Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is no emotion, there is peace.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was at the end of his journey.

How poetic, that the apprentice eventually triumphed over him. He had grown weak, terribly so in the past 10 years, and the last time he even felt a semblance of his former power felt like a lifetime ago. Was it not a lifetime ago? Before the Empire, before tyranny and darkness reigned in the Galaxy, a time where Jedi still existed and the Sith did not, where smiles and laughter echoed in the gentle ripple of the Force. It felt like forever ago.

Darth’s eyes were hidden from him, the windows to the remnants of Anakin’s soul closed and shuttered off, hiding behind black and metal, evading him. Darkness had never felt more apparent, it closed around him and choked the rest of his spirit away, trying to wipe away what made him Obi-Wan Kenobi. It did not succeed, as Obi-Wan died ten years ago, when the reality of the consequences of Mustafar had hit him, when the monster wearing Anakin’s charred face spoke damning words to him, words that burned and words that wrecked him apart. That he was not at fault for killing Anakin Skywalker, that Vader himself was. The words he’d spoken after allowed Obi-Wan Kenobi to die alongside Anakin. Then my friend is truly dead.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

Old and weary, his bones were, and he knew that he would not miss them. No, his failing body was to be expected, but he would not enjoy having such a body, when once upon a time he was young and energetic. When he could casually do flips and acrobatics, when he could jump from building to building, when he could slice through droids like cutting through paper, the Force singing in his veins and aiding his every move. The Force was still with him, he could feel, albeit weaker, as his connection to the Force had severely reduced over the past decade, but this kept him standing, holding his ignited blade before him and facing down his greatest nightmare, his worst sorrow. 

If only his past self could see him now! Obi-Wan, as a young man, had never been particularly vain, even if he knew that he was decent-looking. He remembered, with amusement, that he would flirt and flaunt his looks at every occasion that called for it, and sometimes, when the occasion did not call for it. Flirting with Ventress was fun, although he knew that Quinlan Vos would have probably stabbed him twice over if he had heard him say that. Were either of them alive now? Oh wait - Ventress died even before the Clones turned against them. And the last time he heard about Quin, was 10 years ago, when he’d been trying to get Leia home. 

There is no passion, there is serenity.

“I've been waiting for you, Obi-Wan. We meet again, at last. The circle is now complete,” Vader’s voice, modulated and distorted through the helmet, reached Obi-Wan’s ears. He did not respond to that line, trying not to pick out any sign of his old friend in that voice, and slipped into Ataru, or tried to, at the very least. He probably did something right, as Vader’s form stiffly arranged itself into… Soresu? That was rather contradictory of the Sith, wasn’t it? No matter, their final dance was about to begin, and this time, he knew how this would end, not like their tango above flames and fiery lava years upon years ago.

“When I left you, I was but the learner; now I am the master.”

“Only a master of evil, Darth,” was Obi-Wan’s weary reply. And he leapt forward with a striking blow.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

The Death Star would be his grave. This monstrous machine, capable of committing atrocities upon atrocities, would be where his spirit will be put to rest. He had been disgusted at the sight and the concept of this weapon-ship, used to extinguish millions of lives within five seconds, but he realised that this was something that no longer concerned him. This was no longer his fight, he had retired his fighting affinity all those years ago and there was no reason to continue on. 

He had faith that Luke would carry on the Jedi’s legacy, stop the tyranny of the Empire and destroy the threat of the Sith once and for all. It could take him years, decades until the hypothetical final fight between Dark and Light, Sith and Jedi, but Luke was a Skywalker, the heir of the Skywalker mantle, and the true Chosen One who would bring the Light back, victorious. Just like his father, and no, he never did stop believing that Anakin was the Chosen One.

There was so much of Anakin in Luke. So much of his fighting spirit, his determination, his stubbornness, and his presence in the Force was not unlike a supernova, so similar to Anakin’s once upon a time, when he was embracing a young desert slave boy as they watched his master’s body go up in flames. Obi-Wan had promised then, that he would try his very best to train Anakin the best he could, that he would fulfil Qui-Gon’s final wish, and now, when he thought about it again, perhaps he had unknowingly resolved to teaching Skywalkers for the rest of his life. He was tied to them… Wherever Skywalker is, there would always be a Kenobi close behind. How true had this sentiment been.

There is no death, there is the Force.

“Your powers are weak, old man,” Vader’s mechanical voice taunted him. He let the mocking insult wash over him and accepted it, knowing it to be the truth. He was weak, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

“You can't win, Darth. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine,” Obi-Wan tried, preparing for his final move that would decide the outcome of this duel. He turned back to Luke, the wonderterror son of the Chosen One Anakin Skywalker, and a serenity fell over him. The Galaxy was in good hands. He could finally join the Force, guide Luke along the way of the Jedi, and see all that he dearly missed once more. Turning back to Vader, he let a grin spread across his face, and he truly felt like Obi-Wan Kenobi once more as he raised his lightsaber and allowed Vader to cut him down.

He passed into the Force even before the blade hit his body.

~

In a plane between existence and non-existence, the Force exploded in a wonderful show of Light and Dark, and all those who had joined the Force watched in awe and knowledge as time was turned inside out.

~

And Obi-Wan gasped awake, feeling clean air enter his lungs and promptly falling out of whatever he had been lying in. 

The Force was an orchestra around him, singing and thundering and harmonising. He could not help but let out a yell of terror as he flailed wildly, expecting to feel the burn of Vader’s lightsaber cut through him, slicing him into half and leaving him like he left Maul once upon a time, in two pieces and a ticket to certain death, only he did not die, he turned into a monster far beyond his understanding-

“Padawan!” A voice called out, sounding parsecs away.

Padawan? It had been so long since he had even thought about that word. Decades, at the very least, it was an outdated word from an outdated time, and the fact that someone other than him knew of the word? Obi-Wan’s thoughts were in a whirl, and so were his emotions, painful raw feelings that burned at the inside of his skin and threatened to boil out. He wanted to shout again, he wanted to stand in the middle of Tatooine deserts and scream until his voice went hoarse, he needed to release it before it all boiled over and caused him to explode… 

A warmth enveloped his shoulder. 

Obi-Wan startled.

And for the very first time in a very long time, he looked. 

A man towered over him. He looked familiar, oh so familiar, his facial hair and his pointed features and broken nose and- 

“Padawan, are you alright?” Master Qui-Gon Jinn looked down on him with concerned eyes, and Obi-Wan could not help but let out a guttural cry.

Chapter Text

Qui-Gon Jinn was confused.

That in itself was an understatement. He had been awoken in the middle of the night, waves of raw emotional distress crashing through the bond he shared with his padawan, and had immediately shot out of bed when he heard Obi-Wan shout out. Rushing to his room and slamming open the door, he found his padawan, eyes wide open and body tangled in his sheets on the ground. 

The worry that had struck him in that moment was the most he had ever felt in the entirety of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship to him, and that was including Melida/Daan, when his padawan had left the Order to fight in a war bigger than him. He had scooped Obi-Wan off the ground and arranged him into a sitting position on the bed, but the boy, no, man, seemed to not realise it, stuck in whatever nightmare which had consumed him just moments prior. 

“Padawan!” He tried snapping his padawan out of it, waving a hand in front of his face. Those dazed, wide eyes were fixed on a vanishing point in an empty space on the ceiling, and he remained unresponsive. Obi-Wan was a million miles away, and Qui-Gon did not know how to bring him back from whatever plagued him.

He reached out with a shaky hand and grasped his padawan’s shoulder, his large hand enveloping it, and the teen jolted once, his entire body jumping at the gentle touch that Qui-Gon tried to give him. 

“Padawan, are you alright?” He tried again, eyes fixed on Obi-Wan’s pale face.

Blue eyes met his own, and the haze in them seemed to clear the way for clarity and consciousness.

His padawan then opened his mouth and let out a scream that chilled the older man to the bone.

~

Why was Qui-Gon alive? He watched him die in front of him, with a reddened and cauterised wound in his torso, killed by the first Sith that had appeared after hundreds of years of supposed extinction. Qui-Gon’s death had marked the start of all the bantha shit that had went down thereafter, and made him long for a simpler time before, when he still had been under the master’s tutelage and life as a Jedi had brought him purpose, brought him simplistic joy and brought him peace. He never had to worry about large-scale, intergalactic wars, let alone spearhead them as their general, he never had to witness tragedy happen to the Jedi (his brothers and sisters, slaughtered like animals- ) and never had to live a hermit’s life, in the middle of the desert, for twenty odd years, with only womp rats and banthas to keep him company-

“No!” Denial instantly flooded his system, and he scrambled away from the looming man, moving back until his back hit the wall. “You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead!” 

Master Qui-Gon was standing before him, alive in all his giant glory, warm and breathing and full of the Force-

Obi-Wan snarled, and tore his eyes away from what seemed to be his master’s figure. “However you are doing this, Darth, you won’t trick me!” Tears gathered in his eyes, and threatened to spill out onto his cheeks, and he had to violently blink them back so as to not show the Sith weakness, he would not let them win, they were evil, so evil- “This is an illusion. This is not real! Come out and face me, coward!” 

It could not be him. Perhaps Darth was not what he thought him to be, perhaps the beast did not want Obi-Wan’s death, but wanted his suffering. Only the Dark side of the Force could create such a vision, only a Sith would wear his old master’s face and taunt him with it! Warmth trickled down his cheeks- he was crying- but the tears felt like acid, burning and corroding his face with a phantom-like sting. Not this - anything but this, anything but the one thing that could utterly wreck and destroy what was left of himself-

“Padawan!” Suddenly, he was pressed against a hard chest, enveloped in an embrace that wrapped around him almost entirely. The one wearing Qui-Gon’s face was hugging him, stroking a hand through his hair, soothing him ever so slightly. His tears soaked Qui-Gon’s robes, taking away the sting of them, and Obi-Wan felt himself relaxing slightly in the older man’s hold. Surely… Surely a Sith could not give such warm hugs, could they? 

However… all war is deception, and perhaps the Sith had found a way to… a way to…

He stiffened in his supposed master’s hold, and the man’s arms went slack around him, withdrawing back. “Obi-Wan?” Was the questioning tone, and Obi-Wan ached at the familiarity of that deep voice.

“Forgive me, master,” He decided to play along, violently suppressing the mental turmoil with the strongest mental shields he could muster up, slamming them over his emotions and forcing himself into an uncomfortable serenity. “I was- I had a bad dream.”

“A bad dream?” The man wearing Qui-Gon’s face grew concerned, and Obi-Wan nearly flinched at the convincing worry in those soulful eyes. 

“A terrible one, master.” 

He looked away from his master’s face, avoiding eye contact the best he could. However, he reached out with the Force, a small, fearful tendril, and tried to feel the man’s presence in the Force. He braced himself for evil, for inky darkness that would whip back at him the moment he came in contact with it, but he met light, a light he had not felt in a long time, a light that had been snuffed out decades ago and yet one he would always remember until his dying day… 

Qui-Gon reached back gently, brushing up against Obi-Wan’s Force presence, offering the comfort and the warmth the younger man sought for. 

And Obi-Wan finally let the light of hope bloom in him.

~

His master had insisted that he make tea for the both of them, since they would not be going back to sleep for a long time. Obi-Wan did not complain; he was, quite frankly, too mentally drained to do much, and he was grateful for the kind gesture. Qui-Gon sat him down on the couch in their shared quarters, and draped a blanket over him before bustling off to make the tea for the two of them. The younger Jedi (or older? He had not kept track of his age ever since he went on a wild rescue mission to save Leia Organa, a decade ago) sat in contemplation, gathering his thoughts and working through them systematically to try to gain a better understanding of the situation he had just landed himself in. How did this happen? Was this death? An alternate universe? Time travel? 

A glance at the space next to him on the couch revealed a datapad, a model that went out of fashion by the time the Clone Wars had rolled around, and he reached out to it, switching it on to see if anything confirmed any of his theories. His eyes swept over the date that laid bare on the screen, and his suspicions were confirmed - he had somehow ended up decades in the past, before Naboo, before they found Anakin. In fact, there seemed to be a good six years before the events that were to take place at Naboo.

He estimated himself to be around the physical age of 19. And what a joy it was to be back in a body that was not failing, a young and spry body that bore no wrinkles or aches or pains. But why, why was he sent back into time? To have another chance, to undo all the wrongs that he did, to stop the Galaxy from falling into the reign of the Sith? Was it the Force which sent him back, or an external factor that he would never know about? A gentle hum in the Force around him told him that it was the former, that the Force was the culprit. He tried asking the Force for the reason for all this, why the second chance, why him , but the Force gave no other reply, leaving him to stew in his thoughts once more.

The Force alerted him to his master’s return, who was bearing two cups of tea. The older man sat down on the couch next to him and offered him one cup, which he accepted, before lifting his own to his mouth to take a sip of the steaming liquid. Obi-Wan did the same, and as the liquid touched his lips, he nearly gasped at the pure flavour that registered in his tongue, savouring the rich flavours of the tea, something he had not had for a very long time. He had to restrain himself from gulping the whole thing down, so as to not burn his tongue. 

“Obi-Wan.”

The call of his name made him turn his head, and he found his master looking at him with questions and worry in his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He shook his head soundlessly, and started to take  bigger gulps, trying to ignore the burn of the tea going down his throat. 

“Padawan…” 

He took bigger gulps.

“Obi-Wan!” 

The cup was empty, and Obi-Wan was left with a painful tongue and a burning throat. He abruptly stood up and made to walk away briskly, but he turned back towards his master and bowed stiffly to him, mumbling out a plea to be excused. 

Before Qui-Gon could even say anything, Obi-Wan had disappeared into his room, his empty cup left on the small table in front of the couch. 

Chapter Text

It was a good thing that they were on a mission leave. 

Obi-Wan could not remember exactly what mission they had just returned from, but from what he could tell, it was long and dangerous enough that Qui-Gon had requested a break from missions for three months. Thank the Force for that - if they had another mission so soon after Obi-Wan had just barely figured out when in the timeline he had landed in, he would not know what to do. He could mess up the mission and die, and he was not really keen on death anymore, ever since he had gotten his second chance.

