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Chapter Text

The familiar sound of lightsabers clashing together fills the room. Harsh breaths an underlying note to each new hit of blade against blade. Obi-Wan Kenobi’s grunt of frustration is lost under a sizzling hiss coming from his own saber, thrown up at the very last second before he could be hit. 

Obi-Wan adjusts his footing, his muscles straining after having been locked in combat for what must be well over an hour straight. 

“Again.” Count Dooku’s voice is sharp, his gaze sharper. 

Obi-Wan takes in one more breath, this time deliberately slow as he recenters himself back to the opening stance of Makashi and then he attacks. His grandmaster’s saber is ready for him. Dooku dances past his offensive manoeuvres with a practised grace that leaves Obi-Wan looking more like a flailing youngling than the master sabersmith he truly is. He lunges anyway, trying to divert his energy away from the offensive attack into a swift flick from his wrist. Dooku anticipates the feint and has already shifted his weight to his back foot, allowing him plenty of room to run his blade against the Knight's, diverting him wildly off course and providing yet another opening. 

Obi-Wan and Dooku identify it in synchrony. Victory dances behind the Count’s controlled expression but Obi-Wan’s lightning fast reflexes already have him twisting mid step, his whole body straining with the effort to ensure that when Dooku’s saber stabs forward, he is already gone. 

The Count’s lips purse in frustration when he realises that he hasn’t managed to end this duel as swiftly as he wants. However, that hardly stops the man from pulling back just a fraction to readjust his grip before attacking Obi-Wan in earnest. The Knight scrambles back under the sudden onslaught. 

His instincts tell him to default into the same Soresu moves that have been drilled in him for decades, but he catches himself quickly, consciously shifting his attention to follow the far more foreign series of steps that his Makashi classes are currently instilling in him. Half his mind seems to be stuck desperately struggling to remember just which order he needs to follow for a particularly difficult sequence until he’s so entrapped in his own thoughts he wildly overestimates his reach and manages to stumble over his own foot. 

“Pay attention Obi-Wan,” Dooku chides, his assault never ending, “You favour your left far too heavily.”

As if to prove his point the Count directs his considerable focus directly onto Obi-Wan’s weaker side. The Knight jolts at the suddenly much closer calls he’s taking. Their lightsabers are a whirling blur of blue against blue. Dooku’s deftly sharp motions contrast drastically against Obi-Wan’s far less controlled swings. To any outside observer it would be blatantly obvious who between them is the true master duellist. If anything it is only Obi-Wan’s own expertise in maintaining such a solid defence that has left him standing against the Count for this long. 

“Stop dropping your weight,” Dooku counsels, his breathing a steady, even beat compared to the desperate gasps that have started to escape the younger man, in spite of his best efforts. “And lock your wrists Obi-Wan.”

There’s no time for him to roll his eyes, no time to banter or counter his grandmaster’s sharp comments. Still, Obi-Wan diverts just a little more attention to fixing his stance, his arm steadying under the Master’s direction. 

“Good.”

Obi-Wan takes Dooku’s mild praise with a brash grin. Their blades lock onto one another, another burning sizzle of ozone spreading through the air before Obi-Wan mimics that flick of the hand Dooku had used against him earlier. The Count seems surprised by the move, his lightsaber drifting to his side and leaving just a sliver of a crack in his impenetrable defence. 

Obi-Wan darts for it. He lunges, the very last reserves of strength in his body pushing him forward for this one chance. Both his feet are soaring through the air as the man flies towards that tiny gap. 

There’s a blur of movement and then Obi-Wan feels the air pushed from his lungs as he lands sprawled onto the floor. 

“Ow,” He groans. 

Blinking owlishly Obi-Wan peers up to the ceiling above him, wondering just how he ended up here. A silhouette emerges into view before clearing up into the face of his Grandmaster staring imperiously down at him. 

“Well done Obi-Wan.”

The Knight reaches up to accept the proffered hand, letting Dooku pull him to a sitting position. All too soon the fresh bruises he already knows are forming beneath his skin make themselves known. He groans again. 

“You held out longer than before,” the Count observes mildly. He doesn’t even have the decency to look winded. Rude. 

“I suppose all these lessons must be good for something after all,” Obi-Wan says, propping himself up onto one knee before fully standing. He hisses quietly to himself at the burning pain that races down his side. That’s what one gets for being flung to the floor and not even having the decency to catch yourself before falling, he supposes. 

“You are of course still far from a master of Makashi, I needn’t remind you.”

“Of course,” he echoes with a roll of his eyes. In the months since Dooku agreed to start training him, Obi-Wan has gotten quite used to being reminded just how far from ‘competent’ he is in his grandmaster’s eyes. 

Dooku is certainly not the kindest teacher, but anyone could see that he is a very good one. Under the Count’s tutelage Obi-Wan’s saber work has excelled far beyond what he’d ever thought possible. He is already far more controlled and deliberate with every movement, a deadly precise force to be reckoned with. Conveniently his improvement in Makashi is also bleeding into his practices with the other forms, elevating his skills in nearly all areas. 

Sometimes Dooku will even throw in a criticism for him to work on for the other forms while they practise Makashi, as if he can see through Obi-Wan’s weaknesses so clearly that he can already estimate exactly where the Knight would be lacking elsewhere. It is humbling to know that Dooku can read his flaws so efficiently even when he isn’t witnessing them first hand, in retrospect their toying duels together throughout the Clone Wars have taken on a whole different context for the time-traveller. One surprise outcome of their listens though is that Obi-Wan can now eagerly join in with Qui-Gon’s usual grumbling about Dooku’s particular brand of teaching.

Speaking of Obi-Wan’s master, Qui-Gon Jinn chooses right that moment to step into the dojo they’d booked for the afternoon. Immediately he sees the state of Obi-Wan, hunched over with hands on his knees trying to get his traitorous lungs to start functioning properly, and then sees his own Master who stands next to the Knight, nary a hair out of place, and promptly laughs. 

Again: Rude. 

“Another fine training session, I take it?” Qui-Gon calls as he steps into the room properly. 

“Of course it was Master,” Obi-Wan huffs indignantly as he straightens “what’s brought you here?”

“Ah, aside from witnessing the miracle of seeing someone actually defeat my padawan?” Qui-Gon’s smirk is duly ignored by said padawan, “I’m mostly here to say goodbye.”

Obi-Wan and Dooku both jerk to attention at that, peering at Qui-Gon in matching confusion. 

“Another mission?” Obi-Wan doesn’t try to hide the surprise in his voice, “But you just got back.”

“Indeed.” Dooku echoes, though even his shock can’t be fully muffled under his solemn baritone. 

Qui-Gon shrugs good naturedly, “So it seems.”

“Where are you off to now then?” Obi-Wan runs a hand through sweaty hair, absently noting just how badly he needs to shower after this latest fight but not willing to miss the limited time he has left with his master. 

“I don’t know yet. I’m headed to the Council now to get my orders. Master Windu indicated I’ll be shipping off immediately after.”

Obi-Wan swallows his disappointment. He and Qui-Gon had planned to head into Coruscant’s lower levels together tomorrow. Nowadays it seemed rare that they were both on planet at the same time and Obi-Wan had been determined to make time to spend with his Master in this new timeline. A goal which he’d succeeded with to some degree, but frequently seemed to be obstructed from more often than not. 

Not to mention that it was actually far more difficult than he’d like for Obi-Wan to escape out into Coruscant’s depths like he wanted to. He had a few ongoing appointments to keep outside the Temple and it was already hard enough to take an innocent stroll off Temple grounds without Mace staring reproachfully after him and muttering about shatterpoints. 

Regardless, the news that Qui-Gon would be off planet again was disappointing but not altogether surprising. He’d been getting put on missions rather frequently since Naboo and Obi-Wan’s knighting. Both he and the Council were keeping their reasons pretty hush hush but there were two main methods Obi-Wan had to figure out just what was happening. 

First was of course that he happened to know his Master very well and Qui-Gon was a rather opinionated man who had always struggled to keep his inner thoughts quite as inner as he probably should. So Obi-Wan had been able to read between the lines of his words fairly often in the last few months and make a few deductions that at least pointed him in the right direction.

His second strategy was that it turns out the High Council didn’t change their access codes very often. 

When Obi-Wan had tried his old passcodes from his previous timeline he’d honestly done it out of a fruitless sense of duty. He would’ve been far too mad at himself if he hadn’t at the very least crossed it off his to-do list so one afternoon he’d wandered down to the archives, holed himself up at the most secluded terminal and started typing. 

If he didn’t have quite so many ongoing plans that benefited greatly from unfettered access to the Council’s files he would’ve marched up to them then and there to demand an increase in cyber security immediately. Unfortunately doing that would’ve certainly resulted in an immediate revocation of his current access so letting the Council in on this particular oversight wasn’t quite worth it just yet.

Still, just because it benefited him didn’t mean Obi-Wan wanted their files left quite that vulnerable to anyone else who might have less than noble intentions. So one of those ongoing appointments he now has out in the depths of Coruscant is with a master hacker who, for a not insignificant fee, is teaching Obi-Wan how to more securely encrypt the Temple’s data servers. In exchange for not speaking a word to anyone about what they are working on, Obi-Wan keeps managing to “forget” to mention all the blatant illicit goods he sees stacked around the hacker’s home. Overall it’s actually a pretty good arrangement if you didn’t mind a bit of blissful ignorance vis a vis blackmarket trading. 

