shields?”

“Master Windu,” Obi-Wan interjects with an amused snort, “I think you’ll find that just because we might think it’s impossible doesn’t mean he won’t manage it anyway.”

Before Mace can ask who “he” is, Padme nods knowingly.

“Apparently so, Padawan Kenobi. Half my pilots report that they didn’t even see him enter the battle but he came right out from inside one of the station’s hangars right before it began to explode from the inside as I understand it. How Anakin made it out there though is a mystery to me.”

“Anakin?” Mace had only looked so simultaneously surprised and exasperated roughly… well every other time he’d had to deal with Anakin during the war, “Anakin Skywalker the nine year old boy flew into a space battle and managed to penetrate the impenetrable security of a space station on his own and got away?”

“Not alone,” Padme concedes with a grin. “I believe he had my R2 unit with him. They seem to have grown fond of eachother.”

Mace glares at Obi-Wan as if he was personally responsible for Anakin’s miraculous ability to find trouble and wild success wherever he goes. Which is frankly unjust because at least in this timeline he hasn’t even had the chance to spend a decade trying to get that particular ability under control. Obi-Wan shrugs again and this time Mace just rolls his eyes at his guileless expression. 

“And where is the boy now?” Mace’s hands reach up to rub tiredly at his forehead.

“He seemed very determined to remain with his ship. He was adamant that Master Jinn had told him to stay there.”

Obi-Wan laughs brightly at that especially in the face of Mace’s immediate despair at knowing that until reassured by his Jedi guardian otherwise, Anakin really would stubbornly stay next to the fighter he just flew into space, which could only mean more opportunities for trouble. 

From one of the side doors to the room, a palace attendant slips quietly yet determinedly into the room, halting just long enough to catch Padme’s eyes. 

“Pardon me,” She excuses herself from the conversation, marching swiftly towards the man and out of earshot. Still lamenting the trouble Anakin Skywalker is bringing to his life, Mace just watches her go blankly while Obi-Wan barely manages to refrain from settling a commiserating hand on Mace’s shoulder. Their senator companion watches each of these movements with a bemused interest. 

“Is this how missions usually go for you?” He asks curiously.

“Oh, only the fun ones.” Obi-Wan chirps and is rewarded by the Senator’s deep chuckle. Their gazes meet in pure amusement while the Jedi Master next to them just sighs. 

“You only think this is fun because Jinn never taught you better,” Mace mutters good naturedly.

“Fair enough.”

Soon enough Padme returns along with a handful of her advisors and guards.

“Apologies for the interruption but we have an incoming craft from Coruscant that I must go meet. Senator Organa, Masters Jedi, I would appreciate your company if it is not too much to ask. I feel we all have much to report.”

“Who has arrived?” Obi-Wan asks. Admittedly he’d been pretty distraught and rather out of it after his fight last time, but he still distinctly remembers that the Jedi council, the newly appointed Chancellor Palpatine and the various Senatorial representatives hadn’t arrived for another two days, once Padme had officially wrested control back from the Federation and could call for her allies. 

“Senator Palpatine,” Padme’s voice carries a strange tension to it, “He apparently was on his way back here once he heard the Chancellor had joined my own return.”

Obi-Wan’s step falters for only a second. Of course now Palaptine doesn’t have any transferral of Chancellor powers to deal with, he has arrived far ahead of schedule. Kriff. Obi-Wan hasn’t prepared for this at all and now he has only a matter of minutes to figure out how to deal with an unexpected Sith who is about to learn he just killed his apprentice. Double Kriff. Vaguely, he feels the heavy weight of both Mace and Padme’s eyes at the sound of the Senators name, but he resolutely ignores them in favour of recovering his pace and walking on with a deliberate calm. Padme isn’t fooled though because the young woman is unfortunately incredibly observant and already seems well convinced that her new Jedi friend had some underlying issue with her planet’s senator. And Mace’s gaze doesn’t leave him at all because it was hard to hide the way Obi-Wan had instinctively drawn the Force tight to him, shielding his very presence on this planet with a practised paranoia. Both Jedi and Queen keep darting their attention back to him, each trying to decode his behaviour in their own way. 

Obi-Wan wants to tell them not to worry but he is far, far too busy cycling through backup emergency Sidious Conflict Plans F through to K and he truly doesn’t have time to handle them now. 

“Perhaps Padawan Kenobi can go retrieve young Skywalker from the hangar,” Mace suggests evenly, jolting him out of his stupor, “And I shall accompany you and the Senator as a representative of the Jedi Order. Padawan Kenobi has done well today and has earned some rest before he must deal too heavily with politics.”

Padme is already nodding her head in agreement before he’d finished talking as she waves an attendant down to come escort him back to the hangar. Gratitude drifts from him, as he leaves, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He's sure Mace picks it up before he is left alone in the halls with the queen. He feels like a coward as he turns, dutifully following the palace staff down familiar halls. He’s faced the Sith before, and now there's no real reason to suspect Sidious would try to kill him now, even though he took down Maul. He did that last time too and the man never tipped his hand at all. He should be safe. They should all be safe. Everything will be okay. 

Bit by bit he pulls himself together, beginning to make his way to Anakin. There’s no room for error in this galactic chess game he’s found himself in, but it doesn’t serve anyone to lose sight of the current moment just because he’s seen the bigger picture. One day at a time. He can get through this. 

Though he can’t help but wonder what sorts of conclusions Mace must have come to from his foolish slip up. He’ll have to do a far better job of masking his fears about the Emper- the Senator. 

-

The next few days seemed to pass in a pleasant blur for Obi-Wan. Memories continue to resurface from last time where he’d had to spend every waking minute reassuring the child suddenly left in his custody that he wasn’t in any danger and that Obi-Wan would take care of him, even while battling his own grief and mourning and trying to assure the council that he had just fought and killed the first Sith in a millenia. Then he’d to stand as a representative of the Jedi alone for the first time during a revolutionary arrest of the Viceroy of the Trade Federation and ensure that Naboo’s unlawful occupation was ended with due process and peaceful negotiations. 

Compared to handling all that, this timeline is an absolute breeze. Now he is far more capable and practised at handling the negotiations with the trade Federation representatives while Mace covers Naboo’s policy changes regarding trade with the help of Padme and Palpatine. 

Additionally Anakin is incredibly pleased to take up his new solemn duty of making sure Qui-Gon doesn’t keep escaping his healing room when the medics aren’t around. Obi-Wan is unashamedly pleased with the young boy's determination to snitch on his master if Qui-Gon even remotely suggests leaving his bed. It is truly something to behold when his revered master consistently fails to convince a nine year old that he is actually capable of standing up on his own. 

Especially when Anakin’s rote response apparently boils down to “Obi-Wan says you're a liar and you don’t know how to take care of yourself but he said that I’m doing a good job so you’ve gotta stay right there Mister Qui-Gon.”

Obi-Wan also delights in blatantly ignoring his Master’s pleaful expressions whenever Anakin isn’t looking, determined that the man will in fact wait until the healers dismiss him on their own time. Apparently  Maul had actually gotten a few more hits in on his master than Obi-Wan had thought, and skilled though the Nubian doctors were, none of them had encountered a lightsaber wound before. 

So Qui-Gon will simply have to wait for the council and their Jedi healer escort to arrive before Obi-Wan will even consider letting his master out of his sight. Not when every second he spends complaining in his bed already marks a longer life than he’d ever known the man to have. 

Mace had entered the hall once or twice to confer with Qui-Gon while Obi-Wan was also visiting and had not been slow to announce that they were an “insufferable pair of idiots who should put all that effort used for nagging at each other for something actually useful.” In response both master and padawan had promptly doubled down on their latest argument just to see the Master of the Order sigh in exasperation. Still, it doesn’t seem to have deterred him from their presence for long. 

“Padawan Kenobi,” Mace interrupts one day, during a discussion about whether Qui-Gon leaving for the bathroom without telling anyone beforehand counted as an ‘escape attempt’ or not. “May I have a word?”

Obi-Wan stops mid-explanation that although Anakin was being a little overzealous in how he describes Qui-Gon’s movements, the kid was simply following his request to be updated on all unauthorised movements. 

“Yes Master Windu.” Obi-Wan turns to follow the Jedi Master out of the room, happy to escape whatever rebuttal Qui-Gon had clearly been gearing up to say. His master’s spluttering defence is left unheard as they exit out into the halls. 

“Is something the matter?” He asks eventually, once Mace had started to lead them further into the depths of the palace, though Obi-Wan couldn’t guess at a destination. He seemed sure of his movements though and the Force isn’t giving him any dangerous signs, so Obi-Wan resigns himself to the mystery until Mace decides to clear things up for him. 

“Rather a few things,” Mace says with some humour. 

He’s not wrong, of course, Obi-Wan can clearly recall how much work got started once there was confirmation of a Sith’s presence back in the galaxy. He does not envy the man. He lets out a rueful chuckle in commiseration. 

“Ah. Yes I can imagine so.”

“You can. Can’t you?”

Obi-Wan senses that this question is some form of conversational trap, he only wishes he knew just how. Force knows he fell into enough of them when he served on the council with Mace. The man had a specific answer he expected and he wouldn’t stop until Obi-Wan would confirm or deny it for him once and for all. Not that he’d ask it outright until he was sure though. Bastard. 

“It is admittedly not that hard to see how all this,” Obi-Wan swings an arm out to gesture vaguely at, well, everything, “Indicates a pretty big mess. Not just for Naboo, but for the Senate as a whole. Especially considering Chancellor Valorum’s personal vested interest in the proceedings.”

“And the return of the Sith?” Mace prompts, a single eyebrow quirked. 

“Right. Yes, well that is all rather new too I suppose.” Obi-Wan wants to cringe at how clearly he is on the backfoot during this conversation. The Jedi Master just hums in response but Obi-Wan is certain he’d misstepped somehow. He’d really thought Mace’s attentions would have been occupied by all the political upheaval, after all, this time Maul is truly and properly dead. He’d checked the body himself. Just to make sure.

But for Mace this really is his first contact with a darksider of Maul’s calibre. It’s all brand new to the Master of the Order and Obi-Wan should never have forgotten that. 

“Yet you warned us,” Mace observes quietly, his tone carefully neutral. 

Obi-Wan doesn’t respond, there doesn’t really seem a need. Mace too falls silent, quietly considering whatever clues and questions he clearly has from even just that small conversation. So instead the pair wander, Mace leading them deliberately though not hurried at all. They cross through the palace’s grand halls without stopping and head out of its confines until they find themselves meandering under a series of elegant arches along the palace’s exterior. Together they drift quietly through a few courtyards until Obi-Wan can finally identify where Mace has been slowly but surely leading them: an observational balcony that juts out over the cliffside that the palace sits delicately over.

Right up until they reach the balcony’s balustrade the only sounds to be heard is the soft patter of shoes on pavement and the swish of their robes. Then all at once they are right over the edge of the cliff, looking out over Naboo’s grand waterfall display leading right down to a lush, vivid canyon below. Suddenly, over the course of a couple of steps the waterfalls’ great roaring stream drowns out all other noise from the palace itself. 

It certainly doesn’t escape Obi-Wan just how out of the way the master and padawan were then. They’re far enough from any windows that no one wandering inside would notice them beyond a mere silhouette in the distance, and the noise of the falls provides a near perfect, totally natural sound barrier that swallows up anything else beyond a couple of feet. It is a highly strategic, perfectly isolated location and Obi-Wan couldn’t have found a better place for a private confrontation if he’d tried. 

He can easily imagine this exact balcony has been used for countless off-the-record political meetings to organise trades and deals without the pressure of a court full of observers and rules. Yet despite all the obvious illicit connotations of the environment, Obi-Wan can still not find it in himself to feel any real fear about why Mace has summoned him here. Not when he trusts his old friend so deeply. Not when any precautions against Palpatine’s wandering attentions can only fill him with peace and calm. 

“The Sith really are back,” Mace says eventually, his eyes locked on the waterfall. “This is a threat we cannot take lightly.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I did not believe you when you told us.” He says bluntly and throws him an appraising glance over his shoulder for just a second before returning to the magnificent view again. “I couldn’t see how the Sith could possibly have risen again under our watch.”

“I understand Master,” Obi-Wan says, and he means it. Sidious and his predecessors were exceptionally careful in the methods of pulling the Republic apart until it was far too late to do anything about it. It was by no means Mace’s fault that he had missed what they all had. Five long years in the desert doing little more than turning these thoughts over and over in his head had at least let him come to this small peace. Though right now, despite his calm exterior, Mace does not appear at peace at all in the Force. His Force signature a dark, roiling expanse of uncertainty and trepidation that Obi-Wan cannot decipher. 

“Are you aware, Padawan Kenobi, that I have at times perceived shatterpoints in the Force?”

Ah. Well. Master Kenobi definitely knew that. He’d talked long with Mace about how he’d perceived multiple shatterpoints derived from Anakin during his training and the war. Mace had always been gifted with seeing the pivotal people and moments that would cause great effect in the galaxy, though not always if they would lead toward reward or ruin. Padawan Kenobi though, well he’d likely have heard rumours of the Master’s ability but Obi-Wan didn’t think it had been confirmed for him in this time yet. He hesitates just long enough for Mace to turn back to him more decisively. The man watches him closely as he wracks his brain for what this version of himself should supposedly know. 

“Hmm? Oh, I believe I have heard something along those lines.”

Mace’s lips quirk. “Yes. Well Padawan Kenobi I can confirm for you that not only have I encountered shatterpoints in the Force before, but that you are, in fact, covered in them.”

Ah.

Unexpected. 

“Oh?” He asks weakly when it’s clear Mace isn’t going to say any more without a confirmation that Obi-Wan has actually heard him.

“Yes. ‘Oh’ indeed, Padawan.”

“Is this… an issue?”

Mace hums thoughtfully, which is spectacularly unhelpful at this moment. 

“Well it makes your presence a bit of a headache to look at.”

“Sorry?”

Mace shrugs, “Not much to be done for it. Though I see you’ve managed to clear a few of them up.”

He fully turns away from the waterfall now, instead leaning back against the balustrade with a kind of casualty Obi-Wan had only seen a handful of times in his years of knowing the man. 

“How aware are you, Obi-Wan, of just what you’ve been changing?”

Well he’s at the very least delayed Palaptine’s rise to Chancellorship, and he’s kept Qui-Gon alive, and he’s properly killed Maul this time, and he’s influenced Valorums politics, and he’s preemptively headed to the archives for-

Okay. So he’s actually managed to achieve a not-insignificant amount in the last two weeks of being back in the past. 

“Well Master Windu,” he says diplomatically, “I am wholly aware of what actions I have taken. And I can deduce pretty confidently where things were headed before my interventions, though now that I have acted it's rather difficult to confirm the extent of change my decisions have affected.”

“Hmm.” Mace crosses his arms, his head inclined at an angle as he observes how Obi-Wan’s hands have slipped deeper into his sleeves out of habit. 

“And has the Daughter contacted you again?”

“No, Master.”

“Did she specify what changes you were to make?”

“Not particularly, Master.”

“Do you feel you have made the right choices without her guidance then?”

“Yes, Master.”

Mace studies him carefully. Obi-Wan can feel his probing curiosity in the force and allows a measure of his certainty in his actions to slip past his shields. 

Then Mace nods, seemingly to himself. Obi-Wan suspects he just confirmed something, though he can’t tell what. Still, he doesn’t have long to think about it because he briskly shifts topics, expecting the ‘padawan’ to keep up.

“I have been meaning to congratulate you Obi-Wan. You slayed this Darth Maul which makes you the first Jedi to do so in quite some time.”

Ugh. Obi-Wan vaguely hopes he can avoid earning the nickname of the Sithslayer this time round. It always felt a bit insensitive for frankly quite a few reasons. At least this time Qui-Gon will be here to laugh with him. Or at him, knowing his master. 

“Yes. It appears I did.” He eyes Mace curiously, not sure what the man is leading towards. 

“Your master has told the council he believes you are ready for your trials. I believe I speak for the Council when I say your actions here have done nothing to dissuade us from that notion.”

Obi-Wan can’t honestly say he’s spent much time thinking about his trials, though it will definitely be nice to not be called “Padawan” again. It’s been such a long time since that applied to him he has been repeatedly, and accidentally, snubbing many people who have addressed him as such only to get no response at all. 

“That’s kind of you to say.” Obi-Wan settles on. 

Mace tilts his head again, genuine curiosity colouring his voice.

“Did your ordeal on Naboo count towards your trials last time?”

“Oh yes,” Obi-Wan waves dismissively, already considering how Qui-Gon’s continued life might change the efficacy of this whole situation towards that end, “But that was decided quite rashly, and only after-” 

Obi-Wan stutters to a halt, panic flooding his system as Mace’s sly grin creeps across his face. The only betrayal on the Master’s face is the quirked eyebrows which show his true astonishment. “That was rude Master Windu.” Obi-Wan says petulantly.

Mace’s voice drops to a quiet murmur under the accompanying roar of the falls, “Please tell me you don’t mean what I think you’re saying.” It’s half a plea but Mace seems to have come to his conclusion long before Obi-Wan confirmed anything so all he can do is shrug blithely to cover the shake of his hands buried in his sleeves. 

“I don’t mean what you think I’m saying.” Obi-Wan dutifully parrots. 

This time Mace doesn’t even pretend to bother hiding his eye roll. He watches the Master take in one big, steadying breath before he speaks again, ignoring Obi-Wan’s weak attempt at distraction.

“Alright Kenobi, I’m going to need you to be honest with me. Are you implying that you have… time travelled?”

“Yes.”

It feels absurd hearing it said out loud and both of them seem to know it. Both of them furrowing their brows, while Obi-Wan’s nose scrunches up in discomfort at the notion.

“How?”

“The Daughter,” he shrugs again, “She really did bring me to talk to her. I don’t know how.”

“But you know why?”

Mace’s question is certainly reasonable, and it's obviously not his fault he doesn’t know the weight it carries, but Obi-Wan still finds himself aching at the thought of his past future. He tries to keep his voice steady when he replies, though he’s not sure he succeeds. 

“Yes. Yes I do.”

The Jedi master peers at him speculatively. Whatever he sees in the way Obi-Wan’s entire body just slumps at that line of question is thankfully enough that Mace lets his certainty go unchallenged. For now.

“Who else knows?”

“No one. I haven’t told anyone.”

“Not even Jinn?”

It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to raise his eyebrow now, “Really? Yes, hello Master Jinn, how was your trip around Tatooine? Good? That’s lovely to hear, well I’ve just had my own adult conscience shoved back into a body I can hardly remember and I have been given a mission by a goddess of the Force itself. By the way, what’re we having for dinner?”

Mace scoffs, “Did you manage to get more impertinent in your future?”

“Something like that.”

They each huff a small laugh, the sound of it washed away by the sparkling Nabooian waterfalls before them. Soon enough though what little levity they’d built between them, fueled more by the sheer incredulity at this situation than anything else, drops away.

“Obi-Wan,” Mace hesitates, traces of uncertainty highlighting his every feature, “How old are you, really?”

“Forty six.”

The Jedi Master’s mouth drops open. 

“Enough happens in the next twenty one years that a goddess of the Force felt the need to break the laws of the universe to bring you back here and set things down a different path? How bad did it get?”

Obi-Wan lets out a choked laugh at that. “I don’t think we have time for a full list.”

Mace stands up to his full height and steps towards the younger man. At first he’s confused at what Mace is doing, and tries to step back to give the man more space only for a heavy, reassuring hand falling onto his shoulder, stilling him. He hadn’t even realised he was shaking until the comforting touch suddenly grounded him. 

“Obi-Wan, I am sorry for what must have occurred in your memories. The Force has sent you here though, and we must work together to keep the Light in balance. You must know that the council is here to support you.”

He waits until Obi-Wan lifts his own eyes up to meet his. Mace’s expression is fierce and determined even when he doesn’t truly know the extent of what he’s offering. He’s just a man who has seen someone in need of help, who sees a future he can help, and he has offered himself unconditionally.

“You need not carry this burden alone Padawan.”

Obi-Wan smiles crookedly at him, “You know I’m not really a Padawan, Master.”

Mace flicks at the braid that still drapes over Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Of course not, but I imagine you won’t be getting called Padawan for much longer. Enjoy it while it lasts. Padawan .”

Some more time is spent in companionable silence on that balcony. Both of them quietly processing far far too much information to put into words. Eventually though Mace lets Obi-Wan duck away, clearly sensing that he isn’t ready to get into all the intricacies of his time travel yet. He’d put “figure out how to explain time travel to the Council” lower on his time-travel to-do list, after “survive Naboo” and “Save Qui-Gon”, so he really just hasn’t had time to work out all the wording he needs for this conversation. 

Graciously Mace dismisses him after squeezing out a few more promises that there are no immediate upcoming emergencies that he knows of, and that he’ll discuss the other changes he intends to make to the present with Mace for now, and eventually the Council. Then Obi-Wan scurries away, leaving the Master of the Order to his contemplation and the rumbling of Naboo’s waterfalls. 

It’s a relatively easy walk to head back towards the healer’s rooms where Obi-Wan knows his master and padawan are still convalescing. Or in Qui-Gon's case plotting an escape as soon as Anakin finally gets enticed out of the room with the promise of getting to fly Qui-Gon’s own speeder while the man just “takes a quick stroll”. It’s already worked on the kid four times, now he’s just waiting for the fifth. Idiots , Obi-Wan thinks fondly. 

He’s so preoccupied thinking about which one of them he’s going to need to scold for their foolishness first that he doesn’t notice he’s not alone until a sudden voice pipes up behind him. Ice freezes in Obi-Wan’s veins as he halts to a stop with a sharp jerk. 

“Padawan Kenobi? Might I have a minute of your time?”

Obi-Wan’s breath doesn’t hitch, but it's a near thing when he turns to face Senator Sheev Palpatine standing behind him. He wants to curse himself for letting the Sith lord sneak up behind him. Palpatine is so close he very well could have plunged a saber into Obi-Wan’s back without ever being seen. 

Sharply, Obi-Wan dismisses all thoughts of the Sith in front of him on the off chance Sidious would try to pry into his mental shields. It would be a risky move, and far too chancy for Sidious’ style, but Obi-Wan refortifies his mind anyway. He is well practised in the motion and it is only the work of a single second before his thoughts are locked away behind an impenetrable defence. 

“Senator Palpatine,” he inclines his head the barest amount that still counts as polite, “How might I be of help?”

The old man offers up a genial smile that sets Obi-Wan's nerves alight. “Where are you heading? I would be happy to accompany you on your walk so I don’t take up too much of your time.”

Palpatine steps right next to Obi-Wan’s side, effortlessly inviting himself along. All he wants to do in return is shiver or just cave into his base desires to pull out his own saber and end the man’s life here and now. He knows, deep within himself, that now is not the time. But the temptation is oh so close. 

Instead Obi-Wan elegantly gestures the Senator in the direction he was heading, a constrained yet subtle indication that he should walk before him. There is no chance Obi-Wan will be letting the man have access to his undefended blindside again. 

Palpatine seems pleased enough with the arrangement and begins to move, a saccharine smile set across his face. 

“I was going to drop by the kitchen,” Obi-Wan lies fluidly as he falls into step just behind and beside the Emper- Chancell- the Senator.  “I’m afraid I missed lunch.”

“Ah,” Palpatine smiles knowingly, “I can imagine you have been quite busy these past few days. It’s good for a young man like yourself to remember to eat. I do hope you’ve been taking care of yourself, despite all the… troubles?”

Repulsed, Obi-Wan struggles to contain his own feelings at the grandfatherly tone that Palpatine is taking with him. He spares a single thought for if this is how Palpatine had spent the years talking to Anakin as soon as Obi-Wan was out of earshot. If Palpatine had truly set himself up as some paternal, caring figure who merely wanted to see a promising young man achieving his very best, then Obi-Wan can already start to see the shape of the old man’s foul tactics towards corrupting his apprentice far better than he ever wanted to. The thought that the Sith is taking an interest in him now spells nothing but danger for the Jedi.

“Your concern is appreciated,” he says aloud, offering up his own smile to the man. He’s far too experienced to let any of his fear or fury slip into the expression. Palpatine beams back. Obi-Wan doesn’t throw up. “It has been a trying few days Senator, though I’m sure we’re all pleased to see your planet’s freedoms restored under Queen Amidala’s leadership.”

“Yes, her actions were quite surprising I must admit.” Palpatine’s steps echo perfectly in time with his own as they cross the grand, empty halls of the palace which Obi-Wan absently wishes would be filled with people so he wouldn’t be alone with this evil man. 

“The Queen is a formidable ruler,” Obi-Wan says diplomatically, “It stands to reason she would want to come and fight for her people’s freedom.”

He wonders if Palpatine picks up on his subtle digs, though he imagines the man is far more likely to disregard him as a simple, inexperienced padawan admiring his new friend, rather than an army General who has seen more than his fair share of awful rulers with no scruples of their own. He can’t say he’s particularly bothered to be underestimated by the Sith. 

“Oh yes, Her Majesty has a very… hands on approach.” Palpatine’s disdain is smoothly hidden in his faux hesitancy, “I confess to being worried when I heard she’d left Coruscant with just her guard and the Chancellor himself.” Palpatine’s soft laugh rang with deceit, “If I can be blunt I’d even say that I worried she had been cruelly misled by someone. I trust you won’t tell anyone this-”

Palpatine leans closer to Obi-Wan’s side conspiratorially, his awful smile never leaving his face. “I even thought maybe the Chancellor himself had tried to set her up for failure. Of course,” he amended, stepping back to his own space, “I am pleased to see that wasn’t the case.”

Obi-Wan nods faintly, a buzzing hum of panic and fury flooding his hearing until the man’s whispers are drowned under the scream of danger that traces his every step in the Sith’s company. “Of course.”

“Still, it is best this whole mess is left behind us, no? Her Majesty restored our beautiful Naboo to its rightful glory and we can all be thankful for the Chancellor’s personal involvement. Though that too was a surprise!” Palpatine laughs again, like he and Obi-Wan are sharing in a joke that he doesn’t have to explain. “Oh forgive me Padawan Kenobi. May I call you Obi-Wan? Well, Obi-Wan I promise I shan’t bore you with an old man’s politics any longer.”

Every part of this interaction has Obi-Wan feeling so unsettled he doesn’t even have time to curb Palpatine’s unsettling attempts at familiarity before the man has swiftly moved the conversation on. At least Obi-Wan can feel some comfort in knowing that they are rapidly approaching the kitchens like he’d announced. Soon enough he’ll be able to depart the Senator’s company without raising any suspicion at all. Only another minute or so to suffer through and then he can be free. Though from the determined way Palpatine keeps steering the conversation, Obi-Wan suspects he won’t be let out of this conversation until the Sith gets what he’s after. 

“Now Obi-Wan, I do hope I’m not overstepping but I have a bit of a personal question for you.”

“Oh?” He chokes out.

Palpatine laughs with a surprising show of bashfulness that looks abhorrently false to the Jedi. “I hope you don’t think me a terrible gossip but I have heard rumour that it was actually you who dispatched that horrible dark Jedi man, not either of your Masters?”

It was fascinating, in some terrible, awful way, to see first hand how Sidious leverages his knowledge of the Jedi and their culture to present himself as a well meaning, if somewhat ignorant outsider. Even with all of Obi-Wan’s knowledge of this man’s cruelties, he finds himself getting entranced by the sheer performance of goodness that is now so clearly centering on Obi-Wan himself. It’s overwhelming in so many ways he can’t even categorise. Still. General Kenobi is no fool, he knows what Sidious is probing for. 

“Yes,” he admits freely, knowing there is no point to hide such a basic fact, “Though I can’t take the credit really. Masters Jinn and Windu are both expert duellists. They engaged our opponent admirably.”

“Ah, your humility is a virtue that does you credit young Obi-Wan, but I heard it was still you who struck the final blow?”

“It was. We thought he had already been defeated, but he tried one last attack before he died. It was not a glorious victory.” Obi-Wan’s voice sharpens with blunt honesty. It would take an idiot to miss the signals he was sending that he did not wish to discuss this any further.