He spent his days in the archives, reading and studying and gathering as much information as possible, and he would have gotten away with avoiding actual training with his master for longer if the man had not dragged him by the ear to the training rooms. He’d forgotten what it was like to be a padawan, to answer directly to a master who was most certainly alive. However, he did not realise that engaging in lightsaber combat so soon after the Death Star was a terrible idea. 

Throughout his two decades in the desert, he had certainly trained his hardest. It was so that he could protect Luke if and when the time came, and to preserve the remnants of the Jedi in himself. He had a particular fear that he would eventually forget the Jedi and their ways, and with this as a motivation, he kept up his form the best he could, at least until his body started breaking down and failing. His connection to the Force had weakened, though, regardless of however much training he did in the desert, manipulating millions and billions of sand particles in an effort to stay connected to the Force. There was a specific science to manipulating such small-scaled matter, and he was quite proud to say that he eventually managed to achieve this, even when his connection weakened and left him barely able to summon a cup to his hands.

Not only did he train in the ways of the Force during his exile in the desert, he had certainly ensured to carve every single lightsaber form into his memory, save for the ones that he never learnt, like Vaapad. Granted, he was still the most proficient in Soresu, it would be something that he would never be able to forget, but he honed his skills in Makashi and Djem So, knowing that a good offence was as important and vital as a good defence. He also tried his hand at Niman, to great success due to the lack of order it had, but it usually left him angry and resentful as he remembered that it was with this very form, that Darth Maul had used to kill Qui-Gon. 

On bad days, all alone in the sweltering heat of the desert, he would find himself slipping into the first form Shii-Cho, tears streaming down his dry and blistered cheeks as his mind echoed with the memories of padawans and younglings laying scattered across Temple grounds, unmoving.

With all of this, Obi-Wan should not have had any problem sparring with his master in the training rooms, with the decades of experiences he had. Along with this, he did not have to relearn his body’s motor skills, as it was around this time he had reached maximum body development (to his woe, as even Anakin had been taller than him when he was younger than he was at this age), so there would mostly be no problems with going through all that padawan training again. 

However, as his master sprung at him with Ataru, the green glow of his lightsaber illuminating his vision, he could not help but turn all his feelings to dust as he regressed and slipped back to a state of blank, cold focus, just like all those years ago when he fought in the Clone Wars. Only this time, his eyes were deceiving him, as his vision was flickering between his master’s figure and Darth Vader’s dark form. 

He sprang up and deflected Qui-Gon’s blows with ease and strength, spinning and ducking and dodging each attack his master threw his way, his own lightsaber humming in his hands, a familiar feeling. This was the same lightsaber that he used to duel Maul on Naboo, the one that had been sent spiralling down the reactor shaft that he had been hanging over, forever lost. It was nice to have it back again, but he was struggling to not lose himself in the past… future?... as he matched his master blow for blow. 

Slowly, Obi-Wan slipped into Niman, unknowingly so, as his defensive posture melted away and he took on a more offensive stance. He started to incorporate small uses of the Force and hand-to-hand combat, improvising his moves and polishing his fighting style. Memories floated by his mind’s eye, visions of slicing droids into two and fighting a war and trying to stay alive while keeping his own men alive. He was High General Kenobi, the Negotiator, and he was leading his men to victory, a killing machine on the battlefield, destroying waves of droids with twists of his lightsaber- 

He did not notice the way sweat beaded on his master’s face, as his stamina was wearing out and the defensive stance he’d taken was beginning to weaken. He did not notice the crowd that had gathered around the two of them, younglings and padawans watching in awe, masters spectating with wide eyes, and Councillors looking on with surprised gazes. He was still seeing double even as he finally knocked Qui-Gon down to the ground and summoned his lightsaber with the Force, a blur of Vader and Qui-Gon making him confused and disoriented, and he mindlessly lit his master’s lightsaber, making a move to swing down at the enemy with the two sabers, to kill, to maim, to defeat, and-

His master yelled his name, and raised two hands in an attempt to stop him.

Mace Windu sprung forward, lightsaber ignited, as he caught Obi-Wan’s downward swing.

Obi-Wan came back to himself, and saw Qui-Gon’s wide-eyed stare and Mace Windu blocking his lightsaber from fully descending upon Qui-Gon.

His finger slipped off the lightsaber buttons, and the blades retracted into their hilts. 

He dropped his master’s lightsaber, and lifted a trembling hand to his cheeks, which was damp with tears. And for the second time since he came back to the past, he fled the room, pushing through awed spectators and yet again, running from his fears.

~

Mace Windu clasped Qui-Gon’s hand and hoisted him upward, using the Force to summon the man’s dropped lightsaber and passing it to him. 

Qui-Gon was frantic, and his eyes were following his fleeing padawan out of the room. He made to take off after him, but Mace held him back. 

“Are you alright, Master Jinn?” Was the Councillor’s concerned inquiry, and the older nodded his head. 

“I’m fine, but Obi-Wan is not.” 

“Obi-Wan is not? He just tried to kill you! Of course he isn’t fine! Do you know what brought this on? Also, how did he beat you in a duel, when he has never done so before?” 

That was true. Obi-Wan had never beaten him before, even though he was skilled with his lightsaber. The boy, throughout his apprenticeship, was fixated on the use of Soresu, a defensive lightsaber form that most of the time, was never enough to win a duel. He had tried teaching him Ataru, and though his padawan knew Ataru conceptually, he always fell back on Soresu no matter how much Ataru training he was put through. At first, Qui-Gon had been a little peeved that his own padawan did not prefer a form that he himself was well-versed in, but over time, he had gotten used to it. It had a charm to it, Obi-Wan preferring Soresu. Not many Jedi used Soresu, anyway, and it contrasted quite nicely to the Ataru that Qui-Gon always used.

So nothing explained why Obi-Wan was suddenly fighting with a hybrid of Ataru, Djem So, and ultimately, Niman, which was the most versatile and volatile form in existence. 

“I don’t know,” Qui-Gon answered truthfully, and his eyes flickered to the door. “But we have to go find him. He isn’t in the best state of mind right now, and I suspect that this has got to do with that apparent nightmare he had…”

Mace nodded, and they took off for the runaway padawan. 

The elder Jedi Master explained the situation to the Councillor as they followed the trail that Obi-Wan had left behind in the Force, he spoke about Obi-Wan’s nightmare, his extreme reaction to Qui-Gon waking him up, his unwillingness to talk about it later on. Mace nodded through the elder’s explanations, worried and rushed, and the two of them turned into an empty room that was typically occupied by younglings and padawans who self-studied holocrons and whatnot. 

Obi-Wan was there, crumpled on the ground, with his right hand shoved over half his face. 

His left eye, which was not covered by his hand, produced a constant stream of tears, trickling down his cheeks and dripping down onto his knees. 

His left hand was gripped onto his lightsaber, which was ignited, and the two older Jedi gasped as they felt the Force around the padawan, seeing the colour of the blade that emerged from the hilt.

For it was red, the colour of a Sith’s lightsaber.

Chapter Text

This was a nightmare.

Obi-Wan was in huge bantha shit now. He had slipped so far while sparring with Master Qui-Gon, and nearly killed him as a result. Surely he was going to be expelled, locked up, perhaps executed now? There was no way that anyone would let that slip, seeing as he ran without even giving any reason or excuse, the Order had every excuse to detain him now. What was he going to do? 

He sprinted down the halls of the Temple, brushing past Knights and Padawans alike, a blurry streak of robes. He had to run. He had to hide. Tears once again were staining his cheeks, and he inwardly cursed himself for being so emotional all the time, ever since he came back. Why did he think that the Force would be so kind as to give him a second chance at happiness? He was destined for failure. He was destined for eternal sadness. 

Throwing open the door to some random room in some random hallway hopefully far away from everyone, Obi-Wan scrambled into the room and slammed the door shut, as he breath began to quicken. He crumpled to the ground, tears flowing down his face in a never ending stream, as he threw self-flagellation at himself, small sobs escaping past his lips. He was the worst possible person for this job, the worst Jedi with so many attachments that it made Anakin’s look small in comparison, and that was saying something, as Anakin fell. 

Was he going to fall? Was he going to end up like his former padawan, with gleaming golden eyes, trapped in the monstrous prison of a metal suit, bringing about the end of the Jedi? Perhaps, he thought grimly, Master Qui-Gon would duel him over a lake of lava and leave him limbless to burn and die. He deserved it, deserved to be chopped up and tortured for all that he had done and failed to do… He wished that Cody had managed to kill him in Order 66, had shot him in the head and blown him up successfully… 

He did not notice the Force swirling around him, agitated and agonising, rising through the air. But what he did notice was the way the lightsaber that hung limply in his hand started to vibrate violently. Obi-Wan, through the tears clouding his vision, watched as the lightsaber vibrated more and more, and he reached out blindly with the Force to the weapon, recoiling as more and more energy seemed to build up inside of the saber… 

And he could sense it. His kyber crystal, sitting inside his saber, glowing so bright and recognisable, vibrating so intensely that Obi-wan gasped. The pressure in his crystal was growing and growing, and it was shouting, wailing, screaming, and suddenly he was in agony,the feeling emerging from within him and swallowing him whole…

The Force exploded, and the pain reached its peak before suddenly cutting off and leaving him panting heavily-

Obi-Wan’s finger seemed to move on its own accord, pressing down on the switch for the lightsaber in his hand, the blade igniting from the hilt. He witnessed, through tears that blurred his eyesight, as Master Qui-Gon and Master Windu burst in from the door, looking frazzled and worried. He watched their eyes widen, and looked back down on his own lightsaber before staring stunned.

His lightsaber was red, and the sight of it was filling him with dread.

~

“Padawan!” 

Qui-Gon rushed to his side, kneeling down next to him. Obi-Wan sat on the ground, staring at his own lightsaber blankly, before it slid out of his hands and fell to the floor with a thud, the red blade retracting into the hilt. The elder Jedi gingerly laid a hand on his padawan’s shoulder, which had tensed up under the touch, and tried to lower his voice so as to not scare or trigger his ward. “Obi-Wan. Are you okay?” 

The ginger-haired teen replied with some sort of choked-off, whimpering sound that sent Qui-Gon into an internal frenzy. 

The long-haired Jedi Master quickly took action and helped his padawan to his feet, gesturing to a stunned Mace Windu to pick up the fallen lightsaber lying on the ground. Ignoring the other Jedi, Qui-Gon quickly led him out of the room, and rushed him to their quarters, uncaring if any passing Jedi in the hallways stared at them. The sight of the Master-Padawan pair was one to behold - the renowned Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, looking stressed and anxious as he sped through the Temple, supporting his padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi with an arm and tugging him along… 

One of the most noticeable things, however, was Jedi Councillor Mace Windu running after them, gripping a lightsaber in one hand, and the Force that surrounded that singular saber, screaming and wailing and in agony.

Reaching their quarters just barely a few minutes after they had taken off from that room, Qui-Gon pushed the door open and gently guided his trembling padawan into the living space, depositing him down on the couch and shucking off his outer wear. The Jedi Master that had been tailing them skidded to a stop outside their opened door and peeked his head in, drawing the attention of the older Master, who gestured him to come in and close the door behind him. Mace did so, but as Qui-Gon sat down next to his shaking padawan heavily and drawing the teen into his chest for an embrace, he remained behind them, watching and barely breathing as the older master gently brought his padawan out of whatever panic attack he had sunk into. 

He needed answers.

When Mace had seen Obi-Wan Kenobi and his master spar on the training mats, he had been stunned at the padawan’s ability. Sure, the young man had been pretty good with a lightsaber before, he surely had never shown this level of skill in any duel before, let alone one with his own master. Padawan Kenobi was known throughout the Order for his preference for Soresu, a defensive form that not many liked to use often, but the boy had taken that form and revolutionised it, taken a form with many weaknesses and turned it into something that had the potential to be more effective than had been assumed. 

But no, that was not the problem. The problem was never Obi-Wan Kenobi being good in Soresu. What made Mace confused beyond belief, was the padawan’s sudden proficiency in Ataru, Djem So, and most importantly, Niman. And to say that the young man had become proficient was an understatement; when he had been duelling Qui-Gon Jinn, he did not look as if he was sparring with someone, but instead had looked as if he was dancing some sort of tango, graceful, feather-light steps darting across the mats, the ease and rhythm that had laced his every movement… 

Obi-Wan Kenobi did not look like a padawan. He had certainly looked like a master Jedi in his prime. The question was, why and how had he changed? And in such a short period of time? 

~

Obi-Wan, mostly calmed but weary, let himself relax into his master’s embrace.

His mind was, however, racing at a million parsecs an hour. Why and how did all of that happen? Could anyone just turn their lightsabers red like that? Did this make him a Sith? But no- the Dark side of the Force was nowhere near him, feeling light years away from him, so how had he bled his own crystal without channelling the Dark side?

“Obi-Wan,” His master’s voice cut through his thoughts, a low murmur that seemed mostly serene but betrayed his master’s worry for him. “What’s going on? How did you… Has this got anything to do with the nightmares you’ve been having?” 

How was he supposed to answer these questions? The only options were to fabricate some sort of lie so elaborate that he could fool his master (and at the same time try not to project the fact that he was lying to the older man), or to come completely clean with the truth, and risk being confined to the Halls of Healing for the rest of his life. To be fair, both courses of action were bad, as his master could easily tell if he was lying or not, and who in their right mind would believe that he is a karking time traveller? No matter how much Obi-Wan had dug in the Archives, there were no records of successful time travel ever. The closest record of time travel in the history of the Jedi was a theory of how it could be possible, an unconfirmed, unbelievable hypothesis that had led to nowhere, according to the Jedi that had researched it! 

Drawing back from his master’s arms, Obi-Wan looked down to his hands, which were trembling from their place in his lap. He then looked up at his master, who was gazing at him with expecting and questioning eyes, and promptly made his decision, one that he hoped that he would not regret.