So now the Council’s files are more secure than they’ve been in years… aside, of course, from the prying eyes of one particularly paranoid Knight who would be digging into Qui-Gon’s mission report just as soon as he has gotten that shower he so desperately needs. 

He tunes back into the conversation between Qui-Gon and Dooku just in time to hear them discussing his ongoing progress at Makashi. 

“I’m just saying he’s already better than almost anyone else in the Temple.” Qui-Gon defends exasperatedly.

Dooku sniffs imperiously. “It is a wonder he has managed that if your tutelage is satisfied to settle at just ‘better than others’.”

“And what standards are you comparing him to, huh?”

“I am comparing young Kenobi’s progress against his own potential, Qui-Gon. Perhaps he would not have abandoned your precious Ataru in favour of the more refined Makashi if you had fostered his expertise there too.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan interrupts the two masters with a sigh, “You’re both very talented and good at teaching me. Now, aren’t you both a bit above trying to one up each other over me by now?” 

The two men before him have the grace to both look mildly embarrassed to be caught up in what is frankly the most bizarre pissing match Obi-Wan has ever seen. 

He really hadn’t anticipated the sheer level of passive aggressive showmanship his master and grandmaster would have for each other. It was even more absurd when he had first realised that what those men seemed to want to brag about most was… him. 

There’d been a handful of pointed comments from the Count the first few times he’d come to the temple, generally directed towards not-so-subtle acknowledgment of just who Obi-Wan had come to for help. Then there was the return of Qui-Gon managing to reinterpret any achievement made by the Knight as a clear indication of his supposedly renowned skills as a teacher. Altogether it was a bunch of nonsense but Obi-Wan didn’t find himself trying all that hard to stop their foolish posturing. Honestly it is far too fun to have time as the three of them, united in all the strange nuances that come with a lineage. 

More and more when the three of them come together, there would be flashes of moments - mere fractions of a second - where Obi-Wan can feel that same unity he had found in another life when it was just him, Anakin and Ahsoka all together. An unspoken unity. 

At least this time these Jedi before him are far less concerned with any determined efforts to make Obi-Wan go grey before his time. Instead Qui-Gon and Dooku are busy making their own astoundingly emotionally repressed goodbyes. 

Obi-Wan can almost imagine he sees Qui-Gon genuinely debate giving his old master a hug, though he would have been a far braver man than thought possible if he actually went through with it. Instead he offers the Count a quick nod and turns to his wayward ex-apprentice. 

“Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone,” are his incredibly sentimental parting words. 

Obi-Wan scoffs, “I never get in trouble.”

Both men before him raise a silent eyebrow in pure disbelief. He almost wants to point out just how synchronised that movement is but Obi-Wan would prefer not to be maimed for daring to point out similarities between the two of them, thank you very much. 

“Padawan-”

“Not a Padawan anymore.”

“-I’ve known you many years and in all that time you have never ceased to impress me with just how talented you are at attracting trouble to your side.”

“I learnt from the very best Master. So I suppose I should now be telling you not to get into any trouble without me there to bail you out.”

Qui-Gon concedes his point with a wry smile, “Fair enough. How about neither of us get in trouble then no one has to worry?”

Dooku pipes up, dry humour leaking through every word, “Neither of you in trouble? Will wonders never cease.”

Qui-Gon huffs under his breath, though Obi-Wan is certain Dooku caught it. 

“Farewell Obi-Wan, don’t let the old man work you too hard.” 

“No promises, Master.”

“Ah. That is exactly what I was afraid you would say.”

-

Dooku doesn’t stick around long after their lesson has ended, begging off early so he can return to the Senate where he had been practically living for the last two months straight, constant hearings and meetings and all manner of political nonsense has kept the man stuck planetside for far too long according to the Count. 

Admittedly, it has been working out rather well in Obi-Wan’s favour to have his grandmaster so close and so permanently on Coruscant’s- well, not soil, the city planet had little to no soil left to actually speak of. But Coruscant as a whole then. Not only does Dooku’s presence ensure a more regular training schedule to persist, letting him hone his skills nearly twice a week if they are lucky, but it keeps the man close for observation.

They haven’t talked much about Dooku’s near-fall since Obi-Wan’s first proposal to train together. Once or twice Obi-Wan has caught the older man trying to subtly manoeuvre their conversations into tripping Obi-Wan up to reveal anymore of the foreknowledge he’s referred to. Still, it isn’t too much of a strain for the Negotiator to deftly sidestep those topics or turn them back into his own interrogation of the Count’s current activities. After nudging Dooku into admitting he hasn’t seen Sidious since they first spoke, the man seems to have finally given up  on his prying, resolved to wait for Obi-Wan to deem him trustworthy enough to learn more. 

More and more often now that patience seemed to be fraying at the edge. The Count has been making far more frequent references to needing some proof of results from Obi-Wan’s insistence that change is on the horizon. That the Knight’s assurances that he is addressing the Sith’s plots has any actual merit. Frankly, the fact that Dooku is currently holding an actual conversation with him, and that his eyes aren’t a sickly yellow or his saber a blood red apparently isn’t proof enough of Obi-Wan’s influence is somewhat astounding. At the very least it does serve to reassure the time traveller that not all hope is lost, even if the Count has higher expectations. 

Then, of course, there is the matter of the Senate. 

Obi-Wan has been keeping a close eye on the Senatorial proceedings since he awoke in this new timeline. On the one hand politics is awful and he has never had the temperament for it. On the other hand, this is a matter of galaxy-wide life and death so his temperament doesn’t actually get that much of a say at all. 

Since Valorum’s little trip to Naboo there has been a massive upheaval in the Senate which Obi-Wan is at least eighty six percent certain can be blamed primarily on the frequent complaining of Naboo’s own Senator: Sheev Palpatine. Fallout from the Trade Federation’s occupation of the planet has been repeatedly blocked for numerous ‘mysterious circumstances’ which Obi-Wan will happily blame him for too. Then there’s been the increasingly persistent rumblings of whether a Vote of No Confidence should be called for the Chancellor after all.

At this point most of what Obi-Wan has gathered is that Palpatine is very much still seething from not having gotten the position during the Naboo occupation when he was most optimally primed to receive those needed sympathy votes. But now that Valorum has proved himself at least semi-competent as a leader, Palpatine has been left with no other option than to invest far more time in this ground-up campaign to destabilise the man’s political foundations even whilst manufacturing some other scenario to oust him from power. 

Of course that last bit is speculation but Obi-Wan has been watching his movements as closely as he can through the holo-news and it's the only play that makes sense to him. More than that though, Obi-Wan has been spending his time in meditation trying to pierce through the foggy veil of the Dark. The path before him is still clear enough in the broad strokes: don’t let Sidious rise to power, keep the Galaxy from war, don’t tell everyone you’re from the future. 

One problem that keeps tugging at Obi-Wan’s continued worries about the Sith is the simple fact that now that Obi-Wan blocked his rise to Chancellor, he’s left the Sith with far more time to plot and scheme far from the public eye. Without the very visible duties of a chancellorship to keep the man busy, there is little that Obi-Wan can do to keep a close watch on just what the Sith does in his own time. He’s done his best to check in with Padme as frequently and subtly as possible about how Naboo is faring after its blockade, and specifically how her senator has been handling the fallout. 

Most of her reports veer on the side of excessively neutral to his eternal chagrin. Though Padme hasn’t been stingy with the details, the simple fact is that she has very little to report about her Senators political or personal movements. As she has been handling the renewed trade routes across her planet, and the new Gungan alliance she’d fostered, and the semi-frequent meetings he knows she’s been taking with Bail and a few other trusted planetary leaders; Padme Amidala quite simply hasn’t got the time to spare to chase Palpatine around. Particularly when the man has made himself so deliberately uncontroversial as to be not worth the Queen’s trouble at the best of times. 

Instead, the Nubian Senator has been spending much of his time on Coruscant without her direct supervision which is not exactly a surprise, it’s more just wildly inconvenient to Obi-Wan. Palpatine has been making himself increasingly known amongst the Senators, logging in a fair few private meetings and attending various councils that don’t go to public record so Obi-Wan is left speculating on their true intentions. Yet for the most part Palpatine’s movements are exceptionally difficult to track, and harder still if one hypothetically wanted to do so without him noticing their attempts, which mostly just leaves the unbearably dull public recordings of various Senate hearings that no one in their right mind would want to watch. 

Which of course means that’s exactly what Obi-Wan has been doing. As of late he’s been watching with rapt attention as Sidious has clearly been roped into posing multiple challenges against the authority of the Trade Federation and its unsupervised autonomy across the galaxy. It is nothing short of fascinating to watch a Sith Lord have to publicly criticise the political manoeuvrings of his own pawns that he’d directed into the very place of opposition against his own planetary delegates. Oftentimes Obi-Wan will play a little game with himself to see if he can correctly guess which words that escaped the Senator’s mouth came from Padme’s earnest attempt at promoting democracy or from the man’s own political machinations as he attempts to reset the playing field as discreetly as he can. It is not always a particularly fun game. 