“You don’t say?” Muses Palpatine as they turn the final corner in their journey, his steps slowing almost imperceptibly as he tries to keep Obi-Wan locked in this conversation. “I thought those dark Jedi were meant to be quite formidable opponents?”

“Sith.” Obi-Wan says shortly. “The word you are looking for, Senator, is Sith. They are everything the Jedi stand against.”

“Ah, my mistake.” he replies genially. 

After what seems like a few small eternities had passed between them, the pair finally come to a halt at the kitchen doors. Obi-Wan turns a polite smile to the Senator without a hint of the strain that is currently holding the rest of his body taught like a live wire.

“Thank you for your company Senator Palpatine, I’m afraid I will have to leave you here though. I mean only to find some lunch and then I have Jedi business to attend to.”

It is a thin excuse but Palpatine allows it to pass without question. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to keep you. The life of a hero sounds very exciting.” He winks then. A show of camaraderie that makes Obi-Wan’s stomach churn. “Thank you for indulging an old man his curiosity, my boy, I look forward to talking to you again.”

Obi-Wan nods again, his movements as fluid as possible. He watches carefully as Palpatine turns on his feet and begins to amble back down the corridor. With every step he takes the pressure that has been steadily pressing into Obi-Wan’s chest begins to loosen and he feels at last like he can breathe again. 

Finally the man slips into the shadows of the palace, further and further away from the time traveller who cannot help but fall onto the cool, soothing marble of the wall behind him, his whole body shaking. Inch by inch, Obi-Wan feels his perfectly healthy, young knees giving out on him and then all at once he’s on the floor still staring down that darkened hallway where his greatest enemy just walked away.

-

“Now this doesn’t look like a good sign,” Qui-Gon observes mildly from somewhere above him. Normally, Obi-Wan would throw his best glare at his Master for that but he’s a little occupied shoving his face further into his own hands while he hopes absently that they’ll swallow him into their darkness. Hells, maybe he can return to the Daughter’s void land and just hang out there for eternity instead. 

There's the shifting of fabric, a mildly pained grunt and then Obi-Wan feels Qui-Gon settle to the floor next to him, their knees brushing against each other. 

Obi-Wan feels a gentle probing at his impenetrable shields in the force, Qui-Gon’s concern and compassion bouncing harmlessly off them.

“Padawan?”

He twists to the side, just slightly. Enough to release one eye from the shadowy prison of his hands to look at his Master. Qui-Gon is already staring right back, tentatively observing the young man who has been sat, unmoving, in the corner of this hallway for some indescribable amount of time. 

“Ah, you are alive. That’s nice to know.” 

Obi-Wan scoffs.

“I mean,” his master continues flippantly, “I wouldn’t mind if I had a statue of you instead. I think it would look rather fetching in our rooms. I’ll admit I generally prefer my original Padawan, but this frozen copy will do.”

To prove his point Qui-Gon prods a finger into Obi-Wan’s ribs. Instead of the jerk of surprise he likely expected though, Obi-Wan lets himself go limp, following the prod all the way to the floor. The palace tiles are nice and cool against his face, and his Master’s quiet laughter is a warm balm to his heart. 

“Well my melodramatic Padawan, I don’t suppose you’d like to start talking to me yet?”

“No.” He says petulantly, feeling more like the padawan he currently looks like than he has in many long years.

“Unfortunate,” Qui-Gon remarks dispassionately. “I suppose I’ll just have to ask young Anakin if he can come give it a try. He’s likely keen to come report to you on my latest escape attempt now that I’ve successfully bribed my way out of those horrid rooms.”

Against his better judgement Obi-Wan lifts his head off the lovely chill of the floor to stare balefully at the smug Jedi. “What did you bribe him with?”

“Oh? What’s that? My Padawan? Speaking?”

Obi-Wan grunts at him to move on from the dramatics. And no he doesn’t want to address the irony of that sentiment, thank you very much. 

Qui-Gon’s returning grin glints with mischief. “I’ll tell you on the condition that you promise to talk to me. And with actual words. No grunts or mumbles allowed.”

“You’re a cruel Master,” Obi-Wan declares in response, but dutifully tugs himself back upright so he can look his master in the eyes. His shoulders bump against Qui-Gon’s when he resettles himself. 

“I know,” he bows his head exuding the fakest remorse the younger man has ever encountered, which is honestly a feat in and of itself “I am a terrible man who asks far too much from my young apprentice. Force forgive me.”

This time it’s Obi-Wan who nudges his Master in his side, and waits expectantly. Qui-Gon holds out for a couple of seconds but the threat of Obi-Wan’s continued moping eventually pushed him to answer. 

“Fine, fine. I simply promised the boy would get what he wanted if he’d let me come find you. He’s the one who let me know something was wrong, by the way. Your shields are… particularly strong lately. I’ve struggled to get much of a sense of you. Though Anakin assured me you were unwell.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. What did you promise him?”

“A dinner with his favourite person in the galaxy. At least one full hour of undivided attention so Ani can ask any of the million and a half questions he’s been stuck directing at me.”

Obi-Wan scoffs a quiet laugh at that. “Master, you should know better than to promise what you can’t give. Padme is trying to get her planet back in order after a foreign invasion. I hardly think she’ll have time for a full hour indulging Anakin, even if she means well. I don’t think she’s had a full hour of sleep for herself in days anyway.”

Qui-Gon’s grin doesn’t shift an inch, “Now who said anything about Her Majesty?”

“Then who-” Obi-Wan’s eyes double in size at the look on his master’s face. “Me?! Why would I- That is, I don’t understa-”

His stuttered confusion trails off under Qui-Gon’s boisterous laugh. 

“You are quite the hero to that boy,” he says knowingly. “He told me that he wants to be ‘an Obi-Wan’ when he grows up.”

Well. Kriff. 

Instead of addressing this news and any of the mountain of tangled worries, concerns and fears associated with it, Obi-Wan settles instead for dropping his face right back into his hands, blocking out all the light and reality he can. 

All too soon long, calloused fingers gently pry his fingers back. To his surprise though, Qui-Gon doesn’t let go. Instead he pulls Obi-Wan’s hands into his own, gently caressing his skin in smoothing repetitive motions he hadn’t felt since he was a boy. 

“Obi-Wan,” his Master’s voice falls back to that tentative, probing gentleness that makes Obi-Wan’s chest ache, “What has happened? I want to help you.”

He sighs. 

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything has happened. Will happen. Will never get to happen. It’s a blur, Master. There’s too much.”

Qui-Gon doesn’t do him the disservice of pretending to understand, though he certainly has picked up that this is relevant to his ‘premonitions’ and the mission set to him by the Daughter.

“You will manage,” he says simply. Like it's an immutable fact of the universe that Obi-Wan will not fail. Even though he already has done exactly that once before. “You were chosen for a reason, Padawan mine. Though this burden rests heavily on your shoulders, you do not have to carry it alone. The Force is with you Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan gives his master a watery smile, “When did you become so wise?”

“I learnt it from my terribly clever padawan,” he pauses, consideringly, “and I suppose a little from my own master. But mostly you I’m sure.”

At the mention of Dooku Obi-Wan stills. He had been meaning to bring up his grandmaster for some time, though Maul presented an obvious priority in terms of problematic darksiders. He’d never learnt the exact timeline for how long it was between Maul’s death and Sidious taking Dooku on as an apprentice but his passing encounters with the Count implied it had been rather quick. Not to mention his own suspicions that Qui-Gon’s death had led to the man’s final fall. 

A tentative hope sparks up in Obi-Wan that perhaps this time he could hold Dooku back from that final precipice. But it would require an awful lot of precision and calculation on his part. 

“Speaking of your master…” Obi-Wan ventures, hoping to casually swerve the conversation away from his own troubles.

Qui-Gon’s eyes narrow in suspicion. 

“Yes?”

“It has occurred to me that I've never met him.” He phrases it like it is merely a new observation and not an obsessive thought that has been plaguing him for far too long. “I think I’d quite like to meet the man who taught you.”

“And why might that be?”

“Well I have a lot of questions. Such as how does one keep Qui-Gon Jinn from bribing children to escape the medical rest he clearly needs.” 

His master nudges at him. “In that case I don’t think I shall ever introduce you. I think I’d rather face Maul again than have the pair of you in cahoots.”

“Cahoots Master? Really?” 

Qui-Gon barks a quick laugh, “Cahoots indeed. My old Master is something of a strategist himself. If your minds were put together towards a cause I imagine you would be quite unstoppable. In fact, I think I’d like to see what happens if you were to play a game of chess against him. Hells knows I’ve never beaten him.”

Obi-Wan politely refrains from suggesting he see them plan a war against each other. Neither of them won then either. 

“You know,” Qui-Gon says contemplatively, “He did recently express an interest in meeting you. He says I’ve been singing your praises for too long.”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, “I didn’t think you were still in contact with the Count.”

“He may have left the order Obi-Wan, but he’s a very intelligent man. We are fortunate to have him so willing to return and offer wisdom and guidance to all of us here.” Qui-Gon pauses, “but don’t tell him I said that to you or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He laughs politely, though his mind is already swirling with curiosity. 

“He returns to the temple? I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yes he was there the day after we got back from Tatooine actually. I believe he was having tea with Master Yaddle. Although that might have just been an excuse so he could get back into the archives,” Qui-Gon shakes his head in wry amusement, “he’s apparently been pestering Jocasta about some old files that the Sorenno Archives are sorely lacking.” 

The sudden burning urge to race back to Coruscant and check his new theory that Qui-Gon just raised incidentally is sorely tempting, though he knows that at least for the next few days his information will keep. Count Dooku is a wild card at the moment and it would not serve him well to act like a fool. Every move regarding the Count must be carefully considered if Obi-Wan is to succeed. 

Qui-Gon evidently notes whatever expression is on Obi-Wan’s face and sighs good naturedly, “See? This is exactly why I said cahoots, young one. You’re scheming. I can tell.” 

Obi-Wan scoffs in indignation, “I don’t scheme . I plan , Master. There’s a difference.” 

“Of course there is Obi-Wan,” he goes to pat his padawan’s head though stops, awkwardly halting for a moment as he is reminded that he no longer has a right arm. 

Obi-Wan tries to gauge how his master is feeling about that situation but the man’s shields are impressive even now.

“Master?”

He smiles again, though this time the expression is far more bittersweet than before, “Do not worry about me, young one. It’s my job to worry for you.”

“No Master,” Obi-Wan corrects gently but firmly, “We worry for each other, just as we care for each other.” He can tell that now is not the time to get into the complexities of his Master’s feelings about all this now. Instead he pulls his resolve to him, aiming to exude even a fraction of the serenity that Master Kenobi once held. He pushes himself to his feet and ignores the ache of his legs that tell him he was on the ground far longer than he’d initially thought. 

He turns to Qui-Gon who is looking at him with a calculating gaze, and offers his left hand. Qui-Gon’s rueful expression returns, but he takes hold of the offered help and lets his padawan pull him to his feet.

“I am not as young as I used to be,” he complains mildly. 

“I’ve heard it helps if you try not to get stabbed by lightsabers multiple times,” Obi-Wan looks pointedly at the way his master rubs awkwardly at his side, right where Maul had hit him.

“I’ll take your council under advisement my Padawan.”

Obi-Wan feels a rush of warmth and happiness chase away the remaining darkness that had plagued him since Sidious had left. That warmth only growing when Qui-Gon slings his arm over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, steering them both back through the palace halls towards the room he’d been assigned to stay in during his recovery.

“Now let’s return to young Ani and see how much trouble he has gotten himself into while we’ve been here.”

“Don’t say that Master, he’s probably gotten bored and adopted half the droids in the palace if you didn’t leave anyone to watch him.”

“Ah. Good point. I probably should have sent someone to check on him. Hmm.”

“Master!”

Chapter Text

The next day was the festival Obi-Wan remembers so vividly, it had marked one of the greatest turning points in his life. It was the day he was Knighted in another life. A day where the High Council had arrived early in the morning, newly elected Chancellor Palpatine in tow. Obi-Wan, still mourning, still frightened, still shocked, had been pulled aside by Yoda himself to be given his new title. None of the Trials for Knighthood necessary for the first Sith Killer in a millenia. 

It was there in a vacant palace suite that Yoda had tried to tell him that he couldn’t take Anakin as his padawan, despite believing him to be the chosen one, and in response he’d threatened to train the boy without the Council's approval if he had to. At the time it had felt like the only right course of action, as if with Qui-Gon gone his promise to train Anakin was a promise to ensure that the prophecy his master had staked his beliefs on would be fulfilled. And look how that turned out. 

Still, the Council at large had eventually agreed and Anakin had been his Padawan the very same day he lost his own padawan braid. 

In this new time though, Obi-Wan has no need to fear the Council’s decisions. Nor does he need to confirm Yoda’s suspicions that Obi-Wan had inherited too much of his own Master’s defiant nature. Instead he meets the Council when they land with a confidence he hadn’t had before, bracketed by proof of the successful changes he had made here, with Qui-Gon standing serenely to his left while Mace stands to his right. Anakin, in a rare show of timidness, had tried to hide behind Obi-Wan’s legs but he’d finally coaxed the boy to the front with the promise of taking him on a tour of the Jedi Council’s starship once the formalities were over. He didn’t tell the boy that as they would be returning to Coruscant on it too, he’d have had plenty of time to explore it himself. 

The bribe worked though and the Jedi High Council departed without the heavy weight of Qui-Gon’s death hanging over the day of Naboo’s joyous celebrations. 

“Happy we are,” Yoda says once he’d reached the three Jedi and the young boy, “To see you all well. Successful you were, in defeating the Sith?”

They nod as one, though Obi-Wan doesn’t miss the way both Mace and Qui-Gon not-so-subtly incline their heads towards him. Yoda blinks up at him owlishly, then hits his gimmer stick onto the ground with a sharp tap.

“No more will we speak on this today. For celebration, the festival is, not talk of darkness.”

And with that Obi-Wan is given unspoken permission to enjoy this day - the first significant marker of the new galaxy that he has found himself in. One that he is shaping with the blessing of the Daughter and the terrible wisdom of experience to guide him.

It is a pleasure this time to see the Gungans parade down Naboo’s streets, cheers and music following their every step. More than that though it is with a quiet, victorious joy that Obi-Wan can watch the ceremony of peace and allyship get presided over by Chancellor Valorum. Some distance from where he and the Jedi representatives stand above the celebrations with Queen Amidala and Chancellor Valorum, Obi-Wan can feel the muted presence of the lowly Senator Palpatine who has been relegated to the back of the official proceedings, far from Obi-Wan’s sight, if not his mind. 

Yet even the presence of the Sith Lord quietly seething behind him isn’t enough to curb Obi-Wan’s growing certainty that he is on the right path. This time he will succeed. 

This time there will be balance in the Force. 

-

Leaving Naboo is so much more of a process than he’d expected it to be. There’d been murmurs from the Council as to whether now was the time to discuss Anakin’s future, with the less than subtle implication that if they should choose not to take him on as a Jedi then he would certainly be welcome to stay on this planet. To the best of Obi-Wan’s knowledge about half of Padme’s best pilots have all been vying for Anakin to stay and join their ranks once he’s at least a little older. Obi-Wan understands that his flying was very impressive to these people but he didn’t expect to be beating off so many adoption offers in all but name. 

However Yoda and Mace had shut down any further discussion of leaving Anakin here. He suspected they were both too curious about what Obi-Wan still has to say about the boy. He’d made it all too clear in that first council meeting that he had a vested interest in Anakin’s future. Plus, not that any of them would admit it aloud, but pretty much every Council member was brimming with interest to hear more about the future that the Daughter had warned him of. Now that Maul was dead and Obi-Wan had proved himself correct in at least this one instance, they were all suddenly far more amenable to trusting in the “padawan’s” claims about the future. 

Still, even with the Anakin issue on hold, (and it is embarrassingly exciting for Obi-Wan that for now there really is just one Anakin issue to deal with), that doesn’t mean the politics is any less convoluted than usual. 

It turns out that last time Obi-Wan had been spared much of the tedium as the Council had been helping him adjust to his new padawan and his own Knighthood. Now though, Obi-Wan often finds himself standing in for his Master who the Council had promptly directed to stay in his rooms so their Jedi healer could address the saber wounds that had been bothering him for days. 

So now Obi-Wan is getting dragged into a stunning variety of diplomatic discussions, treaty negotiations, galactic arrest confirmation hearings and was even specifically asked by the Queen herself to consult on new security measures to prevent Sith intrusions into the Palace. Obi-Wan didn’t have the heart to tell her that the only current living Sith was three rooms down the hall filling out paperwork. At least he was suffering too though, he had to take solace in that. 

At last though the Jedi’s business on Naboo was all wrapped up and they were finally heading back to Coruscant. Chancellor Valorum had already departed mere hours after the celebratory parade as he had admittedly just up and left his duties on extremely short notice to come to Padme’s aid. Though before he’d left he’d pulled Obi-Wan aside to thank him for his efforts in assisting the Nubians, as well as making a coveted implication that he would like to talk to Obi-Wan further once they had returned to Coruscant, though he wouldn’t elaborate any more on what about. It was honestly a rather mild worry compared to everything else the Jedi was dealing with so he’d agreed in equally vague terms that he would be seeing the Chancellor again. 

“Ready, Padawan?” Qui-Gon’s voice interrupts his musings. He turns to address the man, taking in how much better he already looks. The saber burns that had left his master pale and hunched seem to have been healed back to little more than some slight discoloured scars that one could easily miss if they weren’t looking carefully. A judicial helping of force healing and a whole lot of bacta had brought his Master back to him in near perfect condition, give or take an arm.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan replies and follows in his Master’s steps up the ramp of the Council’s Starship, leaving Naboo behind. For now. 

Padme and her entourage had seen them off from the hangar itself. Obi-Wan had thoroughly enjoyed bowing deeply to Sabe who wore the royal robes at the time, thanking her profusely for all her hard work and dedication. Padme, standing directly next to her double, had rolled her eyes magnificently at his excessive formalities directed to entirely the wrong woman. However he decided to count it as a win because even Sabe had cracked a smile through the solemn visage of Queenliness. He’d thrown Padme, in all her glory as a ‘handmaiden’ one last wink before leaving. Now he imagined that he’d be getting a rather exasperated message through his comm before too long. He really didn’t have it in him to feel particularly bad about it. If anything he’s far too busy being pleased the queen had actually given him her private comm code. He misses his friends every day but there really is something special to getting to see the burgeoning hints of trust and care that he’d once had with his own Senator Amidala reappearing here and now. 

It was a strange level of friendship and intimacy that he hadn’t actually expected to earn from Padme while she was still so new in her career, yet he was honoured. Even if she was still hounding him about that explanation he’d promised her. Then again it’s not like it’s his fault a little old planet invasion and return of the Sith meant they were both swamped with sudden duties, making space for a private conversation practically impossible. At least she’d managed to weasel a promise out of him to see her when she next visited Coruscant.

-

Compared to the pure anxiety of the trip there, the flight back to Coruscant was blissfully dull. Anakin grouched about how Obi-Wan had bribed him with a tour of a ship he was stuck on anyway, though that was easily resolved once Obi-Wan convinced the pilots to let Anakin go bother them with all his questions. The Council were all respectful and calm as per usual, despite the increasingly frequent glances at him that betrayed just how many questions they were all patiently sitting on until their return. 

Best of all though was that Obi-Wan’s Master was there by his side. In that one flight they talked far more than Obi-Wan could ever recall them doing from before. Now he finally had an opportunity to ask all the questions that’d built up over the years of missing him, and sure enough Qui-Gon was apparently bemusedly happy to indulge his apprentice’s curiosity. He only questioned once what had sparked this sudden curiosity which Obi-Wan was quick to vaguely dismiss out of hand. 

Throughout the journey he’d felt the near constant presence of Mace’s searching gaze on him in particular. Not one to back down, Obi-Wan decided to take advantage of the silent watching. It became something of a game for him to continually reference his own time travel as obliquely as possible without alerting anyone else just to watch that vein of tension flicker above Mace’s eyebrow. By the end of the trip he’d earned about twelve glares and nine exasperated sighs for his efforts which felt like an entirely apt reward for his nonsense. Really though he was just pleased to play a game with such comparatively low stakes. It was a beautifully freeing kind of nonsense. 

-

They alighted at the Temple without a problem and Obi-Wan once again took the time to just enjoy the feeling of being able to sense so many Jedi all in one place. 

“Master Jinn, would you accompany us to the council room?” Mace asks as they all trudged off the ship’s ramp. Qui-Gon agrees, though he casts a furtive look at both Obi-Wan and Anakin. 

Obi-Wan steps forward, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

“I’ll mind him while you’re gone,” he promises to his Master’s relief, “perhaps I can give him a proper tour this time.”

They both dutifully ignore the boy’s sudden burst of excited happiness radiating through the Force. 

“Oh I’m sure he would be bored by that,” Qui-Gon says, “he doesn’t seem very enthusiastic to me.”

“Ah good point,” Obi-Wan hums, “Maybe we should just stop at our rooms and quietly sit until you return.”

Anakin’s mouth drops open in betrayal before he whips around to Obi-Wan with pleading eyes. “Please please please mister Obi-Wan I wanna see the temple!” 

Obi-Wan huffs, despite the grin tugging at his lips, “Well I guess I could show you around for a bit.”

Anakin cheers loudly, punching the air in excitement. He settles down once he sees the twin looks of amusement on both Master and Padawan before him, suddenly bashful. A blush rises on his cheeks before he gives a short, hesitant bow, clearly mimicking what he’d seen the Jedi do many times. 

“I mean, uh, thank you. Padawan Kenobi. That would be nice.” 

Obi-Wan happily steers the boy inside before Anakin can see just how many members of the High Council are watching him with poorly disguised grins. At the very least Obi-Wan thinks Anakin unknowingly converted at least two of them to his side with how adorable he just looked. During many a diplomatic mission in his past he had taken advantage of how cute his wide-eyed Padawan’s open enthusiasm looked in the early days of their partnership. It turns out there weren’t many species immune to the endearing cuteness of a young Anakin Skywalker. 

Once the Council departs Obi-Wan is quick to move on accompanied by a pattering pair of small footsteps struggling to match his larger strides. He manages to adjust his walk so that Anakin can catch up, only to be overtaken by the boy, too eager to see it all, Anakin’s wide eyes darting back and forth so quickly Obi-Wan almost wants to laugh. 

“You know, Anakin,” he says conversationally, “you can turn your head to look around too.”

Anakin’s blush returns at getting caught but he does start swivelling his neck around which it turns out is just as funny to watch.

A handful of other Jedi note the pair as they walk, a few greeting Obi-Wan and introducing themselves to Anakin. He stares wide eyed at them too, but with a little nudging from Obi-Wan he remembers to say his own name and sticks his hand out to shake. 

They’ve only been walking for a handful of minutes before an idle suspicion creeps up on Obi-Wan. He can’t really be sure but he begins to suspect that word has gotten around about a delightful young boy making his way through the temple. More and more Jedi manage to “stumble” upon them through their walk, all equally keen to introduce themselves to the excitable child. He vaguely wonders if he should alert them that they’re all equally terrible at hiding their unbridled excitement when they come across Anakin who greets every one of them with equal joy and wonder. 

At the very least none of them seem to have heard any rumours yet of the fact Obi-Wan has just killed a Sith, all of them far more interested in examining the curious interloper in their temple. Last time around he remembers vividly how many fellow Jedi chose to leave him some space after Naboo out of respect for his mourning, but without a dead Master as an excuse Obi-Wan thinks he’s about to be the Temple’s favourite topic of gossip for quite some time. 

Eventually Obi-Wan succeeds in dragging his charge away from his impromptu audience and even manages to distract him with enough stories about the Jedi that he doesn’t receive a single protest from the boy as they round the corner to the archive. It was admittedly his plan anyway, but he wanted to make sure Anakin still got to see some of the Temple’s highlights before boring the kid. 

“Anakin, I’ve got to look something up in our database for a moment. But I also wanted you to see the Archives for yourself. These halls are a place of learning so I’m sure you’ll see many masters and padawans and initiates all researching in here so we must be quiet and respectful of them, okay?”

Anakin nods seriously, determined to behave correctly in this new space. Obi-Wan smiles gently. This is just like the first time he’d introduced him to the massive rooms of Jedi knowledge. And just like before Anakin is quickly awed by the sheer volume of flimsies and data pads and terminals that flood the rooms. 

In a bizarre echo of another life, Obi-Wan finds himself patiently explaining what everything is for as he goes, curating his explanations to fit what he remembered had both excited and most confused Anakin in his youth. He throws in extra stories and facts, a few jokes he recalls having made Anakin laugh during his apprenticeship that now earns him a high pitched, muffled giggle from the boy at his side. This time the weight of Anakin’s attention feels so much lighter, so much more open to seeing what else the Jedi have to offer the longer Obi-Wan talks. He’s not sure what exactly he’s done to change the very core of Anakin’s interest in this moment, but even so a flicker of pride fills his chest as his young apprentice asks each and every question that bubbles to his mind. 

Another change he is determined to make is to blatantly admit to all the areas of the archive that Obi-Wan himself isn’t very familiar with. He remembers all too vividly how long it took for his Padawan to admit to even the tiniest mistake in case Obi-Wan would hate him forever for not being perfect. This time there’s no chance for any misconceptions about how open Obi-Wan is to the fact that everyone has to keep learning, especially now as he tells Anakin in a conspiratorial whisper just how much he’d always struggled with his Astro-navigation homework as a Padawan. Immediately Anakin accuses him of lying, as if the mere concept of Obi-Wan not being all knowing and absolutely perfect was unthinkable. 

“Nope,” he says brightly, “I really was quite terrible at it.”

“But you said you know how to fly a whole bunch of different ships!” Anakin exclaims, disbelief colouring his every word. 

“And I do. Now that is.” Obi-Wan smiles ruefully, “it took a look of practice, and a lot of long nights studying. But sometimes that’s just what you have to do when you find something that you might not be good at at first.”

Anakin purses his lips as he considers this. Weighing up his trust in Obi-Wan’s words versus his apparent expectation that the man is hilariously capable of literally everything. In the meantime Obi-Wan continues to lead them both further between the shelves, honing in on a familiar head of white hair that he’s known all his life. 

He turns to Anakin with a grin, “Not to mention all the help I got. Ah! Master Nu, lovely to see you.”

Jocasta Nu looks up from the small mountain of data pads that seem to have accumulated around her with mild surprise.

“Ah, Padawan Kenobi, back already?”

She ducks her gaze to the young boy staring widely at his side, “And I see you have a companion.”

“This is Anakin Skywalker,” Obi-Wan says, amused when he promptly sticks out a tiny hand for her to shake. There’d been a few times he’d tried to remind Anakin that most Jedi bowed, but sure enough just like everyone else had, Jocasta Nu gently took the offered hand, shaking it firmly twice then retreating to her own space.

“Is there something I can help you two with?”

“Just me I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan throws her his most charming smile which has exactly zero influence on the woman but he likes giving it a shot anyway, “I was wondering if I could take another look at those planetary charts again?”

“Again? Padawan Kenobi I hardly think the planets have realigned in your week away.” Jocasta replies shortly but he can still see her keying in a permissions code for him to access the right servers. It was much easier when he was a full Master and High Council member and could access whatever he wished.

“Very well, terminal three shall suffice for you, Padawan. Mister Skywalker, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

And with that she returns to her pads, evidently dismissing them. Obi-Wan has to tug at a distracted Anakin's arm twice before he finally follows, his short steps a hurried pitter patter behind Obi-Wan’s far longer strides.

In the privacy of his own mind Obi-Wan begins a counter until the question arrives.

Five. Four. Three. Two. On-

“Hey Mister Kenobi?” Anakin’s small voice that isn’t half as quiet as he thinks it is, perks up, “How’d she get so old ?”

“Anakin,” he chides though his heart really isn’t in it. At least this time he hadn’t blurted it out right to Master Nu’s face. “It’s rude to talk about a being’s age like it's a bad thing. Some species are much longer lived than others. Like Master Yoda, he’s been around for centuries.” He ignores Anakin’s gasp of surprise, “Plenty of people make it to old age for their species without any trouble here.”