~

Qui-Gon listened, with growing horror and amazement as his padawan started talking.

The teen talked about darkness, of blood and misery and death and agony. He spoke of the Sith, an ideology and a concept that was thought to be extinct for centuries. He spoke of betrayal, of pain, and of a chain of events that Qui-Gon had trouble comprehending, knowing them to have never happened in his entire life as a Jedi. The things that he was saying felt almost like one of those holodramas that would air every fifth rotation of Coruscant, those holoshows that had over-dramatised plotlines and exceedingly high ratings that they did not deserve. And then, Obi-Wan started telling him about a time in exile, in the sandy and empty dunes of deserts, and of guilt, loneliness, and agony. 

Perhaps these were events from a previous time, from the wars between the Jedi and the Sith a millenia ago? When he voiced this inquiry, Obi-Wan’s Force signature did a strange sort of flicker, and the boy’s eyes seemed to dim more than they already had. 

“No, Master. They aren’t a part of our history.” 

The Jedi master frowned, observing the way his padawan fiddled with his hands. Not a part of the past? Then… the future, perhaps? “Are you having visions, padawan? Were those what your nightmares were about?” 

“Kinda,” Obi-Wan replied, hesitant and unsure. “Visions are one way to put it. All of it had certainly felt… very real.” 

Qui-Gon then realised that Obi-Wan was the subject of everything that he had spoken. And something slowly occurred to him, the more he mulled over his padawan’s words. How intense and detailed had these visions been, that his padawan had felt that they were real? Or- even worse, perhaps they had been real, and his padawan had experienced them to some degree, enough that it had slowly started to impact him in his waking life? 

Were these visions about the future? 

Was Obi-Wan really to suffer so much in the future? 

“I’ve lived through everything I’ve spoken about, master, whether you’d interpret them as visions or not. I don’t know what to do.”

Qui-Gon was then suddenly struck with a weird sense of desperation, to keep his padawan safe and sound. His hands were moving on their own accord, and he was pulling Obi-Wan into another hug, broadcasting his worry and desire to keep him safe… 

“You believe me, Master?” His padawan’s voice bore an undertone of incredulity, no matter how muffled it was against his master’s tunics. “You really believe me?” 

“Of course, padawan, I know you wouldn’t lie to me about such a monumental thing. Besides, the Force is telling me to trust you.” And it was true, when Qui-Gon reached out to the Force to verify whatever Obi-Wan was saying, it rang with utter and absolute truth, which honestly, had been both to his relief and to his utter terror. 

“M-Master…” Obi-Wan’s voice was now wobbling, and Qui-Gon felt his padawan’s tears slowly seep into his clothes. “Master, it’s been so long… There was no one… I felt so alone…” 

Qui-Gon let his eyes flutter shut, and he hugged his padawan as tightly as he could, wishing that he could truly comprehend what Obi-Wan had seen.

Chapter Text

Unlike Qui-Gon, Mace immediately understood what Obi-Wan had said. 

When the padawan had spoken, Mace had the same exact reaction as the boy's master. The words that he had spoken truly scared him- how did such a young soul have such an in-depth knowledge of such horrors? Then it had hit him- perhaps they were not visions… Perhaps, Obi-Wan had experienced it all.

It would explain his sudden aptitude for duelling. His proficiency in multiple lightsaber forms, his instincts during a duel; time travel certainly could explain it all. Coupled with the fact that the boy had not-quite-agreed with his master's view of his experiences merely being visions, Mace was sure that he was no longer seeing a young senior padawan under the tutelage of a maverick Jedi master. No, the boy was the maverick Jedi master, and the difference between his master and himself was that he went through karking hell.

That would also explain the sheer amount of shatterpoints that surrounded Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was pretty sure that just a few rotations prior, the padawan did not have that many shatterpoints around him, save for that constant one that screamed of importance: that one day, he would train someone very important. But seeing the padawan on that training mat, countering his master's attacks blow for blow, with an ease that had many jealous, he had nearly passed out with the sheer number of shatterpoints that swarmed the Force around him. It was a good thing that he'd recovered enough to see the boy nearly land a mortally-wounding blow on his master, and intervene. 

Force, what Obi-Wan had gone through must have been terrible. From what he’d heard from the padawan, the horrors that lay in wait for the Jedi in the future was something that he could not comprehend. The Jedi, the famed and noble peacekeepers of the galaxy, reduced to soldiers fighting in a war that tore the galaxy in half, a war that was masterminded by someone so monstrously evil that it had Mace violently repressing a gag. How had the padawan survived through all of that, experienced all that suffering and still exiled himself to the loneliest parts of the galaxy? 

He wanted to reach out to offer comfort to the boy, but he knew that it would do almost nothing for the situation. He thought of giving some sort of counsel to the padawan, but whatever he knew paled in comparison to this ancient, ancient soul. Letting out a silent sigh, he turned around and made for the door, but before he left the master-padawan duo to themselves, he reached out to Qui-Gon with the Force and gave him a silent declaration, that he would keep the time traveller's secret to himself and never tell another soul.

~

Obi-Wan stared at his lightsaber.

His lightsaber sat on his desk, looking innocent to the world, but inside laid a secret that could and would condemn him. The kyber crystal that sat inside his hilt cried, a siren’s call to him, but he was reluctant to open up his weapon, for fear of what he would find inside. 

The padawan reluctantly took apart his lightsaber, opening it up to take a look at the source of its power wedged inside. He expected the harsh red glow of his bleeding crystal to blind him, he expected the kyber crystal to scream and wail in agony and he expected to feel the pain from it. After all, that was how bleeding kyber crystals worked, right? He held his breath with trepidation as he opened the small hatch that the crystal was behind, but he inhaled sharply as he opened it and got a good look at his crystal. 

It was red, yes. But it was also broken. Shattered, even. He did not know how it still stayed in shape, the pieces somehow still coming together to form the vague shape of his old crystal, but it was noticeably broken into three pieces. He gingerly brought his finger close to it and jabbed the crystal, but he felt no darkness in it. Instead, it was almost like the crystal (or what was left of it) was… sobbing quietly, projecting a gentle, great pain to the Force around it. 

He swallowed harshly, and tried to reach out with the Force to cleanse his crystal, similar to how his grandpadawan, once upon a time, cleansed the ones she had. It only took him ten hours and a gentle, concerned master shaking him out of his trance when he realised that it was easier said than done.

~

The problem was, he was stuck with this crystal. 

He had tried to get another one. He really had. The problem was that when he had gone to Ilum with his master to look for a new kyber crystal, every single one in those caves had ignored and rejected him. What was he to do when no other kyber crystal would accept him as their owner? And why did they all reject him? Was it to punish him for failing to stop the Empire when he was in that previous timeline? Was it because he gave up at the end and had let Vader kill him? Was this Vader’s doing? Was this his final act of vengeance? 

Was Vader still after him?

No, he thought to himself. He can’t live through his second chance constantly looking over his shoulder again. He couldn’t do that to himself, or else he would never get things done, and in a way, he would be letting Vader win, even if the Sith had nothing to do with this whole time travel mess. The Force surrounding him rang true at his thoughts, and he exhaled shakily, glancing down at his lightsaber that hummed a melancholic song. How was he going to explain this to the Council? Even if the Sith had been extinct for centuries, the idea of a red lightsaber itself was mostly still tied to anything that was a threat against the Jedi. 

“Padawan Kenobi?” A deep voice interrupted his thoughts. 

Obi-Wan turned.

Mace Windu stood before him, in all his severe and stern-faced glory. He regarded Obi-Wan with a look that the padawan could not recognise, even having known the man (or a previous version… future version of the man) for years. 

“Master Windu,” Obi-Wan intoned politely, standing up from the cross-legged position he had adopted for his meditations. He bowed deeply towards the older Jedi, as his mind supplied him with memories of companionship and of sacrifice. He had so much respect for this man, for how he was willing to go all the way to fight and defeat the Sith, for all the things he’d done for the Jedi Order.

“How are you today?” Mace nodded to him, and he led the two of them into the room adjacent to the one they were in, a sitting room for the two of them to talk in. Obi-Wan knew that Mace was there when he had told Qui-Gon the truth about his circumstances, and had kept his mouth shut, not telling anyone about what he had heard. He was grateful for that, but nervous at the same time, as he knew that this would mean that they would be talking about it, something he was reluctant to do. 

“I am well. Or, as well as a padawan should be,” He jested, but his humour faded as he saw the look that was on the Jedi master’s face. He sighed, and sat down, fiddling with his lightsaber in his hands. “You heard everything.”

The Korun nodded. 

“And you want to talk about it.”

Another curt nod. 

“Come on, fire away,” Obi-Wan slumped into his seat in defeat, pushing down the urge to run. The Jedi master took a seat opposite from him, and rested his hands in his lap, a habit that Obi-Wan used to make fun of a long time ago when they were friends and fellow councillors, but now made him even more nervous. “I’ll try to answer your questions to the best of my ability.” 

“How bad was it?” Mace asked. The time traveller shook his head, his eyes darkening as memories once again threatened to overwhelm his mind. The Jedi master watched as the boy exhaled shakily, his tense shoulders trembling slightly and his eyes cast down to his lap, staring at the lightsaber that Force, Mace just remembered, it was the one that bled red like a Sith’s- 

“I still remember the day the Jedi Order was destroyed.”

Destroyed? He echoed the word incredulously, as the bad feeling in him began to grow to insurmountable amounts. 

“Yes, destroyed. The padawan I had trained fell, almost like Master Qui-Gon’s previous padawan Xanatos, but the only difference was that Anakin turned into a monster with no trace of humanity left in him by the time everything went down. He led an army into the Temple and razed it to the ground, killing everyone inside it, even the younglings.” The younglings! 

“He was manipulated from the very beginning. We all were. The Sith, who had laid in wait, hiding any sign of his existence, played us so thoroughly that we had no chance at all. He had risen in power, in the decades prior to when it all had gone down, and had hid himself so well that by the time anyone realised the true nature of the war that had plagued us for so long, it was too late. The younglings, Mace,” Obi-Wan turned his desperate eyes on the Jedi master, who flinched at the pure pain in them. “I remember their crumpled and broken bodies on the ground.” 

Horror filled Mace like never before. The rise of the Sith, the utter destruction of the Jedi Order? Jedi, regardless whether men, women, and the children, slaughtered like animals? “How many of us survived?” 

The padawan’s eyes fluttered shut, and his hands in his lap tightened into fists. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I couldn’t even give an estimate if I wanted to.”

The next question came uneasily, one that Mace was almost afraid to ask. “...Did I die?”

A pause. “Yes. You died trying to take down the Sith. You had nearly beaten him, too, but Anakin intervened out of desperation and cut off your hand. The Sith then struck you with Force lightning and threw you out of his office’s window.”

The Jedi master’s back stiffened, and he sat there, stock still and mind racing, as Obi-Wan shrank back into himself, haunted by the memories of a truly horrifying time. They sat in silence for a long period of time, neither of them moving, until Mace snapped out of his reverie, refocusing back on the traumatised boy that could be the only hope for the future of the Jedi Order and the galaxy. “What do you require of me?”

Obi-Wan startled, jolting out of his thoughts. “Excuse me?” He mumbled, eyeing the serious expression on the elder’s (or, he supposed, younger’s) face. 

“That future cannot be allowed to pass, no matter what.”

“I- you-” 

“I will try my best to help you. Does Qui-Gon know about this?” At the padawan’s mute nod, Mace pushed himself out of his seat and stood before the time traveller. “Do you wish to let the Council know about this?” 

Looking unsure, the boy’s eyes flickered back down to his lightsaber, and he seemed to mull it over for a while before raising his eyes once again to look at the councillor. “Yeah… Yeah. I think they need to know.” 

“Then I will support you. You must inform them yourself, but I will vouch for you the best I can.” 

At that, Mace let his body dip forward in a deep bow, his heart going out to the one who had suffered so much and the one who had the fate of the galaxy in his hands. “May the Force be with you always, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan knew that he was avoiding his friends. Most notably, Bant Eerin, Quinlan Vos, and Siri Tachi. He had not spoken to any of them ever since he came back into this time, but could you blame him? It had been so long since he’d seen any of them, let alone thought about them without memories of the fall of the Jedi haunting him, and he was no longer sure that he would be able to look at any of them without having a meltdown.

He felt a little guilty avoiding them. They were great friends back then, but Obi-Wan was too different now. Gone was the light-hearted, snarky and sassy Obi-Wan Kenobi that they knew, and in his place was a hurting old man who constantly felt dirty being in the presence of people younger than him, and that included his friends, who all were barely on the cusp of adulthood. They were so young, and he felt so Force-damned old, and their smiles from a different time made him hurt, the ache in his bones decades old. When was the last time he’d spoken to them? When was the last time he’d laughed with them, talked with them, cried with them? 

A lifetime ago. 

He could not face them in his current state. Being with his master was enough, and he knew that it would place a burden on his old friends if he were to let them in on the secret. To be fair, even telling anyone was risky, as he was never sure what they would do with the information. Besides, how would people react to the truth, that Obi-Wan Kenobi was a time traveller and that a Sith Lord threatened the balance in the galaxy?

Even if he had decided to not tell his friends anything, the Council was a different matter altogether. They were the ones who could actually make an impact on the timeline, the ones who were most likely able to  prevent Order 66 from destroying everything they knew. But would it really be a good idea to share his knowledge of the future with the Council? Though they had never meant any harm, by the time Order 66 had rolled around, they had become proud and arrogant, thinking that they could take on a Sith Lord with barely any preparation. No, they had no chance at all, especially with the complete lack of preparation, and that had cost the entire Jedi Order and its future. Obi-Wan didn’t know what to think of the possibility of living through it all again, of having a front row seat to Anakin’s corruption and betrayal, of being forced to go through Mustafar again, or confinement to the sandy hells of Tatooine. Then again, if he was forced to go through with Mustafar again, he knew that he would have no choice but to actually finish the job this time, and kill Anakin. 