When not occupied at the Senate doing his actual job, Palpatine remains exceptionally difficult to trace. His public appearances are frequent enough and so middling in their excitement that it is doubtful anyone in the galaxy is spending more than the absolute bare minimum amount of time considering just who Sheev Palpatine is in his personal life. He does not show up at restaurants or frequent any particular bars or public spaces. He has no hobbies, no events, no obligations outside of his work hours which only serves to infuriate the time-traveller. 

Despite his attention being targeted on the movements of the Sith, Obi-Wan truly cannot uncover where the man goes, who he is talking to, what clandestine meetings he takes or which sinister plots he is unfurling within the shadows. No matter what foreknowledge he has of the future’s eventual endgame, just how Palpatine came to set all of his plans into motion remains just as shrouded in darkness as before, even if this time Obi-Wan finds himself staring right into the shadows.

And still Darkness is creeping in. 

Sometimes the Force seems to whisper to Obi-Wan. It tells him to watch. To listen. To pay attention because soon . Soon there will be danger. Sometimes, he even imagines that whisper has come to him on a breeze of light, an impression of the ethereal being who set him down this path letting him know she’s still watching. That he’s not alone.

-

“Ah, Obi-Wan, what a surprise to find you here.” 

The Knight in question looks up in surprise. 

“Master Nu,” he says, blinking owlishly. 

Jocasta Nu stands before him, hands on hip and a wry smile tugging at her lips. Obi-Wan looks past her out into the vastness of the dark archive around them and-

Wait. Dark?

“Oh. It’s night.”

Jocasta snorts a very un-ladylike laugh, “Ah, noticed have you?”

Obi-Wan looks back to the terminal in front of him, the half dozen datapads he’s been working from seem to have scattered themselves around the table he’d claimed for himself what he had thought was only an hour or two ago but seems to have been… well rather a lot more than that. 

“Sorry Master Nu,” he says sheepishly, willing the surprised flush in his cheeks to please go away now thank you very much, “I’ll just clean up-”

“No, no,” Jocasta says with a fond sigh, “You certainly needn’t stop on my account. I just thought I’d come here to remind you that most species who favour the sun will likely be taking this opportunity to head to bed now. You know,” she smiles down at him, “If that’s the sort of thing you might like to try one of these days.”

“I do sleep,” he says not-at-all petulantly, “Sometimes.”

“I’m sure you do.” Her tone is indulgent and not at all convincing. “Shall  I leave the lights on in this section just in case you decide tonight is not a night to try it out?”

Obi-Wan wants to stay. He’s been reviewing the Council’s files for hours already, trying to figure out why they’ve been sending so many Knights out on missions to such unusual locations for months now. As best he can tell the Council has started a rather sharp increase of diplomatic missions being sent to the types of planets where Jedi are rarely seen. If he remembers correctly a fair number of those planets ended up siding with the Separatists during the Clone Wars which make them odd contenders for Jedi missions. He’d been temple-bound with a new padawan the first time around so he cannot confirm whether or not these missions were taken in his prior life, and if they weren’t: what that then means for this one. 

There are still plenty of cases put forth by the Senate still, which the Jedi have been responding to as usual, but Obi-Wan keeps finding his attention drawn back to the odd assignments that are taking more and more Knights out into the less friendly corners of the galaxy. He would give just about anything to get to attend Council meetings himself again, just to see if they really are responding to the changes he’s made. Or perhaps if now that he has confirmed for them that Maul was only the Sith’s apprentice, then perhaps they’re making a more active effort to seek out the master?

It’s impossible to tell yet, not without tipping his hand regarding his slightly less-than-permitted perusal of Council records. 

If there’s one thing to be grateful for though, it’s  that he’d just switched back to reviewing the holo-news right before Jocasta’s arrival so she at least has no idea what he’s been researching, as is made abundantly clear when she leans over his chair just a little, readjusting the spectacles he rarely ever sees her wearing as she peers down at his screen.

“A vote of no confidence? For Valorum?” She hums thoughtfully, “I was rather under the impression the public was in favour of the Chancellor. Particularly since he made the reparations trip to Naboo so recently.”

Obi-Wan diligently ignores her pointed stare. They both know the Temple rumours that Obi-Wan is the one who convinced the Chancellor to assist in person during the Naboo invasion, despite his many - and passionate - protests that Queen Amidala is really the one who managed that. Of course why should a Temple full of Jedi listen to him when they can instead fill their time gossiping about his apparently unparalleled skills in convincing all politicians to do whatever he wants?

Most recently he’d overhead a few initiates confidently assuring each other that Knight Kenobi is the one who convinced the Duchess of Mandalore to become a pacifist in the first place. For Satine’s sake and his own he was quick to squash that particular rumour. So now of course the initiates like to tell each other that he was solely responsible for introducing the very concept of pacifism to the galaxy. Great. 

“Valorum is in a pretty fragile position,” Obi-Wan muses to the Jedi Archivist, pushing himself back in his seat to allow her a better view. “He gained a lot of goodwill in joining us against the Trade Federation but now people are starting to question just why he had to go in the first place.”

“In what way?”

“Well the corruption mostly,” Obi-Wan shrugs then promptly ignores the loud crack coming from his stiff bones when he does so, “The Senate’s been rumoured to be under the thumb of people just like the Trade Federation for decades, and they’ve only gotten worse since Naboo. Now it’s coming up on a year since the blockade and there’s been no real consequences for anyone. Everyone is convinced that Chancellor Valorum hasn’t actually fixed anything except he’s pulled the covers back just enough for people to get a glimpse of just how much is wrong under the surface. It’s getting harder to ignore.”

Jocasta nods along with his words even as she scrolls through his most recently collected articles curiously. He has no doubt that she heard every word though, he’s not enough of an old fool to doubt Jocasta Nu’s ability to read and listen and still manage to think circles around half the Temple’s inhabitants in her sleep. 

“They expect him to root out the corruption himself?” Her tone is deceptively mild as she clicks through to the next article. Obi-Wan bizarrely feels like he’s getting tested, though he doesn’t know what for yet. 

“It’s easy to place the blame wholly at his feet. The more people learn that corruption has festered under his watch, the quicker they are to blame him for all of it. He’s been the public face of the Republic for too many years for most folk to even know how to dissociate him from everything it stands for.”

“And you agree?”

“With which part?”

“That he is what has allowed the corruption to fester?”

Obi-Wan scoffs tiredly at that. “Oh no. The Senate’s problems run far deeper than all that. Valorum might have good intentions but he hasn’t really tried to fix what was already broken when he took that seat.”

“You sound rather confident about that Knight Kenobi.”

“Well, yes.” He peers at her, curious about her strange tone, “The Trade Federation was already making moves on the Senate before he took his seat. The banking clan too, and the techno union. Not to mention how many Senators have been taking increasingly large ‘campaign funding’ donations over the last few decades. A lot of it is on public record.”

Jocasta’s brow furrows at that, her wrinkled face only serving to accentuate the move.

“If this is all as public as you say then why do you suppose the Chancellor has not resolved these issues?”

“Because even if information is available, not everyone knows how to piece it all together. To see the bigger picture - not until it’s too late.”

“Too late?” she looks back at him, “You sound rather pessimistic about that Knight Kenobi.”

He offers her a tired smile that doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes, “We’ve all been far too comfortable simply knowing the information is out there, rather than feeling any need to check on it ourselves, for too many years I’d expect, Madam Nu.”

Her nose wrinkles at that, mildly affronted. “It is important to ensure that the knowledge is there, Knight Kenobi. That way we can ensure that future generations will have as much access to it as we do now.”

Obi-Wan deliberately doesn’t think about how the only future generations he remembers consist of a farm boy on a half forgotten planet and a princess hidden in plain sight, neither of whom knew they were the sole successors to a freshly lost civilisation. 

“You’re absolutely right; it is important that we collect all this for those that come after us,” he sweeps a hand out to indicate the hallowed halls stacked full of datapads all around them, “But there will always be knowledge missing from a collection, and new insights to be gained from looking at what we already have in a new light.”

Jocasta straightens haughtily. “I think you’ll find that if an item does not appear in our records, it does not exist.”

Obi-Wan crooks an eyebrow at that. “Are you sure?”

“I most certainly am.” 

Obi-Wan debates with himself for a few moments as he gathers the last of his datapads to himself, shutting off the terminal as he does. Well, he’d been meaning to get to this at some point anyway so, decision made, Obi-Wan turns back to the mildly offended archivist before him.

“In that case, Madam Nu. I would suggest you look through the Jedi archives for our records on the planet Kamino.”

“I’m not familiar with that system,” she says tentatively. A curiosity, or perhaps suspicion, clouds her expression as she looks at the Knight standing before her, “But I look forward to learning about it. From our archive.”

He smiles ruefully, well aware of what her search will result in. “And I look forward to hearing what you learn.”

Chapter Text

The next morning Obi-Wan wakes up with the same calm ease he has become well accustomed to in this timeline. He takes a minute, as he does every day, to just lie in bed and breathe. Around him, through walls and halls and room upon room Obi-Wan can trace the bubbling presence of thousands of Jedi all making their way through their own mornings. All alive. All unscarred by war and trauma.

He settles in that quiet peace, just enjoying another calm start to a day which has thus far involved absolutely zero sand breezing into his home and drying out his eyes before he even opens them. Which is of course why he immediately notices when something still manages to be wrong. Obi-Wan sighs forlornly, mourning his good mood even as he turns his attention to that strange tugging in the Force. Begrudgingly, he closes his eyes again and follows it’s quiet insistence to look.