“But what about bounty hunters? Or smugglers? Don’t people come and steal all their stuff? Then they’d get sick and weak and all that.”

Once again he is reminded about what a harsh world Tatooine really is for a child, though his last five years have been a near constant exercise in restraint as he’s watched Luke grow up in those same deserts and been unable to offer any help at all. 

“That doesn’t really happen in the Temple,” he says carefully, “Here all the Jedi help to take care of one another. We want to support and help everyone we can here. Even though there are always places where some people will struggle more than others - and that’s not very fair at all - part of being a Jedi is offering support and sometimes that means offering more food or medicine or water to those who are having a hard time.”

“So she’s old because people help her?”

“In a way. It is more than just luck that lets someone reach old age, that lets them live their full lives: and part of that is always that you have people who help you. Who look out for you.”

Anakin falls silent again as he considers this, clearly comparing the high fatality rate of the Tatooine population to the sheer volume of happy and healthy people walking past him throughout the Temple. It’s an unfortunate culture shock, to realise that the misery that plagues his home planet isn’t actually necessary. That there are, and always have been, other ways to live.  

Eventually the morbid thoughts leave his mind in favour of his usual excitement and curiosity so it’s not long before he has quickly occupied himself by ducking between all the looming shelves around him, with a solemn promise not to get out of Obi-Wan’s sight for more than a minute. He already knows it’s the best compromise he’s going to get from the kid and at the very least there are enough Jedi milling about that Anakin surely can’t find too much trouble on his own. Plus, he won’t deny that this little reprieve does leave Obi-Wan enough space for his more pressing task: finding Kamino. 

A mere week ago he’d hunted through the exact same files and maps presented to him now, so it is the work of only a handful of minutes before he finds what he’s looking for. Or more accurately: that he doesn’t. To his absolute lack of surprise, though not without a fair amount of disappointment, Obi-Wan confirms that in the few days he’s been gone Dooku has already infiltrated the Archive and wiped all trace of Kamino from the Order’s records. 

Oh Jocasta will not be happy with this. 

Disheartened, Obi-Wan continues to tap away at the console for a little while longer, just on the off chance he somehow mysteriously missed the planet on his own but truly every trace of the Jedi’s knowledge of the cloning facilities and the whole planet itself has been thoroughly and completely wiped by Dooku. Kriff. 

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan calls eventually, summoning the child back to him. True to his word he hadn’t actually gone wandering too far, which Obi-Wan can admit is a pleasant surprise. 

What is a more baffling surprise though, is the small herd of Jedi that come trailing out of the stacks behind the young boy.

“-And then I got in the fighter because Mister Qui-Gon said I would be safe there. But then a bunch’a droids came out of nowhere! And my ship was the only one with big enough blasters and I had to help the Queen plus I technically didn’t leave the ship so I didn’t actually break any rules and- Oh! Here’s Obi-Wan. See? I told ya he was lookin’ up some real important stuff.”

The half dozen Jedi who had been trailing his wayward charge all look up in surprise. The General in him wants to nag each and every padawan before him about their atrocious situational awareness. Their various braids and beads tell him that they’re all at different stages of their teachings and he has to reign in his instincts to warn them about being prepared for danger at any moment. At least by the furious blushes and awkward lack of eye contact he knows they’re all embarrassed enough when they see him standing there with an eyebrow pointedly raised. 

It would hardly take a master detective to figure out they were all equally entranced by this visitor to the Temple. Plenty of ambassadors and politicians and various folk have had occasion to be given a tour of the Temple, and plenty more pilgrims and tourists have entered some of the more public spaces. But evidently none of these Padawans, as young as they are, have encountered a young child meandering around so deep in the Temple as to have made it to archive. 

Anakin, of course, remains entirely oblivious to the unintended spectacle he has become. Instead he bounds forward with the same enthusiasm that has been bubbling within him the whole day, eager to tell Obi-Wan about all the new friends he’s made in the five minutes he was out of his sight. 

“Obi-Wan look! These guys are all padawans, like you!”

He seems very pleased with himself that he figured that out and looks all too eager for Obi-Wan to acknowledge his great deduction.

“So they are Anakin,” he indulges then turns to the crowd of younglings who clearly didn’t expect to be talking to a senior padawan right now, “Lovely to see you all.”

He receives various tentative smiles and a few short bows in greeting. 

“I’m afraid Anakin and I have to depart now, but thank you for keeping an eye on him while I finished up here,” he flicks off the terminal he has been using, getting ready to steer Anakin back up to the higher levels where he’s sure they’ll be summoned shortly anyway.

“Ah yes, well it’s good to see Master Kenobi seems to have this covered,” One of the elder padawans giggles and is rewarded with a few scattered laughs from the group.

For a moment Obi-Wan is confused what the joke is before he remembers the padawan braid still trailing across his shoulder. He feels himself flush in some misplaced embarrassment. The young twi-lek could hardly know she was teasing a trained Master who had in fact raised this exact young boy to Knighthood and had earned his title of Master quite honestly. 

It’s also not that much of a surprise to him that he has unconsciously fallen back into his habits of teaching a young learner so naturally. It really was always one of his favourite parts of raising Anakin; seeing him start to understand everything for himself on his own terms while being guided by the knowledge

Obi-Wan cared for so very much. Absently he hopes none of the other Jedi have picked up on this little habit of his yet. It’s significantly more embarrassing to be behaving like this while he’s still lugging around this braid. 

“Right. Yes. Well… bye now.” He says awkwardly and isn’t even surprised by the lighthearted giggles that follow them out of the Archive. 

“They seem nice,” Anakin says earnestly.

“Indeed.”

-

To Obi-Wan’s surprise there is actually still some time to kill once they get back to the upper levels. He’d expected the Council’s meeting with Qui-Gon to last only so long before they were brought up to properly discuss Anakin’s future, yet the hours have slipped by with ease and not a single ping on his comm. 

Instead, he decides to simply let Anakin pick which direction they head in once he’s run out of the main sights of the Temple. Of course that leads him to narrating bits of trivia and memories attached to a truly eclectic mix of art and architecture, but also training dojos and classrooms and a particularly exciting storeroom. Anakin drinks in every morsel of information with burning curiosity and absolute delight. 

It is a lovely change compared to the more solemn tone of his first introduction to the Temple, when Obi-Wan had been trying to keep his head above water and Anakin was all too aware that Qui-Gon’s death had been a not-insignificant factor in his admittance to the Order. It had overshadowed much of his early tutelage. Obi-Wan couldn’t be more thankful for his sake that in this timeline Anakin would get a true look at the truly good parts of being a Jedi before his view could be coloured too darkly by the Sith’s machinations. 

“Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan!”

“I’m two steps behind you Anakin, you really don’t need to be quite that loud.”

“Sorry!” He says at exactly the same volume. Obi-Wan grins. “But look!”

He points so excitedly that Obi-Wan obligingly turns to look at the training salles down the hall. There’s the unmistakable sound of lightsabers hissing and slashing through the air.

“Yes, that’s where the Jedi learn to wield their sabers.”

Anakin looks up at him with the roundest eyes ever seen on any living creature. It’s probably an evolutionary benefit to small children to be able to melt the resolve of any reasonable adult who knows they most certainly do not want to do heavy physical activity in the middle of the day. It’s also entirely unfair that Anakin is so good at succeeding at it anyway. 

Obi-Wan sighs.

“You just want to see me use my lightsaber don’t you?”

Anakin doesn’t need words, already knowing he’s won. Instead he gasps in pure excitement then leaps for Obi-Wan’s hand, tugging him urgently down the hall. The older man digs his heels in just a little to watch the way Anakin’s shifts all his body weight onto the balls of his feet, pulling with all his nine year old might until Obi-Wan darts forward and scoops him up onto his shoulders. It’s by no means the most serene look a Jedi Master is capable of, but there’s a different kind of satisfaction from feeling the very movement of Anakin’s laugh as he sits perched atop Obi-Wan’s shoulders cheering for the show he knows he’s about to get. 

Obi-Wan deposits Anakin to the side of one of the private training rooms and falls into some light stretches. He also dutifully answers the rapid, endless supply of questions Anakin has. Admittedly most of them tend to follow a pretty predictable line of inquiry.

“What’s that move?”

“That’s called a lunge.”

“What’s that move?”

“That’s a side lunge.”

“What’s that move?”

“This is to stretch my quadriceps.”

“What’s a quadricep?”

“It’s this part of my leg.”

“Huh. What’s that move?”

Finally though Obi-Wan deems himself appropriately warmed up. Then, to Anakin’s unbridled delight, he turns his lightsaber on, letting the familiar blue light wash over him. 

With the ease of decades of practice Obi-Wan falls back into familiar katas without a thought. He works his way through form one first, to give Anakin an example of where a Jedi starts their training. Then he shifts fluidly into form two, the controlled strikes of Makashi coming to him quickly. Then form three, Soresu. Obi-Wan’s preferred form. 

His body traces familiar routines with impeccable elegance. If he recalls correctly it wasn’t far from this time in his first life when he first dedicated himself to its art, and now, decades later even his disjointed body and mind fall into the perfect ease of mastery. He’d worked so hard to execute these forms perfectly that they all now fall into place without a single thought. Anakin’s awed quiet a pleasant companion to the movements. 

To his absolute lack of surprise Anakin’s enthusiastic commentary starts up again when he shifts to his apprentice’s past favoured form of Ataru, particularly when Obi-Wan indulges his whims and throws in a handful of deeply unnecessary flips just to hear the boy cheer loudly. 

Obi-Wan finishes his routine, slipping into form five, then six. Finally Obi-Wan pulls himself into the opening stance of Form Seven. 

He can hardly claim to be a master of the final form, but he had still spent many long years studying the Vapaad style Mace had perfected and formalised. This time around though he can tell something has changed. Even though he hasn’t performed these moves in five long years he can already feel a connection to the form in a way he never had before. Now his body seems to know the movements better than his own conscious mind, even though this body has never even attempted the more aggressive saberform before. Yet his inner self, the one who had lived through galactic war and the Purge and years of isolation can feel a hum of connection with the darker form. He’s careful with his movements, making sure that the faint touch of darkness never consumes him. Instead it’s his familiarity with the Dark that brings his skills into sharp focus until soon enough Obi-Wan is nothing more than a blur as he pushes further and further. His muscles already straining from this small practice are now alight in a burning rightness as he throws himself into move after move. 

And then he stops. 

The brilliant, burning rush that had flooded through his body all at once calms under Obi-Wan’s careful direction. It is a tempting thrill to indulge in Vapaad’s fiery glory but temptation alone is not enough to pull Obi-Wan wholly from his right mind. Instead he exits the sequence with a controlled grace - monitoring his own mind to ensure it was not drawing too deeply on the darkness that it knows so well. 

With a last, measured breath Obi-Wan turns to his young audience only to stumble at the last second. 

Obi-Wan’s wide, shocked eyes meet a series of equally stunned expressions. Anakin, of course, looks delighted and wowed. But then he sees his… surprise guests. 

Quinlan Vos, Depa Billaba, Qui-Gon Jinn and Mace Windu himself stand frozen in the doorway, their jaws all halfway to the floor as they stare right back at him. He blinks at them. They blink at him. No one has any idea of what to say so Obi-Wan takes a private second to chide himself on his own lack of situational awareness. How he’d missed four full Jedi who weren’t even shielding themselves is beyond him.

“Hello there,” he says eventually when the quiet has stretched on for far too long. No one answers. Uh oh. 

At the very least Anakin can always be relied on to break an awkward tension that he doesn’t understand in the most him way possible: by making as big a deal of himself as he could until Obi-Wan paid more attention to him. Today this comes in the form of the boy leaping up from his seat and sprinting to Obi-Wan’s side.

“That was wizard !” He practically shouts. “ Obi-Wan! You’re amazing!”

“Oh, yes, well. Thank you Anakin. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

The other Jedi in the room are all still staring at him in absolute silence. He smiles crookedly at them.

“Sorry I didn’t see you all come in. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting?”

Chapter Text

“Hey Obi?” Quinlan says slowly, he seems to be the first Jedi to pick his jaw back up off the floor.

“Yes?”

“What the kriff was that?”

“I was just showing Anakin here a few katas,” 

He primly shifts out of his ending stance and readjusts his robe around himself, studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone. He’s well aware that he’s convincing absolutely no one that this was simply a normal practice session but he really, really doesn’t have an explanation ready for this. He’d only just managed to convince Qui-Gon that his expert use of Soresu when facing Maul was a mix of Daughter-gifted fortitude and pure adrenaline overwriting any flaws in his sabercraft. Even he had been surprised it’d worked, then again the man just lost an arm so he wasn’t exactly questioning Obi-Wan’s excuses too hard. He didn’t think he’d be able to pull that card twice though. 

At the very least Mace now looks like he’s putting all the pieces together. So now his expression is just a baffled mix of surprise and exasperation, and perhaps some sort of stunned curiosity. None of the other Jedi have half as much composure as him though, so Obi-Wan studiously clips his saber back to his belt in the thick silence. 

“A few katas?” Quinlan continues aghast. He whips around to look at the other Jedi like they have more of an answer than he does. He throws his arms out toward the “padawan” that just performed multiple forms of saberwork that he should, under literally no circumstances, know. Then he flapped his arms about in Obi-Wan’s general direction even more, just in case the other’s hadn’t seen him clearly enough. 

“That was crazy right? Right?” he looks imploringly at Mace, “ Right ?”

Depa blindly reaches out a hand to pat Quinlan hesitantly on the shoulder. Though whether that’s a silent plea to quiet down or a show of solidarity he’s not sure. 

“Yes, Knight Vos, that was… crazy.” Mace says eventually. 

Obi-Wan can feel the tips of his ears and his normally pale cheeks begin to burn red under all the attention he is currently receiving. Instead of giving in to the juvenile instinct of shuffling awkwardly in place he pulls himself upright, conveying a mostly-convincing air of calm even as he desperately tries to pull everyone back to a much safer conversational topic. 

“Was there something I could help you with, Masters?”

He’s sure they all still hear the pleading undertone to his words as he practically begs them to please let him get away with not explaining all this. Mace, the wonderful man that he is, accepts the plea - effectively cutting off Quinlan’s burning curiosity and saving Obi-Wan from having to find out just what thoughts are currently running through his own suspiciously silent master’s mind at the moment. 

“Indeed.” Master Windu steps forward, his movements jerking the other two quiet observers into action until they too are crossing the training room. Quinlan trails after them, his eyes still doing an admirable attempt of escaping from his own face. “We have come to bring you to the council chambers.”

It hardly takes two high council members, another Master and a Knight to collect one stray padawan. Depa reads the unasked question in his face and answers promptly, though her voice is a little strained. 

“Quinlan has offered to mind young Skywalker while we talk and you were not answering your comms so we came to find you ourselves.”

The flush brushing his cheeks darkens as he realises just how long he must have been showing off to Anakin if the Council had spent so much time being ignored they’d sent two separate Masters to find him. Though a small part of him guesses Depa volunteered so she didn’t have to participate in the usual smalltalk that filled the Council rooms when they were waiting on a member. He recalled that she’d never really been a fan of the often idle chatter. Well at least this time he’d hopefully provided an adequately entertaining distraction for her. 

“Of course, my apologies Masters,” he gives a quick bow. Anakin hesitates half a second, looking between the two groups before he too follows suit. When Obi-Wan surfaces he sees a few quirked lips at the boy. 

“It is no matter, Padawan Kenobi,” Mace says, his voice carefully neutral. So careful in fact that Obi-Wan has no doubt he’s still relishing in knowing that Obi-Wan most definitely doesn’t need that particular title, though he certainly won’t challenge him on it now. “Knight Vos, if you wouldn’t mind taking Anakin now? I believe there is still lunch available at the commissary.”

Quinlan manages to swallow down the half dozen extra questions he no doubt has and dutifully moves forward. That doesn’t mean he can’t throw Obi-Wan a scrutinising look that can only mean they are going to have to talk about all this later. It’s a look Obi-WAn is rather familiar with. Anyone who spent too many years with initiate-and-then-padawan Kenobi was far too well acquainted with his ability to attract danger and nonsense to not have an established protocol of knowing to interrogate him later, when the Master Jedis weren’t present. Obi-Wan blinks innocently at his old friend who in turn sticks out a tongue at him once he’s out of view of the other Jedi. Mature. 

Obi-Wan is so distracted trying to think of how to subtly trip the Knight without getting yelled at by either Mace or Qui-Gon, that he almost entirely misses the way Quinlan’s hand darts forward to poke at him. A gasp rips itself out of Obi-Wan’s throat as he stumbles back. 

Quinlan is not the only one to freeze in surprise at the sudden movement. Now everyone’s attention is turned to the abrupt distance he’s forced between them. Quin tilts his head in concern, his outstretched hand still hovering uncertainly in the air. 

“Obi?”

Through the rapid beating of his own heart in his ears, Obi-Wan registers that he might have just overreacted. He offers everyone a shaky smile, his mind rushing to come up with some reason why Padawan Kenobi would be halfway to a heart attack at the possibility of Quinlan’s psychometric abilities picking up his memories. 

That was something he stopped having to worry about during the Clone Wars as there was never a day where Quinlan wasn’t obsessively diligent about wearing gloves to protect his hands from accidentally pulling any Force Echos from the other Generals and troops around him. Now though, in this time of peace Knight Vos has no reason to fear the nightmares of the battlefield that coat Obi-Wan like a second skin. 

Whatever traces of anxiety that are bleeding through his expression are enough for Quinlan to carefully pull his hands back, disguising the movement with a quick adjustment of his robes. He offers Obi-Wan a slight nod before pulling the room's attention back to him as he drops to one knee before the Chosen One. 

Everyone kindly pretends nothing is out of the ordinary with Obi-Wan as they all watch the way Quinlan introduces himself to Anakin and leans forward to whisper something in the boy’s ear that has him gasping with delight.

“Really?” Anakin whispers excitedly. Well. He definitely attempts to whisper. One quick glance around the room confirms that literally everyone heard it, but he supposes it's the thought that counts. 

“Really.” Quinlan confirms to the mysterious query. He holds out a hand and in seconds Anakin is pulling the young Knight out of the room with an eagerness that Obi-Wan is inherently wary of. Quinlan Vos watching nine year old Anakin Skywalker is a recipe for disaster that he fears only he truly knows. Before he can say a word though they’re out the door and he’s left with three very curious Jedi Masters.

“So,” he says brightly, “To the Council Chambers?”

-

Obi-Wan is rather proud of how deftly he manages to avoid any follow up questions after his little display earlier. Both Depa and Qui-Gon had definitely tried to engage him regarding his saber work which he swiftly intercepted with his own questions about how their days have been going and if they would recommend anything new from the commissary. 

Before long Obi-Wan had successfully filled the silence with deliberately meaningless chatter all the way to the chambers. He almost walks straight through the front doors before just managing to catch himself after remembering that he still isn’t a Council member anymore and has to wait for Mace or Depa to invite him in. 

Once they’re all inside Obi-Wan once again finds himself standing side by side with his master, a ring of his once-colleagues and future friends all staring contemplatively at them. There’s a peculiar sense of anticipation radiating from everyone in the room. Obi-Wan narrows his eyes. 

If anything the Council is too receptive to his presence. Suspicious. See, there’s an incredibly deliberate art to remaining neutral in the face of excitement or, well, anything particularly interesting. All Jedi are trained to set aside their personal investment in these tremulous moments, but Obi-Wan hasn’t found himself to be the centre of attention in quite some time. It puts him immediately on edge as he surveys his fellows. 

These are all Masters though, each and every Council Member tactfully trained to without any hint of judgement which unfortunately makes them all awfully hard to read, even if he knows they’re up to something . Thankfully, the biggest and most reliable give away, despite his impressive shields, is of course Master Qui-Gon. Sure, he too is carefully hiding his own emotions from the Force, but he clearly forgets that Obi-Wan lived with him for over a decade and he knows exactly what the subtle twitching of his lips means and how the very deliberately still eyebrows are nothing but a sign of trouble. 

“Hello Masters,” he says, still suspicious of the suppressed goodwill and amusement flooding the room, “You summoned me?”

“Indeed,” Master Mundi says, “We have yet to hear your full report on the Naboo situation.”

That explanation clarifies exactly nothing about the real reason they want him here, but he’ll play along. He launches into as detailed a report as possible, outlining their initial plans as well as what he understood to have been successfully achieved or changed within the other parties on their team. He notes and commends both the Chancellor and Bail’s assistance in Naboo. Then he dives into the confrontation with Maul. This he keeps as brief as possible, sticking to the major facts as he’s sure that both Masters Windu and Jinn would have given sufficient information. 

When he finishes the Council is silent for a short while, digesting his details. Absently Obi-Wan registers that he has fallen back to his military-precise stance and makes a deliberate effort to relax his shoulders, trying to project the calmness he feels without the rigidity of a sitrep in war times. 

Mace quirks a brow subtly at the movement though no one else comments on it. 

“Dead, the Sith lord is,” Yoda declares, somewhat redundantly. “Your doing, this was.”

“Yes Master.”

“First Jedi to slay a Sith in centuries, you are.”

Obi-Wan grimaces slightly but again nods in agreement, “Yes Master.”

“Unhappy with this, are you?”

“No Master. Maul posed a very real threat to the galaxy and I do not regret stopping him when he threatened not only myself but both Master Windu and Master Jinn. I just don’t think taking a life, even Maul’s, should be considered such an achievement when no one else has exactly had the opportunity to face a Sith before me in a long time.”

The Council once again falls silent. Obi-Wan can tell he’s being tested though to what end he can’t yet see. 

“Would you do anything differently, given the chance?” Master Koon asks.

The temptation to laugh at that being the first question asked is terribly strong. Still, Obi-Wan maintains his poise.

“I feel I made the best choices I could have given the information available to me. It does little for me to dwell on what might have been as long as I am sure I did my best to ensure success in the moment.” He pauses for a second, “Though I might have avoided a few kicks to the ribs if I’d known how heavy Maul’s boots were.” 

He’s rewarded with a handful of laughs and quiet grins from the Council members, plus an eye roll from his own Master that makes it feel well worth it. 

“Yet you feel you used your skills as aptly as possible?” Master Koon presses, then smiles, “Despite any boot-related incidents.”

“Yes Master,” Obi-Wan confirms again. The repeated redundancy of the question is peculiar coming from Plo Koon of all people. He’s certain that the Kel Dorian didn’t mishear him, instead Plo is searching for something in Obi-Wan’s answers. 

“And facing the man you knew to be a Sith,” interjects Master Ti before he could think on it too long, “Masters Windu and Jinn have both commended you on your unflappable courage in the face of such an enemy. Your willingness to put yourself in danger while they both were in need of assistance is quite admirable, Padawan.”

It wasn’t a question this time though he knows he is expected to respond. “Yes Master. I was aware of Maul’s identity, as we discussed last time I was present here after Tatooine.” None of the masters respond to his pointed remark so he carries on. “Maul is a skilled duelist and a formidable opponent. I am grateful to Master Windu and Master Jinn for their kind words about my performance though.”

He’s sure the confusion he is feeling about the strange directions this interview is taking is evident to all of them but each Council member dutifully ignores it. Instead Master Yaddle speaks up this time. 

“You were quite injured during the confrontation I hear, how has your recovery been Padawan?”

For a wild moment he wants to ask if she has him confused with Qui-Gon, the man who quite evidently came out of that situation worse off. A couple of bruised ribs barely even register as an injury to Obi-Wan at this point. Getting shot at every day for a few years straight really puts things into perspective.

“I’m quite well Master Yaddle, thank you for asking. I believe I came out of that fight rather lucky that Maul didn’t manage to hurt me in any significant way.” 

Yaddle gives him a short nod in return then settles back.

“Padawan Kenobi,” Master Yoda’s voice spills throughout the room. Dutifully he turns his attention to his great-grandmaster looking for an explanation of just what the Council think they’re up to now. He’s met with solemn eyes though which seem out of place within the lofty feeling of pride and anticipation that still permeates the Force throughout the chamber. 

“Warn us, about Darth Maul you did. Hesitant, we were to believe you. Persist still, you did. Request Master Windu’s company, you did. Persistent there too, you were.” Obi-Wan concedes his point with a rueful smile, well aware that no one had really appreciated a padawan influencing where the Master of the Order would be sent. “Great insight to the future, you have claimed to have, with help from the Daughter.”

Obi-Wan stays silent, curious to see where the old Master is heading with this. 

“Act on your trust in the Force you have, despite the Council’s misgivings.” Yoda’s gaze seems to bore into Obi-Wan’s very soul and he suddenly finds himself worried that he has in some way offended the Grandmaster by standing his ground, but that doesn’t seem to fit in with what he understands of Yoda at all. 

“Right you were.” He says eventually. “Blinded in the Dark we have been. Your clarity is a gift, Young Obi-Wan, use it well you have. Use it well, you will continue to do.”

A light flush of embarrassment at the old Master’s praise crosses Obi-Wan’s cheeks. He bows low towards not only Master Yoda, but the Council as a whole. 

“Thank you, Master Yoda. And my thanks to all of you for allowing me your trust and support in confronting Maul alongside Master Jinn and Master Windu.”

He receives various waves of gratitude and respect directed to him through the Force. The feelings mingle with that still present anticipation that only seems to grow with each passing second though he cannot fathom why. 

“Know why we have brought you here, do you?” Yoda asks, his solemnity fading back into the sparking mischief he’s used to seeing on that old green face. 

“To… report on our mission on Naboo?” 

He doesn’t mean it to be a question but this entire interaction has been so truly bizarre he’s felt wrong-footed the whole time. If this really is a test he’s suddenly worried he’s failing it. 

“Just report, hmm, no other reason?”

Okay now he knows Master Yoda is poking fun at him. Try as he might though Obi-Wan just can’t see what else he’s not recognising. 

“Well Master, I’m beginning to suspect that’s not all,” he says wryly, “Though you might have to clarify what it is I seem to be missing.”

The sheer number of amused grins around the room doubles. 

“I merely was curious if you thought you’d used your skills to the best of your abilities,” Master Koon says with faux innocence.

“And I simply wished to pass on the admiration of your courage from Master Windu and Master Jinn.” Shaak Ti says, her eyes open wide with the least convincing show of sincerity that he’s ever seen. 

Wait a minute…

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrow again, squinting at the Masters in disbelief. 

Master Yaddle doesn’t bother with the pretence now she sees him catching on, her own eyes alight with good humour. “I was inquiring after your health, Padawan, I wanted to ensure you were not struggling after such a physically taxing duel.”

He wants to glare at his fellow Jedi for the absolute performance they’re all putting on, though he can hardly bring himself to do so as his own excitement and anticipation begins to rush through him, building upon the joy already flowing through the Force. 

“Your spirit and insight,” Master Yoda concludes beaming at the stunned young man before him, “Strong and wise, they are. Thoughtful you have become. Grown now, you are. The Jedi ways, you embody.”

“Masters…” He trails off, not sure what to do now.

“Hmm. Figure it out now, you have.”

Obi-Wan turns to his own Master only to see Qui-Gon already beaming at him with a pride Obi-Wan doesn’t know how to handle. 

“You have been ready for some time, my padawan. I have been a fool to keep you by my side for so long.”

“Of course not Master!” Obi-Wan gasps indignantly, he’s loved the last week of getting to have his Master actually and truly back with him. He can’t even believe how lucky he’s been to have this second chance. And now this?

He never had a true Knighting ceremony in his first life. Yoda had cut his braid on Naboo and that had been that because he had a new padawan to attend to and a Master to bury in the very same day. 

“Knighted, you shall be Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Yoda says definitively, “Earned it, you have.”

“But… the trials,” Obi-Wan protests more out of a bizarre sense of having cheated his way into his Knighthood a second time than because he actually wants to go through the proper process. 

Mace finally pipes up, with his own exasperated amusement colouring his voice. 

“Obi-Wan you have just fought and defeated a Sith lord, protecting the lives of two Jedi Masters who might very well not be here if not for your exceptional skill. I think you can fairly say you have earned this Knighthood.”