The thought of it made him desperate. Utterly terrified. He would not know what to do if that hell ever happened again. Perhaps he’d fall, and become a Sith. Darth Kenobi, Obi-Wan thought to himself sardonically. What a name. Perhaps I’d follow Anakin down that path. Would I get a full-body, metallic suit? A mask? A life-supporting machine constantly weighing down my chest? 

Obi-Wan shook away the dark thoughts. Not again. He really had to work on purging that kind of thought, to release it all back to the Force to carry away into the never-ending stream of time. 

Before long, the day came, and Obi-Wan found himself standing in front of the Council, dreading the upcoming discussion. As it seemed, Mace had already prepared the masters for a highly-sensitive information reveal, and it was now up to Obi-Wan to make his decision, whether or not to include the Council in all this kriffing mess. The Council’s eyes were all on him as he worked through his nerves, releasing his anxiety to the Force the best he could, and his eyes trailed over to Mace’s stern face, which flickered into an expression of encouragement. 

He opened his mouth, and subsequently, everything came flooding out.

Obi-Wan began to recount his experiences, leaving out as much of the gory bits and pieces as he could, so as to spare them (and himself) the pain. He recounted as much as his current state of mind would allow, watching as their faces went from intrigue to surprise, from confusion to horror. Though this particular recount of his experiences wasn’t as emotional as the one with Qui-Gon, he was still struggling to keep it together, as slight nausea welled up at the back of his mouth and a hazy sense of depression fell over him. Force, no matter how many times he talked about it, it never got better, it never got easier, and he had no idea if it ever could or if it ever would. Once again, he was speaking without reference to himself, wary of claiming all these experiences as his own for fear of being declared insane. 

“Where did you find all these stories from?” Master Yaddle spoke up from her chair, and the other Councillors nodded, leaning forward to hear what he had to say. Obi-Wan swallowed, and he opened his mouth to speak, but something, or more accurately someone, interrupted him before he could say anything. 

“This padawan is not the padawan we all know.” 

Heads swivelled towards Mace Windu, who bore a determined look on his face. 

“I’m sure most of us were there watching him and his master spar. Their fight had drawn a big crowd, and for good reason. We all know that Padawan Kenobi is already very proficient in Soresu, but during that duel, he displayed and executed flawless attacks and defences, mixing Soresu with other forms like Ataru and Djem So. He was even using Niman, a form that most of us can’t use, as it requires knowledge and experience in all seven forms...”

Murmurs broke out among the Jedi masters, and Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably at the praises for his performance during his duel with Qui-Gon. Accepting compliments had never been something he’d liked to do, unlike Anakin during his padawan days, and so to hear the Korun master speak so highly about his level of skill was almost discomfiting. 

“The level of skill he showed was unprecedented. He beat his master hands-down, and with ease. Don’t you see? Obi-Wan was not the padawan, not the learner during that duel. He was-”

“-The master. What you mean, I see,” Master Yoda finished for Mace, and the small grandmaster turned towards the padawan, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “His supposed age, he is not. His experiences they all were, what he told us. A time traveller, he is.” 

Obi-Wan surveyed the Council Chamber. The light of the day was slowly creeping in, dawning brightly and majestically, as the noise around him grew. He paid no attention to the responses given by the masters, and instead watched the rising sun from his place in the centre of the room, trying to draw comfort from the light. Clouds were beginning to line the skies, and he watched them as they drifted past serenely, letting the morning light filter into the expansive room. He then smiled, and it hurt, the stretch of his lips painful, as his mind ran through all that had transpired. Finally, after weeks upon weeks of adjusting to this time period, it had finally hit him; he had truly been given a second chance, a chance to right all that had been wronged and to fix everything that had been broken so utterly. It finally felt real, and raw emotion welled up in him, filling the Force around him and drawing the attention of all the beings in the room who had been engaged in heated discussion. It bubbled out of him, the pure happiness, awe, wistfulness, weariness, fear and agony… and it was wonderful, the release of everything he’d repressed for decades. He stood before the Council and radiated his heart out into the Force, and the talking slowed to a halt, everyone watching with bated breath as the magnificent, Force-birthed creature straightened up and slid his hand into his pocket, drawing out a lightsaber hilt and shifting his thumb over the ignition. A brilliant crimson blade sprung out, drawing away the breath of everyone present in that room who watched the Chosen One stand regally, face illuminated by crimson and the rest of his figure by the rising sun of Coruscant. 

His eyes were a clear blue. There was not even a hint of yellow present in his irises.

 ~

“Red, your blade is,” Master Yoda mused as he accompanied Obi-Wan out of the Council Chambers, after the meeting had adjourned. “The colour of the Sith, red is. But a Sith, I sense you are not. Cloaked by the light, you are.”

“I’m not really sure how it all happened,” Obi-Wan admitted to the Grandmaster, his hand brushing against the weight of his lightsaber hidden back inside his cloak. “And I’ve tried to purify my crystal. In my… previous life, my grandpadawan had done what I had tried to do, having obtained the sabers of the fallen Jedi which she had defeated and cleansing the darkness inside them. I’ve even tried to get a new crystal, which is why Master Qui-Gon and I had petitioned for a trip to Ilum a while ago, but none of the crystals even acknowledged me.”

“Interesting, what you’re telling me is,” The small green master nodded thoughtfully. “But the reason for this, I may know. Dark, the crystal is not. Rooted in the light, you and that crystal are. Bleed, it did not, due to falling to the dark. A result of your traumatic experiences, it is.” 

What Master Yoda was saying… made a lot of sense. Obi-Wan certainly did not feel like a Sith or a dark-sider. If he looked deeply into himself and the Force, there was nothing dark he could find, and he definitely knew how the dark felt, due to his several close brushes with it in the past. He struggled to keep himself in the light when his master died in his arms. When Satine had died in his arms. When he’d watched Anakin kneel before another, calling him master. When Anakin had laid on the banks of Mustafar, burned and charred beyond recognition, all his limbs gone, hatred and pain and agony in his eyes-

Whap. 

He was jolted back to reality with a rather painful whack to his shins. Master Yoda stared up at him, disgruntled and something akin to sadness evident in those old eyes. “Regress into your trauma in front of me, you will not,” the Grandmaster tried to jest, seemingly sensing his downward spiral and trying to snap him out of it. “Attention to me you will pay.” 

The padawan began to apologise, but Yoda shook his head, all the humour fading from his face. “Your pain in the Force, I can feel. Unparalleled, it is, to anything I’ve felt before.” He tapped his gimer stick on the ground once and began to walk away, but not before turning behind to say one more thing. Something that struck a chord deep inside Obi-Wan.

“Purify your crystal, you can. Heal from your past, you must. Your peace, then only you will finally achieve. May the Force cherish you always, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan watched, speechless, as the grandmaster went down the hallway, disappearing off into the distance.

Chapter Text

Anakin was alive. 

Somewhere, across the galaxy, in a sandy dust-ball of a planet, Anakin was living and breathing. The realisation came to Obi-Wan as sudden as his death on the Death Star, and it had him scrambling to find his master, as he had to do something about it, anything, Anakin was alive, Anakin was on Tatooine, he had to get him before he suffered through slavery again-

But- oh, the conflict! The uncertainty! Was it really wise to bring Anakin to the Jedi at this point of time? Anakin, whether in this timeline or the last, was still the Chosen One of the prophecy, one who was meant to bring balance and peace to the galaxy. But such pressure on anyone, let alone a child, was not something he would wish even on his worst enemy. He could recall that Anakin had grown estranged from the Order during his time as his padawan, due to the reputation of being the famed Chosen One following him wherever he went. People either loved him or hated him, and it was mostly the latter, he realised now. Children were cruel… and those cruel children grew into cruel adults. 

Obi-Wan remembered, with growing pain, that particular time in which Anakin had truly shown distress over something like this. He had been duelling a specially-programmed training droid, a display of all that he had learned during his padawanship. Many people were watching, eager to dig their claws into the Chosen One’s level of skill, and he still recalled the way Anakin’s eyes glistened with tears as he overheard a particularly loud comment about him being too angry, too emotional, too attached… Obi-Wan had also heard what had been said about his padawan, and he had considered reprimanding the gossiping mouths at that point of time, until Anakin ended his duel with an upward slice of his lightsaber and booked it out of the training gallery, leaving the Jedi master to rush after him. 

If he went through that again, there was no doubt that Obi-Wan would have defended Anakin from those two padawans. He regretted not having been there for his padawan. He should have stood up for him, stood by his side when the whole world was against him… 

But of course, it was all too late. The damage had been done by the time Anakin grew up and separated from Obi-Wan. And the Sith’s manipulation ran deep, stemming from his padawan’s childhood. The Chancellor took advantage of Anakin’s detachment from the Order and groomed him. That disgusting man.. . Perhaps this time round, if he were to approach Anakin in any way, he would accuse the man of being a pedophile and laugh at his face as his place in the Senate gets ripped from him. 

But right now, in this time and age before the invasion of Naboo, he had work to do. To prepare for the Sith’s attacks against the Jedi, and to save the galaxy from the horrible future he had lived through.

~

To defeat the Sith, Obi-Wan knew that there was a lot of work to be done. 

He had tried to think of ways to prevent Order 66 from happening. Despite having lived through all of it before, he found himself at a loss when it came to certain things, like why did the Clones betray them, like how did Anakin been coaxed into falling, or like why had the Republic believed Sidious so quickly, that the Jedi were traitors to be executed. What were the Jedi doing wrong, for the masses to not kick up a fuss when Sidious had ordered them to be destroyed? Was it the atrocities that Jedi generals were committing? War crimes? Or was it simply the fact that the Jedi had not ended the war earlier? He thought the Republic had known that Dooku and his armies were formidable… So how could the Jedi Order be blamed? 

He knew that he had been transported back into his 19-standard-years-old body, and so it was too late to stop Sifo-Dyas from ordering the Clone armies from Kamino. Sifo-Dyas was long dead, but there must have been someone impersonating him to oversee the past five years of production. Was it Dooku? Was Dooku already working for Sidious long before Anakin had even been inducted to the Order? If it was, perhaps there was still time to stop Dooku from whatever he was doing to the Clones. Perhaps there was still time to stop Dooku from ever leaving the Jedi Order.

The last he checked, Dooku was on a sabbatical leave, so he would not be sent out on any missions for the next year. Still, his grandmaster was free to leave Coruscant anytime, whether to follow the Force or pursue personal interests, it did not matter. 

Obi-Wan wondered how much would change if he could prevent Dooku from ever falling into the hands of Sidious.

~

Master Dooku had always thought himself to be an elegant, prideful fellow.

He knew that those traits were not one of which Jedi should possess, but he’s been at odds with the Code for a long time now. Ever since taking on Qui-Gon as his padawan, ever since the good old days of discussing Jedi ideology with him, he’s not been the ideal Jedi. The thought did not really bother him, if he were to be honest, as he knew that he was quite the maverick, and that was not necessarily a bad thing, regardless of what the rest of the Order said… 

His skills in the Force were also not the worst. Granted, he was more confident in his lightsaber skills, priding himself on being one of the best lightsaber-wielders among the Jedi, but he was not lacking in the Force. Of course not. If he had, how had Qui-Gon Jinn turned out to be such a master in the Living Force? 

That was not the point, though. The point was, whoever was stalking him clearly thought him to be lacking in the Force. Did they really think they could go undetected? It had to be another Jedi, as Dooku could not pinpoint who or where they were exactly, but why exactly was he being tailed? Did someone know about his… not so stellar connections to the Sith? They had it all wrong, then. He was not falling, not becoming a Sith. He was infiltrating them, and trying to take them down from the inside. If he found out the true identity of the Sith Lord, he could end what Sifo-Dyas had been forced to start, and bring peace to the galaxy… 

As the master walked, he toyed with his lightsaber hilt inside the pocket of his robe. Then again, he was not sure if his stalker meant to help or to harm, and so he was on edge, expecting a fight right around every corner. He decided to take his confrontation to a private, closed room, and took off to a secluded corner of the Temple, a place where he and his ex-padawan would frequent at night, when both could not sleep. 

At last, he slowed to a stop, and he surveyed his surroundings with sharp eyes, seeing nothing physically but feeling an immense power just barely hidden in the currents of the Force around him. “Come out,” Dooku murmured, leaning his back against a wall and forcing himself to adopt a relaxed posture. “I know you’re following me.”

The Force around him rippled, and suddenly, someone was there, startling the Jedi master. It was a curious thing, the way the being revealed himself in a blink of an eye, as if he’d always been there. When he looked into the Jedi’s face- he felt his eyebrow raising as he recognised the being to be his padawan’s padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi. What was Obi-Wan Kenobi doing here? Why was he tailing a master of the Jedi Order, let alone his grandmaster? Perhaps Qui-Gon set him up for this? 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi. My padawan’s padawan. What are you doing here?” Dooku questioned, crossing his arms over his chest, each and every single one of his muscles tensed up. Kenobi sighed, shoving down his hood and raising his hands in a gesture of peace. 

“I mean you no harm, but I must speak to you about several sensitive issues.” 

“Did Qui-Gon send you?” The padawan shook his head in reply. “Then what…?”

“May we go somewhere private? I don’t think you’d want to have this conversation here.”

Dooku laughed. “This place is as private as it gets. No one will find this room. What is it you want to discuss?”

Kenobi did not reply immediately after that. He stared directly at the master, and then turned away, seemingly thinking very deeply, before he exhaled slowly and turned back to face him. 

“Why are you working with Sidious?”

Dooku froze. Within the next few seconds, he had his lightsaber out and ignited, and he barely registered Kenobi’s wide-eyed expression as he advanced towards him threateningly, gripping his lightsaber hilt so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “How do you know about that?!” He snarled, and the boy jumped out of the way, yelping at the nearness of the plasma blade. 

Kenobi regained his posture quickly and summoned his saber out of his robes, and promptly ignited it. The Jedi master blinked as a blade as red as the Sith’s saber emerged from the hilt, and he stood there, staring at the lightsaber that his padawan’s padawan was wielding. “That’s- That’s a red blade.”