There’s a trail of Darkness in the Force. Obi-Wan dutifully peers at it, poking and prodding at the intrusion to his rather good morning. From what he can tell, the darkness isn’t coming from the Temple itself which is a relief. However that means that whatever is causing it is strong enough to permeate outwards from somewhere else on this planet, crossing an unknown distance.

Well. Maybe not that unknown.

As he’d vaguely suspected the darkness he’s tracing seems to oh-so-conveniently lead right out in the direction of the Senate. Damn. Obi-Wan sighs again more out of habit than anything else, before dragging himself from bed, reluctantly facing the fact he now has to go do something about that. It’s a short walk out of his rooms until he is standing at the exit of the Temple itself, idly debating which way he wants to approach this.

“Are you alright there?”

Obi-Wan very much does not jump at the voice next to him, thank you. He just jerks away from the voice for some other reason. Like to get a better look at who is talking to him. That’s all. No jumping here. No ex-High Generals whose spatial awareness lapsed so much in their distraction that an absolute stranger could sidle up behind them. Nope.

“Oh, uh yes. Thank you.” He stutters out to his new companion. The blond human man smiles wryly, almost certainly not believing a word of it.

“Ah of course. I too like to stand in the middle of a doorway for no reason at all.”

Obi-Wan huffs out a small laugh, “I was simply making a decision. So sorry to have obstructed your path so inconsiderately.” He takes a deliberate step to the side which serves little purpose considering how the doorway they’re standing in could easily fit about a dozen people walking shoulder to shoulder and probably a spare rancor on the side just for fun.

The blond man laughs at his petty display. “Good to know manners haven’t been totally lost in the galaxy just yet.”

“I do what I can,” Obi-Wan’s faux humility is matched by the man’s own sombre expression.

“You’re doing a great service to us all.”

They grin at each other before the blond man sticks a hand out. “Feemor.”

Obi-Wan reaches out, “Obi-Wan.”

“Pleasure to meet you Obi-Wan. Now tell me; is there anything I can do to help you make your decision or shall we continue to block the path together?”

“I’m simply figuring out how I want to get to the Senate, I’m afraid, not particularly interesting. Though your valiant attempt to help is appreciated.”

Feemor shrugs good naturedly, “Thought I’d offer. You seemed pretty lost in your own thoughts there Obi-Wan.”

Ah. Yes, that is certainly possible. That does tend to happen when one isn’t sure how to enter a building you know is occupied by a Sith Lord with the intent to investigate and then stop whichever crime he is about to commit while not letting anyone know that you in any way already know of it or him.

Obi-Wan rubs at the back of his still growing hair sheepishly. “Just a little.”

“Well,” Feemor says kindly, “If you are still looking for a ride I was just about to head out near the city centre there anyway. You’re welcome to tag along.”

“Oh I wouldn’t want to put you out-”

“Please, it’s no trouble.” Feemor starts leading him towards a speeder parked just around the corner entrance as at least one of them apparently had planned ahead for the day, “Plus,” He grins, “I’m doing my own service to the Temple.”

“And how’s that?”

“I’m clearing the doorways.” He says proudly.

Obi-Wan’s rolled eyes are promptly ignored, especially since he can’t find any real reason not to take advantage of the man’s kind offer. Obi-Wan climbs into the speeder next to Feemor and is pleased to see that unlike some certain ex-timeline padawans, Feemor at least drives like a sane man.

“So what’s bringing you out of the Temple today?” Obi-Wan asks, curious about this man he can’t recall having met before.

“My new Padawan,” Feemor’s expression turns fond immediately, “She’s a Cathar and if I’m quite honest with myself I don’t know all that much about her species. I heard there’s a Cathar community settled out here on one of the upper levels so I thought I would head over there and get a little advice.”

Obi-Wan has only met a few of the feline-like species, and he can’t remember any Cathar Jedi from his first life so he supposes he really must have not encountered Feemor or his padawan before, certain he’d remember a pair like that. Still, if he doesn’t recall them from before he finds himself confused at the almost familiar way his new companion seems to hold himself. Like an echo of something that’s right at the tip of his thoughts only to be lost again a moment later.

“You’re a very considerate Master, Feemor. I’m sure your apprentice will appreciate what you’re doing.”

Feemor laughs nervously, “Oh I hope so. I feel I’m a bit out of my depth here. She’s my first Padawan.”

“Congratulations,” Obi-Wan says enthusiastically, “Training a Padawan is no small feat. What’s her name?”

“Anani.”

Obi-Wan can feel Feemor’s pride practically radiating off of him. “Anani is a lucky Padawan indeed.”

Feemor beams at that, “You’re too kind Obi-Wan. I can only hope she is half as appreciative as you seem to think she’ll be.”

“Oh Padawans might not want to say it, but they’ll come round.” Obi-Wan deliberately forces his mind away from all thoughts of a young blond boy currently causing his usual brand of chaos in the Temple behind them.

Feemor looks at him speculatively, “You sound awfully confident. Don’t tell me you already have a Padawan of your own?”

“No,” Obi-Wan smiles ruefully, “I was just recently Knighted.”

He nods at that, “Ah, I was going to have to compliment you on your impeccable ageing if you were already old enough for a Padawan of your own and still had a face like that.”

“Feemor,” Obi-Wan says reproachfully, “Are you trying to tell me I don’t look like a refined, wise, and wholly mature Master?”

Feemor scoffs, “How about you keep working on that beard and get back to me when you don’t look like you’d get stopped at the door to every single bar on this entire planet, hmm?”

Obi-Wan gasps in mock offence, even if he might just agree. “Your cruelty knows no bounds Master Feemor. I don’t know how I shall ever recover.”

The Jedi laughs again, a bright clear sound made only louder as the speeder engines begin to wind down. “Well how about I let you off here so you can get to your Senate business and we’ll just have to see if you emerge with all the wisdom you seem to think you have.”

Obi-Wan exits the vehicle as gracefully as possible, to prove some kind of point he’s sure. “I look forward to our next meeting then Feemor, when me and my mighty beard shall astound you with all our maturity.”

Feemor’s grin is too infectious not to find a match on Obi-Wan’s face as they say goodbye.

“I can’t wait,” Feemor says, starting the engine’s back up, “Good luck to you and your beard then my new friend.”

Obi-Wan watches the speeder disappear back into Coruscanti traffic, taking the peculiar man with it. Absently Obi-Wan wonders again at the strange connection he felt towards Feemor when he truly can’t recall any interactions with him from this life or the last. But thoughts of his new friendship are pushed aside swiftly when he turns back to the sweeping walls of the Senate.

“Well. Damn”

Obi-Wan’s mutterings are lost to all so instead of wallowing in the daunting task ahead of him, the Knight resolves to focus his attentions back to that swirling darkness which feels almost choking now he’s come so close to it. There are trails of darkness and danger practically smothering the building before him now that he’s looking for it.

Something terrible is about to happen and Obi-Wan would really appreciate it if he had any idea at all what that could possibly mean.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” He tells the Force before steeling his nerves and walking straight into the Krayt Dragon’s den.

-

One thing that Obi-Wan has come to love again about the past is just how easy it is to get into places. Nowadays people will see a Jedi walking around with a sense of confidence and purpose and no one even thinks to question what he’s doing here. He actively walks right past the first few Senate security guards with not a single one of them sparing him a second glance. Incredible.

Honestly if he wanted to be responsible then he should probably report that oversight to someone soon enough as there are in fact one or two politicians worth keeping safe, though for now it works rather well in Obi-Wan’s favour so he elects to simply leave it be.

The Senate halls are a sprawling maze of corridors arranged carefully to ensure as much mutual peace between the hundreds of planets represented under its roof. Initially Obi-Wan thinks the different offices had been arranged in some semblance of order, perhaps alphabetical or chronological as to when the planets joined the Republic. Now though their order is a mystery best explained as being like when a teacher is busy trying to control a class full of rowdy children who have all decided that they only have one real friend and at least fifteen enemies. And who is who changes every other day.

So now as Obi-Wan meanders the halls, following the vague pooling sense of dread that he feels on the edges of his consciousness, he passes the central offices of a myriad of planets all precariously balancing alliances and peace treaties that at the very least ensure no one is going to deliberate bomb out any part of the building lest they hurt their friends intermixed with their enemies.

It’s not by any means the cleanest of solutions regarding intergalactic conflict, but Obi-Wan finds himself reassured that at least his bad feelings are unlikely to indicate any immediate explosions. At least not from any non-evil-sith-lord senator that is.

Obi-Wan continues his winding journey through the halls, absently checking in on the flurry of attendants, secretaries, security and senators that are swarming past him with unusual efficiency. Eventually curiosity wins out and he taps politely on the shoulder of the least harried looking secretary that walks past him.

“Excuse me, would you be able to tell me what’s going on here today?”

The secretary, a young looking Togruta man, blinks at him in surprise. “Oh. You mean the emergency meeting?”

“I suppose I do. What is the meeting about?”

“I- I’m not actually sure.” he looks around nervously, “There’s been some talk though… about a vote of no confidence. But I don’t know that for sure!”

Obi-Wan settles a hand on the frantic man’s shoulder, stilling his fidgeting, “That’s alright, thank you for telling me anyway.”

“Of course, Master Jedi. I- I have to go now though so-”

Obi-Wan steps to the side so the man can scamper away and disappear into the crowd again.