Finally, Obi-Wan lets himself give up on the all dregs of hesitancy and finds himself beaming right back at the Council. It’s hardly a surprise that he would once again make Knighthood in this timeline but it is awfully nice to have them come to the conclusion that he’s earned it on his own merits, not just out of some sense of necessity so he could take on a padawan who was desperately in need of a master. 

“Thank you,” he says to the Council at large again, his gratitude emanating outwards and being met with the joy and pride he’s been flooded with since the moment he stepped through the doors. Master Jinn also lets down his shields now that the loth cat is out of the bag and Obi-Wan feels himself reddening even further under the sheer weight of pride coming from the man who never lived to see him Knighted in his first life. 

“Tomorrow evening your Knighting Ceremony will be held, Padawan Kenobi,” Mace continues, this time his pointed use of the title is accompanied by a handful of laughs from the other masters. They talk of a few more organisational details that Obi-Wan is not sorry to have missed the first time round and then there is yet more pointed silence.

This time the Force does not sing with joyous excitement but a tentative curiosity. 

Mace Windu steeples his fingers before him, clearly contemplating how best to approach a different, evidently more serious topic. Dutifully Obi-Wan waits, tucking his hands back into the sleeves of his robes. 

“Now, Obi-Wan. We have also asked you here to follow up on our last meeting.”

Ah. Anakin. Of course. 

“You suggested that without sufficient time to evaluate the complexities of Young Skywalker’s case, the Council would make some ill informed decision, as I recall.”

“Indeed, Master Windu,” he responds. There’s a beat where everyone clearly waits to see if he would take that accusation back. His silence speaks volumes on its own though which does nothing to put the Council any more at ease. Now that his comments about Naboo have come to pass the Jedi are all far more wary of Obi-Wan’s certainty that they would’ve made a terrible mistake a mere few days ago should they have rejected Anakin’s entrance to the Order. 

Mace’s brows pinch in. “You also said that the traditional tests for younglings are not applicable considering Skywalker’s exceptions.”

“Yes, Master.” 

“What then, do you suggest?” Yoda asks. 

He’d known, of course, that this conversation would be coming and so he is quick to gather his thoughts and retrace the careful plans and arguments he’d been debating since his return to this time. 

“Anakin is a wholly unique case, Masters. Not only due to his excessive midichlorian count but his upbringing as a slave has given him a fundamentally different upbringing than any other Jedi.” 

Obi-Wan steps forward, ensuring that every eye is trained on him with pure, unbroken focus. 

“It is… unfortunate that he believes he is now the Chosen One,” he says, carefully avoiding Qui-Gon’s eyes, “as that is an awful lot of pressure for a young boy to grow up with. Without conscientious care and consideration taken in regards to establishing his sense of self, then Anakin’s loyalties can very easily be fractured between his duty as a Jedi, as a Chosen one and as an individual. These may give rise to much confusion, and yes, even fear, about what the right path for him should be, particularly without any other points of reference.”

He’s rewarded with a few considering hums which he counts as a win, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on them and simply pushes on. 

“Importantly though,” here Obi-Wan has to steady himself, breathing deeply and reluctantly for what he knows he has to say, “like it or not Anakin Skywalker is a very, very powerful individual and his existence is now known to the galaxy, and, his own perception of his destiny has already begun to be shaped by his time here. Neither of these are things we can take back. All that is left is his future.”

Obi-Wan takes the time to look at each and every Council member. Capturing a room’s attention has never been hard for Obi-Wan Kenobi and now is no exception. “Anakin’s potential could have devastating, rippling effects across the whole galaxy. Should he not know how to access this power, merely that he can means that Anakin could unintentionally cause catastrophic harm in any attempt to learn so on his own.”

Discomfort floods the room which Obi-Wan has already steeled himself for. Which is why he doesn’t give the Council more than a few moments to consider this terrible possibility before he doubles down. 

“Masters, there is a darkness spreading through the galaxy even as we speak. I warned you of this last we spoke and I stand by it now. Darth Maul was merely the apprentice, his master is very much still out there.”

The discomfort warps and wanes as the Councillors all try to control and soothe their own growing anxieties over the direction of Obi-wan's speech. 

“If Anakin is not taken under the Jedi’s care and protection, he will be used as a pawn in a game far larger than him.”

“He is just a boy,” Master Mundi breaks the silence that follows his words. Obi-Wan is glad he did, as it swiftly brings him to his next point. 

“He is,” Obi-Wan lets in the grief and regret and pain that accompanies him so closely in everything that has to do with the boy he raised. “He is young, and scared and alone from everything he has ever known and he is vulnerable.”

Obi-Wan once again deliberately locks eyes with each and every Council Member to make sure there was no doubt regarding the severity of his words. 

“The Sith Master is out there and he has every intention of eradicating the Jedi. If we do not take Anakin in with us we will be sending out a young boy who has been rejected and abandoned by the very symbol of hope and care that we have set ourselves up to be. I believe with my whole being that the Sith Lord will take Anakin, regardless of how good the boy’s intentions may be, and he will mould him into his next apprentice. One primed to resent and despise us, from our own doing.”

Obi-Wan’s voice never rises beyond his firm, commanding tone. There is no place in this room for desperation or fury or pleading. This is the Negotiator at work, setting the terms with clarity and precision so that no one may ever accuse him of neglecting a single piece of evidence to the puzzle set before them.

“Anakin has a true, earnest capability for good. Yes, Masters, he will need special consideration but not because he is supposedly the Chosen One. He needs personalised care because he is a young boy who has grown up as property and has not yet learned to see himself as master of his own destiny. The whims of the Force are not easy to read and the Dark clouds the paths before him. When he has been set up to be used and moved for the sake of some larger game in a Sith’s machinations, he will be a terribly valuable pawn where instead we currently have the opportunity to make sure he knows he is a valuable person. To us, to himself, and not just in the context of how ‘useful’ he can make himself at any given point.”

It is harder now, to keep his voice level, though that hardly stops him. Too many years coming to terms with his own failures ensure that he is nothing but deadly sure of himself in this moment.  Instead to emphasise his point Obi-Wan walks forward, closing the distance between him and them. The sound of his feet hitting the floor is the only noise to be heard in the dead silence of a stunned Council who are all fervently trying to comprehend the true scope of what he is saying to them. 

“Should the Council choose not to take Anakin into our ranks due to the precarious nature of his future, I understand.” He ignores the shocked expressions levelled at him. 

No doubt every Jedi here could only think that his conclusion would be that anything less than never letting Anakin walk from one end of a room to another without Jedi supervision would suffice. Not one of them is ready for his next statement.

“Yet if Anakin is not admitted to the Jedi Order, I shall leave my place here as well to care for the boy myself.”

To say that the energy in the room had shifted from the pure light at his introduction to Knighthood to now, would be an understatement. Now Obi-Wan is practically swamped under waves of confusion, shock and some quickly tempered outrage at such a bold declaration. He vaguely wonders if he is the first Jedi in history to be told he is finally getting Knighted before promptly threatening his own desertion of the Order. 

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon is the first to actually put those feelings into words. His master, now behind him, sounds devastated and appalled and Obi-Wan cannot bear to turn back to him. Not yet. 

He looks to Master Yoda and Master Windu in turn, “The future of the galaxy should not have to rest on Anakin’s shoulders alone. But if we leave him without support he will be little more than a tool of destruction and cruelty until he is so far divorced from his own self that there will be no saving him as a person. He will be an enemy in need of defeat. Nothing more.”

Now. Now is when Obi-Wan can feel his voice threatening to crack, his eyes threatening to water. He stills himself, imploring the Masters before him to recognise the sincerity and the truth of his words here. 

Both Masters, usually hidden behind impenetrable shields, show cracks in their masks. Yoda’s sorrow is a tangible thing. An old man all too aware of the follies of youth and the pain of losing a child to darkness and despair. His compassion for Anakin feels almost palpable in the air around them. Mace though… Mace is staring at Obi-Wan with mounting horror as he alone in the room registers that this is not Obi-Wan Kenobi passing on a goddess's warnings but the mourning of a man who has lived through nightmares that he cannot even comprehend. 

Finally Obi-Wan steps back, putting distance between himself and the ring of seats around him, until he stands once again by his Master’s side. He still doesn’t look at him. 

Instead Obi-Wan watches carefully. He charts every furrowed brow and pursed lip. He watches lekku twitch and fingers tap and he calculates the trajectory of every Master’s thoughts in front of him. He knows he is scaring them. He can feel it as sharply and keenly as their pride had touched against him earlier. Fear is not foreign to a Jedi, but it is something that is dealt with, measured. It is acknowledged and released. Obi-Wan suspects these Jedi have never had to face darkness on a scale anything like what he is proposing and the uncertainty of that is fuelling a fear they have not prepared for. 

He does not regret his words. Without acknowledging the true scope of this threat the Council will not be able to act with any of the surety that they need. Still, he is pained with them to feel their first dawning comprehension of what lies ahead. 

“Master Jinn. Knight Kenobi. I believe it would be best if you were to retire to your rooms for now. The Council has… much to think about.” Mace’s words are strangled, tightly controlled horror staining his voice. 

“Yes Master Windu,” Obi-Wan bows: deeply, apologetically, unrepentantly to the Council. 

Then he leaves. 

Chapter Text

To his surprise, Master Jinn doesn’t even try to get any further explanation from Obi-Wan as they make their way back to their rooms. Periodically he sneaks a look in, just to see if Qui-Gon is waiting for him to start talking but it seems his master is lost far too deep in thought. 

It’s something of a shame that Obi-Wan isn’t able to share his joy at his upcoming Knighting at the moment, even though he understands that he’s the one who brought the mood down so severely. It’s fair enough that the other Masters will need time to process, he reminds himself. Obi-Wan has known since the moment he arrived that if the Jedi did not take Anakin in then he would simply have to leave and keep an eye on the boy himself. 

Still, it would definitely be preferable to not have to raise him again on his own. If worst comes to worst though Obi-Wan is rather well practised in taking care of a young Anakin Skywalker. This time the Sith Lord will never have the opportunity to dig his claws into the impressionable child, the fierce protectiveness that Obi-Wan has been dutifully ignoring will certainly ensure that Sidious won’t be allowed anywhere near his padawan. 

For now though, he dismisses thoughts of the Sith from his mind, too preoccupied with the Jedi and their deliberations, only to be pulled from his own mind before he and Qui-Gon can even make it to their rooms. A strong tug from the Force itself directs the two of them deeper into temple, a warm hum of Light revealing that a crowd of Jedi seem to have been gathered not too far from where they are.They share a puzzled look before walking just a little bit quicker until they can round the corner and take in the view before them. 

Immediately Obi-Wan dismisses the crowd of Jedi blocking the hallway as the least exciting part of the display before him. Instead that award has to go to the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber swooshing through the air accompanied by the frantic pleading of one Quinlan Vos to “Please please put that down”.

“Oh Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighs before beginning his journey of muscling through the horde of Jedi blocking his way to his eternally troublesome child. 

Behind him he can hear Qui-Gon’s breath hitch as the much taller man clearly catches sight of something that would probably just exacerbate the migraine Obi-Wan can already feel building. He ignores his master as best he can while he charges forward, the sea of Jedi splitting easily around his determined stride. 

All at once he finds himself breaking through to the other side, light streaming towards him from both the sweeping windows embedded in the walls… and from the lightsaber currently being waved around by a nine year old Chosen One. Great. 

“Anakin.”

A smug grin threatens to creep across his face as Anakin immediately stops his every movement to turn to Obi-Wan who didn’t even need to raise his voice. Quinlan stops too, a second behind the child and only just managing to not impale himself on his own damn saber now that Anakin isn’t waving it around aimlessly. 

Well perhaps not aimlessly. Obi-Wan tilts his head curiously.

“Anakin, were you practising your forms?”

There was something awfully familiar in the wild swings the child was making, a determination that he would get it right which Obi-Wan remembers all too well. Last time though it came during the saber classes that Anakin had leapt into with unbridled enthusiasm. He’d honestly thought that would be the same situation here, all Anakin would need to do would be to wait a week or two for his place in the Temple to be settled then he would have a training saber of his own. 

Anakin goes bright red at the probing tone in Obi-Wan’s voice. Then he notices the dozen other Jedi all watching him and goes even brighter. He mumbles something that Obi-Wan can only assume is a “yes” even if the boy can’t manage to make eye contact with him. Behind Ani Quinlan is watching this exchange with his mouth dropped open like a fish gasping for air. Obi-Wan idly wonders how long the Knight has been chasing the child around begging him to put the laser sword down before Obi-Wan showed up. He throws Quinlan a sly grin that has the other man looking even more flabbergasted which he didn’t actually know was possible. 

Obi-Wan elects to ignore him, and the crowd all avidly watching this whole interaction behind him. Instead Obi-Wan shifts down to one knee to make sure he’s eye to eye with Anakin who is still resolutely ignoring his gaze.

“Ani? Ani can you look at me please?”

His voice is as gentle as he can make it, all too wary of frightening the child into thinking he’s done anything terribly wrong. There were a few rough starts of their apprenticeship last time where Obi-Wan wasn’t always sure how to reprimand the child without reminding him of that slime Watto from Tatooine. This time Anakin barely hesitates before turning to face him properly, at least partly grateful to be shielding from the other Jedi by Obi-Wan’s larger frame. 

He smiles at the boy who hesitantly grins back.

“Would you be able to give Knight Vos his lightsaber back please?”

Anakin shuffles awkwardly for only a second before thrusting his hand out, the still lit saber thankfully not facing Quinlan directly. He reaches out, flicking the saber off even as he takes it from the kid, a quiet ‘thank you’ echoing out. 

“Now do you want to tell me why you had his saber?”

“He said I could,” Anakin pouts.

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow as he looks back up at his friend who just sputters indignantly.

“I said he could look at it!”

“You gave a nine year old a weapon.”

“To look at!”

“Nine.”

“Looking!”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes as exaggeratedly as possible which manages to make Quinlan scoff loudly and Anakin giggle at the two of them. 

“Sure, sure.” He can’t keep the smile from his voice. There’s something very satisfying about knowing that in any timeline Anakin Skywalker will find himself in trouble the second he’s out of Obi-Wan’s eyesight. “Now Anakin, why did you not give the lightsaber back to Knight Vos when he asked, hmm?”

Anakin’s gaze drops to the floor once again, very studiously observing a smudge of dirt on his shoes. “Because I wanted to do the cool moves you did.”

“You know, if you promise not to take anyone else's lightsaber, and you also promise to be patient , I’m sure I can show you how to do a couple of them yourself.”

Obi-Wan genuinely believes that Anakin’s gasp of excitement could be heard in the Senate building, it's that loud.

“No way! You mean it?!” the child practically yells, already bouncing with the unbridled energy of a nine year old who just got told they’re about to learn how to swing a laser sword around. Whoops?

“I do. But not just yet okay? You’ll learn Anakin, but maybe we make sure it’s in the training rooms? With the safety on? And not out in the middle of a hallway where anyone could accidentally get hurt?”

Anakin’s bashful smile is as good a promise as he’s going to get so Obi-Wan chalks this one up as a win and rises to his feet again, careful to keep his own saber well out of reach from little hands. 

“Now,” Quinlan says, “This little rascal was meant to be coming with me to the creche.”

“Oh was he?” Obi-Wan’s curiosity is rewarded with the sight of Anakin scuffing his shoes against the floor. 

“Yeah,” Quinlan huffs, “but then someone got distracted with stealing my stuff.”

“I didn’t steal-!”

“Yeah, yeah kiddo,” Quinlan says, lightly nudging the boy's head which quickly turns into the exact kind of childish roughhousing that Obi-Wan expected from the both of them.

“Okay break it up you two,” Qui-Gon’s voice appears just behind Obi-Wan’s shoulder. He turns to see that while Obi-Wan was busy handling the Anakin situation his master had been quietly redirecting the crowd to finally split off and stop their amused observation of Obi-Wan’s wayward apprentice. 

“Yeah you two,” Obi-Wan grins cheekily at the twin looks of surprise at being called out by a Master, “Break it up.”

There’s a beautiful moment where he can a hundred percent tell that both of them want to stick their tongues out at Obi-Wan but won’t do it with Qui-Gon standing right at his side. He winks at them both. Matching scowls grace their faces. 

“Anakin,” Qui-Gon dutifully ignores his padawan’s nonsense as he addresses the child, “How about Obi-Wan and I walk you over there?”

Anakin’s excited agreement, which quickly shifts to a complete run down of every single thing that has happened since they saw him an hour ago fades into the background as Obi-Wan feels a familiar presence creeping in close, though a very deliberate distance is kept between them before their skin can make contact as Quinlan whispers in Obi-Wan’s ear. “How the hell did you get the kid to stop like that?”

Obi-Wan grins, “He just likes me better than you.”

“Pssht. You wish.”

“Jealous?”

“Of a kid with bad taste? Never.”

Obi-Wan snorts at the quick reply and elbows his friend. Quinlan lets out a soft ‘ooft’, swaying away with the contact even as he readjusts his robes where Obi-Wan had hit him. 

“You’re so mean to me Obi.”

“Only because you deserve it,” he says sweetly.

Quinlan scoffs but falls into amicable silence with him as they trail behind the pair that have already started making their way to the creche. 

“You know,” he pipes up eventually, because Quinlan Vos has never been capable of silence for more than exactly one and a half minutes (and Obi-Wan has definitely timed it), “you handled that really well.”

“High praise.”

“Oh shut up I’m being nice here.”

“Huh. Didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

Quinlan squarks in indignation, shoving at Obi-Wan who deftly steps out of the way.

“Okay you bastard,” Quinlan huffs, fixing his dreadlocks that just fell out of place, “I seriously don’t understand why everyone thinks you’re some goody two shoes all the damn time.”

“It’s probably just my magnetic charm.”

He scoffs. “Charm. Sure. That must be it.”’

Obi-Wan grins brightly at him. “Glad you agree.”

“Y’know what Obi? No more compliments for you. I don’t even care how good you are with the kid.” Quinlan waits four whole seconds before huffing with amusement as another thought hits him, “Of course you’d get along with him though, that child is an absolute menace. You two deserve each other.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t have a reply ready for that one so he elects to ignore the strange buzzing feeling deep in the pit of his stomach and simply pushes Quinlan into a nearby pillar as he darts forward to walk in step with Anakin and Qui-Gon. Quinlan’s grumbling is also ignored and all further shoving attempts are quelled under Qui-Gon’s piercing gaze. 

-

Eventually the Jedi had managed to extricate themselves from the hoard of younglings in the Creche who all wanted to hear about Anakin using an actual lightsaber at minimum ten different times before any of them could escape, leaving Anakin in the capable, if harried looking hands of the twi-lek Crechemaster who promised that Anakin wouldn’t be any trouble to take care of. He himself had also promised both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon that he would be on his best behaviour all night, which filled them with a mild confidence that everything would be… okay. Probably. 

At last they made it back to their rooms where Obi-Wan promptly threw himself face down on his bed and passed out in seconds. His years on Tatooine had thrown into sharp relief many of the things he’d taken for granted in his life. Even in the midst of the war and all the trenches and ships he’d had to uncomfortably bunk in the guarantee of a comfortable bed to return to when he made it back to the Temple was always at the edge of his mind. On Tatooine he counted any night where only half his body ended up covered in sand by the morning, an absolute win. Since coming back in time he’d been damn sure to appreciate all the little things he’d never really noticed and sometimes that means enjoying the luxury of a desert-free bed even at the expense of the doubtlessly awkward conversation he was putting off having with his master. 

In fact he’d almost entirely forgotten about the debacle in the council room from yesterday as he peels himself out of the comfortable cocoon of sheets and blankets he’d wrapped himself in during the night. The morning mostly arrived with little fanfare, just an idle excitement for the Knighting ceremony he was to have that evening. 

Obi-Wan stretches as he stands then quickly exits, enticed by the promise of breakfast waiting for him. He exits his room rubbing at the awkward volume of stubble he’d managed to grow over the last week. Every day he misses his beard but at least it’s technically on its way. 

“Good Morning Padawan,” Master Jinn’s voice floats from their kitchen. “Tea?”

Obi-Wan hums an affirmative as he shuffles into the room and is pleasantly surprised to find a mug already waiting for him. He doesn’t even need to take a sip before its wafting aroma lets him know it's his favourite; the one that he saves for special occasions. Which mostly just means he forgets about it immediately and it promptly gets buried behind all the far more frequently used flavours. He smiles softly to himself that Qui-Gon remembered and cradles his mug just a little closer, its warmth seeping into his skin. 

Together they share a quiet breakfast, the type of unremarkable morning they’d had time and time again. The type of morning that Obi-Wan had grieved for many years in his other life. Now though, so caught up in the thrill of normalcy, Obi-Wan finds himself once again caught offguard by his own Master. Whether that has to do with how long its truly been since he got to spend time with him, or if this foolish young body is affecting his senses more than he’d thought, Obi-Wan doesn’t know. What he does know is that he isn’t at all prepared when Qui-Gon pointedly starts talking right as Obi-Wan has just taken a deep drink of his tea. 

“I know you’ve been lying,” his master announces unprompted. At least he affords Obi-Wan the courtesy of handing him a napkin to mop up all the tea he immediately spat out at the sudden declaration. 

“Master, I-”

Qui-Gon holds up his hand, silencing him immediately. “Please, padawan, let me finish.”

Against his better judgement Obi-Wan closes his mouth and continues to quietly mop up his spilled tea while he braces himself for whatever’s to come. 

“You have been lying rather a lot. To me. To the Council. To everyone, I believe.” 

Obi-Wan manages not to flinch at the accusation but he doesn’t have it in him to meet Qui-Gon’s searching gaze.

“I do not know why,” his master waves his hand about in a general indication of everything, “there is a lot going on at the moment so I won’t take foundless guesses. I’m unsure if the Daughter asked something particular from you that you cannot share. Or if…” He trails off, looking down at his singular hand now wrapped around its own mug, “If you cannot trust anyone else not to fail you in your mission.”

Obi-Wan bites down on the protest bubbling up in him, wary to interrupt his master’s quiet words. Qui-Gon takes a single deep breath, steading himself before Obi-Wan can think of what to say. He offers him a weak smile that does nothing to quell the worry churning inside his apprentice. 

“Don’t you worry too much about me Obi-Wan. I’m grateful to still have my life, which I know I owe to you and your inexplicably phenomenal saberwork.”

He waits for a single beat, giving Obi-Wan the opportunity to offer his own explanation for the impossible skill increase that Qui-Gon has clearly witnessed. He stays quiet. Qui-Gon moves on. 

“I would like to know what you have to say, but I suspect you have your reasons for this quiet and I… I suppose I just have to respect that.” Qui-Gon rubs uncomfortably at his shoulder, the lack of arm a glaring sign that all too much has changed between them in such a short time. Well, short from Qui-Gon’s perspective. 

He finally looks up, meeting Obi-Wan’s burning eyes, “You have my ultimate trust Obi-Wan, and I want you to always know that I am here for you. If you need help. If you need anything then I am here but I… understand that you do not feel you can share what is troubling you now my Padawan. Just know… well I suppose that’s it,” he offers a rueful smile, “Just know I am here.”

Without hesitation Obi-Wan reaches across the table, clasping his Master’s hand in between his own.

“Thank you, Master Jinn. I- I do not mean to lie, I just…”

“It is okay, Padawan. The Force has put you on a journey of your own. I will help where I can but how you tread this path is up to you.” Qui-Gon pauses for a moment, his grip tightening slightly “But I would appreciate a heads up before you threaten to leave the Order.”

“Ah. Yes. Well.”

“Hmm. Well indeed.”

“I am sorry Master but Anakin is far more important than you know, and I need the Council to understand the role he will play in what is to come.”

Qui-Gon purses his lips, evaluating his words and weighing them up against his own beliefs. He had always been more inclined to belief in prophecy and mysticism in the Force than Obi-Wan ever was, so it is a strange role reversal for the both of them for Obi-Wan to be the one asserting the significance of Anakin’s place as the supposed Chosen One. 

“I understand that Anakin is important, Obi-Wan, I do. It’s just… You are important too. And I am not certain you understand what it would do to lose you from the Order.” Qui-Gon shrugs, a hint of embarrassment colouring his tone, “I also understand I was perhaps a bit… rash with my declaration that I would train the boy. You have been ready for the Trials for some time, your Knighthood was never far away but I was careless with my words.”

Obi-Wan narrows his eyes, “Who told you off about that?”

Qui-Gon gapes at him. “Why- Obi-Wan how could- I would never-”

He squints harder. “It was Mace wasn’t it?”

Qui-Gon’s spluttering comes to a quick stop, defeat lining his expression. “It was Mace.”

Obi-Wan can’t help but laugh at that, a levity that seems to lift that awful heavy weight from Qui-Gon’s shoulders that he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying. “I’ll be sure to thank him next time I see him.”

“Oh don’t do that,” Qui-Gon pleads half heartedly, “He already gave me an earful about proper decorum in the Council chambers.”

“Perhaps next time you’ll behave with more decorum then.”

He levels Obi-Wan with a stern look, “No padawan of mine should ever accuse me of having decorum.”

Obi-Wan scoffs, “Sure thing Master. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Oh please, if I have taught you anything it is to have the appropriate amount of insolence towards any authority figure you find. The day you actually listen to me without arguing once is the day I know you’ve gone and got yourself replaced by some evil clone.”

Obi-Wan manages not to wince at the insinuation of himself getting replaced right before his master’s eyes. He counts that as it’s own achievement and is swift to veer the conversation far from that line of thinking. 

“Well I’ll be sure to behave with the appropriate amount of insolence towards everything you say ever.”

Qui-Gon glares at him, “You really are a menace aren’t you.”

“Master you have got to stop talking to Quinlan,”

“You just don’t like when he tells the truth.”

“Knight Vos has never told the truth once in his life,” Obi-Wan sniffs haughtily and is rewarded with an entirely inelegant snort from his Master.

“How the two of you are friends is an absolute mystery to me.”

“It’s probably just my magnetic charm.”

“Charm. Sure.”

Obi-Wan glowers at him, “One day someone will agree with me about that.”

“I look forward to seeing it.” Qui-Gon returns his attention to his neglected breakfast that has almost certainly gone cold in the time they’ve been speaking. He idly pokes at the food once or twice before giving up on it completely and pushing the plate out of his way. “You know who would be interested in your so-called magnetic charm?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrow further in suspicion. “Who?”

“My master. If you’re still interested in meeting him, that is.”

Obi-Wan blinks. “Dooku?”

Qui-Gon quirks an eyebrow at him, “Do you know of another Master of mine that I don't, padawan?”

“You can get me a meeting with him?” He asks, choosing to ignore his Master’s blatant sarcasm.

“Yes Obi-Wan, I do in fact own my own comm and everything.”

“When is he available?”

An urgency he hadn’t expected grips Obi-Wan tight. Now that he’s taken Maul off the board it is practically a guarantee that Sidious will train his sights on corrupting Dooku into Falling. Since Obi-Wan prevented Qui-Gon’s death it’s entirely possible that Dooku is still holding onto the light without a catalyst to tip him to the darkside. But Sidious is not one to sit by idly so whatever time Obi-Wan has bought himself will already be slipping away even as they speak. 

“Well I haven’t messaged him yet, Padawan, I wanted to ensure you stil-”

“I do. Want to meet him.” he interrupts jerkily, before getting his tone under control and continuing on, sheepishly. “Would you message him Master? Please?”

Qui-Gon huffs with faux indignancy but still pulls out his comm and begins tapping away.

To the surprise of them both, Qui-Gon receives a response in a matter of minutes. The older man looks down at his comm with a slight frown on his face. “He never responds to me this quickly. Obi-Wan have you made yourself my master’s favourite without even meeting him?”

He cracks a smile at his own master’s pout, “What can I say? I hear I’m very charming, Master.”

The pout is promptly dropped in favour of yet another exaggerated eye roll.

“Whoever told you that should learn not to lie.”

“Master!”

“Padawan.”

Obi-Wan groans. “Master, what did he say?”

“You’re never this excited to talk to me,” Qui-Gon says pointedly but acquiesces just as Obi-Wan knew he would, “Master Dooku says he is heading off-planet tomorrow morning. He is only available this afternoon.”