“That- yeah, but don’t let it make you think I’m a Sith, ‘cause I will still cut you down with it, Count Dooku.”

How did Kenobi know about his status as a Count? “What? How do you know about Serenno?” Once upon a time, he had his personal information erased from the Jedi Order, leaving only his name and his Jedi legacy behind, so it was rather impossible that Kenobi knew anything about his birth world, let alone his family status… “You should not know about that!”

“I… I know a lot more than I’m supposed to,” Was the underwhelming reply that Kenobi gave him. Dooku shot him a dark look for the lack of explanation, and charged forward with his saber raised again, prompting another yelp from the younger man. “You aren’t supposed to know that! You aren’t even supposed to know about Sidious! Who are you?”

“Have you fallen, Count Dooku?” The words almost sounded like a taunt, though Kenobi only bore a serious, borderline blank expression on his facial features. “How far have you fallen?”

Dooku did not know why he felt like he had to defend himself from this boy. “You won’t understand the work I’m doing, boy.”

He rained down attacks upon the padawan who was supposedly Kenobi, who deflected each and every blow with equal force. It was probably an impostor wearing his grandpadawan’s face, as he knew that Qui-Gon would never send his padawan after him, and the real Obi-Wan Kenobi was a stiff little apprentice who never dared step out of line. “Show your real face, impostor. Obi-Wan Kenobi would never do what you’re doing.”

“But I’m not-”

“Silence, impostor!”

“Master Dooku, I-”

“Shut up!”

“Qui-Gon is going to die, Dooku!”

The Jedi master froze, his blue saber a contrast against the red blade. 

“In 5 years, on a supposed peace mission to Naboo, Qui-Gon will slip up in the middle of a duel with the first Sith in a millennium, and become one of the very first Jedi casualties of a intergalactic war that would proceed to threaten the stability of the galaxy for the next 13-14 years.” 

And suddenly, Dooku could not breathe. 

Qui-Gon was going to die? His beloved padawan, the singular pride and joy of his entire Jedi career? His most perfect apprentice he’d ever trained to date, the one he’d come to love like a son? Qui-Gon Jinn, the legacy of his lineage, dead to the first Sith in a thousand years? Impossible- all his work, all his sacrifices, all of his morals and Jedi beliefs thrown out of the window, all for Qui-Gon to die in the end? Watching Sifo-Dyas die had been one of the most painful things he’d ever watched in his whole life, and imagining Qui-Gon in his place, lying in his arms and breathing his last few breaths? Dooku did not know what he would do if the last joy of his life joined the Force decades before his time. Perhaps he’d fall. Perhaps he’d join him. 

I’m sorry, Yan… 

I can’t go on, Yan… 

No! Please! Sif, don’t leave me! 

Know that I will always love you, Yan Dooku… 

Master Dooku shuddered, blinking away the image of Sif’s pale face weakly grinning up at him. He straightened, and looked at Kenobi once more, who seemed to have an urgent note in his eyes. “Tell me everything.”

Chapter Text

“I feel an explosion in the Force, greater than anything I’ve ever felt before. Do you feel it, my young apprentice?”

“Yes, my Lord. It is even greater than the boy’s conception.”

“It is not of your doing, then? I had assumed that it had something to do with the boy.” 

“No, my Lord. Perhaps it is an unforeseen factor. The Jedi Order may be up to something.”

“Mmmh, young Sidious. I sense that our time is approaching. How is the Trade Federation coming along?” 

“Slow but steady, my master. The Federation is still gaining the support of planets to this day. The leaders have begun production of a fully-functional droid army that we can use to advance our plans.”

“Good, good. How long will the production take?”

“About 5 years, my Lord.”

“See that there are no complications to the production process. I shall prepare for our reveal. The Jedi Order will not see us coming…”

~~~~~

5 YEARS LATER

He was one with the shadows.

There was not much going on at this level of Coruscant. Quite frankly, there was not really much going on at all in Coruscant, or so it seemed, but Obi-Wan was there, his back plastered against the wall and his being cloaked in the Force, as he waited for his informant to arrive with the information he needed. This piece of information was vital as it would dictate his next move for the future which was approaching at an alarming rate…

It was starting. The beginning of when everything changed. Naboo was coming, Anakin was coming, and Obi-Wan did not feel ready for any of it, regardless of having had more than enough time to plan with it, the Jedi Order by his side. 

To think that the past 5 years had gone by so quickly! Arriving in the past had given Obi-Wan the illusion that he had time, but alas, this was clearly not the case. Granted, he had tried not to waste away the extra time he had been given, but still, the years had slipped through his hands like sand running through a sieve, and before he knew it, the Trade Federation had declared a blockade on the planet Naboo, the Force was alive with the buzz of darkness, and the Republic was growing restless. The Jedi Order was running itself ragged, stretching its resources to the very limit, as they prepared for war and the return of the Sith. 

There was a flurry of movement, and a being dressed in full beskar armour stepped around the corner, alerting Obi-Wan to their presence. Jango Fett, bounty hunter extraordinaire. A good fighter, a good contractor, and now a good messenger, who bore him a message straight from Master Yan Dooku. A shame that Mace cut his head off during Geonosis, Obi-Wan thought privately to himself. He was quite a good asset to Obi-Wan. 

Jango Fett slowed to a stop in front of Obi-Wan, waiting for the Jedi to appear. Obi-Wan let his eyes linger on the mandalorian for a few more moments, before stepping out of the Force and into view. 

If the bounty hunter was surprised by him stepping out of seemingly nothing, he did not comment on it. “Kenobi,” His voice came out a rough growl from behind his helmet, nodding his head towards him in a greeting. 

Obi-Wan let a faint smile emerge on his face. “Fett,” He replied, nodding back to the bounty hunter and pulling his hood down, revealing a face not-quite-changed from what it had been 5 years prior. 

“I come bearing a message. And a gift from Count Dooku.”

“Of course. Make it quick, though, my master is waiting for me.”

“Qui-Gon Jinn? Count Dooku sends his regards to him.” With that, the pleasantries ended, and Fett produced a holo-pad communicator in his gloved hands, handing it over to the younger male. 

“Thank you.”

“Oh, and the Count told me to give you this,” A small metal storage container was pressed into his hands, plain and unassuming in nature, but Obi-Wan instantly threw his head back and laughed at the sight of it, tucking it into the pocket of his cloak and turning his attention back to the mandalorian. “Of course he’d send me this. Tell the Count that his gift was definitely received.” 

Fett sighed, the sound modulated by his helmet, crossing his arms around his chest. “Why have I been reduced to a lowly messenger to a bunch of Jedi…”

The auburn-haired Jedi grinned, fierce and unhinged, and the bounty hunter sighed again, as the younger started laughing. “Hey, at least the pay is high, no?”

“I still don’t know where you get that money from. It can’t possibly be from the Jedi Order, can it? But then again, Dooku is funding half of it. I’d better get going. I’ve got another bounty job, and this time, I get to kark shit up with my blasters, so see you around, Kenobi.” And with that, Fett was gone, and Obi-Wan was left with the holo-pad communicator in his hands, smirking down at it.

His amusement fading, the Jedi took a deep breath and slipped the communicator into another pocket, and drew his hood back up over his head, before making his way to the meeting point where Master Qui-Gon was waiting, looking as serene, peaceful, and as painfully Jedi as he could ever be. Repressing the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose with his fingers and sigh deeply, he walked up to his Jedi master who bid him hello. 

“You know, being dressed the way you are around these parts of Coruscant isn’t really a good idea,” Obi-Wan murmured, peering around at their surroundings with sharp eyes as they began their track back to the Temple. 

Qui-Gon stifled a chuckle. “You’re just looking for an excuse to see me outside of Jedi attire.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes but he let a faint smile grace his lips, his eyes trailing over a large hologram that they were passing. It spelled ‘BIG BOOTY TWI’LEK GODDESSES’. “Your master is a real piece of work to deal with, master.”

“Who, Dooku?” The Jedi master turned the full force of his grin on the younger Jedi. “Oh, I’m sure. I put up with him for over 10 years as his padawan, and more after I was knighted.”

“Ha. At least he doesn’t send you-!”

“Another crystal? Force, he isn’t giving up anytime soon with that, is he?”

“It seems not, no. The next time I see him, I’m dropping a whole crate of copies of his lightsaber on his face. I’d love to see how he reacts.” 

Dooku was, quite frankly, a piece of bantha shit. Perhaps his time as a spy was knocking something loose in his brain, all the time spent with Sidious probably made him a little unhinged... The Count was fond of sending him kyber crystals, after having found out that he was stuck with his crystal and that all other crystals rejected him. If the Count had done this a few years before, Obi-Wan would not have been all too enthused. Now, he just laughs at every new crystal.

After a while, the two emerged onto the upper levels of Coruscant, and the Jedi Temple came into view, standing tall in all its glory, stretching to the sky. Obi-Wan relished the sight of the Temple standing tall and strong, and prayed to the Force with all his heart that it would remain that way after everything came to pass. He never returned to Coruscant after the Jedi Order had been reduced to rubble, but from everything he had heard, the Temple had been turned into the Imperial Palace, and the thought of his home being defiled by Sidious never failed to make him nauseous. 

He would do anything to ensure that the Temple remained standing. 

Qui-Gon, seemingly picking up on Obi-Wan’s plummeting mood, took the initiative to bring his mind back to the present. “Have you taken a look at the message Dooku has sent us yet?”

Obi-Wan, appreciating the distraction, shook his head and reached into the pocket of his cloak to fish out the communicator. “No. Let’s have a listen, shall we?” 

He thumbed the switch of the communicator on, and a holo-recording flickered to life, the image of Yan Dooku coming into view. 

“Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan. How are you? I hope you are well,” The Count’s solemn face matched his polite greetings. Behind that serious face, there was an unhinged man who was not quite right in his head, Obi-Wan knew it. “I bear news from my home planet, where I’ve been studying for the past year. Be discreet.” 

“Remember the element of the Force I’d discovered on Serenno a while ago? I have updates. It is in close relation to the pre-existing element that I have gone over before in my previous message to you, but I fear that it may destroy its predecessor very soon. Let me know any theories you may have. Not only that, I must warn you that as Obi-Wan has stated before, Project M will still be initiated, and I trust you recall the details of what we discussed about it. Take care. We must arrange a meeting soon, if possible. Good luck on your mission. And I hope you enjoy the little gift I included in the delivery, Obi-Wan. Dooku out.” 

The hologram flickered off.

Obi-Wan coughed out a laugh. “That bastard-!”

Qui-Gon looked like he was about to burst into hysterical laughter. “I’d expect nothing less from Master. That man is unhinged! All that time spent spying on Sidious has probably knocked something loose in his brain.” 

“That’s what I thought!” Obi-Wan chuckled, shoving the communicator back into the pocket of his robe. “Well, the Council is expecting us, no?”

“Mmh.”

“Let’s hurry back, shall we? We wouldn’t want to keep Mace waiting.”

~~~

“You were right, Obi-Wan, about the Naboo/Trade Federation conflict currently happening.”

“The Trade Federation has issued a blockade over Naboo space, and the Senate is in a whole mess about the problem. They have requested for Jedi to be dispatched to the conflict as negotiators, to draw up negotiation deals for both parties of the conflict.”

Over the past few years, Obi-Wan had found himself surrounded by the Council more times than he could remember. And not for bad reasons, which he could say he was thankful for; though in his past life he’d been a model Jedi padawan, his master had certainly not been a well-behaved Jedi master, and that often resulted in countless meetings with the Council, and him struggling not to sigh as his master got chided for his behaviour. Then again, he probably deserved those meetings as much as his master did, as most of the time, he’d gone along with whatever plan Master Qui-Gon had without too many objections... 

Now, the Council seemed to have settled down, when it came to him and his master. Obi-Wan would not play dumb when it came to the reason why, though, as he knew very well that it was because of his… peculiar situation. At least the Council did not treat him like a padawan anymore, after he told them about his previous life. 

Before everything, he had thought that letting the Council in on his secret would only lead to disaster. He’d thought that he would be carted off to the mind healers, and spend the rest of his life there, permanently shelved for being insane. But he remembered that day as clear as Tatooine’s skies, the way they all gazed at him with something that seemed like acceptance in their eyes, and that was when he knew that he was in the clear. 

His master seemed to have mellowed too. In his first life, Master Qui-Gon had been unhinged, especially after Tahl’s death, and had no one to hold him back. Melida/Daan had opened a huge rift in his and Master’s relationship, and even though time had done a lot to heal that particular wound, they had never been the same again, and thus Obi-Wan could not step into the role of being his master’s anchor. Perhaps, if they had gone about Melida/Daan in a different way, they would not have grown apart. Perhaps, if Tahl had not died, Qui-Gon would not have behaved as he did in the years leading up to Naboo. Perhaps, if he had not karked up the relationship he had with his master, he would not have run ahead to engage Maul on his own… 

No matter. None of it mattered anymore. He was going to make sure that his master lived to see his grand-padawans. He would make sure he hadn’t been sent back in time for nothing.

“There will not be any negotiations,” Obi-Wan supplied, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’ll try to get rid of us. And it won’t stay a blockade for long, they’re planning to invade the Naboo and force them to sign a ‘peace’ treaty, legalising their occupation…” 

“And Master Dooku? Heard from him, have you?” Yoda peered at the time traveller from his chair, curious about his old padawan.

A smirk threatened to overwhelm his face. “He sends his regards. Everything is going as I remembered, according to him. The apprentice plans to get rid of the master soon. And Maul is still going to be sent after us.” 

“How do you plan to deal with the apprentice’s… apprentice?” Mace questioned, leaning back into his chair but still watching Obi-Wan. “You defeated him the last time, but he came back eventually.”

“I may have to… do the job right, this time,” He sighed. “Of course, if there were any other way, I would not resort to killing him, but there’s not much else I can do.” 

The Councillors all nodded solemnly. “Trust in the Force, we all will.”

~

They had been assigned to Naboo, as per how it happened last time. 