The Knight carries on, keeping a closer eye on the mood of the politicians that pass him by. Most seem to share that same flustered confusion that he just observed in the secretary. Plenty of allies and associates have their heads ducked together, fiercely whispering between themselves as they decide which way they’ll vote before they’ve even heard the pitch. Obi-Wan also notes a rather large delegation of representatives from both the Banking Clan and the Trade Federation. For organisations that were already supposedly only representing elements of the Republic’s economy, and not any actual people of a planet - it seems they’re awfully invested in the Senate today.

There is a chime from somewhere in the building. Around him people scatter, frantically making their way towards the Senate Chamber so Obi-Wan can only imagine that the hearing will be starting soon. Yet as soon as he turns his feet to follow that same quiet whisper pulls at his mind. The Force tugs his attention away from the masses until Obi-Wan feels the attention shifting to a young woman as she slips behind an unmarked door.

Obi-Wan reaches out, urging the Force to hold the door open a mere second before it can click close. He walks steadily through the crowd that is already starting to thin out until he reaches his new destination. There’s no outward sign that anything is actually wrong, and he finds himself doubting his every move as he grasps the handle for himself and pulls back to reveal a winding staircase set into the walls. A quick glance around assures him that no one is watching the stray Jedi which makes it easy to slip into the stairwell. The door shuts behind him with a soft click, locking immediately.

Obi-Wan listens carefully, hearing only a dull echo of a single pair of boots moving further and further up above him. He follows.

The pair make their way together higher and higher throughout the Senate building even if one of them doesn’t know she has company. Obi-Wan however finds himself pulled more and more towards this stranger, a measure of that dark fog that he’s been tracing seems to cling to her, though she doesn’t emanate it herself. The longer they move up and up and up the more Obi-Wan is certain that this woman is some player in Sidious’s games but he can’t get close enough to see her and uncover anything more than that. He resigns himself to his distant following, hoping that she’ll leave the stairwell soon enough so they can be on even footing without her having the high ground over him.

Eventually after enough stairs that Obi-Wan decides to be eternally grateful that he returned to his younger body in this time if for nothing else then he doesn’t have to remember what his knees felt like on Tatooine, another door clicks open and the thudding of climbing boots dissolves.

Obi-Wan rushes up the last few levels now that she can’t hear him until he comes up against a landing with yet another unmarked door. He reaches out with the Force as best he can in the dark fog. With no immediate signs of danger he decides to crack open the door just a little until he can peek out into the thin sliver of light that welcomes him.

The woman has led him up to an upper level of the Senate that Obi-Wan quite frankly didn’t know existed. They’re far above the chamber where the representatives have all gathered in their individual pods. From his place in the stairwell Obi-Wan can’t see much more than the Chamber ceiling above him, and the curved observation platform that seems to ring the whole circumference. His mystery woman is nowhere in his immediate sight but the Knight is all too aware of just how few hiding places there are up here. Once he leaves the relative shelter of the stairwell he’s pretty sure he’s about to be fully visible to her and whomever else might be up here.

From far, far below Obi-Wan can hear an echoing bass of Chancellor Valorum’s voice being projected throughout the whole room. The words themselves are muffled and hard to distinguish but even from up here Obi-Wan can tell just how defensive the man sounds.

He waits for about a minute, listening to the speech below and picking up the odd word like “duty” or “democracy” but his attention is once again drawn to that whispering tug of darkness that seems to always be just out of the corner of his vision. Finally he can’t justify his current hiding spot any longer when there’s been no sign of movement from his mystery woman. So, ducking low to the ground, Obi-Wan darts out onto the platform.

His guess was right that this platform, which is really more of a catwalk, seems to run across the whole upper level of the Senate chamber. He takes a second to peer over the edge of the awfully fragile looking railing which is all that separates him from a sheer drop into the midst of the Senate floor. There Valorum stands in the centre of the room, his voice projecting his increasing agitation even if Obi-Wan can barely make out anything beyond a vague blur of movement to indicate he’s even there.

Casting his gaze across the catwalk itself Obi-Wan is quick to see where his mystery woman has set herself up. She’s crossed halfway across the walk where a handful of boxes and cases seem to have been left waiting for her, just outside of view for anyone who might happen to glance up from the chamber floor.

She’s hunched over on one knee, pulling out a variety of oddly shaped bits and pieces that even from here Obi-Wan can guess are parts to a particularly formidable sniper blaster. He can’t tell the exact model from where he’s perched, but he remembers very clearly just what the impact of a modified targeted blaster can do. He watches in mounting horror as the woman pulls out what he can only assume is a fire bomb. Then another. Then another.

Obi-Wan is already moving before he even registers it. His footsteps are so light he practically flies across the platform. Far below him comes the sound of a new voice interrupting Vallorum but he doesn’t have time to check who, too busy trying to close as much distance between him and the assassin as possible.

He’s managed to halve the space between them by the time she notices his approach. Obi-Wan gasps in a breath of pure shock when their eyes meet. He knows this bounty hunter. He knows her from years in his past and her future and he knows her from when she died before him after her failed assassination attempt on Senator Amidala. He racks his brain to remember the name of the shapeshifter before him but can hardly think, too struck by the sheer chance that she’d pick the same face to wear that he’d encountered in his other life.

The bounty hunter bares her teeth in anger, whipping the gun up from the ground until it is pointed right at the Jedi. He stops his rapid sprint, falling back into a slow walk, wary of spoiling her into any hasty action.

Still, he’s not an idiot so his lightsaber has already made its way to his hand, though it remains unlit.

The woman glances down at it.

“You don’t want to be pointing that blaster at me,” Obi-Wan notes with a casualness forged on a battlefield. It wouldn’t be pretty but he is certain he can take her out before she could hurt him. It’s the defenceless room full of the Galaxy’s representatives below that worries him.

Depending what trail this woman has left, any number of political factions could be framed for this attack and in the chaos brought about by those kriffing bombs, he can take a pretty easy guess at who would profit the most.

“This shot isn’t meant for you,” she sneers.

“And here I was feeling so very special.”

“Move, Jedi. This isn’t your fight.”

Obi-Wan blinks at her. “Are you quite sure about that madam? Because it’s looking an awful lot like you’re about to threaten the safety of those Senators down there. You know, the Senate that we Jedi are sworn to protect?”

Her sneer slips just a crack. “You’re not meant to be here.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan strolls forward a few more feet until she recenters the blaster at his chest, an obvious threat “now who told you that?”

She eyes his intimidation tactics with obvious displeasure. “My employer pays far more for my silence than you shall ever be able to frighten me into confessing.”

He shrugs, “You can’t blame a man for trying.”

She hefts the gun higher, “and you can’t blame a woman for finishing her work.”

He has only a second to react before she swings her whole body around, the blaster pointed straight down into the depth of the Senate chamber. He lunges forward, arm outstretched. Instinct more than anything guides him as he pulls at the blaster, the Force sharply twisting it in her hands as she aims.

Her finger latches onto the trigger and a fiery hiss erupts so loud that even those gathered below have to have heard it. The shot rockets forward, right into the other side of the chamber.

Patches of ornate detailing spray apart, scattering in the air and plummeting down and down until they’re met by a whole chorus of senatorial screams. Obi-Wan doesn’t have time to see if anyone is hurt though because the assassin is already reaching down for the bombs.

His lightsaber turns on with a familiar hum. He leaps.

She looks up just in time to whip her blaster back to him, shooting shot after shot in rapid succession. He skids to a stop again, his blade a blue blur as he deflects each attack. But with each blast that ricochets back to the ceiling around them Obi-Wan winces. More and more of the marble work around them cracks and shatters.

That modified sniper was designed to do some pretty hefty damage and he really has to hand it to its maker because it sure is succeeding in that task. The structural integrity of the roof around him seems to crack and shatter significantly more with each blast he manages to stop from hitting his person. As much as he values his continued existence though, he’d much prefer it to not have to come at the cost of the Senate roof and - following one particularly mistimed deflection - the smoking remains of that flimsy barrier which separates the catwalk from the air.

The assassin takes his momentary distraction, aiming past him now to one of the large cracks in a support pillar that she’s caused and starts shooting directly for it. The pillar begins to buckle as more and more of it is blasted away under her fire. Obi-Wan jolts into action, holding up as much weight as he can manage with the Force while still keeping his saber primed to defend him from the assassin.

Seconds too late he realises he shouldn’t have focused on defending himself because she has already darted out a hand to that abandoned firebomb sitting by her feet. She stands triumphant, secure knowing how preoccupied the Jedi currently is with making sure the roof isn't about to collapse on everyone gathered below. There are still screams and shouts echoing up the chamber as no doubt everyone is struggling to catch a glimpse of what the firefight above them is all about.

Obi-Wan’s eyes scan the catwalk desperately until he lands on the cases that lay sprawled around the bounty hunter. He reaches out, yanking one of them towards him and up into the damaged, collapsing pillar. He shoves the case into the brand new blaster hole, it buckles slightly under the weight of the roof but holds well enough that he doesn’t think the whole ceiling will be coming down any time soon.

In the mere seconds it’s taken him to do that though the assassin has gathered her bombs in hand and is pitching herself forward over the railings to aim down on the Senators below. Then she lets go. Obi-Wan doesn’t bother watching to see where they’re going to land because he is already charging forward, arms outstretched.