“Perfect,” Obi-Wan says, rising swiftly to his feet. He grabs at their empty plates and makes his way to the kitchen. “Would you mind asking him if we can meet somewhere for lunch perhaps?”

“Don’t you have something on today, Padawan?” Qui-Gon’s voice is mildly incredulous.

Obi-Wan pokes his head out of the kitchen door to grin at the other man. “Oh I’ll be back in time to get Knighted. Don’t worry, Master.”

He doesn’t quite catch it but from the muttered tone of his voice, Obi-Wan can only imagine his Master just said something or other about impetuous Padawans who don’t want to spend any time with their actual Masters. Before he can snark back at the man, his own comm pings with a new contact shared by Qui-Gon.

“Make your own plans, Padawan,” he calls from the table, “I have no intention of playing middle man between the two of you.”

“Thank you Master Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan calls out sweetly. 

“You’re a menace,” is the flat reply he earns for that.

“I learned from the best.”

“You would disparage my teachings like that?” Qui-Gon grabs at his chest in exaggerated shock, “On the day of your Knighting?”

Obi-Wan finishes up in the kitchen, slipping back into their shared living space just in time to make sure Qui-Gon catches sight of his own eye roll, “Maybe you should have taught me better before agreeing I’m ready for Knighthood.”

He ducks past the table, grabbing for the spare robe that he’d left hanging next to the door.

“I’ve taught you well enough,” Qui-Gon’s tone stays light even though the jokes seem to have slipped away, “You would have been ready for Knighthood even without my recommendation.”

Obi-Wan swallows thickly. His gaze is filled with nothing more than their understated walls and a closed door, yet he can see himself, first aged twenty two staring at his blank ceiling at night wondering if it was all a charade that he was still there. Raising the child his Master had sworn to protect and hadn’t lived to see again. Thinking that he would never know if he had truly earned his title. Mourning for a braid that had been cut without his Master’s presence by his side. 

“Thank you,” is all he manages to say. 

Qui-Gon doesn’t seem to have noticed the swirl of emotions that have overtaken the younger man, his voice still carrying the humour of their earlier conversation.

“Enjoy your lunch with Master Dooku, give him my best. And don’t stay out too late, you have a ceremony to attend.”

“Yes Master,” Obi-Wan wrangles his expression back to the soft happiness of earlier and turns back to meet his eyes. “I promise you I’ll be on time.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he warns.

“I expect nothing less,” Then Obi-Wan opens the door and steps out to go meet Count Dooku. 

-

Meeting his grandmaster for the second first time was probably never going to be a particularly normal experience. Still, he can at least be grateful that this time he isn’t currently hanging suspended from a ceiling having just been knocked out and captured by a bunch of tenacious bugs. 

Instead Obi-Wan Kenobi finds himself following the complicated directions sent over his comm which bring him through winding paths along Coruscant’s more expensive districts right on the upper levels. His destination is a restaurant so lavish that he’s fairly certain it would be regarded as a palace on some of the planets he’s visited before.

For a bizarre moment as he approaches the exorbitant facade of the building Obi-Wan finds himself regretting having not dressed up to meet the Count, despite the fact he’s already wearing his second best robe. Though to be fair, his best robe only holds that title because it doesn’t share that dark stain on the hem that this one does from the kitchen incident when Qui-Gon insisted loudly that he knew how to make a local Alderaanian dish considered a delicacy on the planet. He was wrong. Still, he resolutely ignores the side glances from Coruscant’s upper society as he in his plain, unassuming brown robes crosses gilded marble floors and moves beneath the crystalline chandeliers that are perfectly designed to make him feel wholly inadequate.

When Obi-Wan steps up before the grand arched doorway that towers at three times his height, he is immediately greeted by a very prim looking Togruta man who manages to only look down his nose at the Jedi for three quarters of their interaction. Obi-Wan decides to believe that’s the most respect he’s likely to get from this place and dutifully follows the man as he leads him further into the winding halls of the restaurant. Each room they pass is decked out in lavish furnishings with numerous tables filled with Coruscant’s richests of the rich. He’s certain there’s plenty of visiting nobles and dignitaries from across the galaxy too, though he recognises almost no one at all. As much as he’d surely love to get a glimpse of the people who take no small part in deciding the fate of hundreds of planets, his attention can’t help but be captured by the quiet, shaded pulse of the Force drawing him ever deeper into the halls. Quite distracting really. 

Finally the doorman indicates yet another ludicrously gorgeous room which, despite its grandeur, it takes only a second upon entering to find the Count. His every step up to this moment has been accompanied by a tense anxiety as he prepared himself for this moment but now that he is here The Negotiator strides into the room with confidence. All fears and worries melt away in light of the true comfort of feeling the Force on his side. So it is with perfect serenity that he moves forward to face down a man he has tried to kill many times before, and who in turn has tried to end his own life across countless battlegrounds. Obi-Wan does not hesitate, as he sits himself opposite the man, easily crossing the threshold into the Count’s domain. 

While it is certainly true that Yan Dooku has many faults, poor taste certainly isn’t one of them and it seems that every minute detail before him is determined to prove that. The lush velvet of the seating arranged artfully beside floor to ceiling windows which offer a spectacular view of the planet below them, all speak to the Count’s impeccable taste, his wealth and his unquestionable control of the environment in which Obi-Wan finds himself. Dooku has clearly sat himself carefully with a direct view of the entrance, his eyes tracing Obi-Wan’s path to their table with undisguised curiosity. 

“Padawan Kenobi,” the Count greets, his gravelly voice surprisingly cordial, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Count Dooku,” Obi-Wan inclines his head respectfully once he is settled, “The pleasure is mine.”

“Qui-Gon tells me you are to be Knighted this evening. You have my congratulations.”

“Thank you, that’s kind of you to say.”

They watch each other carefully. Already Obi-Wan can tell that this whole interaction is going to be a very different kind of thrill for him. He’s well aware that these pleasantries are merely a pretext to the real conversation they’re both angling for. Still, it’s fascinating to get a gauge on the older man from across a dinner table not a battlefield. By habit Obi-Wan finds himself searching those cold eyes for a hint of the foul yellow of the Sith, though he isn’t sure whether or not he feels surprise at the steely grey that stares back at him instead.

“May I ask what has prompted you to reach out to me?” Dooku takes a deliberate sip of his wine.

“Curiosity.” Obi-Wan replies honestly, idly shifting a menu he doesn’t need to read unfolded neatly before him.

“Regarding?”

“The character of the man who taught my own Master.”

“My character,” Dooku muses thoughtfully, “Why does that interest you?”

Obi-Wan reaches for his own glass now, entirely unsurprised that Dooku ordered for him before he even arrived. For a second he wonders whether he’s about to be poisoned, though he can concede that it would be an astonishingly stupid plan for a man like Dooku. He takes a sip and is suitably impressed by the Count's expensive taste. Dooku watches his face carefully. Obi-Wan matches his gaze, his expression doesn’t twitch an inch.

“You were an accomplished Jedi Master for many years. Your skill in Makashi is not only renowned, but rather unusual for a Jedi. You learnt from Master Yoda himself yet still chose to leave the Order. You were vocal about your issues with the Senate yet left the Jedi to turn to your political heritage, overthrowing your own brother to earn your title.” Obi-Wan pauses his list, finally allowing a wry smile to tug at his lips, “You also raised Qui-Gon Jinn and I would be most fascinated to hear how you managed to keep him out of trouble because I’ve always found it quite the daunting task myself.”

Dooku’s expression, which has been carefully neutral throughout his list, cracks just a little at that last line.

“I see you have done your research on me, young one.” 

“You pose a fascinating figure, Count Dooku.”

The Count acquiesces to that with little issue. “Not many Jedi like to directly ask me about my leaving. Nor my politics.” 

It’s an observation that Obi-Wan knows is meant to test him. “I have developed something of an interest in politics as of late.”

“Under Qui-Gon’s tutelage? You must be quite the independent learner.”

“You think Master Jinn has no interest in politics?”

“I should certainly think he has some, I did teach him after all. Though I find myself wondering just which of my lessons he shared with you.”

Obi-Wan quirks a brow at him, “He has always expressed something of a distaste for the Senate. I assume I have you to thank for passing that along?”

“The Senate is flawed,” Dooku states firmly, no doubt in his voice, “I would not hide that from my student.”

“I agree,” Obi-Wan says plainly, pleased at the surprised expression that flitters across the Count’s face before he gets it back under control.  “The Senate is not the force for Democracy that it should be.”

“Curious that you think that,” Dooku observes, “It is not an opinion that the Council shares I’m afraid.”

Ah. There it is. The hint of derision. An undercurrent of bitterness that betrays Dooku’s true feelings. Obi-Wan jumps on it.

“Perhaps things are changing.”

Dooku scoffs, “Hardly. I have kept in contact with my old Master and colleagues. You are more naive than Qui-Gon led me to believe if you think that the Council is likely to change their ways any time soon.”

“And why is that?” Obi-Wan asks innocently, waiting for the Count to gather his thoughts before darting back in before he can get the chance to speak them aloud, “Because of the Sith Lord clouding their judgement?”

Dooku sucks in a sharp breath. Just as Obi-Wan expected, the Count has no ready rebuttal for such a shameless admittance to Sidious’ influence. There’s a sparse few moments before he can collect himself properly, trying to change tracks to keep up with the sudden turn of the conversation, but not before Obi-Wan can catch the nervous twitch of lips and the white tension of his knuckles which get swiftly hidden below the edge of the table. In that split second of shock Obi-Wan probes at him in the Force, feeling the surprise he expects, but also a hint of nerves. Fear, quickly hidden, yet still present.

“A Sith Lord?” He says carefully, his words spoken with a false neutrality that is so very easy for the Negotiator to see through.

He swirls the wine in his glass casually, easily playing the part of the bored, arrogant Knight, “Of course. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard there’s one lurking about these days?”

“Ah.” Dooku grimaces, “Is this to do with the rumours I heard when I last visited the temple. That Qui-Gon claims to have found a Sith on some outer rim planet? You must know your Master has quite the… active imagination.”

Obi-Wan nods, choosing to ignore the second half of his sentence. “Yes. Darth Maul. That would be the one.”

“Darth…” Dooku looks stunned. “You know his name? He is the man Qui-Gon faced on that planet?”

“Was,” he corrects smoothly. “He was the man. He is now not much of anything.”

“And just what do you mean by that, Knight Kenobi?”

“Well I suppose you could say he is currently a body. Or perhaps he is a memory to those who had the displeasure of knowing him,” he shrugs, “I would mostly just call him dead now.”

Dooku’s stunned expression returns, a quiet dread slipping behind his gaze. “Dead.” 

“Very much so.”

“Qui-Gon killed him?” 

“Oh no,” Obi-Wan assures him, amused when Dooku’s shoulders drop imperceptibly, a tension finally leaving him that he hadn’t even known was  there. “I did.”

Ah, and there’s the tension again. Obi-Wan finds himself rather enjoying the sheer amount of bombshells he gets to drop on his grandmaster throughout this one conversation. It’s nothing if not entertaining. 

“You?”

“Me.”

Dooku takes a shaky sip of his wine like it’s going to help him. “You killed the Sith Lord’s apprentice?”

“You seem concerned, Master Dooku, I assumed you would be pleased to hear that such a servant of the dark has been eliminated.” Obi-Wan is careful to keep his tone light and non confrontational, though he is pleased to see that they are finally getting to the interesting part of this conversation.

“Of course I am,” Dooku is hasty to confirm, “Maul is- was a formidable opponent. I am glad to see you have come out of that altercation the victor. I merely… worry.”

“Oh?”

“This Sith Lord may not be pleased that you have taken his apprentice from him.”

Obi-Wan lets out a sharp laugh, “You know something, Count? I can’t really find it in me to care about whether or not I have pleased a Sith Lord.”

Dooku’s eye’s darken in what shockingly looks like actual concern. “Knight Kenobi, I should not be so flippant with a Sith’s humours if I were you. You have made yourself known personally to a powerful enemy.”

The waiter arrives now, plates stacked with food more expensive than anything the Knight can remember having eaten outside of the rare palace he’d been sent to over the years. Not to mention that whatever this pricey lunch contains, he can barely recognise half of it. Still, he decides to trust in his grandmaster’s good taste yet again and digs into the food with little hesitation. If he’s going to talk to a once-and-past Sith Lord over food, he’s going to enjoy it. Particularly when it’s at the other man’s expense. 

Across from him, Dooku seems to take advantage of the distraction to think. His brows pinched in fierce concentration. 

“Knight Kenobi-”

“You’re welcome to call me Obi-Wan,” He interrupts, partially just out of curiosity to see what the older man will do. He receives a considering hum.

“Very well, Obi-Wan, I am curious as to why you are not as concerned about this Sith Lord as I expected.”

Obi-Wan grins, “Well, thus far I have a hundred percent success rate in defeating Sith, so that’s nice.” Dooku looks unamused, which frankly only makes this funnier, “The other thing though is that I have most certainly just disrupted the Sith’s plans. The Dark has been growing over the years as I’m sure you are well aware, and I am firmly of the opinion that the Sith have been building towards an attack against the Jedi. It stands to reason that Darth Maul had a role to play in that plan which he is now unavailable for. The Sith Lord is likely scrambling for another apprentice to assist in his schemes.”

Obi-Wan takes another long, pointed drink of wine while he holds eye contact with his grandmaster. “If I were this Sith, I would find myself rather preoccupied with the hunt for that apprentice, wouldn’t you? Hells, even if he had a backup, it would need to be a very particular type of person.”

“And what type of person would that be?”

“Well he hardly has time to train an apprentice from youth, so he wouldn’t be after a youngling, he doesn’t have the time.”

“So you’ve narrowed it down to… an adult. That leaves many options, young Obi-Wan.”

“Not just any adult, Master Dooku. He would need a Force sensitive, of course. Then of course, there is definitely only a limited number of Force sensitive adults who possess the type of power he’d be after as well. Though a Force Sensitive of any notable strength is most likely already a member of the Jedi, and if not, if say their parents raised them outside of the Order - then they would be an individual we would have kept an eye on from afar anyway.” Obi-Wan swirls his glass idly, enjoying the way Dooku is struggling to keep up the mask of calm tranquillity that he’d started this lunch with. 

“Really though, the best bet would be for the Sith Lord to find someone already trained in areas such as sabercraft. It would save a lot of time, I’m sure you’d agree. So then you could in theory narrow down the search to an adult, strongly Force Sensitive individual who has already had years of training, preferably some sort of Master of their craft. And of course, you would need someone who has already demonstrated some sort of resentment towards the structure of the galaxy. Someone who is known for skill and power and for distrusting, perhaps even rejecting, the Jedi Order and the Senate.”

Obi-Wan grins at the ashen-faced man before him, “I suspect that list is rather short, Master Dooku.”

“Your insinuations are not appreciated Padawan,” Dooku practically hisses. His words drop into that gravelly darkness that Obi-Wan remembers so well from across a battlefield. 

“And your inferences are rather revealing, Master Dooku,” he responds mildly. 

Dooku’s pursed lips curl into half a snarl before he gets himself back under control. “Do not play me for a fool, Kenobi. You do me even more of a disservice to assume my intellect cannot comprehend your true message. Is this the true meaning of this meeting? You wish to report back to the Council? Or are you merely chasing the high of your recent victory over the Sith that you are willing to baselessly accuse anyone so you may find yourself a new enemy?”

“Baseless? Hmm. No I wouldn’t say baseless,” Obi-Wan hums thoughtfully, “Tell me, Master Dooku, how do you feel about planets that specialise in cloning?” the Count hisses in another sharp breath though Obi-Wan doesn’t give him any time to answer before pressing further, “you know, I’ve actually been rather curious about doing some travel, and I hear Kamino is quite nice this time of year. If you like constant storms that is.”

He shrugs good naturedly, “Still, the strangest thing seems to have happened to the Archive’s records of an entire planet. Between the day I returned from Tatooine and my return to Coruscant after Naboo it seems someone erased all data of Kamino from our systems.”

Now there is a true element of panic sparking in the old man’s face. Hilariously, it seems that only the rules of public etiquette are all that stop him from storming out of the building to avoid these accusations. He’s trapped himself in a room full of highly important politicians and dignitaries who will certainly not ignore the Count of Sorreno fleeing a conversation with a Jedi Knight so publicly. 

“You have no proof of any involvement of mine,” he spits at Obi-Wan, who only quirks his head to the side.

“Are you suggesting I blame Master Sifo Dyas? I think even the Council might notice that the man died a few years ago and hasn’t been up to much as of late.”

“The fact someone stole Dyas’s codes does not lead immediately to me, Padawan.”

“No, no of course not.” Obi-Wan agrees genially, “But the fact you didn’t question me for even a moment when I brought Master Dyas’s name into this conversation is certainly curious, don’t you think?”

The Count glowers at him, the effect of which is slightly ruined by the beads of nervous sweat that are pooling at his brows. 

“You still have no witnesses.”

Now Obi-Wan just rolls his eyes. He rather hoped they wouldn’t have to play this game for quite so long before they could start discussing Dooku’s betrayal in earnest. Ah well. “I’m sure even if I can’t get Master Nu’s support in corroborating the convenient timing of your visits then I guess I shall just have to head to what was it… Oba Diah? Yes I believe that’s where his body was recovered. Perhaps I’ll check in with the Pyke Syndicate over there. See if any of them can shed some light on just who compelled them to take out a visiting Jedi with whom they’d had no prior quarrel.”

Dooku looks so impressively rattled that Obi-Wan is almost proud of himself, that is, until the man before him slumps over in defeat. That sight alone has the younger man’s pulse jump. Count Dooku is not a man easily bested and this… this just feels wrong.

Finally the Count raises his gaze back to the confused Jedi before him, turmoil, regret and fear all swirl nebulously within his every movement. He’s scared, Obi-Wan realises distantly. The Count is so so close to falling yet he’s still clinging to the Light by a few frayed threads. He wants to believe he’s doing the right thing yet here Obi-Wan is sat before him not letting a single excuse pass him by. 

“What do you intend to do with this information you’ve… acquired?” Dooku asks, all the fight drained from his words. 

“Stop you falling,” he answers honestly. 

The man scoffs. “By telling the Council? They’re too blinded by their own belief on who they think I am.”

“No. I’m not here to rat you out,” he hadn’t expected his grandmaster to be as stubbornly obtuse as his own Padawan. At least Obi-Wan is well practised in handling emotionally conflicted, powerful Force users who think there is only ever one way to move forward in life. “I’m here to request your help.”

At this, Dooku truly startles. His jaw dropping open in surprise. “My help? But you’ve just accused me of working with a Sith.”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan shrugs, “They can both be true. I can want your help and not just discard you for listening to my enemy.”

“What help could you possibly want from me?”

His genuine confusion is almost endearing. Admittedly, Obi-Wan has mostly just enjoyed how truly unprepared for this whole conversation the man has been, and this is yet another cherry on top. 

“I would like you to teach me to fight.”

“To fight?”

“Master Dooku,” Obi-Wan chides, “You are asking an awful lot of redundant questions. You know you don’t actually need to repeat everything I say, right?”

The Count doesn’t even fight him on that point, still trying to puzzle out what Obi-Wan’s intentions are.

“You have just defeated Maul in combat. You are young, yes, though I understand you’re already a rather proficient duelist. Why do you want to learn from me?”

“Because you are one of the only experts in Makashi; a form specifically designed to duel Siths. I think it would be rather helpful to get a few more lessons in now before I suddenly find I need them a little too late.”

“There are other Makashi users in the Temple.”

“But you’re the best.”

Dooku still can’t figure him out. Obi-Wan feels a tentative press against his shields in the Force and pointedly tightens them further. Dooku is getting nothing from his mind. Instead the man will have to talk to him and actually hear him out if he wants to satisfy his curiosity. 

“You only wish to learn duelling from me? And you’re willing to ignore my, hmm, connection with the opposition.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, “You can just say Sith. I’m not afraid of the word.”

“It does not do well to speak too loudly about these topics, Obi-Wan.”

“Sure, but we both know you wouldn’t stand to have this place bugged by any outside party and nobody else in this room is close enough to hear a word we say, also by your own insistence I’m sure. So unless you’ve been hiding a Sith Lord under the tablecloth, I am going to continue to assume we are not going to be overheard.”

Dooku sniffs haughtily, “Your arrogance could use some work.”

“So could your morals,” he counters easily, “And to answer your earlier question; no. I don’t only want to learn duelling from you. I said that I didn’t want you to fall and I mean that. You’re close to the precipice Master Dooku. I’m also assuming that the reason you’re heading off planet tomorrow is to meet the Sith Lord elsewhere, right? To confirm that you have destroyed the trail to Kamino?

I believe that this is a turning point for you, Count Dooku. Today you are going to have to choose which side you will fall on because if you meet that man tomorrow and bow to him as your new Master when he tries to fill the position I just vacated for him, then you will be my enemy.”

“You assume he is not already on Coruscant.” Dooku deflects, it's a cheap move.

“I know he isn’t. Not at the moment at least.” He doesn’t tell Dooku that he had messaged Padme this morning to ask if Senator Palpatine was staying on Naboo any longer. She sent him a full paragraph of tactfully worded complaints about the man’s constant derisions of Valorum’s work. Still, Dooku doesn’t need to know how he got the information to feel Obi-Wan’s absolute certainty in his claim. 

“Now, Count, your cards are on the table. I know I haven’t given you much time to think on this but I do have an appointment of my own to get to.” Obi-Wan begins to stand, carefully and studiously folding his napkin just to draw out the moment, “I would be happy to discuss where the future can take us together later. Here, I’ll send you an address. If you meet me there tomorrow night then I’ll know which side you’ve chosen and we can work towards the better future we both want without relying on a lying, manipulative Sith who will throw you to the wolves as soon as you have outlived your usefulness to him. Hmm?”

He glances down at the man, still frozen in surprise. “Thank you for the lunch, Grandmaster. It was delicious.”

With that, the young man turns on his heel and walks out of the room, his head held high and his heart hammering in his chest. This is the biggest gamble he’s made so far and Obi-Wan really doesn’t know if he will be dining alone tomorrow. 

For everyone’s sake, he hopes he won’t be. 

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan walks into the Council Chamber with a solemn expression. Yet to those gathered here his very presence shines through the Force as nothing but pure light. He’s pleased to note that each and every one of the other Masters around him also seem to share in that, in spite of where their conversation was left yesterday. 

His gaze falls easily onto the pair before him, Yoda and Qui-Gon, standing in the middle of the circular chamber, both beaming with a genuine delight that only settles the mild hum of unexpected nerves that began to churn through him as he entered these hallowed rooms. He casts a quick glance to Yoda’s right side where Mace Windu is looking equally happy, if deeply distracted. He peers at Obi-Wan in confusion, like he’s a puzzle to be solved, it’s a look that Obi-Wan has grown familiar with in his time back in the past, so he can only offer the man a small smile that is returned in earnest. It’s the only sign he needs to know that whatever bothers his friend, it is nothing to do with this momentous occasion. 

Obi-Wan dutifully kneels before the Council, following all the steps he remembers so fondly from the other side of this arrangement. When he’d been a member of the Council he had loved each and every time he had been present for a young Jedi’s graduation to Knighthood. Now though, after so many years, his own ceremony is finally upon him. It is something of a bittersweet moment when Qui-Gon steps forth, his lightsaber poised at the ready. Together they recite the words that Obi-Wan heard dozens of times in a different life, and then the burning hiss of the green blade is placed at the top of a braid that he long since outgrew. Before he can even blink he watches the braid fall into Qui-Gon’s waiting hand. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi stands to his feet, a new-old Knight of the Jedi Order. Something falls into place. A moment of rightness that echoes out into the galaxy.

Once the solemnity of that ceremony passes, Obi-Wan quickly finds himself engulfed in kind words of congratulations and pointed jokes about how he’s not as old as he thinks (which never fails to be astoundingly hilarious). From one council member the next he hears their congratulations and thanks them in turn. Pride and joy emanate throughout the room as he makes his rounds until he is left with only the trace thread of confusion that has followed his every step.

Finally Obi-Wan stands before the Master of the Order who offers him his own congratulations, yet Obi-Wan doesn’t move from his place before him, waiting for the promise of conversation that sits heavy between them. With a quick glance to establish whether there were any well meaning Master eavesdroppers hovering too close, Mace tilts forward just slightly, his voice lowering until only the two of them can hear the words being said. 

“Would you like to tell me why there’s about a dozen shatterpoints all burning around you?”

“Ah.”

“Obi-Wan.”

“Master Windu.”

“Don’t be coy, Knight Kenobi. What have you done this time?”

He gasps with a faux shock, which is only slightly ruined by the amused lilt of his own smile getting in the way, “I have simply been setting some things in motion. We’ll find out how that works out tomorrow.”

Mace shoots him the driest look imaginable, “You have to know that doesn’t actually reassure me.”

Obi-Wan beams, “No, but if it makes you feel better I can tell you how it goes by the end of the week?”

He sighs, “Any chance I could convince you to tell me now? Preferably before we all have to deal with the consequences of your actions?”

“Ah but Master, figuring it all out as we go is half the fun isn’t it?.”

Obi-Wan throws him another crooked grin, and claps the man on the shoulder, “Look at it this way Master Windu; at least if everything goes wrong I promise that you can say ‘I told you so’.”

-

Despite the faux confidence he showed to Mace, Obi-Wan can’t help but feel a burning impatience throughout the rest of the next day, thoughts of his dinner plans and the potential that he shall find himself with a new enemy by that very evening haunts his every waking moment as time passes in a frustratingly linear path for him. At the very least he is inordinately pleased, and somewhat genuinely surprised to see how many of his fellow Jedi make an effort to find him around the Temple to offer their own congratulations on his Knighthood. But still, the impatience doesn’t wane. 

In fact his mind truly doesn’t waver from its incessant theorising about just what the Count is thinking at this time, not until the sun is setting and he is retracing a long-familiar path through his favourite perpetually-grungy streets on a lower level of Coruscant. 

“Obi-Wan!” Comes an overly enthusiastic shout from behind the door he’s just opened which serves as the only warning he gets before Obi-Wan finds himself pulled into a familiarly loving yet painful hug. 

“Hello Dex,” Obi-Wan grins back, though he does tap the Besalisk to let him down when he is pretty sure he can hear one of the ribs inside his own chest start to creak.

“Obi-Wan, kid, great to see you,” Dexter Jettster says, putting the Knight back down on the ground, “And hey! Your little braid is gone. Very exciting.” He nods knowingly, then winks, “I like the new beard too.”

Obi-Wan laughs, knowing that his attempt at facial hair is still far from where it should be, but he appreciates the compliment. “Good to see you too, Dex.”

“What can I get for you, huh? You celebrating something?”

“Not quite. I’m meeting someone here. Though I would appreciate it if you happen to have a more discrete table we could use?”

Force, Obi-Wan has missed his friend because it is not even half a minute later before Dex clears out three of his own guests from a booth tucked in the very back of the diner, without a single question asked, just to make sure Obi-Wan can get a bit of privacy here. 

He sits there for some time, nursing a cup of caff that Dex had slid before him without a word. It is almost fun to just sit in the diner and watch the steady stream of customers pour in and out through those doors. He idly observes at least four illicit deals between what he gathers is two different smuggler crews, a representative of the Pykes and a very fresh looking team of no-name pirates. 

People watching, fun as it is, still isn’t enough to distract him from feeling the moment a familiar Force signature eventually turns down the street and begins to make a slow, measured journey towards the diner. 

Obi-Wan’s caff is mostly gone anyway so he sets it aside without a care and folds his hands neatly onto his lap. His eyes never leaving the door until-

There.

Count Yan Dooku, looking deeply disgusted and disgruntled at his surroundings, enters Dex’s Diner with all the regal poise one would expect to see literally anywhere but a dingy half forgotten restaurant frequented mostly by those who have a pretty casual relationship to the law… and proper hygiene. Unsurprisingly Obi-Wan doesn’t need to make any move to alert the older man of his presence as Dooku is already turning on his heel towards him. 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Dex’s own gaze latch onto his newest customer and the Besalisk in turn gives Dooku a quick lookover, then with a nod at Obi-Wan, disappears back into the kitchen. He appreciates the man’s subtlety, and notes that he will be on the ready just in case this meeting goes too far south, after all it’s always nice to have a Besalisk in your corner. 