Technically, it was not exactly an assignment. This mission had been marked as very important ever since he sat down with the Council to iron out the important details of the timeline, around a year after he’d revealed his out-of-time status to them. Naboo was the first on that list, and Obi-Wan knew that they would not give the mission to anyone else. It was too important, and it was too risky to explain the special circumstances that surrounded this mission. 

There was one little detail he had left out, however. Anakin. 

Not being able to take Anakin away from slavery had been a difficult choice Obi-Wan made. The thought of little Ani stuck in a dusty junk shop on a dusty planet, slaving away under Watto’s ownership, was horrible. The past 5 years with this thought in mind had been almost unbearable, as he felt so sith-damned guilty for living comfortably while Anakin was forced into manual, hard labour every single day, but there was no other choice. Obi-Wan was almost certain that Sidious had been keeping tabs on Anakin ever since the boy had been born, and he was not sure what could happen if he’d attempted to extract Anakin early. Perhaps Sidious would immediately sense it. And if he did so, all of the Jedi Order’s carefully laid plans could be put at risk… 

As the meeting with the Council drew to a close, his master gave him a Look. Obi-Wan immediately shook his head, but the Jedi master was undeterred, as he tried to silently convince Obi-Wan to tell the Council about Anakin. It was not as if the Council did not know about the boy’s existence, but… if there was one thing Obi-Wan never did, it was telling anyone about his old padawan, beyond what had generally happened to him. It was still too difficult to speak about him, about what had happened in the last year of the Republic, about Mustafar…

His master gently nudged him. 

He sighed heavily, reaching his hand into his pocket to hold onto his lightsaber as comfort. “Before we go, I must tell you something.”

The Council froze in their seats.

“This mission to Naboo, we will most likely be making a detour to the Outer Rim planet of Tatooine. After we rescue the Queen from the invasion, and escape from Naboo, we will have to repair the ship in order to complete the journey to Coruscant. There will be the parts we need on Tatooine, but almost no one on that planet accepts credits. However, there will be a young boy of… around 9 standard, who will be able to help us. The specifics aren’t important, but you’ll find that he has the highest recorded midichlorian count in a thousand years.”

“The highest?”

“23,000.” 

“What? That’s an even higher count than Master Yoda’s!”

“Right here I am, you know.” 

“Who is this boy?” 

“How?”

Obi-Wan waited for the talking to subside. 

“His name is Anakin Skywalker. He was my old padawan, in my previous life. I’ll be bringing him and his mother back to Coruscant.” 

“Your padawan? Oh, the one Qui-Gon was adamant to train?”

“Wait, since he died, how did he raise a padawan all by himself, as a brand new knight?”

“Didn’t he fall? What happened to him?”

His shoulders tensed at that last question. Like he would tell them. Smoothing his face into a cold, guarded look, Obi-Wan gripped his lightsaber so tightly that the ridges of the saber poked into his palm painfully. “I don’t see why I should tell you that now.” At that, he swiftly turned around and stalked out of the Council room, the door closing shut behind him, the sound accusing.

Qui-Gon remained behind, staring after his padawan worriedly, and made to take off after him, but he faced the Council once more before his departure. “Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan’s still mending. He needs time.”

Chapter Text

Being back on the Federation flagship was quite an experience, to say the least.

For one, even if his memory had not been that reliable when it came to remembering smaller details of the whole Naboo mission, it all came back to him bit by bit. Everything that he had done in the past 5 years had all led to this, all his preparations all led to this day, this mission, the one event that marked the start of the war against the Sith. And he wouldn’t lie, he was nervous, as there was always that risk that something would go terribly wrong. But he released his anxiety to the Force as they were welcomed onto the flagship, and tried his best to not gawk at everything around him.

Everything felt familiar. They walked the same hallways, passed the same rooms, and he recognised each turn and corner they passed. He ignored the constant prattling of the silver droid who was leading them to the waiting room, and gathered his thoughts, his mind a storm of plans and memories. There was too much at stake, he and his master knew this very well, and the two released a breath held in their chests as they stepped into the waiting room, the droid requesting that they wait here.

“Obi-Wan, are you alright?” His master’s voice entered his ears, a gentle rumble, and he turned towards the older Jedi, drawing in another deep breath to calm his nerves. 

“Fine, master. It’s all rather overwhelming,” He replied, alert eyes flickering around the room. They had to watch what they were saying whenever they were away from the safety of Jedi grounds, as they never knew who was listening. “I’ll be fine, master. Say, master, how do you think the trade viceroy will deal with the chancellor's demands?” He continued, keeping up pretences of being mere ambassadors.

Master Qui-Gon hid a smile, understanding what Obi-Wan was doing. “These Federation types are cowards. The negotiations will be short.” 

“Oh, they will be short, alright,” Obi-Wan mumbled under his breath, before a ping in the Force signified that something was about to happen. “Take caution, master.”

At his master’s nod, the two turned back to the door and watched as gas flooded the room, the two inhaling a deep breath in tandem, but not before Obi-Wan mutters a single sentence. 

“And so it begins.”

~~~~~

Hacking and slashing at battle droids certainly did bring back a whole lot of memories. 

Fighting with a lightsaber had never felt so exhilarating, Obi-Wan thought to himself, even if his blade was red. He’d forgotten the adrenaline of a good fight. It reminded him of a time long ago, during a war that no one could avoid, and though circumstances had been bad, a good fight had always left him buzzing with adrenaline. This particular fight was less intense than any he’d fought in the Clone Wars, but it was still as wild and chaotic and intense and exhilarating as ever. In fact, he had not fought like that ever since he came back to the past, most lightsaber duels and training paling in comparison to this. 

“To the bridge!” Obi-Wan yelled at his master, and they both fought their way towards the bridge. The door slammed shut in front of them, and Qui-Gon shoves the blade of his lightsaber straight into the thick doors, slowly cutting away at the layers of metal. 

The younger Jedi sliced the rest of the droids into half and spun to a stop, turning to his master. “Master. Destroyers.”

And right at that instance, destroyer droids rolled into view, and they engaged their shield generators, aiming their guns straight at them, opening fire on the two Jedi. With a signal from Obi-Wan to stay back, the younger faced the two droids and raised his right hand towards them with his fingers outstretched, letting the Force wrap around them, freezing the blaster bolts in place at the same time, and he lifted the droids into the air, watching as they struggled, their mechanical limbs flailing helplessly. 

He closed his fist tightly. 

The droids were instantly crushed.

Letting the steaming metal lumps fall to the ground, he turned back to his master who was extracting his lightsaber from the blast doors. “And those blaster bolts?”

“Don’t worry about them, master,” Obi-Wan quipped with a smirk. “Now, we ought to get out of this place. This way!” 

They zipped away from the door, headed straight for the ventilation shaft located a little to the right, and Obi-Wan released his hold on the blaster shots. Through the Force, he felt shock and terror coming from the sealed bridge as the blaster bolts impacted heavily against the blast doors.

He grinned.

~~~

Dropping out of the ventilation shaft, the Jedi pair quickly darted behind a few crates to watch the proceedings happening in the main bay. There were hundreds, no, thousands of droids being prepared for war right in front of their eyes, and his master cast his widened eyes at him, surprise written all over his face. “Not that I didn’t believe you… But that is a lot of droids.”

“Yeah.”

“We planned for this. They will be seizing Naboo within the next few hours. We have to be down there to extract the Queen from her captors. She’s safe for now, her cover is strong, but nonetheless, we must act quickly.”

“Yes, master,” His master replied in jest, a smile gracing his lips. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and gave him a Look, and Qui-Gon stifled a snicker under his hand. “You were right about one thing, master . ”

“Oh, don’t you dare, master-”

“The negotiations were short.”

“ Master! ”

~~~

Rescuing the Queen and her entourage was a lot easier, now he knew what was going to happen next. 

Obi-Wan took charge of the mission, going forward to lead the rescue. They managed to extract the Queen with relative ease, and after fighting through several waves of droids, he had managed to lead the group to the safety of their ship, and they took off from the planet, zipping right through the atmosphere, pursued by ships and blaster fire. 

He listened idly, back leaning against the wall of the ship, as the pilots conversed amongst themselves. Master Qui-Gon stood next to him with his arms crossed, and past him stood a frowning Captain, who was watching the chaos outside the ship. 

“Our communications are still jammed,” the pilots reported, as the ship darted towards the blockade. 

Of course, he knew all this. He lived through all of it before. Without showing any outward reaction at all, he watched as the ship shook once, twice, and then the pilots were yelling, and droids were being sent to repair the ship. Throughout the pandemonium, Obi-Wan and his master remained calm, although the elder of the two seemed to look slightly constipated, as if the whole situation made him a little nervous. 

“Have faith,” The younger told his master, with a serene look on his face. “Trust in the Force.”

“I do, my little master,” Qui-Gon murmured back, the scrunched up look fading from his face, and he smirked at the way his apprentice cringed at the nickname. “If you do, I do.”

“Power’s back! That little droid did it!”

And at that, the turbulence of the spacecraft subsided, and the ship fled from the scene, zipping away into space. 

Obi-Wan took a breath and pushed himself away from the wall, retreating back to the back of the ship, away from the chatter in the cockpit. Anakin was close… He had to meditate. 

~~~

“We’re en route to Tatooine,” a voice gently pulled him back to reality. 

He looked up, making eye contact with his silver-haired master. Letting out a heavy breath through his nostrils, he rose from his meditative stance and ignored the weariness that clung to his limbs. “I suggested Tatooine to the Captain. He gave us the go.”

The younger Jedi hummed in acknowledgement, mind still whirring with thoughts of the timeline, of Anakin, and of the Sith. “Project M will be tailing us. He will engage with us twice, once when we’ll be leaving the planet, and the other on Naboo. I have half a mind to cut him down when we first encounter him, so that he won’t be able to touch you at all on Naboo…”

“Take heart, Obi-Wan,” Master Qui-Gon laid a hand on his shoulder, the warmth of his large palm sinking through the fabrics of his tunic. “Do what feels right to you.”

And then, he was hit with memories of a final time, the final duel against the one who he was conflicted about. The being who had killed his master and his old love, and yet in those final moments, he could see Maul’s vulnerability, and his final words echoed in his head, a plea and a sigh of relief at the reassurance that Luke would avenge everyone that had suffered and fallen. 

Tell me… is he the Chosen One? 

He will avenge us.

Obi-Wan shuddered, taking comfort in his master’s comforting touch.

Chapter Text

The thing was, up until now, Tatooine had felt like a distant memory to Obi-Wan. But now, being back on the planet he’d called home for 20 years, it was all coming back to him in waves. 

Huttese was a language he was quite well-versed in. Why would he not be? He lived on the planet for such a long time, surely you’d expect him to know enough of the language to make living there easier. The locals took to people speaking Huttese better than people who just spoke plain basic, and so no matter how little material he had, he learned it. Oh, how familiar the murmur of Huttese in the air was to him! It was all coming back to him, his biweekly trips to the markets in Anchorhead, his time with Leia, his time with Luke, however short it had been…

This time round, he was accompanying his master into Tatooine. It was something that he’d planned to do for a very long time- for one, he knew Tatooine like it was his home planet, and not only that, he could speak Huttese. These, of course, were the reasons given to the Queen for him going instead of staying. No one outside the Order knew about Obi-Wan’s specific brand of knowledge. 

Their little group consisted of his master, himself, and the little astromech droid named R2-D2. They’d decided on not taking Jar Jar Binks along with them, as all he would do was to slow them down, and they set off immediately when their ship touched down on the sandy dunes of Tatooine, just outside Mos Espa. They were already halfway to the spaceport when Padmé appeared behind them with the Captain calling out to them, informing them of the Queen’s wish for her handmaiden to accompany them. Qui-Gon opened his mouth to interject, but Obi-Wan shot him a look, and his master backed down, letting his padawan take the lead on this one. 

“This journey will not be an easy one, Miss Padmé,” Obi-Wan began as pleasantly as he could, settling his eyes on the Queen in disguise. “I won’t interfere if it’s… the Queen’s order… but are you certain?”

The girl nodded, meeting his gaze head-on. 

His robes, billowing in the wind. Sand getting into his eyes. He nodded, and turned towards Mos Espa.

~~~

“Most of the locals who aren’t bounty hunters or anything of that kind are either moisture farmers or slaves,” Obi-Wan explained, keeping his voice down, as the group walked through the bustling streets of Mos Espa. 

“Slaves?” Padmé’s gasp was quickly stifled by her own hand. She lowered her palm. “Slaves?”

“The Republic has no say here,” Master Qui-Gon continued for his padawan, eyes flickering around the sandy biome. “It’s backward, yes, and the Order has been looking into helping the situation here on the Outer Rim planets, but for now, there’s not much we can do.” The younger nodded in agreement, leading them to where they had to go. 

“Poor things,” The undercover Queen murmured, eyes following two local children dressed in rags running past them. 

The hike stretched on for the next quarter of an hour. Him and his master conversed with each other regarding the Jedi and the Order, while Padmé silently followed along, guarded by R2 who beeped viciously at whoever came too close to the Queen. Finally, they turned a corner, and there it was, in all its glory, Watto’s junk shop. It was plain and unassuming to the eye, but nobody could have ever expected that the galaxy’s most important being resided there, in this shabby and downtrodden shop… 

Obi-Wan slowed to a stop, feeling a sense of anxiety and nervousness creep over him. He swallowed as he turned towards his master, who gave him a reassuring look. 

“There is no emotion, there is peace,” He mumbled under his breath. Qui-Gon’s eyes met his. The older Jedi master nodded.

His heart felt like it was about to leap out of his chest.

Turning back towards the shop, he drew in a deep breath, and strode into the shop, the rest trailing after him. As he entered the shop, he was hit with an overwhelming sense of Anakin, his Force presence bright like a raging bonfire, swelling in the air and filling his senses. Qui-Gon stepped in and gasped as well, seemingly also feeling Anakin’s presence. That was strange - the first time around, Anakin certainly did not feel like that in the Force… What changed? 

Anakin, though, was nowhere to be found. Obi-Wan presumed that he was at the back of the shop, working. Instead, they were greeted by Watto, who had a smirk on his face that the Jedi wanted to bash inwards with his fist. 

“Good day to you,” Watto called out to them in Huttese.

Obi-Wan suppressed the urge to maim him and nodded in greeting to the Toydarian. 

“What do you want?” 

“I need parts for a J-type 327 Nubian.”

Watto grinned and nodded. “Ah yes, ah yes. Nubian. We have lots of that.” Spinning around, he yelled towards the back of the store, where Anakin’s strong Force presence resided. “Boy! Get in here, now!” 

The time traveller held his breath. 

A small form rushed out, and Obi-Wan was immediately stricken at how familiar that young face looked. That is, until that young face looked up at him and lit up, excitement filling his features. “OBI-WAN!” 

Master Qui-Gon gasped behind him. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened in disbelief.

For Anakin, the Anakin he knew for decades during the Republic, was staring up at him through a youthful face. 