The assassin freezes for just a moment in the face of his furious charge, which is more than enough time for Obi-Wan to grab her around the waist and use his own momentum to send the two of them plummeting right over that flimsy railing which tears away easily under their combined weight. They fall as one, the assassin’s shocked yell swallowed by the air that rushes past them both.

Below, hundreds of Senators are already peering up which gives them the perfect view of watching two figures begin to fall hundreds of feet together gaining speed as they go. Obi-Wan’s lightsaber a blue streak that immediately causes the shouts to raise in volume once everyone realises just who is falling to their presumed death.

The Jedi in question doesn’t spare them a thought though, too busy trying to track the fall of the handful of bombs that are falling all around him. His captive assassin is cursing him out but her words fall on deaf ears as Obi-Wan closes his eyes to concentrate.

Once again his hand stretches out, the Force flowing through him, guiding him with a pure certainty beyond anything else. His eyes open just in time to see five bombs pulled together in a tight cluster. By now they’ve crossed into the midst of the Senate levels, hundreds of pods whipping past them in a messy blur until the only point of certainty is a steadily retreating ceiling.

With a sharp push of his arm Obi-Wan throws his lightsaber. The bright blade whipping through the air as its blurry streaks marks the sweeping arc of the saber until it is all but lost in a burning explosion of fire. Obi-Wan twists in midair, his hand coming back around the assassin to pull her close even as the firebombs he just preemptively detonated explode above them.

More screams of panic fill the air. A strange cacophony of noise that is drowned out by the rushing sound of his own blood churning through his body. Obi-Wan’s eyes latch onto one of the floating pods that is hosting a Senator who had clearly moved out towards the centre of the floor to speak. The Senator is hunched over, hiding their face from the burning orange flames still filling the air above them. Still, that pod is Obi-Wan’s best bet, so ignoring it’s current occupant he pulls again, feeling the Force extend from his very core until his fall begins to slow, guided by the soft cushioning of the Force which lets him descend, assassin in hand, until they can do less ‘deathly plummeting’ and more ‘gentle alighting’ into the meagre space of the Senator’s pod.

He sets her down on her feet, twisting his grip until both her arms are caught behind her back, pressed close to his chest and utterly imobile. The Jedi looks up into the steadily dissipating flames above him, arm once again outstretched until sure enough a streak of blue comes flying towards him.

The Senate, full of hundreds of political superpowers all gasp in a heady mix of awe and shock at the sight of a Jedi Knight, fallen from the sky, a captive assassin defeated before him and a burning lightsaber clutched in hand above it all.

In the absence of the explosion that has just rocked the whole chamber silence reigns. Each and every being there turned to witness Obi-Wan Kenobi in all his burnished glory in eerie quiet.

And then the thunderous applause erupts.

Obi-Wan almost startles under the sheer weight of the Senators’ cheers, their fascination, fear and relief mixing and swirling in an oppressive wave that pushes and pulls at the lone Knight who has suddenly found himself at the centre of their attention.

His lightsaber sizzles out with a hiss which seems to do absolutely nothing to limit the enthusiasm of his unexpected audience. In a futile effort to ignore all… that, Obi-Wan turns his attention to his hostage who is burning with resentment and fury but seems to have soundly accepted her defeat now she is undeniably surrounded and outnumbered with no chance to escape unnoticed under the thousands of eyes trained their way. Not to mention that most Senatorial meetings have at least a couple holo-cameras running and Obi-Wan has no doubt that this spectacle is about to become the centre of a rather exciting news cycle.

Still, he would feel better to have her secured in some capacity until the Senate security can gather themselves enough to come take her off his hands. He looks up now, to both profusely apologise to the Senator who’s pod he just hijacked and to see if they might have anything on hand he could use to secure her wrists only to still in a frozen shock when he meets the eyes of Sheev Palpatine.

“Hmm.” Palpatine says with a good humour that makes Obi-Wan’s skin crawl. “You certainly know how to make an entrance my boy.”

“Senator.”

He takes a second to shore up his shields once again until the Sith has no chance of peeking in at the storm of emotions running through the Jedi. Palpatine, meanwhile, smiles genially though Obi-Wan can see tension sizzling under the man’s eyes as he stares down at the assassin.

“Who might this be?” asks the man who hired her.

“An assassin,” Obi-Wan reports stiffly, “She was threatening the Senate.”

“Ah, well I’m sure we should all be grateful for your proactive attention to all our safety.”

“Of course.” the Jedi stares the Sith right in the eye, “Just doing my duty.”

“Indeed,” Palpatine muses.

Whatever else the man wants to say is cut off by the low hum of multiple pod engines which mark the arrival of not only a crew of Senate Security, but the Chancellor himself as he closes the distance to Palpatine’s pod.

Obi-Wan nods a sharp greeting to the Chancellor before relinquishing the assassin into the hands of the security team who promptly slap restraining cuffs on her wrists. Obi-Wan takes a moment to tell the team about her supply of weapons and all the evidence they’d left up on the catwalk before turning back to the Chancellor who is looking rather pale and shaken.

“Chancellor Valorum.”

“Knight Kenobi.” Valorum swallows thickly, “I didn’t know the Jedi were sending a representative to this particular meeting.”

“In all honesty, Chancellor, I didn't know there was a meeting today. I just happened to be in the area.”

Valorum lets out a weak chuckle, “Well thank the Force for your happenstance then, hmm?”

Palpatine gives an airy laugh that has both Obi-Wan and Valorum staring in distaste. “Young Kenobi here is a credit to his Jedi. Perhaps it was the will of that ‘Force’ that led him before us today. Whatever would we have done without you, my boy? Any number of my colleagues could have been hurt by that awful woman.”

“I am glad to have avoided any potential harm to the Senate,” Obi-Wan reports neutrally.

“Oh you’re too modest, my boy! You’ve done excellent work here. Your Jedi Council will reward you for this, I’m sure.”

“I did not do this for a reward.”

Palpatine rests a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, who in turn makes a valiant effort not to shake him off - or maybe whip out his lightsaber in defence against the kindly-looking old man.

“Then you’re a better man than me, my boy.” Palpatine chuckles self-deprecatingly.

Obi-Wan thankfully doesn’t have to figure out how to answer that with anything other than “yeah, duh.” because Valorum decides to step in, his voice projecting out into the chamber. The steady hum of the Senators’ clamouring to discuss the close call they all just survived dies down at the Chancellor’s voice.

“I believe this meeting has been disrupted enough for one day. We shall have to reconvene to finish this discussion later,” Valorum duly ignores the uncomfortably large volume of boos and protests from the crowd, “We must evacuate the chamber so that our security can ensure that no one else will remain in danger should there be other threats to the Senate awaiting us all.”

At the reminder of their own personal safety, the Senators begrudgingly begin to trudge back into the halls so they can avoid, well, everything.

“Knight Kenobi,” Valorum says, “The Jedi Council has been contacted and I believe have sent some representatives who should be arriving shortly. Would you accompany me back to my office so we may all discuss what has happened here today.”

Eager for any excuse to leave the Sith’s presence, Obi-Wan happily accepts, stepping up onto the Chancellor’s own pod.

“Farewell my boy,” Palpatine calls as they begin to drift apart, “It has been a pleasure seeing you again.”

Obi-Wan offers him a strained smile as they’re thankfully pulled from speaking distance.

Chapter Text

Unsurprisingly, Mace Windu sighs the second he walks into the room to see Obi-Wan Kenobi sitting patiently with the Chancellor. He takes a second to squint at the Knight, clearly eyeing the shifting swirl of shatterpoints that once again cling to him like a second skin. 

“Chancellor Valorum, Knight Kenobi.” Mace greets tersely. Behind him, Kit Fisto and Plo Koon also make their way into the room, greeting its occupants with far less resigned exhaustion. 

Obi-Wan smiles politely at the Council members as they filter in and deliberately avoids saying anything that will make Mace roll his eyes so hard they might just fall out of his own head. 

“Masters Jedi,” Valorum greets, a hand sweeping out to indicate they should take the seats in line with Obi-Wan’s while the Chancellor sits back behind his desk. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Of course,” Master Koon says, “How is everyone after the attack?”

“Attempted attack,” Valorum corrects faintly, “No one was hurt at all thanks to Knight Kenobi here.”

Obi-Wan resolutely keeps his gaze fixed on the Chancellor so he doesn’t have to see the way all three other Jedi are staring at him in varying degrees of impressed to exasperated.

“Is that so?” Mace says mildly, “How fortunate that Obi-Wan was here.”

“Very much so,” Valorum agrees, “We have discussed the assassin he apprehended though she hasn’t been put through any questioning yet so we are working with little information.”

“Did she say anything before her capture?” Kit Fisto asks, looking to Obi-Wan.

“Nothing much I’m afraid. She said something regarding her employer paying her well enough that she was determined to finish the job despite my presence as a deterrent.”

“So we’re looking for someone wealthy,” Plo observes amusedly, “That only narrows it down to everyone in the building, hmm?”

Valorum’s wry smile looks tired. “Indeed. It seems the Senate is a bit more… divided than I thought. Any one of them could be sufficiently motivated to do this.

“Divided?” Mace frowns, “In what way?”

“This meeting, it turns out, was called so that the Senate could decide if I am still fit to hold my position.”