“Count Dooku,” Obi-Wan greets when the man gets within an appropriate hearing range, “A pleasure to see you again so soon.”

Dooku huffs out a breath of what could equally be derision or amusement. 

“You were unsure that I would arrive?” He asks as he fits himself into the seat across the booth. 

“I was,” Obi-Wan considers him, “Were you not?”

He has the grace to hesitate. If he were to guess, Obi-Wan would bet the man had been weighing up his choices right up until the very last minute he could. There still lay a distinct sense of uncertainty clinging to the man like a second skin.

“I have risked a lot to be here, Knight Kenobi,” Dooku warns. 

“And I appreciate that.”

The Count gives the diner another surreptitious look. “Interesting choice of meeting place.”

Obi-Wan delights in the minute twitch of disgust that overtakes his grandmaster’s face as he clearly catches sight of a cup of jawa juice for the first time which is currently being held by one of the pirates who is yet to be introduced to a shower. He hides his own grin behind a mask of indifference, drawing the Count’s attention back to him. 

“Dex is a friend, and the people around here understand discretion more than you might think Count.”

“Hmm. I shall wait before taking your word on that.” He stills again and Obi-Wan can feel him tentatively reaching out with the Force, “You came here alone?”

His causal question is betrayed immediately by the tightness of his voice, but Obi-Wan answers him honestly. He is well aware of just how tentative his new relationship with the man before him is, so he’s hardly intending to mess around with it just yet.

“I did. I told you before that I wasn’t here to tattle to the Council, Count. I meant that.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“You seemed rather certain about who you think I am and what I have been doing. What reason do you have to keep that from the Council?”

“Aside from the fact they probably won’t believe me?” Obi-Wan shrugs lightly, “I just don’t think it will help you.”

“Help in what way?”

“You’re still close to the precipice,” he doesn’t have to mince his words here, they both know exactly how tentative Dooku’s relationship with the light is right now, “And any resentments you have towards the Council won’t be solved by them coming around just to scold you. You’re your own person and what I need to do is convince you that you want to stay in the light, not them.”

Dooku hums thoughtfully, his fingers laced together before him. It feels like a precursor to Master Jinn’s own habit of tucking his hands into his sleeves so no one can see him fidget. A habit that Obi-Wan is all too aware he has inherited too. It reminds him, for a fleeting moment of the first time he saw Ahsoka deep in thought, her hand stroking her chin in concentrated movements that only stopped at Anakin’s sharp bark of laughter. Her confusion had shifted immediately to a bemused embarrassment when she realised she was mimicking the way Obi-Wan himself was always posed when thinking. The three of them had made something of a habit of picking up each other's mannerisms, echoing them back across the space. Now Obi-Wan feels a buried urge bubbling up inside of him to mimic his own grandmaster’s steepled fingers as they take each other in. Another echo, not yet taken up.

“On whose authority have you been nominated the one to turn the course of my actions?”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. At the very least the Count could surely just commit to calling things what they are. He really didn’t remember him being this obtuse last time. Though maybe this version of Count Dooku is still more influenced by Yoda’s own riddles and misdirections than Sidious’ blunt cruelties. He decides to take that as a good sign. 

“My own authority. No one else even knows I’m here.”

Dooku looks genuinely surprised at that. “But how did you know about Kamino?”

“I told you; I went to the archives.”

“Kenobi,” Dooku’s voice slips into that growl for just a moment before he regains control, “There is no way you followed that path without help. You cannot have known about my actions. We have never met before this week so there is no reason you should have been following my movements that closely. I ask again; on whose authority are you here to change my mind?”

“I promise you, there is not a person alive who knows where I am.” Vaguely he wonders if the Daughter knows, or if she’d even count as alive at this point. Or a person, for that matter. “I have a certain degree of foresight and have been made aware of the Sith Lord’s web of darkness that has been woven around the Jedi for far too long. I am here to disrupt those plans by any means necessary because that is what I choose to do, Master Dooku. I choose to stand for the light and to free the Jedi from the trap we have fallen into before it turns out that it is far too late to climb back out.”

“You have visions?” Dooku sounds rightfully dubious. “And they have given you enough clarity to see the Sith’s plans in this degree of detail? Visions are notoriously hard to interpret, and the dark clouds much of the Force.”

“I never said visions,” Obi-Wan counters, a familiar streak of obstinance overtaking him. Too many years of making himself as much of a nuisance for the leader of the Separatists as possible are at war with his currently noble intentions to save a man from falling into darkness. Plus it was always fun to see just how exasperated the man can get over the course of a single conversation. 

Dooku appraises him carefully. “You don’t intend to tell me how you have gained this knowledge.” It isn’t a question. He answers anyway.

“No. I’m sorry to be blunt but you really haven’t earned that much trust yet.”

“Very well. In that case I would like to know instead what it is that you want from my being here.” 

“Honestly? I want you to tell me how you think all this is going to go if you follow Sidious.”

“Pardon?”

“Really. I want to hear how you think a Sith Lord is going to bring the change you want to see. I certainly hope you’re not about to tell me that you are planning on dedicating yourself to a whole new Master with the intent to reshape the galaxy and you haven’t thought about what that’s going to look like.” He doesn’t even try to hide how appalling that idea is to him. 

Dooku sighs, “of course I’ve thought about it-“

“Thank the Force.”

“-I do not make this decision lightly. I believe that should I align myself with Lord…” He trails off uncertainty and traces of fear gripping to him even tighter than before.

“Sidious?” Obi-Wan offers lightly, “Yes I am aware of his name.”

Dooku scowls, “I cannot imagine he is happy with that.”

“He doesn’t know I know,” Obi-Wan shrugs. Knowing Palpatine’s chosen moniker is frankly the least of the information that man wouldn’t want him to be aware of.

“Hmm. Indeed.” Dooku sniffs haughtily, “Well then I suppose for clarity’s sake we can use it here. I intend to align myself with Sidious not because his methods appeal to me, per say, but because he presents a means to an end.”

“What end is that?”

“The eradication of the Senate of the Republic. The end of the Jedi Order’s ignorance. The betterment of the Galaxy.”

Obi-Wan laughs at that, a short bark of genuine amusement that mostly just seems to make Dooku scowl even more.

“And you think Sidious will give you that?” He chuckles.

“No, I am not ignorant, Knight Kenobi,” Dooku says testily, “But he is amassing power already. He has more spies and servants across the galaxy than I’m sure even your impressive ‘foresight’ knows of. He is building a platform for himself that I intend to take advantage of once he is dealt with.”

“You intend to kill him yourself?”

“Of course,” he says easily, like this is not wholly unlike the future that Obi-Wan has already seen play out, “He is still a Sith Lord who does not deserve to live. He will pollute the worlds more than you think.”

Unlikely. Obi-Wan knows pretty damn well what Palpatine’s machinations lead to. 

“You’ll die first,” Obi-Wan says casually, “Either he kills you for your traitorous intentions or he lets you die for the sake of whatever new promising apprentice he wants next.”

“You sound certain of this.”

“I am.”

All at once they’re interrupted by Dex himself, who swaggers right up to their table asking after Dooku’s drink order while ignoring Obi-Wan entirely. Dooku looks deeply unsettled at this unexpected turn of events but manages to request a single tea which he is rewarded for with a sharp nod and the huge Besalisk finally pulling out of his personal space giving them both some breathing room. 

It’s rather fun to be on the observing side of watching Dex intimidate his own patrons so Obi-Wan sits back with ease, letting Dooku simmer in disquieted silence until a cup of tea and another caff is set in front of the both of them. Then with another reassuring nod at Obi-Wan, Dex bustles back to work and their little reprieve dissolves.

“Knight Kenobi, I find myself curious what exactly your expectations are for our new engagement. You’ve made your opinions on my communications with Sidious rather clear after all.”

“I told you before, I want to learn Makashi from you. And, I will admit that it would be rather beneficial to have someone in such a position of power as you not working to destabilise the Republic without knowing the true consequences of what that will lead to.”

“I didn’t take you for one so involved in politics,” he replies warily.

“Considering the shape of Sidious’ plans, I don’t have much of a choice do I?”

“It's quite… proactive of you to be getting involved with the foundations of those plans already.”

“Master Dooku,” he says as drily as possible, “I am trying to dismantle a millennia of Sith plotting without alerting said Sith, while also saving as many lives as I can in the process. I do not have time to waste. I am on something of a schedule here.”

Dooku pales. Good. 

“Now, I believe that is enough information shared between us for the moment,” Obi-Wan dismisses carefully, still wary of giving away too much before Dooku has started taking steps of his own to distance himself from Palpatine. Obi-Wan would have to watch his progress very carefully. “Shall we organise a time for our lessons?”

-

The next few days pass surprisingly quickly. For the first time Obi-Wan is roped into finding his own apartments within the Temple which feels unbearably strange. He’d inherited Qui-Gon’s the first time around, merely moving his belongings across the hall so that Anakin could occupy the Padawan rooms. Instead Obi-Wan now gets to take his pick and elects for a Knight’s apartment a level above the old Jinn/Kenobi home. It serves well to give him a bit of distance from his ever-hovering old Master while also reassuring his eternal companion of paranoia that he will always be close enough to help should anything happen to the man while he isn’t there. 

Additionally, these new rooms have a massive window against the far wall that lets in such abundant sunlight that Obi-Wan is quick to requisition his own share of plants from the Temple’s greenhouse. He takes great comfort in his new green companions, a stark difference from the miserable cave he’d called home on Tatooine for far too many years. 

It feels like a turning point in some way, a solid feature to assure him that his new life in this timeline is his to mould and shape. He has already changed so very much that the past-future he remembers will surely never come to pass. Not like it once did. 

He is still debating the appropriate location for a particularly obstinate plant that originated from Dagobah and reminded Obi-Wan of a particular green troll of a Jedi for a fair number of reasons. The leafy monstrosity was making itself irritatingly unwieldy and unwilling to cave to Obi-Wan’s wants of placing it next to the kitchen sink. This battle is eventually halted by a sharp knock at his door. 

“Master Windu,” Obi-Wan greets with genuine surprise when he opens the door, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Mace gives him a wry smile, “I thought I would drop by, see how you’re doing.”

Obi-Wan steps back into the room, “Please, come in. Would you like some tea?”

“Oh you really are Qui-Gon’s apprentice aren’t you,” he says when he follows, taking in the array of plants already claiming half his living space and of course the tea set which was the first thing he’d purchased for himself. “A black tea will do for me. Whatever you have is fine.”

Obi-Wan sets about turning the kettle on and gesturing for the Master of the Order to please take a seat, yes there is fine Master Windu, and oh you can put your robe up against the wall here.

“How is life as an independent Knight?” Mace questions, humour colouring his tone.

“You know, it’s actually pretty wonderful. I hadn’t realised how nice it is to set up my own space without having to keep anyone else’s preferences in mind.” 

That cave on Tatooine hardly counts. In fact, just to spite the very memory of that awful place Obi-Wan pushes his foliage to a more central position upon the window sill so it is now visible from anywhere in his little apartment.

“Oh?” Mace looks confused.

“It’s just a nice change is all,” He defends quickly, not wanting to imply that he hasn’t enjoyed his time with Qui-Gon again lately.

“But surely you had this during your… first Knighting.” Mace hesitates for only a second before apparently deciding that Obi-Wan’s rooms are secure enough they can acknowledge the time travel thing. Which is great because it gives the Knight in question time to wince to himself while Mace is distracted.

“I had a rather… unconventional Knighthood the first time around.”

Mace quirks an eyebrow at that.

Unable to stall in the kitchen much longer Obi-Wan steps out bearing the now full teapot and sits himself on the only other chair in his small living space. He brushes aside a few poor abandoned leaves left scattered on his seat - victims of the recent move. 

“Is there any chance I could persuade you to forget this line of questioning in favour of a nice cup of tea, Master?” Obi-Wan asks brightly.

“Not a chance, young Kenobi, though I will take my cup anyway.”

He pours out an even measure of the drink, which manages to save him fifteen whole seconds of stalling time before Mace coughs pointedly. 

“I really don’t know where to begin if I’m honest.” Obi-Wan sighs, cradling his own tea in his hands. It is a simple warmth and a pleasant comfort compared to the chill settling in his veins as he thinks of the monumental task of explaining all that happened that ended up with Obi-Wan having never had his own place be it Padawan, war or exile that has kept him company all these years. 

“Perhaps you can tell me when you were Knighted last time?” Mace prompts gently. 

Obi-Wan appreciates the man’s efforts to assert that this is not an interrogation, though it would also be a disservice to them both to pretend like Mace hasn’t been incredibly patient on holding off on questioning the time traveller and all the vague references he keeps making to a rather bleak future. 

“Ah,” Obi-Wan’s smile doesn’t meet his eyes, “Well that would have been the day that the Council arrived on Naboo after the Federation was ousted.”

Mace frowns, “We decided on your trials that quickly?”

“Yes.”

“If I’m honest Obi-Wan, there was much discussion this time as to whether you had truly passed the trial of the Flesh, as it traditionally is the one to challenge a Jedi’s ability to handle loss.”

“I can see why you would question that,” he says neutrally, “I appreciate the Knighthood in spite of it.”

Mace throws him an irreverent eyeroll, “I may not know all the details Obi-Wan, but you do not strike me as a man who has led a simple life of easy bliss.”

Obi-Wan lets out a short bark of laughter at that. “That’s something of an understatement, yes.”

“What was different about the fight then?”

“Well you weren’t present,” Obi-Wan answers with the easy part first, “It was just Master Jinn and I.”

“That would certainly have tipped the balance of power,” Mace says carefully when he sees the younger man hesitate, “Am I to assume that this version of events has gone better?”

“Yes. That would be a safe assumption.” 

Mace sighs, looking at him tiredly over the rim of his mug. “What do I have to do to get a straight answer out of you?”

Obi-Wan wants to obfuscate more. To distract and avoid and shift the conversation back to smoother waters but he knows that there is really only one way he is going to get through everything he has to do here in the past and quite frankly if he doesn’t start trusting in someone soon he will be drowning under the weight of how much he needs to change. 

His voice is so soft that Mace takes a second to actually register that Obi-Wan is speaking, but once he realises that he’s actually getting the answers he wanted in the first place and his expression slips into quiet shock. 

“It was just the two of us,” Obi-Wan stares unseeingly at the wall over Mace’s shoulder. “We had him on the run for most of the fight but he was still holding us off. He kicked me off the bridge, right near where you fell, you know. I got back up, tried to chase after where Master Qui-Gon had pushed him back but we were all held up by those shields. They were so far ahead of me that I was still in that hall when they started fighting again. I saw it, Mace. I was stuck behind that stupid shield and I watched him kill my master.”

Mace’s sharp breath goes ignored by the Knight, lost in memories. 

“I fought him after. That was the closest I ever got to the dark I think. I’d never moved so fast in my life,” he lets out a choked laugh that does nothing to lighten the mood, “I cut him in half. I don’t even remember doing it. But I saw him fall back into that pit and then I went to Qui-Gon. He wasn’t dead yet. But there was nothing I could have done to save him.”

Obi-Wan laughs that humourless laugh once again, still not noticing the growing horror on the face of the Master of the Order, “He lived long enough to make me promise to train Anakin in his place. His last words to me were about a boy he had only just met. He believed so much in that prophecy that he was happy to let me face my trials without having told me they were coming. To take Anakin in my place without consulting me.” His gaze travels back to the Master before him, a sad smile on his face, “You don’t worry about me though, I’ve had plenty of time to get over it, Master Windu. Many years of meditation and consideration has brought me back to forgiveness for my master. What other choice did I have? Though I will admit it’s rather strange now to see him up and walking about.”

Mace set his cup on the table with shaking hands. “What happened to Anakin in your timeline?”

“Oh I took him on,” Obi-Wan says casually, “Master Yoda certainly didn’t approve but the Council voted in favour of it. I’d promised Master Jinn I would and I told you all that I would have left the Order to follow that vow if I had to. Looking back though I wonder if perhaps you’d all just thought it would be safer to keep an eye on us both from inside the Temple.”

Master Windu sits back in dead silence. Obi-Wan sips tentatively at his tea which is colder than he’d like. That’s what he gets for getting lost in his memories though he supposes. 

“You said you were already Knighted by now? Does that mean you were Knighted and made Anakin’s master on the same day? Back on Naboo?”

“Oh, yes that was how that happened.”

Mace looks on in abhorrent shock.

“How did we let that happen?”

“Don’t go blaming that version of yourself Master Windu, it was a different time.” It feels strange to be comforting his old friend like this, with a visage of youth covering his hard earned experience while he looks into the eyes of a man who has never shared the trauma of war with him. “Everyone was grappling with the return of the Sith and no one knew if I’d just killed the master or the apprentice and now there was a known Chosen One roaming the halls betraying all expectations and traditions of how we recruit Jedi. It was a messy situation. I’m sure the Council all thought they were making the best decision considering the circumstances.”

“Circumstances we no longer have to face,” Mace says pointedly. “I see more of your shatterpoints are shifting Knight Kenobi. You’ve been making changes.”

“Of course I have.”

“Playing with the future is a dangerous game.”

“I choose to risk potential danger over certain failure.”

“Certain?” Mace whistles lowly, “You assume inaction will result in a definitive loss?”

“Assume?” Obi-Wan barks out another short laugh, “Master I know this. If I do nothing in this time now then we are all headed for a certain fate that I cannot allow. You wouldn’t if you had seen what I have.”

“Then why won’t you tell me what it is you have lived through. I have held off from consulting the Council about your unique situation under your own assertion that it is for the safety of everyone in this Temple.”

“And I am grateful for that Master. I just need more time.” 

Obi-Wan’s gaze trails out to his new window, a fresh view of an unblemished Coruscant who hasn’t yet fallen under the oily grasp of a Sith Lord.

“The board is not finished being set. The game is yet to truly start, but it is coming for all of us, Master. And it is coming soon.”

Chapter Text

His impromptu tea with Master Windu soon wrapped to a close, but at the very least he’d managed to obtain two key promises from the man. First, is that Anakin’s situation would continue to be put on hold while the Council undergoes a few more tests of the boy’s Force sensitivity levels and other bureaucratic nonsense that comes with registering him as a citizen of the Republic in the first place. Which Mace very kindly promised to drag out for as long as he can so that Obi-Wan can follow up on his second promise: that he can have a week’s leave from the Order.

Officially this is because Obi-Wan has just killed a Sith and needs time to adjust to that reality while also avoiding pretty much every single Jedi that lives on this planet who all desperately want to ask him about it. The Council has been rather sympathetic to this particular plight, because despite their best efforts to keep the whole situation in relative secrecy absolutely everyone has heard about the Naboo showdown. If there is a chance for gossip amongst the Jedi then no attempt at discretion will survive their inherent curiosity,

Unofficially though, Obi-Wan has unfinished business on Tatooine. 

Mace had squinted warily at him when he’d requested the time off, evidently trying to draw anything solid out of the wavering shatterpoints that apparently cling to Obi-Wan like a second skin. He certainly didn’t believe Obi-Wan’s doe eyed plea for simple rest, but also thankfully hadn’t pried any further. Which is how three days later Obi-Wan finds himself stepping off his borrowed shuttle into the all-too familiar streets of Mos Espa.

He begins to drift through the streets at a slow amble, curious to see just how much has changed in this time before his exile to the planet. He’d never ventured this far off the ship in his first timeline when they’d collected Anakin so it is with mild but sincere interest that he notes practically no changes at all to the planet he knows far too well from his exile. 

In Mos Espa though he repeatedly finds himself given a slightly wider berth from the crowd in this time, some of them clearly clock the meaning of his robes and the renowned status of a Jedi even this far in the outer rim. A few blatantly obvious criminals lurking amongst the masses try to avoid his attention entirely which only makes them all the more notable to the man who has had more dealings with pirates and criminals than any of them could ever guess. Hilariously he thinks he actually recognises a handful of them from his life here, no matter how much younger they all look. He takes a bit of pleasure from straying right into the path of a Tradoshan who he’d once scammed in a game of Sabacc so easily the man hadn’t even threatened to kill him which is honestly quite the accomplishment for this crowd. 

Still, he was hardly here for a sightseeing tour so he lets his feet continue to lead him down the winding roads of the town. He’d never had cause to come here before in either life but Beru had once kindly given him the rundown on all the details his old padawan had neglected to share about the planet that he grew up on. As an ex-Tatooine resident and Master Jedi himself he can now appreciate all of Beru’s insistent warnings about just how few morals could be found in this horrid town.

Eventually a storefront he’d never thought he’d see, only having heard of it amidst a few muttered stories from a scared young boy decades ago, rises up before him - daunting in its mundanity. Obi-Wan steps into the fractionally cooler air of Watto’s workshop without a word. He is alone for a mere matter of seconds but that is more than enough for Obi-Wan to get an obvious lay of the land, to note the prices of a fair few items that he knows for sure is an exuberant rip off even by Tatooine standards. 

There’s a buzzing of wings and a disgruntled grumbling from what he presumes is a back room behind the counter. Then comes a hushed feminine voice, a sharp slap that has Obi-Wan reaching for his saber but before he can move the noise dies down. He pauses, listening intently, but the Force offers him no warning of immediate danger so Obi-Wan warily falls out of his readied pose and awaits company. Sure enough it is not long at all before a young woman steps out from that back room, her left cheek a smarting red. 

“Hello, welcome to Watt- oh.”

Shmi Skywalker is everything and nothing like what Obi-Wan had imagined. 

Anakin had spoken of her often in the early days of his apprenticeship. He’d talked constantly of how clever and brave and smart she was. A child’s unfettered awe and admiration had always painted this woman as close to a saint as she could be. Obi-Wan had often admired her from a distance for being capable of raising Anakin into such a well adjusted boy, considering their circumstances, for encouraging his passion for mechanics, and making sure that if nothing else he truly did have a great sense of his own significance in her life. 

Occasionally he’d found himself exasperated by the bits of what he could only assume were her teachings when Anakin would parrot back some ideology that was entirely antithetical to a Jedi’s traditional practice. Still, he’d never resented her teachings. She’d raised Anakin to be incredibly savvy for the environment he’d been in, and it was certainly no fault of hers that not all of those lessons translated to the Core worlds of the galaxy and the life of a peacekeeper and not that of a slave in the harsh realities of the outer rim.

“Hello there,” He says evenly at this woman whose image and personality has been built up in his mind for decades. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, it is a true pleasure to meet you Madam Skywalker.”

Shmi’s gaze leaps past him, her eyes searching desperately for a figure that is currently learning how to play feather-lift with all the other Jedi younglings his age, half a galaxy away. 

“I’m afraid I came here alone,” he says compassionately, wanting to save her the pain of looking for a son who isn’t here, “Though I can promise you he is safe right now. He is cared for.”

Shmi’s shoulders relax an infinitesimal amount at his words, though now her wary eyes turn to him instead. 

“How may I help you, Master Jedi?” Her voice is curt yet polite.

She moves back behind what he assumes is the counter at which sales are conducted, a performative veil of customer service falling over her. He can tell it's a safety mechanism which he does nothing to intrude upon. They are both well aware that this is hardly the place to have any sort of honest conversation about what he is here for, not with Watto right behind that open door. 

“I was wondering if you might have parts for my ship, I’m looking for a type XN2 power coupling suitable for my freighter.”

Shmi studies him warily but lets him lead her through the motions of negotiating a fair price for the ship parts that he fully intends to just hand off to the Temple mechanics as soon as he returns. Still, it’s much safer for her to have a chance to see him talk and interact in an environment familiar to her, and while he never did get the full story from Qui-Gon before Naboo, he’d always suspected it possible that Watto would have taken out his frustration in losing Anakin onto the kind woman before him. Hopefully by committing himself to actually buying one of Watto’s grossly overpriced pieces, Shmi would suffer no unwitting consequences from his presence here as yet another Jedi in Watto’s shop. He also likes to flatter himself that she is already gauging him to be a far more subtle and tactical man than his master if the raised eyebrow at his antics are anything to go by. 

After they have haggled for an appropriate amount of time Obi-Wan goes to pay for his purchase. When he then slips, tripping thoughtlessly over his own robe, Shmi is already there to steady him. He sends her a quiet smile of approval that she’d read the signs of his ‘accident’ with such ease. A slight grin of her own flickers across her face though it is quick to disappear again. 

“Would I perhaps be able to come by for a chat this afternoon, when you’re done here?” He asks under his breath in the scant seconds they have outside of Watto’s sharp eyes and ears.

It’s absolutely her choice should she decide to not let yet another Jedi into her home and her life. If she refuses his offer he will simply have to work on one of his somewhat less efficient back up plans which can be executed from afar and leave the rest in her hands, though he finds himself inordinately grateful when she nods a quick assent. She hisses an address under her breath then straightens with impeccable grace, fluidly shifting back behind the counter to complete the transaction. Even if Watto had been spying on them, Obi-Wan is certain that their moment would have gone completely undetected. 

Once his payment is accepted he grabs the superfluous part he doesn’t need and tucks it away. He gives her another quick nod then wanders off back into the Tatooine heat to find something to do while he waits for Shmi to finish her work. 

-

Okay so in his defence, Obi-Wan honestly didn’t expect he’d win that much money from gambling.

He’s certainly had his fair share of undercover missions that have required a passing familiarity with Sabbacc in his time. After all he’s actually a rather good player and has had plenty of opportunities to put those skills to the test over the years, but from the moment he found himself in one of the only mostly -sleazy looking bars in town that afternoon, the temptation to join in on the handful of games he’d seen in the smoke-filled rooms was too big to refuse. He’d won and lost his fair share of bets over the last few years on this dustball of a planet but this was the first time he could finally get back into the habit of subtle yet highly effective cheating with the Force without fear of having the might of an empire called down upon him. 

In fact, learning how to cheat well at a good Sabbacc game was something Qui-Gon had practically insisted upon over the years. One truly never knew when they’d be in need of some of the local currency when posted out on missions through the galaxy so it was certainly a useful skill to know how to pick up a couple of bucks as soon as one could no matter where they were. 

Admittedly there is very little guilt that Obi-Wan feels as he sweeps yet another armful of chips to his side of the table, to the earnest but resigned grumbling of his fellow players. He’d always endeavoured to teach Anakin to show one’s opponents as much respect as you can; but here and now Obi-Wan is perfectly well aware that his fellow players are all criminals and slavers who have spent years profiting off the Hutt’s particular style of rule for far too long. That knowledge alone is enough to remove any trace amounts of regret at his increasingly large bids and wins against this scum. 

Eventually though the suns begin to set and he is eager to leave the latest bar he’d wandered into and promptly made a small fortune from. He’d started shifting between bars as more and more folk began to register just how much they’d lost to him at each new location. Admittedly he’d also rather enjoyed taking a leaf out of Qui-Gon’s Tatooine playbook and tricked a couple of his less savoury opponents to bet some of their slaves as wages. Once he’s done at Shmi’s he now has a list of doors to knock on so he can alert his unexpected charges about their newfound freedom. Though that will have to wait for him to finish having a rather important conversation with a rather important woman who still has absolutely no reason at all to trust him. 

Oh joy. 

-

Standing before the door that once housed Anakin Skywalker before he ever even knew what a Jedi truly was, suddenly Obi-Wan feels a flood of nerves he didn’t expect. Shmi Skywalker shaped the fate of a galaxy without ever knowing it, just by raising a son who loved her so dearly that he could never truly recover from the unjust end of her life in a time that will never be.

He breathes deeply, steels himself and knocks. 

Obi-Wan is welcomed into her home with a tight smile, a furtive look down the street to make sure no one is watching, and then the firm click of a lock sliding shut. He stands awkwardly in the threshold of her small living room, his hands folded into his sleeves as he realises just how nervous he truly is. Shmi of course doesn’t notice, too busy ensuring their privacy, perhaps something learnt from Qui-Gon’s last visit. He hopes he is not causing her any undue stress because at this point he’s fairly certain he has more than enough anxiety flooding through his body for the both of them. 