~~~

“What is this?” Watto’s voice broke the silence that had overcome the room. 

Obi-Wan’s head snapped upwards, instantly aware of the Toydarian’s narrowed eyes and the suspicion lacing his voice. He slowly turned his gaze back to Anakin, who seemed to have noticed the exact thing that he himself had, looking at his slave master with a frown on his face. 

The shop owner opened his mouth. 

Obi-Wan sprung into action. 

He thrusted his hand outwards, instantly reaching forward with the Force to snatch a small crate from the counter and chuck it directly at the being’s head. Watto let out a sound resembling a dying Loth cat as he slumped to the ground, eyes blinking shut as he was knocked unconscious. Qui-Gon himself was startled into action, as his lightsaber hilt was summoned into his hand, thumb on the ignition switch. Padmé jumped violently and backed into a shelf, which fell to the ground and to pieces, prompting R2 to wail and rush to the Queen’s side, beeping furiously. 

Anakin just stood there, witnessing it all, blinking. 

“Last I remembered, you didn’t know how to do that.”

The time traveller turned sharply towards the young boy. “You remember?” Swallowing, he shoved his hands in his pockets and prodded at the underside of his saber. “Did you come back too?”

“Well… not exactly?” Anakin scrunched his nose up, his eyebrows dipping down in a contemplative frown. “This is still my first life for me, but I think I remember stuff from another time?” 

Well. That would certainly impact his plans. 

A cold shiver wracked his body, as he took a deep breath in, and out, feeling sweat pool on his palms. “So… you remember… everything?”

“I think my mind is suppressing the bad memories. I only remember some parts of your Anakin’s life, mostly good ones?” Anakin shrugged. “But you’re here to take Mum and I away, right?”

“Yeah.”

~~~

Anakin knowing made things a lot easier. For one, it made their time on Tatooine shorter. 

Shmi had been a little confused, but as it turned out, she somewhat knew what was going to happen, due to her son informing her of his condition. With this, they went along with Obi-Wan's plans willingly, and if they witnessed him placing a very strong Force suggestion on Watto, they did not comment on it. 

It was amazing to be in his old padawan’s presence again. The boy was every bit the padawan he remembered, minus the Jedi training, he was excitable and enthusiastic, and so willing to learn everything he could about the Jedi, the Republic, and the galaxy. He bombarded Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan with questions, and the two took joy in answering the hyperactive boy’s queries, glancing at each other every so often and grinning. Qui-Gon seemed completely charmed by Anakin, and that thought made Obi-Wan feel a little giddy, knowing that his master thought his grandpadawan was great. 

But wait. Grandpadawan? If all went according to plan, then wouldn't Qui-Gon be Anakin's master? What about him? Will he be shelved, forced to watch as his padawan was raised by someone other than him? He had nothing against Qui-Gon as a teacher, he would probably make a better master than him, but would he really be able to sit aside as his padawan was trained not by him, but by another? Obi-Wan wanted to talk to his master about it, but he did not know how to, for how would he start such a conversation with the older Jedi? Oh master, suppose you survived, you'll train Anakin, right? I don't think I can really settle for that, he was my padawan in the past...

So he shoved it to the back of his mind and soldiered on, praying to the Force that everything would go right. 

Chapter Text

The timeline was rather adamant about the sandstorm that would hinder their group from returning to the Naboo ship, much to Obi-Wan’s chagrin. He would rather get back to Coruscant as soon as he possibly could, but alas, fate remained stubborn. After all the things that he’d done to change the future, there was one thing he could not change, and that was the weather, he thought to himself ruefully. At least it was something that he couldn’t control or plan, and he could be excused for it.

Though no one had ever outright said it, Obi-Wan knew that they expected a lot from him. And he could understand why, too - after all, if you knew a being who essentially knew what was going to happen for the next forty years, would you not have high expectations for him? Would you not hope that he could right all the wrongs that were going to happen, especially when that being spoke of an incredibly dark future to come? He understood why everyone around him would expect such from him. No, he did not blame them. So why did he feel so conflicted over it all? Why did he feel weary at the prospect of everyone relying on him, tired at the weight of the galaxy’s expectations weighing down on his shoulders?

He never forgot Yoda’s words all those years ago, though. Purify your crystal, you can. Heal from your past, you must. His crimson saber served as a constant reminder to what the Grandmaster had said. However, throughout the past five years, he was unwilling to see any mind healers. It was something that could not simply be resolved just by seeing healers, he’d tried to justify to his master, who merely stared at him for a few moments before telling him that his healing journey was his own, which he agreed with silently. At least the Council did not force him to see any doctors. In another universe, they would probably have done so… 

Anakin had brought them to his home to take shelter from the sandstorm. It was nice of him, and it was the same thing he’d done in the first timeline, the only difference being Obi-Wan’s presence there. The night they spent there was rather… comforting. Not only did it remind him of the peaceful times he’d spent under the darkened skies and the stars during his time in the desert, he was surrounded by the people he cared about. His master. Anakin and his mother. Padmé, whose death in his first life he’d grieved over. They were all there, and dare he said it: it was the most settled he had felt in over forty years. 

He, Master Qui-Gon and Anakin sat together just outside Anakin’s home, watching the three moons hanging high in the night in all their bright glory. His master and his not-yet-padawan were talking in a leisurely manner, their soft chatter filling the air around the group, and Obi-Wan felt content to sit there, letting the peacefulness of the situation wash over him. 

It almost felt domestic, this entire scene. The closest person he had to a father figure and the closest person he had to a son, all sitting down next to him and keeping him company, a notion so simple yet heartwarming. It made Obi-Wan think twice about disrupting the calmness of it all and dragging them all back to the mess that was reality. If only he could stay here forever, with everyone he’d ever loved, on a faraway planet where no one could touch them. If only… 

If everything goes right, Obi-Wan’s mind whispered to him, you could have that. But definitely not now.

“Obi-Wan. Are you alright?” Anakin’s ever-youthful voice gently brought the time traveller out of his thoughts. Looking at the people he called family, he smiled wistfully, turning back to the night that stretched on forever in the distance. 

“I’ve never been better.”

~~~

What happened next was all quite the blur. 

For one, they woke up at the crack of dawn, and all but scarfed down their breakfast, before taking off to Watto’s shop to collect the necessary parts. The shop owner did not give them any troubles, much to Obi-Wan’s relief, merely floating in one corner and staring into blank space dazedly, a fact that Anakin took relish in, giggling gleefully at the way the Toydarian bobbed up and down on the spot with barely any awareness of his surroundings at all. 

Before long, they were setting off, taking advantage of the crowds that had flooded the streets of Mos Espa to blend in. Anakin had explained something about an event, some Boonta Eve podrace, and Obi-Wan vaguely recalled Anakin in his first life talking about it, when he’d been a padawan under him. Well, there was no need to take part in it this time, seeing as they’d already acquired what they needed, and the crowds were just what they needed to hide from any unwanted visitors. Not that it would stop Maul, though, Obi-Wan felt his presence hovering at the edge of his awareness, like a persistent bug or insect… 

That is, until he spotted the probe droid.

He stiffened, eyes honing onto that particular droid. Force, did it fill him with such unease! The Jedi knew that it could only belong to Maul, of course, and it immediately made dread fill his veins. Reaching out with the Force to have a feel at the surroundings, he felt a dark presence nearby, one so unfamiliar yet so familiar, and he shifted uncomfortably, hesitating for just one second before reaching out with the Force and crushing the droid from where it was hiding. 

Master Qui-Gon, who noticed Obi-Wan’s actions, turned to him and murmured to him in a low voice. “Is he here?”

The younger gave a curt nod. 

Nodding, the Jedi master chanced a subtle look around at the surrounding area, and spotted the crushed droid laying in a ruined pile next to a stand. "We should hurry back to the ship. We should not stay here longer than necessary. Especially if we’re going to be hauling the hyperdrive back.”

~~~

“I don’t like sand,” Anakin was telling Padmé, making faces at his sand-ridden feet, as they tracked towards the Naboo ship, flanked by two eopies on either side of the group, which were lugging the parts they needed to fix the ship. Casting his senses far and wide, Obi-Wan was on hyper-alert, wary of the fact that Maul would spring out of nowhere at them. His eyes flicked to every spot of sand that shifted in the wind, unblinking, afraid to blink to get rid of the sand in his eyes for the fear of letting down his guard… 

The hike back to the ship continued like this, with him on edge, all the way until they reached the ship. Surprisingly, nothing happened at all, but that was not necessarily a good thing in Obi-Wan’s eyes. It meant that he could not predict what could happen next, and not knowing what was coming? That scared him, no matter how much he released his fear to the Force. 

Before they knew it, they were at the ship, and they were loading the parts inside, scrambling to get the ship’s hyperdrive fixed. Obi-Wan stayed outside the ship, keeping an eye on the surrounding sand dunes, watching for any sign of Maul on the horizon. There was still nothing in sight, and as Obi-Wan paced and fretted and sighed, he grew more agitated, especially after the first hour passed. 

And yet, still nothing. 

Master Qui-Gon came out to check on him when the two hour mark passed, looking outwardly serene as always but a tiny frown tugging at his lips. “Obi-Wan. We’re almost done repairing the hyperdrive. We should be able to take off in twenty minutes, at the very latest.”

A sigh left Obi-Wan. “There’s no sign of anything at all. That’s supposed to be a good thing, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

And then the Force whirled up like a sandstorm. 

Obi-Wan jolted upright, his back going ramrod straight as his eyes darted to the horizon in the distance.

A figure was approaching at a high speed.

“Master!” At Obi-Wan’s yell, Qui-Gon immediately sprung into action and darted back into the ship, presumably to hurry the repairs up. Obi-Wan ran forward towards the open sandy area, his mind going blank as he set his entire focus on that approaching hooded figure, Maul, Maul, Maul, Darth Maul is here! His mind chanted, and Obi-Wan felt his body fall into an open, waiting stance, waiting for the Sith Lord to spring out and strike at him. 

Maul did exactly that. He propelled up and out of his speeder bike and ignited his red lightsaber, teeth bared into a snarl as he struck forward. Obi-Wan called his saber to his hand with the Force, and ignited it as well, the red blade shooting out of his hilt. The two blades crashed against each other with force, and Obi-Wan only caught the slight widening of Maul’s eyes before he struck back with strength, almost shoving the Sith back from him.

Obi-Wan twirled his saber back, letting the momentum of his lightsaber reset, as well as acutely feeling the Force channelling through him like he was an overcharged beacon. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he sprinted at the Zabrak, feeling the Force rise up around him like a loth wolf rearing to strike. He promptly shot forward with the Force and snagged Maul in his strong Force grip, pulling him forward towards him and causing him to nearly stumble as he scrambled to regain his composure and block the Jedi’s Force attack. The Sith did so, but barely in time to raise his saber to block the sideways swing that the Jedi executed at him, the Jedi’s saber a blur of red in the air. Obi-Wan then sent the strongest Force push he could muster and sent Maul skidding backwards, digging his heels in the sand to stop himself from flying any further. 

Maul cocked his head to his side, panting heavily. “You’re something new.”

The Jedi chest heaved, and he stared down the amber-eyed creature with steady eyes, his every limb relaxed and still. “What do you mean, Sith?”

Darth Maul bared his teeth in something that resembled a grin. “You’re a Jedi… but you have a red blade. I’ve heard whispers about a Jedi with a red blade. Do you not know the implications of having such a lightsaber, boy?”

Obi-Wan merely stared at him blankly. “Well, of course I do, Sith. And I know the implications of yours. That means I have to beat you, no matter the colour of my saber.” And he struck forward again, this time flowing into Ataru and striking downwards at Maul’s head with lethal intent. 

Maul dodged, darting to the left and raising his blade to block the flurry of side slashes thrown at him. “What makes you think that you can beat me, little Jedi?” 

“I don’t think that I can beat you. I know I can, and I will, Darth Maul.” 

They continued their little dance, as Maul forced him into Soresu, slipping into Djem So to even out the odds. “You know my name. And my title of Darth.”

“Call it intuition, Maul. Or perhaps you Sith are not as secret as you think you are?” 

“Aha! It never mattered at all, as we were going to be revealing ourselves in time, little Jedi. You can’t stop the rise of the Sith.”

“Maybe not, but I can stop you .”

Obi-Wan leaped over him, tucking his legs into his body and rolling forward, landing perfectly behind the Sith and delivering a powerful kick to Maul’s back. The Sith grunted and crumpled inwards, falling forward into the sand in a heap, groaning in pain as he tried to get up. Obi-Wan did not let him, however, and pressed a boot to the Sith’s back, bearing down with the Force to prevent Maul from moving. 

His red blade hung limply at his side, and he slowly moved it to the back of Maul’s neck, hovering over the skin and humming in his hand… 

He just needed to shift his blade down, and Maul would no longer be a problem.

Just a quick swing downwards, and Maul would have no chance of surviving.

Or a stab directly in the head, and Maul would not be a threat to his family ever again… 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Maul taunted him, and Obi-Wan regretted not using the Force to silence the Zabrak. “Kill me, little Jedi, give in to your hate! Your lightsaber’s already bled, why do things halfway? Do it.”

Do it, Palpatine's voice, ringing in his ears-

Obi-Wan looked down at his blade, burning red from where it protruded from the hilt of his saber. 

He looked back at the Sith’s back. 

And before he knew it, his foot was moving away from the being’s back, and he was releasing his hold on the Sith. 

Maul slowly got up, unsteady. He turned back to look at the Jedi, with a look on his face that Obi-Wan could not quite decipher. It faded, and the Sith was raising a non-existent brow at the one who had just spared his life. “You… spared me.” 

The time traveller took a step back and bowed slightly, letting his lightsaber blade retract back into his hilt. “A Jedi shall only resort to killing only if all other options have run out.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s all, little Jedi. There’s more to you than what meets people’s eyes. I have spent my entire time here on Tatooine watching you, and you are hiding something. What are you hiding, little Jedi?” Maul grinned widely, stretching his arms and summoning his deactivated lightsaber back into his hand.

“Don’t call me that,” Obi-Wan replied faintly, still in a little bit of a daze. He shook it off, regaining enough of his senses to level the Sith with a flat look. “And why would I tell you that? You’re conspiring with the Sith master.”

“How would you know? I could be the Sith master, for all you know.”

“You aren’t.”

Maul cocked his head to the side again. Why did he keep doing it? “You’re something new, little Jedi, I can sense it,” the Zabrak murmured, sizing Obi-Wan up with his challenging stare alone. Obi-Wan stood straight, uncaring. “I won’t tell my master of this encounter at all. No, not at all. You’re lucky that I want to see how all this pans out.”

“Stay out of all this, up until the Trade Federation is dealt with. Don’t interfere with my work. Don’t even think of stepping foot close to my master. If any of this happens, I’ll hunt you down and end you.”

“Deal, little Jedi,” the Sith apprentice gave him a mock salute, at which he could not help but roll his eyes. “I’ll figure you out, little Jedi, just you wait.” And he was gone, hopping onto his speeder bike and taking off for the horizon, disappearing into the desert. Obi-Wan stared at him, watching him until he was a mere speck in the distance, and with a numb heart, turned around stiffly and marched back into the ship.