“A vote of no confidence?” Plo’s surprise is evident. “And you didn’t know?”

“No, Master Koon. I had no idea. Apparently sections of the Senate have been in discussions about the future of the Republic, and not everyone is convinced I should be a part of it.”

“Do you believe that you were the target of today's assassination attempt?”

Valorum shrugs at Kit’s question. “It’s certainly possible. Knight Kenobi suggested that the blaster the assassin had would have been enough to kill me from that distance, with my seat so central and visible it would have been easy enough to take me out. She could use the firebombs as a distraction, possibly taking out a few of my remaining allies but at the very least causing enough chaos that no one would come to my aid fast enough to stop her attack.”

The three Jedi all turn as one to look at the Knight who is studiously watching the floor. It does not take much effort to feel their disapproval radiating out at him having articulated his best estimate of how to effectively murder the man before him. In Obi-Wan’s defence though, he had become somewhat attuned to thinking through an enemies strategy and explaining it back to his men for many years. Mistakes and ignorance had deadly consequences in the field. And to his eternal chagrin Obi-Wan has to admit he’d spent his fair share of time protecting the life of the Chancellor of the Republic before his jaunt to the past. Old habits and all that. 

Valorum had definitely not looked reassured at knowing how close he likely just came to his immediate death, but apparently the fact that Obi-Wan had already identified the threat and neutralised it before the man even knew he was in danger in the first place, soothed a lot of nerves all around. 

“Yes, Kenobi is rather good at anticipating what might have happened,” Mace says, “Perhaps, Chancellor, you should look into increased security until the culprit of this crime can be identified.”

“I certainly agree,” Valorum says, “I was in fact wondering if you might be willing to spare a Knight for me, just temporarily, of course.”

“Certainly Chancellor. We will find a Knight suitable for this mission and have them sent to you immediately. It is unlikely a second attempt will be made on you on such short notice so if you’ll excuse us we might return to the Temple to discuss these proceedings.”

Valorum nods. “Of course Masters Jedi, the rest of my personal security team is all on high alert. Though I certainly wouldn’t mind that extra support as soon as possible.”

The Jedi all nod agreeable, each taking their time to discuss any further details and arrangements to be made when the Knight is to be selected and assigned their duty. Still, an undercurrent of urgency belies their true motives in the force. A subtle smouldering need to return to the Temple and discuss whether or not the Sith are involved is palpable between the Jedi. Obi-Wan imagines that if the other three weren’t all busy pretending like his personal involvement wasn’t putting them all on edge then he would’ve been assigned to the Chancellor’s security immediately for convenience’s sake if nothing else. 

Still, they are dismissed shortly and Obi-Wan is all but ushered back to the speeder that the Council members arrived on. A tentative silence settles over them all as they make the journey back. Each Master sits with perfect poise which somehow still manages to betray the fact that all of them are desperately trying to hold off from asking about Obi-Wan’s involvement until he’s in front of the rest of the Council, while Obi-Wan in turn is just trying to compose the upcoming report he’ll have to give. 

They land all too soon and without a moment’s hesitation Obi-Wan finds himself dutifully falling into step beside the masters on the way to the Council chamber. He’s so focused on evaluating his every move and choice during those frantic few minutes of action that he entirely misses the mutually amused looks that Kit Fisto and Plo Koon throw at each other over the head of the studious young man between them. Yet even that levity seems to shift as they near their destination. 

As one they enter the chamber and it is only a last second jolt of recognition that stops Obi-Wan following his familiar route to his old council chair, which is of course currently occupied by Master Saesee Tiin who spares him an odd glance before he readjusts his trajectory back to the centre of the room. 

Mace settles into his chair beside Yoda, the two of them sharing a loaded stare that communicates far more information than even Obi-Wan could track without a single word spoken between them. Yoda harrumphs quietly, tapping his claws against his gimmer stick contemplatively while the rest of the Council settles.

Eventually he peers up at Obi-Wan who has returned to his military rest position, awaiting the Council’s lead. 

“Eventful day you have had, Obi-Wan, hmm?”

“Yes Master, I think eventful is a pretty apt description.”

A few council members radiate mild amusement at Obi-Wan’s eternally blasé attitude to major political happenings. 

“Saved the Senate, you did. Apprehend a bounty hunter, on your own, hmm?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say I saved the Senate, Master Yoda,” he can’t help but correct, “The assassin’s intentions seemed to be more in line with causing general chaos with her fire bombs, perhaps injuring some representatives, yes. But mass murder was not her goal.”

“She told you so herself?” Depa asks curiously.

“Not in so many words,” he admits, “But if her intent was to truly wipe out the Senate then she was vastly unprepared. Her supplies were limited, much more attuned to a single strike against an individual with the requisite distraction to cover her specific location which would then give her enough time to leave the scene. If she was going to commit mass destruction then we can safely say she isn’t awfully good at her job.”

A few of the Councillors look at Obi-Wan in a strange confusion, unsure where that level of confidence comes from in a Knight so young and supposedly so inexperienced. 

“Obi-Wan informed the Chancellor that he believes that Valorum himself was the true target of the attack,” Plo supplies easily. Once again Obi-Wan earns a few exasperated looks from the others who don’t approve of him telling the leader of the Republic just how close he was to being murdered. 

“Why Chancellor Valorum?” Oppo Rancisis asks the room at large. 

Obi-Wan is quick to jump in, having already rehashed this reasoning multiple times that day. “Much of the Senate has decided they are unhappy with Valorum’s leadership. If he is not voted out soon enough, then plenty of people have reason to want him taken off the table more permanently so that the… newer political leanings of the Senate can be represented by someone from their side.”

“You realise, Knight Kenobi, that you are implying that members of the Senate are now attempting an insurgence against the Chancellor.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan only notes the growing horror of the council a second too late. 

“Knight Kenobi,” Adi Gallia scolds, “We are in a time of peace! There is no reason to accuse Senators of inciting violence in place of democratic solutions. Wasn’t the Senate meeting today to confirm a vote of no confidence or not? Should we not then presume that the Senators are in fact in favour of a peaceful transfer of power?”

“I would suggest that presuming that just because we have had peace means that we will continue to do so is the far more dangerous path to take Master Gallia. For the safety of the Chancellor and the Senators themselves, it is in their best interest to treat this threat against their lives as being likely to come from within when that is where the evidence points. It is better to be prepared for the worst than to rely on solely the prior goodwill of the past.”

Immediately Obi-Wan can tell he is not winning many allies in this room with that line of thinking. It chafes him a bit, to know that his worldview is only feeling so foreign and unnecessary to them all because he is in the midst of trying to prevent them from having to face the type of world where you either develop this mindset or you die. He takes a breath. 

Mace, a gift from the Force itself, seems to pick up on the unspeakable frustration that Obi-Wan desperately does not want to project upon the council who really are trying to do their best. 

“Perhaps Knight Kenobi’s caution is a bit more overzealous than we would traditionally apply. But it must be acknowledged that there is a real threat to the Chancellor and the very Democracy of the Senate. Until we know more this caution is our best line of defence.”

Obi-Wan meets his eyes and tries to extend as much gratitude as possible towards the Master of the Order. Yoda, of course, doesn’t miss the exchange. However he at least decides to keep silent aside from his usual ‘hmm’ which could mean quite literally anything at all.

The rest of the Council delve into the specifics of the attack for a while longer. Many of them seem both duly impressed and duly concerned with Obi-Wan’s quick assessment of the bounty hunter’s available arsenal and what he can tell of her training. It is not difficult to disguise the details about her that he’d once learnt from a file about Senator Amidala’s failed assassination attempt. Working backwards from those memories it is a simple task to build a solid case for what his own observations could have told him about the assassin. Though as he began to dredge up more memories of that night Obi-Wan can’t help but reflect on just who hired her last time. He makes a note to check in on a certain mandalorian. 

Thoughts of Fett aside, Yoda brings his attention back to the current proceedings. 

“Protect the Chancellor, we must. Send a worthy Knight, we should.”

Frankly, Obi-Wan thinks he deserves a reward for not groaning at the blatantly obvious way twelve different pairs of eyes all swivel around to him. Yoda, the traitor, cackles loudly at the synchrony. 

“Ah. Chosen, you seem to have been Obi-Wan. Protect the Chancellor from harm, your job it shall be.”

“Yes, Master.”

-

Once again, the Temple’s rumour mill seems to work faster than half the direct comm calls Obi-Wan has ever tried to place. By the time he exits the Council chamber, half the Jedi on planet seem convinced that he has secretly known about a whole plot to assassinate the Chancellor for weeks and that he’d been staking out the Senate for this exact moment. Admittedly, this particular rumour serves him well enough that he does nothing to quell the hushed whispers that follow him. After all, a ready-made cover story that will excuse his semi-frequent jaunts out of the Temple is honestly more convenient than anything he could have planned himself. 

Then again, he muses as he has to dodge yet another highly unsubtle request to reveal who is after the Chancellor to yet another padawan learner he’s never even met, he thinks he still prefers the simplicity of anonymity. 

Before he heads off to his new protection detail Obi-Wan decides to duck into the food halls for a bite to eat. He’d barely spared a thought for food when he’d awoken that morning, too affected by the cloud of darkness that he’d sensed. But now he’s here and his stomach is making itself known. Turns out breaking up violent Sith plots isn’t great for one’s diet.  