On a personal level Obi-Wan truly does want the best for the kindhearted woman that once raised the child he taught and loved in another life. Anakin’s endless stories of his mother’s seemingly bottomless well of virtues has always endeared him to her out of an abstract respect for a mother in such an unfortunate circumstance who still managed to demonstrate such a pure love to her child despite the world around them. 

And on a more sombre level, Obi-Wan cannot allow such a terrible fate to befall this woman as once happened. If she is left here in this cruel wasteland he knows the Tuskens will come for her. He’d gotten more of the story of Shmi’s eventual demise from one of the rare occasions that Owen indulged his presence back in Luke’s early infancy. When Obi-Wan was still lost and alone in a galaxy filled with darkness and no family left to share in his endless grief. Owen had spoken of how his young apprentice appeared on the planet with a Senator by his side and a quest for vengeance in his heart the moment he’d learned of where his mother had been taken. Obi-Wan had mulled over the bitter story he’d heard, of a massacre whose only traces left behind were the harsh burns of a saber through countless corpses. 

Anakin had never come to him after committing that act of senseless violence. He’d never shared the burden with Obi-Wan and neither, it hurts to admit, had Padme. The two of them had borne witness to a kind of cruelty that can only have urged Anakin down a darker path than Obi-Wan had ever known and it is only now that he stands in the welcoming comfort of his childhood home that he can truly tell just how far his apprentice fell under his watch. 

The old Jedi Master swallows thickly, ignores the brimming pressure of tears behind his eyes with a practised ease and turns back to his gracious host. 

He hears the door close and then Shmi is shuffling past him, she throws a glance over her shoulder when he continues to idly uncertainly in the hall. 

“Would you like to take a seat, Master Jedi?” 

“Thank you,” he says, dutifully following her to one of the four slightly rickety looking seats she has set up at her table. His robes trail along the dusty floor which Shmi seems to eye with some embarrassment but Obi-Wan is perfectly familiar with just how much sand ends up on the floor in these deserts despite one’s best efforts, so he waves her concerns away with ease. 

A cup of water is placed in front of the Knight who looks up at his host with sincere gratitude, water is no easy thing to come by here and for an enslaved woman to offer it to him, a mostly uninvited guest, without a word is a truly special thing. 

Shmi hovers in the kitchen for a few more seconds, delaying the inevitable conversation until she too settles into a chair at the table across from him.

“Why are you here, Master Jedi? Has something happened to Ani?”

“Please, call me Obi-Wan,” he insists, “And nothing has happened to your son that you need to worry about.” 

He neglects to mention the whole ‘knowingly letting a nine year old pilot a fighter jet in the middle of the Naboo infiltration’. She still looks dubious of him anyway so he presses on quickly.

“I’m actually here for you.”

She looks at him in surprise, “Me? But I cannot be a Jedi. Master Jinn said he could only take Ani.”

Obi-Wan desperately wants to roll his eyes at his Master’s lack of tact when taking a parent’s only child from her and obviously leaving her with no clue about what type of people are going to be raising her son. 

“Yes, well I’m afraid I am not here to bring you into the Order, but I believe we Jedi have a duty to ensure your safety so with your permission I would like to offer you the chance to be freed and relocated from Tatooine.”

Shmi’s mouth drops open in an almost comical surprise. 

“F-freed?”

“Yes.”

“But… why?”

“We are peacekeepers of the Galaxy,” Obi-Wan begins hesitantly, “And I’m all too aware that we are not able to do as much to ensure that peace as we would like to.” he meets her shocked gaze with as much sincere care as he can pour into his expression, his words and the Force itself, “Your son is an incredibly powerful, bright and loving young man. He cares for you so deeply and truly that I know he will always hold a deep compassion for you.”

It is a real shame that Obi-Wan is about to ruin the tearful smile that fills this kind woman’s face.

“If I can be blunt though, I am worried about him and his attachment to you.” Shmi quirks her head at him, curious, “As I said, Anakin is incredibly powerful. We want to help him achieve all of his rather significant potential. But because he has grown up so attached to you, I worry that should anything unfortunate befall you that his love for you might… manifest in a dangerous way.”

It’s a little hard to tactically tell a mother that her son would be willing to raze a planet to the ground for her, and even harder to impress that not only that he would, but he could. That the sweet boy she knows has the potential to do such terrible harm.

To his surprise though, Shmi accepts this with little more than a pained sigh. 

“Ah.”

Her lack of response throws Obi-Wan a bit off rhythm, so he decides to venture back into familiar territory.

“I promise to work with Anakin, to help him overcome this, but for not only the security in his mind of knowing you are safe - and for your own sake of course, I would like your permission to offer you my help in freeing and relocating you from Tatooine.”

Shmi laughs and it's only slightly hysterical, “Well that sounds wonderful Master Jedi. But Watto isn’t going to sell me. And after what your other Jedi friend pulled he’s not going to be tricked into letting me go.”

“Oh, you can leave that to me,” Obi-Wan says serenely, “I’m sure I can find something to motivate a person like Watto.”

Shmi raises an eyebrow pointedly at that, “I hope you’ll forgive me Master Jedi, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He grins at her, “Well I have always loved a challenge.”

-

Once Obi-Wan successfully badgers Shmi into letting him pay her for the cost of the water she so generously gave, and finishes sneaking in a few extra credits she hadn’t noticed him leave, Obi-Wan ventures back out into the Tatooine night. Now with a mission.

First he starts by making his way down the streets of the slave quarters, knocking on the doors of a handful of addresses still scrawled on a stray piece of flimsy he’d nicked from a table earlier that day. 

One by one the doors would open to reveal a very confused slave who learnt from the strange Jedi standing before them whom they’d never met, that they were now free and are welcome to do as they please with their lives. Obi-Wan lets them all know that if they’re willing to wait for a few days he would be able to organise some transport for them off-planet, but that explanation was usually cut off before it could really begin as he often suddenly had his arms full of a grateful, sobbing stranger thanking him profusely. 

Each new door he comes to is a gift in itself, to feel the Light permeate with these people’s joy, their happiness, their relief. He feels, for the first time in a very long time, that he is doing exactly what he was meant to do. To be a Jedi who spreads peace and comfort to the people that he can help. 

Many of his new friends decide to take him up on his offer of transport so he gives them his comm codes for the sake of organising when he’s going to be leaving. Now he is simply left with the small task of convincing a greedy, mean and awful being to give up the slave he owns in spite of the fact he is resistant to any mind tricks and also he probably hates all Jedi on sight thanks to Qui-Gon Jinn. 

Obi-Wan sighs exasperatedly. He looks forward to the day where his life won’t be made more complicated by his Master’s tendency to act first and think-of-all-the-consequences-Obi-Wan-will-have-to-face later. It is a state of life that Obi-Wan was once very familiar with in his youth, and it is certainly coming back to him in full force in this new time.. 

Still, his Master's inconvenient approach to acquiring a Chosen One aside, Obi-Wan has to figure out what his own strategy is for freeing a Chosen One’s Mother. 

He takes his time circling back through the bars he’d entered earlier that day, pleased to see that the clientele has shifted enough that no one is likely to have noticed he is the same person who breezed his way through every gamble he’d made. Still just to be safe he removes one or two of his outer robes in an effort to fit in with the locals who are far too aware of just how hot the planet stays to be worth the extra layers. Now, looking less like a Jedi and more like a local rogue, Obi-Wan makes sure to take his time, playing a few lower stakes hands and letting himself lose once or twice to set his opponents at ease. 

“Hows about I buy a round for everyone?” he says to much cheering a few games in. 

Obi-Wan signals the bartender with a casual swagger he’s copied from hundreds of folk just like these people over the years. The bartender shoots him an annoyed glare at daring to request service at his establishment but Obi-Wan ignores it in favour of grinning roguishly at his new companions. 

“So, any of you fine folk able to offer me some advice?”

He gets a fair few sly grins and sleazy laughs in response even as Obi-Wan sets about dealing a new hand for everyone.

“What sort of advice are you looking for from us, ah, fine folk as you say huh?” Asks one woman sat across from him who has been smoking a truly impressive cloud of fumes into the air for nearing ten straight minutes as best he can tell. 

“I’ve got my eye on a gal,” Obi-Wan infuses his own slimy humour into his voice, “She belongs to someone else though.”

This time there's a spread of knowing nods. These people are Tatooine locals so he doesn’t need to spell out the rest of the situation in any more details, which he is deeply thankful for because every part of this interaction already feels absolutely disgusting to him. Still, it's certainly far from the worst thing he’s had to do. 

“Ah,” smirks some other guy who just lost three hands in a row to the table, “She got a price?”

It’s by no means a subtle question yet there are far too many traps lying just below the surface of this conversation so he must tread carefully. If Obi-Wan says he doesn’t have enough credits then they’ll all peg him as not worth their time and the conversation will die here. There’s also the chance that if he plays too thin with his cash that they’ll turn on him immediately to ensure he’s good for the winnings they’ve ‘earned’ from the few games he’s already played with them. But on the other hand, if he says he’s got plenty to keep him going then they’re more likely to rob him for all he’s worth and won’t bother to pass up the information he needs. What fun.

“She’s just a bit out of my budget,” Obi-Wan settles on, “Her current guy’s askin’ too much if you ask me.”

His vague answer is accepted with ease as already these players have decided him a well meaning if somewhat inexperienced gambler, and no doubt they’ve extrapolated that out into this new venture. He’s watched as each and every one of them have carefully observed the way he’s lost the last handful of rounds with overly ambitious hands and a mistaken confidence in his own skills at the game. They’ve all smelt blood in the water and by speaking up now, a half empty drink in his hand, they’re all making their own calculations about just what type of person he is. Good. 

He avoids making any eye for a bit, instead toying with the cards in his hands idly.

“Was wondering if any of you might have ideas how to get her with me without him getting in my business.”

The table uhms and ahs for a while as everyone studies the cards he laid out for them and the next game begins. Obi-Wan sets down a cheap card that is immediately picked up by the Toydarian next to him who leers, far too proud of himself despite it being Obi-Wan’s rookie mistake that earned him a few more chips. The smuggler across from him watches the exchange with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Instead of meeting her careful gaze he offers a chagrined smile to the Toydarian who laughs right in his face. 

“You could swap her out?” Offers a bounty hunter who won against him last round as they settle into the new game. “If you’ve got enough to be close to what she’s worth then just get someone else who’s good enough. An easy trade.” 

A couple of nods second this notion. The next round begins and Obi-Wan places a card worth more than his last hand would suggest he had. He takes the bounty hunter’s cards into his own set. 

“I don’t think he’s the type to accept a substitute,” Obi-Wan observes, a hint of bitterness slipping into his tone. A couple of his fellow players eye the mild display with curiosity. 

“She really worth all this to you?” 

Obi-Wan glances back at the smuggler who spoke. “She is.”

The smuggler grins, placing her own cards down for the new round. It’s a pretty valuable hand and it takes half the table out of the game. 

“You on a time limit?” 

The question is posed casually, but Obi-Wan can see an offer when it’s presented to him. Still, he doesn’t answer for the next round and between the two of them they push out another quarter of the remaining table. 

“Sooner is better than later,” he muses as the final round of the game starts. It’s just three of them now, though the Toydarian is only hanging in the game by sheer chance. He’s definitely not the most experienced player and it shows when he places his next cards down. The smuggler and the knight make eye contact just long enough to confirm the unspoken agreement. 

Obi-Wan plays his second last card, effectively stealing the Toydarian’s hand into his own.

The smuggler’s card hits the table with a thump. She begins reaching for Obi-Wan’s haul of chips, a smug, winning grin on her face only to be stopped by the gentle placement of his own final card. Her eyes flash in shock as she looks down at it, a snarl tugging at her lips but Obi-Wan sees the way she controls her own anger and manages to pull her expression back into a mask of calm. 

“The game is yours,” she concedes even if it’s somewhat begrudging. “The winnings are yours.” 

Once again though she is stopped as Obi-Wan halts her attempt to push her chips towards him. 

“You can keep them,” he says, ignoring the greedy eyes of their defeated opponents who are watching their every move like starved gundarks, “Assuming I can employ your services?”

Now she grins properly, her shark-like teeth tugging the expression from interest to hunger in just a second. It’s easy enough then to ignore the rest of the disgruntled gamblers that surround him now that he’s got her attention so thoroughly captured by his offer. After that he’s happy to let her come out of this interaction thinking she’s won not only the game but a job out of it too - as if he hadn’t picked her out for the mission the moment she’d walked into the room three hours earlier.

She flips one of her winning chips between her fingers, a hungry excitement flashing in her eyes. 

“Alright, let's talk.” 

-

Absently, Obi-Wan considers how grateful he is that the Council has no way to track any of the money he wins from all the illegal sabbac he’s played here on Tatooine. Of course he’s still got access to all the Temple funds allotted to him so if anything awful truly did happen it’s not like he’d be wildly out of his depth, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a hundred percent willing to take advantage of his new revenue. One does not live on this sandwaste for years on end without learning to utilise every damn credit you could beg, steal, borrow or barter from any other poor schmuck stuck here with you. Still, what the Council doesn’t know won’t hurt them, he decides. 

He looks out across the sweeping dunes before him with an absentminded gaze, more focused on his thoughts than the ever shifting grains of sand that fly past him in the tepid midafternoon wind. It's been enough hours that he can feel his left leg starting to numb slightly from the awkward seat he’s taken upon the rocks. But stretching out and returning blood flow only manages to occupy him for a few seconds before he’s back to staring out at the endless red seas before him. Once again his hands find themselves preoccupied with running a credit chip back and forth over his knuckles in a repetitive motion that he’d once picked up from Quinlan in a mission gone wrong back in his first Knighthood. 

In fact, just thinking about those days and all the myriad of paths that have led him here he’s reminded all too easily of just how many Knights liked to downplay just how sideways certain missions went during their reports to the Council during the War. He’s sure none of the current council will be able to pick up on his minor gambling habits he’s picked up on this little holiday of his - perhaps excepting Mace who always knows far too much for his own good - but it will certainly not be going unnoticed when word eventually circles back to Coruscant about the stray Jedi Knight who freed a dozen slaves from Tatooine without a single word of instruction from the Order itself. 

At least he can confidently rely on his memory of all the fun he and his colleagues had had trying to play ‘fill in the blanks’ when it came to which parts of the written reports they received from their Knights didn’t match up with the meticulous paperwork of the clone commanders who worked with them. Not that he’s exactly innocent of stretching the truth in his own reports. 

Obi-Wan might be of a bit more interest to the Council in this timeline, but at least Cody isn’t here to rat out any of the particular subversions of truth he’s been rehearsing while he waits. Plus, Obi-Wan imagines the Council in this time hasn’t had much of a chance to practise their own deduction games in these peace-times. Maybe they could do with the practice. Then again they have had to deal with the Jinn/Kenobi team and all the selective truths that naturally came with. Though Obi-Wan can attest that even Jinn’s antics are barely a candle light compared to the bonfire that is a mission involving one Anakin Skywalker. That’s for damn sure. 

Regardless, it might not even matter, depending how things go. Surprisingly it actually seems plausible that Obi-Wan might just get out of this whole situation without once having to explain how he paid a smuggler to break into a workshop, take a woman hostage in broad daylight right after swiping the blasted switch that had once hung around a Toydarian’s throat as an ever present reminder of who that woman supposedly belonged to. 

Obi-Wan’s patience is one that has been tempered through years of diligent practice but even he can't help but keep fidgeting as he sits there. It was a difficult enough decision to put his trust in the smuggler, and harder still to admit that it would actually be subtler to leave her to the actual extraction work herself. He’d done what he could to provide a distraction by leveraging some of his newly-found gambler enemies against Watto through a subtle Force-suggestion or two. But Obi-Wan was a notable enough figure in this small town already, and he doesn’t need Shmi’s less-than-legal escape tied quite so closely with the Jedi if he can help it. 

So it is far, far too long before Obi-Wan’s senses finally pick up faint, yet familiar life forms making their way across the darkening sands under the light of the setting suns. By the time his new criminal accomplice turns the corner of the little cave system that he’d staked out hours ago, Obi-Wan is practically buzzing with energy. He can feel far more tension than he expected start bleeding out of him as soon as his eyes can finally latch onto the form of Shmi Skywalker, looking absolutely bewildered yet thankfully unharmed. 

“Here you go,” announces the smuggler without a care.

Obi-Wan is halfway to opening his mouth to thank her for her work before he catches sight of her reaching out and with a casual flick of her wrist the trigger switch for the bomb implanted in the back of Shmi’s skull goes flying from her fingertips and sails through the air towards him. 

Obi-Wan feels his stomach drop in panic just as Shmi’s frightened gasp fills the cave. Instinct more than anything guides him to shoot his hand out, the Force softening the projectile’s trajectory until it floats, gently, delicately into his hands. 

“Shutta,” Obi-Wan breathes out, his voice ragged around the curse his young Padawan had favoured many years ago. “Why did you do that?!”

The smuggler shrugged, “Figured you’d catch it.”

Obi-Wan glares at her with all the righteous indignation he can muster though she hardly looks affected by it. Shmi, beside her, seems to still be struggling to catch her own breath. Her eyes wide and panicked as she stares at the switch that could trigger the bomb that would kill her at any second, resting in Obi-Wan’s open palm. 

As soon as he has confirmed the trigger is safe in hand, he is quick to pull out the bag of credits that’s been sat by his side these long hours. The smuggler watches the movement with sharp eyes but is still quick to reach out and grab it from him. She takes a minute, blatantly counting her pay right in front of him to make sure he hasn’t cheated her what she’s owed. 

The three of them wait in a strained quiet while she counts out each credit before finally offering him a sharp nod. “Good doing business with you.”

“Yes. Quite.” Obi-Wan replies tightly. 

The woman offers him another sharp grin, “Have fun you two. Try to stay out of trouble, yeah?” And then before either of them can reply she’s turning on her heel and striding back out into the Tatooine wastes without another word. 

Obi-Wan stares after her just long enough to ensure she is truly gone, and no unpleasant ambushes are awaiting him but the Force rings quiet and clear until finally even his hypervigilance can calm down and he can finally focus on the recently freed woman standing beside him in a dazed shock. He offers Shmi what he hopes is a welcoming smile, not entirely sure how to approach the woman he technically just helped steal.

“Madam Skywalker?” He steps gently towards her, telegraphing his every move for her sake, “Would you like to hold onto this until I can take you to my ship? We can remove your chip there safely.”

Shmi tears her gaze up  from the innocuous looking device to meet his. To his surprise she just mutely shakes her head and refuses to even look at it for a moment longer.

He nods, carefully pocketing the switch inside a case he’d bought earlier just for it. As soon as it is out of sight Shmi seems to collapse into herself just a little then all at once she snorts a slightly hysterical laugh for just a moment before smothering it beneath her hands. He imagines she’s had a very stressful day waiting to, and then proceeding to have been, kidnapped and freed from her life of slavery which he gathered is all she’s ever known. 

Once she’s had a moment to compose herself and it seems like the reality of her situation is finally starting to settle in, he begins the short trek deeper into the dunes - leading her towards the hangar that he’d parked in just outside of town. Shmi complies with a silent curiosity as he directs her towards the ship's small medbay, her eyes darting around the small freighter with a mechanic’s gaze that he is so very used to seeing peer out from the young eyes of a much smaller Skywalker that he has to take a second himself to blink away the surprising comparison. 

“Nice ship,” she says eventually, the first words he has registered from her since the smuggler dropped her off with him. The earnest compliment is enough to tug a smile from his lips and of course Shmi manages to catch sight of it, a timid grin of her own matching his. 

“Thank you,” he says eventually, “Anakin always was a fan of this freighter class.”  

The words are out of his mouth before he can even really register them. In this time he can’t even remember having talked about them with the boy but there was a solid three years early in their apprenticeship where Obi-Wan didn’t go a single day without hearing of the mechanical specifics that made this particular brand of starship so infinitely superior to every other one that has ever dared to exist not to Anakin's specifications. Shmi looks at him, a forlorn but endeared look crossing her expression for just a flash before it’s gone so quick he could almost think he’d imagined it. 

In a rare moment of the Negotiator finding himself at a loss for words, Obi-Wan can only clear his throat and awkwardly gesture to the medbay entrance. At the very least he can be grateful that he had ensured everything was well stocked before his departure so it's the work of mere moments to get out the supplies he needs. 

She hops up onto the cot that’d been set up for her without complaint. They exchange a few quiet words between them as he asks if she’d prefer to be put under but she vehemently refuses and he kindly doesn't mention the waxy pallor of her skin as she sits there, held up more through pure stress than her own muscles as he sets about preparing the instruments he needs. 

All of a sudden, after what seems like only a moment has passed: he is spraying a quick numbing agent across the back of her neck, picks up his scalpel, and hopes to the Force, the Daughter and anyone else who might be listening that this will go well. Then he slices in. 

When he’d approached Vokara Che a few days ago at the temple, asking if she would mind terribly to show him how to make a clean incision and remove any intrusions to a body she’d looked at him with no shortage of confusion and suspicion. Still, after enough pestering and the promise of a few homemade Rylothian pastries, she’d agreed to demonstrate the best practice - teaching him what to look out for and what to avoid. He imagines that she wouldn’t approve for her admittedly short lesson to be taken into such immediate practice, especially with the threat of an armed bomb on the line, but Obi-Wan trusts in her knowledge, his skills and the Force to ensure that not two minutes after she’d sat down, Shmi Skywalker would be able to stand up and look upon the chip that had been nestled at the top of her spine all her life. 

“Oh,” she breathes shakily, the tiny chip resting on a tray before her. “Master Jedi… I cannot thank you enough for this.”

Obi-Wan offers her a genuine smile, “No thanks necessary. I am just happy to see you free and healthy.”

There’s been moments since they met again in that desert where he would catch sight of Shmi peering out at him from the corner of her eyes. Her gaze searching and curious as if still trying to figure out what his real motivation for helping her. He dutifully pretends not to notice her doing it again while he cleans up the scalpel and puts his instruments away. She’s been through enough that he certainly isn’t going to add any further mysteries to her life even if he just insists on a sincere want for her to have the chance to live a better life than the one he’d known. 

“Well,” she says brightly, a tentative smile crossing her own face when she sets the chip aside, pointedly not looking at it, “What’s next?”

Obi-Wan pulls out his comm unit, alerting all the new contacts he’d gathered before that he was going to be leaving soon and should the other ex-slaves he’d technically ‘won’ in his gambling adventures like to leave then they should meet him at the hangar. Soon enough a half dozen nervous individuals began to make their way towards where Obi-Wan and Shmi are sat next to his ship, playing a game of cards together. He’s both duly impressed and mildly worried that she seems to be genuinely giving him a good run for his money.

With each newly freed person joining him and Shmi, Obi-Wan finds himself treated to the peculiar examination that Shmi has been giving him throughout the day but he is pleased to see that they all seem to come to the conclusion that at the very least he means them no harm. There’s also the unexpected benefit of Shmi’s increasing defensiveness of him. He pretends not to notice the hushed argument held just out of his supposed hearing range about whether or not he is setting them all up for some worse fate than service under the Hutt’s only for Shmi to take a shockingly strong stance against the naysayer. Whatever she has observed has apparently been enough to raise a strong enough sense of surety that Obi-Wan is truly just here to help. 

When all of Obi-Wan’s new friends, who maybe don’t think of him as such yet but surely would by the end of the trip, have gotten themselves settled aboard Obi-Wan sits himself in the pilot's chair. After a mere moment’s hesitation Shmi Skywalker claims the co-pilot’s seat as her own, a defiant confidence in the action that shines proudly in the Force. She risks one quick glance his way, as if checking for any recrimination coming her way, but at the small smile that graces his face she faces forward once more, posture straight and hands already deftly moving across the controls to start up the engines without him saying a word. 

He leaves her to it for a moment, happy to let a Skywalker take the reins for yet another flight to traverse the galaxy together. Beside him he catches sight of a hesitation as Shmi comes to plug in coordinates, her hand stilling uncertainly. 

Obi-Wan grins at her when she turns to him, the question already on her lips. 

“So,” she says excitement thrumming under her words as a galaxy of possibilities opens up before her, “Where are we off to now?”

Obi-Wan reaches forward, plugging in the correct numbers and feeling the ship rumble to life beneath them. He tosses her another beaming smile. 

“Alderaan.” 

Chapter Text

Some miles from the capital of Alderaan a nondescript freighter ship touches down with little fanfare at all. On the out of the way, mostly forgotten landing pad half hidden by the thick forest canopy around them two lone figures stand together patiently awaiting the freighter’s slow hiss of its door release. The figures stand with a regal patience, their attentions trained eagerly on the underwhelming ship. Thankfully they are soon rewarded with the familiar visage of Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi who strides towards them with a joyful bounce in his step that is only halted for a moment as he takes in the unexpected member of his welcoming party who in turn eyes him with a sharp gaze and a quirked smile upon her lips. 

“Senator Organa,” Obi-Wan greets warmly, his gaze darting back to the young woman with a barely hidden curiosity until he reigns it back to look at Bail, “You have my utmost gratitude for your generous offer of sanctuary to my new friends on such short notice. I truly cannot thank you enough.”

Bail beams at him, reaching out to clasp his hand in welcome, a move that echoes a decade of friendship that the young Senator cannot even recall yet manages to remain just as earnest in as the Bail Organa of Obi-Wan’s recollections. 

“Of course Knight Kenobi! It is a pleasure to see you again and an honour to know that you thought of me in this momentous occasion. Alderaan and I are both delighted to welcome these lovely folk you have brought to our beautiful planet.”

Obi-Wan inclines his head to his old-new friend in thanks before he can finally turn his attention to Bail’s shorter companion who somehow still manages to take up just as much space as the men before her through the sheer strength of character. 

“Queen Amidala.” Obi-Wan bows to the young woman before him in greeting. He’s rewarded with a sharp smack against his shoulder that has him jerking his head up in surprise to stare at the monarch that just whacked a Jedi Knight. 

Padme looks back at him with pursed lips, humour floating just beneath the surface of her expression. 

“Knight Kenobi I do believe we had a deal regarding formalities. Do you not intend to upkeep your end of our bargain?”

Obi-Wan grins, “Of course I do Padme, I was simply trying to be respectful. Don’t worry though, I’m sure I won’t make that mistake again.”

“See that you don’t.”

Bail watches the pair of them with a fond exasperation. “I see I don’t need to reintroduce the two of you by any means do I?”

“Obi-Wan is a rather difficult person to forget, Senator,” Padme says.

“As is her Majesty.”

“Thank you Master Jedi.”

“Of course your Ladyship.”

“You are too kind, good Knight.” 

Bail lets out a soft chuckle at their increasingly sarcastic formalities, his head shaking in disbelief. “I did not realise you were both quite so mature.”

For a single moment Padme stiffens in embarrassment at being caught bickering with a Jedi but one look at Obi-Wan’s amused grin is enough to have her easing back into her usual exasperated humours when faced with Obi-Wan’s meddling. At the very least Bail has managed to interrupt them before either of them run out of overly formal terms of addressment which Obi-Wan has decided to be quietly grateful for.

“I do believe,” Bail says leadingly, “That there are some travellers that I am here to meet?”

“Of course Senator,” Obi-Wan falls into a half bow, deferring to Bail’s seniority on this planet, “I can escort them out now if that would be best. I was unsure if you needed me to provide transport any closer to the city.”

Bail waves him off with an easy casualness which does wonders to ease Obi-Wan’s residual anxieties about his new charges. “That is a kind offer Knight Kenobi but I have a shuttle at the ready to take our guests to their new homes.”

“Thank you again Senato-”

“Call me Bail, please. I am always happy to help, my friend.”

At the casual endearment Obi-Wan can feel his own body feel lighter, more right in the Force as he and Bail clasp arms again, an echo of an old friendship answered here and now. A bond renewed and reborn and Obi-Wan cannot help but send a wave of gratitude out into the universe in hope that somewhere and sometime the Daughter will know of how honoured he is to have been given this second chance. 

His musings are of course cut short because when has the galaxy ever given Obi-Wan Kenobi a moment of true peace? At least this time it comes in the form of Padme Amidala eyeing him carefully. He meets her gaze with a quirked brow, a question unasked which she still manages to parse and answer in turn.