~~~

“He called me little Jedi! What is it with all of you, and your stupid nicknames for me!” 

“Oooh… Little Jedi, that’s a good one.”

“Master!” 

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan Kenobi remembered the day Anakin Skywalker turned up in his life.

It was a sudden affair, Qui-Gon bringing Anakin into his life. Into all their lives. At first, he had not known what to think about this tiny little whirlwind of a boy, who forcefully upended the calm flow of events and changed the course of the future forever, about the boy whom his master was willing to forsake him for, about the boy who took up the next 20 or so years of his knighthood. But then Qui-Gon had died, and Anakin was all that he had left, and time had gone on, barely allowing him any respite. Soon enough, ten years had passed, and they were taking on that Force-damned assignment to bodyguard Padmé Amidala. 

The rest had been history. History that Obi-Wan had been unfortunate enough to bear witness to.

But it was all different now, wasn't it? This second chance. Anakin gazed up at him with large, trusting eyes, his master by his side, staring down at his (to-be) lineage, in part intrigue and part pride. "I see what you mean, Obi-Wan," the Jedi master remarked, and the ex-slave turned his eyes onto him.

"We will not speak of the Chosen One prophecy," Obi-Wan quipped back at his master, tone sharp and dangerous, as he folded his arms over his chest. "Not ever."

"Now why would I, my young apprentice-master?" Qui-Gon Jinn, the not-quite-little shit, gave him a sideway sly glance, which he was quick to return with a glare. “I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway.”

The glare swiftly morphed into a suspicious look. “I know you were thinking about it.”

“Thinking? Me? Never, padawan mine,” A mischievous smirk surfaced from the sea of tranquillity that was Qui-Gon’s face. 

Anakin and Shmi, who were sitting down to their right, stifled giggles with their palms.

The time traveller rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to reach for the bridge of his nose and pinch it. This was reminding him of his, Anakin’s and Ahsoka’s dynamic during the Clone Wars… “Sarcasm is not befitting of the Jedi way, master.”

“Well, I live to serve, padawan-”

~

"How will you convince the Council to let us stay, Obi-Wan?" Anakin's voice is sceptical, as he curled up in his mother’s arms.

Obi-Wan smiled, feeling oddly proud of the position he’d worked for, for the past few years.

"They'll listen to me." 

He had never felt so sure of something in his life.

~~~

His shoulders ached with the weight of a thousand timelines. 

Obi-Wan drew a deep breath as his eyelids fluttered, his concentration solely on the timeline stuck in his head. The Force whirled around him, acknowledging his meditative state, but he ignored it in favour of going through the chain of potential events in his head. Tatooine. Duel. Coruscant. Council. Naboo. Death. Fire. But no - none of those events would ever come to fruition now, would they? He’d changed way too much. Master Dooku was not a Sith, but a spy. They’d rescued Anakin and Shmi. Darth Maul was most likely not a threat to Qui-Gon. The Order knew of the existence of the Sith. Everything was going quite well, to Obi-Wan’s surprise. Nothing had gone to karking shit yet.

So what would be the next best course of action, then? Of course, they had to go back to Naboo to kick the Trade Federation off the planet and to liberate the people there. The time traveller had half a mind to lock Anakin and Qui-Gon inside the Temple and to settle the Federation-Naboo dispute himself, but he knew that such thoughts were impulsive and irrational. Whatever Anakin had done, it had been vital to their decisive victory on Naboo. 

Qui-Gon, though. 

Obi-Wan was not sure if Qui-Gon would survive even if Maul wasn’t a problem. He didn’t even know if Maul actually wasn’t a problem. There was something very tempting about the thought of chaining his master down to a room to make sure that no harm would even befall him. But once again, he knew that this was a completely irrational course of action, and definitely not the way of the Force. 

There were too many decisions to make, too many elements to consider. How could he decide the next best course of action? He inhaled shakily. Why him? Why was he the one whom the Force sent to fix it all? What if he failed? Would he be forced to relive it all again and again until he went insane? Or would he not be given a second chance at all? What was worse, the chance to redo it all over again, or the lack of a chance entirely?

Even having spent the most of 20 years on a desert planet with absolutely no one for company, his patience had never been his strongest suit. 

~

"Masters, this is Anakin and Shmi Skywalker of Tatooine."

Gasps echoed around the chamber. The esteemed masters of the Jedi Council all immediately began talking at once, eyes fixed on both Kenobi and the skinny, small boy that the time traveller had claimed was his padawan from another life. 

"-His padawan!"

"...We have to let him train him!"

"But he's too young! He's not even knighted!"

"Should we knight him, then?"

"The Chosen One-"

"Qui-Gon Jinn is still alive, shouldn't we let him assume the role of the boy's master?"

"But what about Kenobi, then?"

"Enough!" A loud thump echoed around the Council chambers, and the incessant talking ceased, all the room's occupants turning their eyes towards the Grandmaster, who had his gimer stick planted on the ground. "Table this discussion, we must, for another time."

Obi-Wan nearly sighed out loud in relief. 

"Talk to us, you must, about the mission on Tatooine, young Kenobi."

~~~

Obi-Wan moved with the Force, cloaked by invisible shadows, as he discreetly made his way towards Queen Amidala’s temporary place of residence. 

The Coruscant sky was bright above him, a blue expanse of clouds and atmosphere stretching off into the distance. It was a fine day, in his opinion, and if he was not on a mission to change the timeline, he probably would have taken the day off to enjoy some city life. 

He darted through the doors of the apartment building that the Queen and her entourage were staying at, stepping into the elevator and watching as the doors closed in front of him. 

Ignoring the Nabooian guard in the elevator with him, he turned his attention inwards, running over his plans and thoughts one more time before meeting the Queen. Give her a heads-up on Palpatine. Help her with presenting her case to the Senate. Try to foil the Sith’s plans right from the beginning. At this point, was Plagueis dead yet? There had not been a shift in the Force yet, surely the death of the actual Sith master would cause a monumental shift in the Force? Then again, in his previous life, he hadn’t felt anything, but perhaps he would now that he was actively waiting for it? 

Perhaps there was a way to turn the Sith master against the apprentice? 

Frankly, Obi-Wan did not have any particular beef against Plagueis, Sidious’ master. Sure, he was a Sith, but he hadn’t actually done anything towards him or the Jedi. At least, he didn’t think so… Besides, the time traveller had a small bit of respect for the guy, for his work in science, no matter how skewed his goals. He knew that Darth Plagueis was rather inclined towards the idea of immortality, perhaps he could appeal to that desire to live forever?

He shelved that line of thought away for another time, as the elevator doors opened and the Nabooian guard exited.

Obi-Wan, still using the Force to cloak himself, followed the guard until a room guarded by two more guards came into view. He snuck into the room with the grace of a Loth wolf, and watched cooly as the guards reported back to the esteemed Queen of Naboo.

“My Lady, the representative of the Jedi Order has not arrived yet-” they spoke purposefully, heads bowed down in respect. “-It is not like the Jedi to be late.”

“I suspect he is here already,”  the Queen hummed, ever so insightfully. She turned to meet the eyes of Padmé Amidala, who gave her a knowing glance, giving the pseudo-Queen the slightest of nods. “He will make himself known to us as soon as he is ready.”

At that, Obi-Wan smoothly revealed himself, shucking the Force away like a cloak. The room collectively took a sharp breath as he came into view, though the Queen seemed pleased that she was right, giving a nod to the Jedi. 

“Greetings, My Lady,” the time traveller swept into a deep bow. “I am Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Jedi Order.”

Dismissing the majority of her staff from the room, the two began a much needed discussion regarding the upcoming Senate session deciding the fate of the sovereign world of Naboo.

~~~

“There is much to discuss,” Obi-Wan immediately went straight into business as the Queen’s staff filed out of the room. “Might we take a seat for this?”

“Certainly,” said the Queen, and after another subtle glance at Handmaiden Amidala, chose her seat directly in front of the Jedi. “What does the Jedi Council have to say about the situation on my homeworld?”

“Well, we are able to discern a few possible courses of action from here on out, and the Council has given me the permission to share a few of my more… personal thoughts when it comes to this conflict.” 

“Ah, Master Jedi, does the Council really trust your judgement that much?”

“Let’s say that I am very well-informed when it comes to the dealings of the galaxy… So, your upcoming petition to the Senate.”

“Yes… What are your thoughts about it?” 

“Hmm.. I sense that it may be difficult for the Senate to grasp the severity of this situation,” Obi-Wan stroked a finger across his chin in thought. “What we must do is to let them understand the ramifications of leaving your world in occupation.” 

“Oh? What do you think could come out of my world’s occupation?” The Queen’s voice tinged with intrigue and a little worry, though her face remained blank. The auburn-haired man sighed, burying his arms in his robes and crossing them over his chest. 

“There is a far bigger plot at play,” He began cautiously, mind flashing back to his previous timeline’s chain of events. “The Trade Federation toes a dangerous line, especially when you make your case to the Senate. They are risking separation and full-on war with the Republic…”

The young woman’s face flickered, and Obi-Wan observed a shadow of worry flash across her face before it hardened into determination. “Well, that aside, the freedom of my world comes first in my eyes.”

The Jedi inclined his head in agreement. “On that, we agree.”

“At least we have one good thing that comes out of this whole situation,” Obi-Wan ruminated, mind going to a certain Sith apprentice that he had spared on Tatooine. “We don’t have to worry too much about the assassin that came after us on Tatooine.”

“You are certain?” Queen Amidala frowned, exchanging yet another look with the handmaiden. “Have you managed to… eliminate them, then?”

“Well, it was more like they eliminated themselves, but we should most likely still keep a lookout, of course,” Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath, restraining the urge to sigh deeply in front of the Queen. “The assassin is a fickle character. We do not know their motives.”

The two relapsed back into silence, both deep in thought. One felt the acute heartbreak of her homeworld, and the other‘s mind lingered on the conundrum that was leaving his enemy alive, the same enemy that gave him many headaches in the very future. He’d come a long way from then, a very long way from then, no matter how young his body was, he still felt so old and tired… 

Beep, beep! 

“My Lady, it’s Senator Palpatine,” Handmaiden Padmé produced a com-link from her pocket and held it out to the Queen, who took it with slender fingers. She glanced back at the Jedi, who had gone utterly still, eyes fixed on the holo-communicator. “Master Kenobi? Are you alright?”

“I- Yes,” The man quietly murmured, and an expression of discomfort flitted across his face. “Go ahead; answer it.”

“Ah, My Lady.”

“Senator Palpatine?”

“There are a few urgent matters at hand that we must discuss. Might I meet you at your quarters in 5?”

“Of course, senator.” 

Both the Queen and handmaiden eyed Master Kenobi as the projection of Palpatine flickered out, watching the way he was sitting, back straight and body stiff. A few moments of tension passed before the Jedi seemed to come back to life from the statue-like state he had been in, immediately standing up and brushing his cloak down. 

“Well, if that is all, My Lady?” At the Queen’s nod, Obi-Wan turned towards the door and took his leave, his brown cloak billowing behind him. But before he fully stepped out of the doorway, he turned back towards the two women, and stared straight into Padmé Amidala’s eyes, before saying one final thing. 

“Do not trust the Senator, My Lady. He is a much more dangerous man than you think.”

~~~

Obi-Wan’s mouth dipped down into a slight frown as Chancellor Valorum was disgracefully booted from the Senate, his ashen and shamed face apparent in the holoprojection. “Troubling, this is,” Yoda hummed from his seat in the Council room chambers, which was followed by a whole slew of murmurs from the rest of the Council Members. 

“Obi-Wan? What should be our next course of action?” His master asked him from his left. The time traveller sighed rather audibly, the rest of the Council quieting down at that noise. 

“Our priority must be the liberation of Naboo. We can’t really do anything for now…” Obi-Wan paused, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Actually, I think… Hmm...”

“...Remind me again. Is Bail Antilles the current Alderaanian senator, or Bail Organa? I have a senator from Alderaan to meet.”