“Obi-Wan,” her voice wavers for just a moment, uncertainty colouring her every inch, “Why did you return to Tatooine so soon after we just left? Were you looking for another one of those Sith you fought in the desert?”

He pauses, surprised at the question. “Well primarily I went back for Ms Skywalker. My other guests were a pleasant surprise. I would certainly have liked to have helped more people but Master Windu and the Council will be expecting me back on Coruscant too soon for me to have gotten very far in any kind of unauthorised rescue mission.”

He’s certain that if he’d actually pitched his wish to release and free as many people from the Hutt’s service on Tatooine as possible the Council would be in absolute agreement about the moral justifications of his attitude. But he’s also entirely certain that any attempt to actually confirm and organise that mission would’ve been held up by the bureaucratic need to ensure senatorial approval of a mission that crossed the Republic’s boundaries and Obi-Wan also knows for damn sure that not only do the Trade Federation have working negotiations with the Hutts but so too do the Banking Clan and the Techno Union who would all do their very best to halt his operations before they could even leave the Senate floor. 

So in the case of Shmi Skywalker - and his additional unexpected charges - Obi-Wan has elected to simply seek forgiveness not permission. Not to mention the fact he ensured he was never caught acting as an actual representative of the Jedi so it should hopefully be easy enough to cloud anyone’s associations towards his singular ambitions and the Order’s duties. 

Padme’s brows furrow, deep in thought. “But I was there with Master Jinn. He was unable to convince Watto to release Shmi once Anakin had been relinquished to Master Jinn’s care.”

“Yes?” 

“So how did you know to come back? I was under the impression there was nothing else to be done for Ms Skywalker’s situation.”

Once again Obi-Wan is reminded of just how young his friend is now. For all her incredible power, her fearless attitude and her sharp mind she is very much still learning. He mulls over his words for a moment before answering, well aware of her earnest desire to understand and of Bail’s own curiosity as he quietly observes the pair of them. 

“Master Jinn was making do with a rather different set of parameters than how I am currently operating. He could not spare the excess time and resources to find an optimal solution to free both Skywalkers from Watto. Not when Naboo was still under threat, when you were in our care and when we had a duty to the Republic to ensure that the blockade was resolved swiftly and as peacefully as possible. We couldn’t spare the time to stay on Tatooine any longer than necessary because an active threat was still happening and it was our responsibility to help in the task we were assigned.”

He’s rewarded with a small nod of understanding from Padme who clearly follows his logic and can understand his priorities but the question remains etched into her expression while she waits for him to continue.

“As for why I came back?” Obi-Wan huffs lightly, not sure how to articulate the way that he has lamented the death of a woman for years because he didn’t act when Anakin said he was having nightmares and Obi-Wan hadn’t known his apprentice to have visions like that and it all… well it all led to an undeserved death and a retaliatory massacre that haunted the dunes he called home for too many years under the shadow of an empire that should never have existed. 

“Anakin is safe with the Jedi,” he says eventually only just stopping himself from stumbling over the thick emotion that feels like it is blocking the words before they can escape, “But there is no world where he finds any true peace while knowing his own mother is still held captive on a planet practically designed to hurt anyone who lives there. No one at all should be in Shmi’s position, but for someone with the power and responsibility that comes with being a Jedi, Anakin’s connection to someone who is constantly at threat could lead to a multitude of problems that need not be. Not when I know exactly where she is. Not when I have the power myself to help. Not when I have a duty to her and every other being in this galaxy to do my absolute best to make the galaxy a safer, more peaceful place than I have found it.”

Bail beams at him, evidently pleased to see that Obi-Wan’s motivations are born of the kind of duty he likely knows is in himself. However to his surprise Padme does not seem satisfied with his answer, that notch in between her brows only pulling further down her face. Dissatisfaction seems to practically radiate from the young queen. 

“Padme?” Obi-Wan ventures when it looks like she’s not going to stop burning holes into the ground through the sheer intensity of her gaze alone, “Are you alright?”

The queen’s eyes dart up to his, worry flooding her expression.

“Why didn’t I come back?”

“I’m not sure what you-”

“I was there too.” Padme’s arms jerk, as if going to wrap around herself to provide some semblance of comfort only for her to halt the movement before it can even start. Her hands instead hang taught at her sides. “You did not even meet Ms Skywalker yourself but you have been thinking of her. You have not only been considering her situation but you planned and executed a rescue and I have not spared that poor woman a single thought!” 

Padme’s rising voice is also jerked to a sudden stop as she visibly restrains her own inward fury, drawing herself into deep, carefully measured breaths.

“I am meant to lead my people, Obi-Wan. I am queen of Naboo and that matters . But I have been led around by others machinations and lost for weeks now. I could not stop the blockade on my own. I could not protect my citizens from invasion. I didn’t even think to reach out to the Gungans for their help on my own. It’s disgraceful! I cannot believe I nearly called for a vote of no confidence under Senator Palpatine’s advisement and it was only your interference that stopped me. Not my own doubts about my planet’s representative.”

Stunned isn’t the right word for whatever Obi-Wan is feeling right now. Maybe panicked? Flustered? Deeply concerned about his friend? Worried about the gasp of surprise Bail just made at Padme nearly admitting to ousting Chancellor Valorum? Regardless, Obi-Wan has plenty of experience pushing untimely feelings out of the way of caring for his companions so it is without a moment’s hesitation that he reaches out, catching Padme’s hands that have begun flailing about in frustrated sweeping arcs. 

She stills at the contact, looking up at him with a worryingly deep concern. 

“Padme Amidala you are one of the most incredible people I have ever had the pleasure to meet.” 

“You’ve only known me a few weeks-”

“I’ve known you long enough to know you are a caring ruler. An excellent leader. A wonderful friend. And most importantly: you are a good person .”

Padme tugs at her hands just a little, still clasped between his. He doesn’t let go just yet, all too aware that she’s already leaning in to him, searching desperately for some proof that he believes what he’s saying and he will not let her escape so easily until she truly understands. 

“Padme, you have been saving your planet. You made an appeal to the senate and the senate listened . You inspired action and you lead your people through it all. Tatooine shouldn’t have had to be your priority. Not yet. Not when everything else has been happening so quickly. You can’t save the galaxy on your own.” His breath comes out half a laugh half a sigh at that thought alone. 

Thankfully Bail chooses that moment to step forward, his own hand coming up to clasp gently on Padme’s shoulder. “Your Majesty, you are doing plenty. Your work in Naboo is incredible. Your speech inspired me to join you on your mission. No one can blame you for focusing on your duties as leader of a planet, I assure you. Not to mention that you are here now. Despite all of your duties you have made time to help these people and that is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Obi-Wan finds himself nodding in agreement before a thought strikes him. 

“Wait. How did you know to come here?”

Bail glances at him, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips, “I may have invited her majesty when you contacted me.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I have been meaning to put forward a motion in the Senate to discuss the Hutt’s overt control over the Outer Rim, and to perhaps start prioritising our humanitarian efforts out there, even if not necessarily in the Republic’s confines.”

“And you are looking to recruit Naboo into your efforts?”

“Well it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have such a formidable ally by my side. Not to mention that the Queen and I started some early talks after the liberation efforts on Naboo which I would be interested to continue. And if your guests are amenable to it I believe they could provide some valuable insight into how we may proceed from here.”

For a few halting seconds Obi-Wan feels nothing but stunned. In all his calculations he had never anticipated that what few changes he had made already would have resulted in such branching effects from Bail or Padme taking up the causes he hasn’t had time to get to yet. Idly he considers that Master Windu might have more of a point than he’d like when he’d warned about Obi-Wan not knowing the true extent of his actions and their consequences. Still, with Bail and Padme having so clearly already set themselves on a path to bring justice to the people of the Outer Rim, Obi-Wan can’t help but look forward to the future they are helping him build here and now. 

“I am lucky to know the both of you,” Obi-Wan finally declares once he has a bit more control of his own voice. Bail and Padme both seem equally flustered yet pleased by the earnest admiration that laces his words. 

“And now I do believe I should introduce you to my new friends, hm?” Obi-Wan turns on his heel to give the both of them a moment to recover from such a surprisingly emotional encounter. In fact by the time he’s made it back up to his ship and called his guests down to meet them, both senator and queen have fully recovered and are presenting a united, welcoming front. The pair of them stand with a kind of regal power that at first glance has his ex-Tatooine guests shy back. 

Almost as one Padme and Bail shift their body language accordingly, more open smiles and a more relaxed posture that at least allows the first of the recently Freed folk to bravely walk up and greet them. 

Obi-Wan watches as one by one his charges are directed by Bail or Padme towards the little shelter tucked under the forest canopy where they can get cleaned up after the long journey and picked up by the shuttlecraft waiting nearby. He loves to watch the way each Freed person seems equally as star struck by the combined presence of a Senator and a Queen, and by the sheer amount of green foliage that surrounds them. Obi-Wan has no doubt that none of these people have ever seen so much plantlife in their entire time on Tatooine. 

Quiet footsteps sound behind him and Obi-Wan is not at all surprised to sense the steady presence of Shmi Skywalker making her way towards him. He waits patiently until she steps forward into his line of sight, also watching as yet another ex-slave meets the politicians before him, awkwardly stumbling his way through a curtsey then a bow and then laughing brightly at some joke Bail must have just made. 

“You have done us all a great kindness.”

“I am just glad to see them all free.”

He doesn’t turn when she clearly darts a look in his direction. “You are certainly an interesting man, Knight Kenobi.”

He grins.

“I would certainly like to think so.”

Shmi hums thoughtfully, now back to eyeing the politicians meeting one of Obi-Wan’s younger charges who seems to be in the midst of explaining what Jawa Juice is to an increasingly baffled queen. 

“Do you trust these friends of yours?” Her voice is quiet yet determined, just as he has come to expect of her from each and every one of their interactions.

“With my life.”

“Then I am sure I am even more in your debt than before.”

“Oh?”

“You have saved me from ruin, taken care of my most precious love and brought him into a better life, and now you entrust me in the care of two of your own loves. It is not something that is done so easily but you have behaved like this is all perfectly usual.” She smiles, “I don’t believe I will ever be able to repay this kindness.”

“Oh Shmi, you can’t think-! I mean, I would never ask you to-”

“No, I didn’t think you would.”

Obi-Wan finds himself once again at an unexpected loss for words, not sure how to navigate the easy gratitude that his companion seems to exude from her very core. She perhaps deliberately seems to be ignoring his stunned silence and is instead looking around at the forest about them with her own quiet awe at the lush flora. 

He decides to grasp onto the only topic that makes sense to him now. “Is Alderaan to your liking?”

“Alderaan is lovely,” she says evenly, “But…”

Her body shifts just a little, a tumultuous uncertainty creeping into her posture. “This… this won’t be the last time I see you, will it?”

“Oh. Well… It doesn’t have to be?” 

In terms of things he expected, Shmi actively wanting to keep in contact with someone who just uprooted every part of her life was not actually up there. He’d made sure she knew that he wouldn’t be able to undermine the Jedi Order and facilitate conversation between her and her son once he is inducted, which she had taken on with that same steady stride as she did everything else it seemed. 

They’d certainly gotten on well enough throughout their journey to Alderaan even as Obi-Wan was getting to know his other charges too. Shmi had been first and most eager to interrogate him about the worlds outside of the Outer Rim. She drank in his every word with a reverent excitement which had finally caught on to the other Freed who had all eventually started speculating on the types of lives they would be leading once they’d arrived. Shmi had stuck by Obi-Wan’s side during those conversations, curious too to learn of the Jedi and how he lived his own life outside of impromptu rescue missions. 

“Good,” Shmi declares now, relief colouring her voice, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Obi-Wan, and as wonderful as Alderaan seems, I worry that I am now without any friends in this new place. I would quite like to change that if you are open to it?”

A surprising flush of warmth floods through him at that; knowing that Shmi wants to keep him in her life not for the access he can provide to her son, but out of a genuine want to know him for his own sake. Obi-Wan beams. “Of course Shmi, I would be honoured.”

She rolls her eyes, nudging at him with her elbow, “You’re far too formal Obi-Wan. One day I’ll get you to relax.”

He laughs brightly at that, “I look forward to it.”

“Next time you’re on Alderaan, you let me know, Mister Jedi Knight. I’ll show you how to really play sabacc to win.”

“Oh I’m sure you will, Shmi Skywalker. I’m sure you will.”

“Excellent. Now I do believe you have some of your own friends to introduce me to,” she loops her hand around the crook of his elbow and begins to march forward, dragging her bemused Jedi companion forward towards the mighty pair of Padme Amidala and Bail Organa without a fear in the world.

-

It is late at night when Obi-Wan’s freighter touches down in the Temple’s landing pads so it’s something of a surprise when he peers out of the exit to see Mace Windu patiently waiting for him at the bottom of the exit ramp. Mace looks up at him for all of a second before wincing, his hand already coming up to massage at his temples like Obi-Wan’s mere presence is all that is needed to summon an oncoming migraine. 

“What have you done now?” the Master of the Order says in place of a greeting. 

Obi-Wan frowns at him and it’s only a little bit petulant which he chalks up to his own young face and not any fault of his own.

“Why do you always assume I’ve done something?”

“Shatterpoints,” Mace gestures at him broadly, still avoiding eye contact. “You’ve changed again.”

“Ah. Yes.”

Obi-Wan gives him a minute to figure out how to look at him past the apparently blinding series of shatterpoints that follow him at all times. Soon enough though Mace recovers enough to start moving back to the Temple entrance with Obi-Wan falling into step next to him. Their footsteps echo out into the quiet halls, only a few of the nocturnal species of Jedi are out and about at this hour so their journey continues on largely uninterrupted as they head towards the sleeping quarters. 

“Am I going to get an explanation?” Mace probes eventually, though he doesn’t sound particularly mad so Obi-Wan takes an extra moment to decide on just how much he will be revealing.

“Well, I made some new friends,” Obi-Wan replies with a shrug, “Thought I’d help them out.”

“Of course you did. Why shouldn’t I have expected your ability to make friends to be the cause of a massive shift in the galaxy’s future.”

“Massive?” Obi-Wan asks, genuinely surprised. 

Of course he knew that Anakin had been deeply affected by Shmi’s death in his first life. And Obi-Wan can even admit that after their last few days together he himself has grown quite fond of her but beyond the personal tragedy of her loss he’d hardly thought her death would have any real influence over the galaxy itself. Yet from the way Mace’s gaze keeps furtively darting to him, categorising and evaluating shatterpoints that Obi-Wan can’t even imagine, he finds himself curious about what Shmi and Bail and Padme have in store for their own futures that is so far out of his expectations. 

“Yes.” Mace says, his brow furrowed once again “Did you not think so?”

“Honestly Master, no. I thought I was preventing a tragedy, but if I may be blunt, I thought it was one that scaled more to the interpersonal level. Not exactly galactic.”

Mace’s raised eyebrows speaks measures for him. It is a tactic that Obi-Wan himself likes to employ fairly liberally but is somewhat chargrinned to have directed his way now. Especially considering their external age difference and just how underwhelming he knows his own youthful face looks when staring someone down. 

“What tragedy?”

“An unnecessary death. I am now in a position to help one person live a better life than she would have and I thought it was the least I could do for her considering…” He trails off, not sure how to address all the influence that Shmi Skywalker unintentionally had on the boy who would shape a war. 

“Hmm.” Mace muses into the quiet hum of the Temple’s halls. “Perhaps further investigation of just what effects the changes you make will have might be important, wouldn’t you say?”

It rankles the time traveller to admit that he is perhaps not as prepared for the consequences of his meddling as he’d like to think. Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, survivor of the Jedi and most wanted enemy of the Emperor’s top hunting dog, future teacher for the last hope of the galaxy, does not want to admit he might be out of his depth in what by all accounts is a much easier time to live. Still, for all his flaws overt arrogance isn’t one that will outweigh his need to do good so Obi-Wan allows himself to let go of the defensiveness he feels rising up within him. 

Mace Windu is the Master of the Order for a damn good reason. Obi-Wan just needs to relearn what it is like to have people by his side who can support him. If nothing else it is already easy to see just how helpful it is to get feedback in the form of Mace’s monitoring of his shatterpoints. If Obi-Wan wants to make good on the mission given to him by the Daughter he must allow Master Windu’s own wisdom to help guide him forward especially as each change he makes will pull this galaxy further and further from the world he knew. 

“You may have a point,” he eventually agrees and does his best not to shirk under the surprised look Mace throws his way. Apparently Obi-Wan actually agreeing to take things slowly is enough of a surprise that Mace actually drops the conversation for now, apparently happy to hash out the details later.  Or perhaps not willing to scare Obi-Wan into changing his mind. 

The pair of them slow to a stop outside of Obi-Wan’s new residence but they pause just outside the door, a persistent anticipation for what Mace is really here for underlying the night air. 

“Thank you for escorting me home Master Windu,” Obi-Wan says, “Was there anything else you wished to discuss?”

Mace studies him quietly, though whether he is trying to read Obi-Wan’s expression or the twinkling fractures of a galaxy’s future that are written across his very being, he isn’t sure. 

“That is all for tonight Knight Kenobi, you should rest up after your journey.” Mace halts, a thread of uncertainty in his usually steady voice. “Tomorrow the Council will be reconvening to discuss Anakin Skywalker’s place in the Temple. Your presence has been requested. We will be meeting at midday. Don’t be late.”

Then with a final short nod, Mace Windu turns on his heel and marches back down the halls. 

Obi-Wan keys in the code to his own room, wondering vaguely if the Master of the Order ever manages to find time to sleep himself. Promptly deciding that that isn’t his problem to deal with right now, Obi-Wan shucks off his outer robes with practised ease before collapsing face first into his own bed. Exhaustion from the last few days seems to pull at him all at once until moments later he can feel himself slip away into blissful unconsciousness.

-

The next day Obi-Wan finds himself once again waiting outside the Council in anticipation of a meeting that may very well change the fate of the galaxy. And he’d forgotten to have lunch. Kriff. Thankfully he doesn't have to wait long at all before Master Ti opens the door for him, ushering the Knight into the room with a kind, if strained, smile. 

“Welcome, Knight Kenobi,” Mace calls from his seat amongst the councillors. “Thank you for joining us on such short notice. I hope your holiday went well?”

Obi-Wan manages to hide his grin at Mace’s dry tone, and at the way the man had looked at him for only a second when he walked in before wincing at his presence. Now the Master of the Order looks about two seconds away from propping his chin up on his hand and slouching away from the inevitable headache Obi-Wan’s involvement will undoubtedly elicit. 

“Yes Master. I found it quite rewarding to get back out into the worlds.”

Yoda harrumphs, though not unkindly. “Good timing you have, to come back now. Important decisions we make today.”

“Yes, Master Yoda. Master Windu indicated that this session regards Anakin Skywalker’s future.”

“Ask us to wait, you did. Waited we have. Many tests, has the boy passed.” Yoda’s hands clasps tighter onto the gimmer stick resting before him. “Threatened to leave the Order, should we not train the boy, you did. Feel that way still, do you?”

Obi-Wan swallows his nerves quietly, all too aware of the many eyes that are watching his every move. He straightens his posture imperceptibly, adopting the stance of the High General who once called the shots for millions of lives under his direct command. General Kenobi stares back out at the Council with an air of certainty that has many of the renowned Masters pulling themselves up to attention. 

“I do, Master Yoda. My view of Anakin has not changed. He is both fully deserving of our help, and far too vulnerable without it for me to change my stance on this matter.”

Force, Obi-Wan hopes they have come to see reason since their last meeting. He really, truly does not want to leave the Order. He can only imagine that it will break his heart all over again should he have to live without the Jedi, this time through the consequences of his own decisions. But his own heart, broken or not, is hardly the deciding factor. Obi-Wan has a duty that he will fulfil with or without this Council. 

“Hmm. Determined, you are.” Yoda observes. 

Not really knowing how else to respond to that Obi-Wan simply jerks his head in something resembling a nod. The rest of the Council stays silent around them. He’s sure that if he particularly tried he could almost certainly deduce who was leaning in favour of him. After all, he'd spent many long years at the side of these Master Jedi and was all too familiar with how each and every one of them would be weighing the arguments he has presented before them. Still, it was only to Master Yoda that Obi-Wan found his attention getting drawn back to again and again.

He is all too aware that last time, when the Grandmaster had not wanted to admit Anakin he was outvoted and on that very same day the boy had promptly been put under Obi-Wan’s care where it promptly became far too late for Yoda to announce any further objections. Even back then Yoda had been wary of just how much darkness was clouding Anakin’s future, which Obi-Wan could freely admit with hindsight was justified. With Obi-Wan’s own words in this timeline confirming those fears, he finds himself concerned for just how hard he may have pushed the Grandmaster into looking out for the ever creeping Darkness. 

Often in his first life Obi-Wan had spent far too much of his time wondering just how much of Yoda’s hesitance was tied to the fact that Anakin’s admission had been tied to his apprenticeship to a freshly Knighted Jedi who was still in mourning. Now though that curiosity burned at him, clawing at the back of his mind with every prolonged second of considering silence that stretches throughout the Council chambers. This one moment will be one of the first real indicators of what this new timeline is shaping up to be; of just what the consequences of Obi-Wan’s actions will mean for this future. 

“Knight Kenobi,” Master Mundi says, breaking through Obi-Wan’s pensive thoughts. “What would you have us do with the boy?”

“Me?” Obi-Wan looks to him in surprise.

“Yes. You have made it quite evident that you have opinions on this matter.”

“Ah. Yes, I suppose I have,” Honestly he hadn’t been expecting to be consulted quite so directly as this. Instead, much of his time has been spent preparing his expected counter-arguments for any measures or strategies he’d anticipated they would have come up with themselves. 

It was a foolish mistake to make, yet one he was perfectly fine with, he decides, as it becomes clear that this Council awaiting his input is already diverging from the routine habits he had come to know and expect from his past. If anything, Obi-Wan’s ill preparedness in this moment is the exact evidence of change he has been looking for. Now these Council members are here seeking external input from the unlikely source of a newly minted Knight professing to fore-knowledge that could very well counteract the exact type of usual strategies that are formed solely within the confines of this room. Obi-Wan takes a moment to gather his thoughts, rearranging them to best suit what he now believes will most impact the Council before him.

“Well, Masters, first of all I would propose that Anakin is inducted into a class of children his own age. He is a bright boy, but given his upbringing he has missed the opportunity for education in many fields that would put him at a distinct disadvantage were he to be admitted immediately as a padawan. I do believe his written aurebesh is… limited at best.”

In reality Obi-Wan damn well knows Watto had only let Shmi teach the child how to write out his own name for the sake of signing off on shipments to the workshop. And he’d learnt to read numbers so he could verify how much customers were paying so Watto wouldn’t get scammed. That little fact alone had taken far too long to come out in their early apprenticeship until Obi-Wan had suddenly found himself committing his every spare moment to bringing a child up to date on the years of teaching he’d missed while still trying to not to overwhelm him with how desperately behind he was on every single element of a Jedi’s lifestyle and culture. 

“That would also ensure that Anakin is given the opportunity to socialise and become accustomed to the Temple way of life. If he is placed directly with a Master of his own he will be immediately ostracised from his peers who have patiently awaited the time they would be able to begin their own apprenticeships and may very well hold some resentment towards him for seeming to surpass all that with no issue.”

Admittedly Jedi were not really ones to hold a grudge but from experience Obi-Wan knew that even Jedi younglings were prone to their fair share of jealousy and pettiness before they truly began to age into their own maturity. Anakin had handled the resentments well enough considering how distracted he’d been with catching up on everything else, but Obi-Wan would never forget the nights of frustrated tears for all the harsh words directed at a situation that was truly not his padawan’s fault.

“Additionally, as we discussed earlier, Anankin’s unique situation means he would be in need of some more specific attention. To limit his age-mates' jealousies, while still providing a more direct network of support for the boy, I propose that a roster is created for a variety of Masters to take turns exposing Anakin to a diverse range of skills, approaches and philosophies to his new life.”

The flurry of raised eyebrows - or species equivalent - at that is hardly a surprise so Obi-Wan charges forward in his explanation before anyone can cut him off. 

“Anakin needs to be exposed to the whole array of what the Jedi have to offer, and that very much includes differences in opinion and philosophy. He has grown up in a very… controlled environment. If he is not allowed to express his own freedom of choice then I am certain he will   default to a far less considered mindset regarding Jedi Teachings. Not to mention that different Masters will have their own distinct strategies and methods to teach a boy like him. Or his agemates in general. I do believe everyone will benefit from a closer connection between initiates and Masters.”

A fair number of considering expressions are thrown around the room, silent conversations passing between one Council member to another as they evaluate his suggestion.

“And finally,” Obi-Wan says once the room’s attention seems to mostly be focused back on him, “I recommend that we introduce regular sessions for Anakin and a dedicated mind healer who can address the specific traumas of his upbringing and keep an eye out for any signs of struggle in his adjustment to his new life which we can then move to address as is relevant.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth snaps shut, firmly blocking himself from following up his actual considered points with the more desperate pleas and bargains he feels compelled to make. He has enough sense though to know that he has said his piece and the Council will not be swayed by a more sentimental plea for the boy, so while they all turn to one another and deliberate in that silent, considered way of theirs he focuses his energy on letting go of the flood of anxieties that seem to have taken his own heart hostage inside of his chest. 

Everyone here is well aware that Anakin’s situation is a delicate one, and Obi-Wan’s personal investments aside, the Council has a duty not only to the boy but to the Order at large. And, if Obi-Wan is to be believed, the galaxy as well. He knows they will not do him the disservice of dismissing his concerns or suggestions out of hand, but that doesn’t make it any easier to wait there for them to come to a final conclusion about the most important person in the universe. 

The Knight finds himself muffling another urge to fidget where he stands, surrounded by silent debate. Instead he settles back into a resting pose, hands tucked behind his back and smothered by his long sleeves. To the rest of the Council he presents himself as a poised, serene negotiator and not the nervous wreck of a time traveller he knows himself to be. 

“Thank you, Knight Kenobi. We will take your suggestions into consideration. Please wait in the hall while we discuss the issues you have raised.”

Obi-Wan nods to Shaak Ti when she finishes speaking, then bows to the council before walking promptly from the room. He’s pleasantly surprised to note that his legs don’t actually melt into a puddle of nerves before he can make it to the door. Once outside in the hall Obi-Wan veers straight towards the nearest bench and wills his foot to please stop bouncing excessively in response to all the adrenaline coursing through him. 

All too soon, or perhaps after far too long,Obi-Wan is alerted to the sound of the Council door opening. He stands, readjusts his already pristine robes and strides in to hear the verdict. The Council are all a perfect picture of serenity which does exactly nothing to sooth Obi-Wan’s nerves when he can’t read their expressions. 

“Knight Kenobi,” Yoda’s voice seems to echo around the chamber until Obi-Wan can feel each word shaking his very bones. “A compelling case, you have made. Young Skywalker’s fate is of great importance to you, and the galaxy hmm?”

“Yes Master.”

“Then pleased, you will be, that a Jedi Skywalker will become.”

Relief floods Obi-Wan’s body quicker than his mind can grasp what the old master has just said. 

“He will?”

“Hmm. Said that. I just did.”

Obi-Wan ignores the old troll's sly smile, instead focusing on getting his heart rate back to some semblance of normality. 

“I’m-” overjoyed, terrified, overwhelmed, shocked, certain, grateful, resentful, confused - “Happy. To hear that.” 

Obi-Wan Kenobi breathes in deeply and it feels like the first time he’s truly been able to do that in five long years. 

He’s not sure what will happen next but finally, after more time than he can bear to think about, Obi-Wan can see the inklings of a pathway stretching out before him. A soft pulse of light that illuminates his next steps forward even if he cannot see to his final destination just yet, clouded by shadow as it may be, he knows that he is headed in the right direction. Distantly, he almost imagines he can hear his own shaky breath echoed back to him with a relieved sigh that sounds so very much like the goddess of the Light herself. 

He turns to look at the Council gathered before him and in their eyes he sees compassion, he sees change. 

He sees hope.