He ducks into the right hall, keeping his head down as best he can in a futile effort to avoid any further conversation. You save one Chancellor and a room full of Senators and all of a sudden everyone has questions. Sheesh. Sure enough he manages to last all of three minutes before he hears a wholly unnecessary throat clearing and a voice pointedly sparking up behind him. He has just enough time to school his expression into polite disinterest before the words actually register in his mind.

“Excuse me, Obi-Wan, but I do believe you are blocking the way.”

Obi-Wan whips around in surprise to see Feemor standing there, a crooked grin on his lips and amusement in his eyes. Obi-Wan sighs in relief.

“Oh it’s you Feemor, I thought someone was going to ask me about- ah, nevermind.”

Feemor quirks an eyebrow at that before stepping up to Obi-Wan’s side so they can make their way to the tantalising promise of food together.

“Don’t sound so excited to see me,” he says sarcastically, “No need to spare my ego.”

Obi-Wan laughs lightly at that, “It’s wonderful to see you again Feemor, really it’s been too long.”

The other man grins, “Now that’s more like it! It’s been what? Six hours since I dropped you off? Of course you missed me.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan agrees easily.

“Six hours is plenty of time to miss things,” Feemor says sagely, “Such as your new friend.”

“Uhuh.”

Feemor pointedly looks away, affecting a faux casual air that is far too easy to see through. “Or perhaps finding out that your new friend just stopped a political assassination.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.”

Obi-Wan sighs, “Alright then, what’s your question?”

So far everyone who has managed to trap him in a conversation has asked one of three questions: Does he know who tried to kill the Chancellor? Did the Council actually give him a special secret mission to protect Valorum? Can he tell them how he saved the Republic singlehandedly and also the whole galaxy while he was at it?

Feemor thinks carefully for a minute, the two of them still shuffling forward quietly as they pick up their food. “How are you?”

Obi-Wan blinks. “How am I?” 

“How are you, yeah?” 

“Oh.” Obi-Wan hesitates, unsure. “Alright, I suppose?” 

Feemor grins, “that’s good to hear my friend.” 

They shuffle forward in line, Obi-Wan grabbing up a plate full of food he can only vaguely identify. Feemor grabs something else he’s sure though he doesn't quite have it in him to pay attention, too baffled by the radiating sense of genuine concern from the other man. 

“If I’m honest Obi-Wan,” Feemor says conversationally, “I wasn’t exactly surprised when I heard you were the one to stop the assassin. But I’m certainly not the best duellist myself so I was afraid you’d might’ve been a bit out of your depth.” He eyes Obi-Wan who has once again fallen back into military rest even as they stand there, “But you seem to have done pretty alright for yourself. Although I’ve just realised that I’m not actually sure what Form you even favour.”

“Oh. It’s Soresu," Obi-Wan says absently, focusing on the one bit of information he can actually process. He’s sure he’ll go and deconstruct whatever Feemor meant about not being surprised Obi-Wan was involved later, “though I’ve been training in Makashi recently.” 

Feemor let’s put a low whistle. “Makashi? I didn’t think many Jedi knew the form in the first place.” 

“They generally don’t,” Obi-Wan says as the pair move towards one of the thankfully more secluded tables, “I had to actually look outside the order for a new master in the form.” 

Feemor throws him a confused smile. “Outside the order?” 

“Ah yes. Well, I don’t know if you’re aware of Count Dooku? He used to be a Jedi master himself though he has left the order. I contacted him recently and we now meet regularly to duel.” 

“Count dooku?” Feemors jaw drops in disbelief. “I didn’t know he still taught.” 

“He doesn’t generally,” Obi-Wan admits, a sly smile tugging at his lips, “I have heard I’m rather persuasive when I want to be though.”

Feemor huffs out a laugh at that. “Oh I don’t doubt it. I guess I’m just still surprised you managed to get Count Dooku of all people to bend to your whims. He’s not the easiest person to persuade.”

“You know the Count?” Obi-Wan can’t help but ask. The impression he’d always gotten from the man is that he has little patience for those who don’t share his interests in the more intellectual pursuits. And certainly little patience for any upstart padawans or knights in general. No matter where Feemor’s strengths may now lie, it just strikes Obi-Wan as strange that Dooku would have ever made the time for someone like him before he left the Order. 

“Oh yes,” Feemor’s vaguely nostalgic expression turns bittersweet, “He trained my old master. I didn’t know him well though. They never really got on and I was certainly no master academic or duelist able to keep Master Dooku’s attention myself so our paths hardly crossed. But the man does leave an impression.”

Obi-Wan nods mutely. He was vaguely aware that Dooku had another apprentice before Qui-Gon though his name escapes him at the moment and Feemor’s expression doesn’t exactly fill him with confidence that their apprenticeship ended much better than Obi-Wan already knows Dooku’s and Qui-Gon’s did.

Still, he can’t help but be curious what a man like Dooku thinks of Feemor so he absently notes to talk to the Master about him in their next training session. Perhaps the Count even has an idea of what happened between his previous apprentice and Feemor. If so Obi-Wan might be able to poke around and see if Feemor would be interested in knowing of their lineage connection.

Thoughts of that connection are soon dismissed though as Feemor makes a valiant effort to keep Obi-Wan’s mind off the recent assassination attempt. He also conveniently manages to monopolise Obi-Wan’s attention so much that the other Jedi don’t feel so inclined to question him any further about his recent escapades. Soon enough though Obi-Wan has to take his leave so he can report for his new mission: guarding the Chancellor of the Republic against the Sith Lord who wants him dead. 

Easy peasy. 

Chapter Text

For five long days Obi-Wan finds himself waking early and flying directly to the Senate. By the second morning Obi-Wan can’t help but see the shape of a routine emerging: an unusually dull routine that he has already successfully resigned himself to. First he reports to the front door, makes his way up to a room he still can’t help but think of as belonging to Palpatine, and then stand around doing absolutely nothing of interest until the Chancellor decides to finally leave his office far past any reasonable suggestion of working hours. 

There had been a few fleeting moments of interest where Valorum would hesitate, curiosity seeming to radiate off the man right until he would dismiss his own question before it could leave his lips. Each time this happened, all Valorum seemed to accomplish was to simply leave his Jedi guard in a vague sense of confusion as to what the man so obviously wanted to ask him but right before Obi-Wan could ever find the space to probe further another missive would capture the chancellor's attention and the moments would slip away.

It is on the fifth day that things finally started to get interesting. For one, Valorum’s usually casual greeting that morning is so undeniably laced with nervous energy that even a bantha would struggle to miss it.  

“Hello Chancellor Valorum,” Obi-Wan replies absently as he enters the office, “How are you today?”

“Fine, thank you.”

The Knight looks up at the strangely strangled tone in the man’s voice. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Valorum’s shoulders lose a fraction of their tension, “Well, no. But yes.”

Obi-Wan slows his hesitant walk, “Is there… something I can help you with?”

Valorum grunts non-comitantly even as he moves around his expansive desk to come stand before Obi-Wan. Bizarrely, the Chancellor’s unnaturally stiff posture and tentative stop-starting of his words reminds Obi-Wan of the first reports his shinies would give him when the new clone troops would deploy and the troopers had yet to come to terms with the fact their scary Jedi commanders were just people too. It is almost endearing; a strange echo of a fond memory. 

“Knight Kenobi,” Valorum’s formality is a little stifling though the Knight is hardly intending on pointing it out, “I would like to request your help in regards to an… unofficial mission.”

“Oh?” excitement and curiosity both curl in his chest though he is certain that none of it shows on his serene expression, “What would this mission entail?”

“An investigation. Into the Senate.”

Oh indeed. 

“Investigation? Is this in regards to the corruption claims? Chancellor, I’m sure you know this is not exactly my area of expertise, nor within the purview of my duties as your guard. Why come to me and not the Security Force?”

The Coruscant Security Force were relatively highly regarded as far as Obi-Wan knew. They’d worked in conjunction with the Senate since their very inception. Admittedly they were not quite well-staffed enough to stay on top of the goings-on of Coruscant’s lower levels. But he’d thought they’d certainly suffice for whatever the Chancellor would be needing. Honestly the Security Force’s general bias towards the upper echelon of society had been working wonderfully in his favour so far. None of his less-than-legal dealings and meetings in the underlevels had so much as pinged a single warning on the Security Force’s internal systems. 

Still, Valorum’s gaze shifts uncomfortably as he clearly debates his answers and Obi-Wan can’t help but feel his own curiosity attune just a little bit more to the man in front of him. 

“It’s not exactly about the charges. Though I suppose corruption does come into it.” He pauses contemplatively, “Ultimately I suppose I am coming to you because the CSF can’t know about this. In fact, I fear no one can know about what I am about to request of you.”

Obi-Wan’s face is kept carefully blank as he nods in understanding. He’d hardly needed to have bothered though since Valorum’s gaze can’t seem to settle, too busy darting about the room like he expects eavesdroppers to start emerging from the smallest shadows. If Obi-Wan hadn’t already made a religious practice each morning of checking for any bugs, intruders and the presence of his signal jammer that he flicked on the moment Valorum started talking, then he’d almost be worried himself. 

“Of course Chancellor, you have my complete discretion.”

Valorum hesitates again, before steeling his own nerves and finally looking the Jedi in the eye.

“I need your help to investigate my successor.”

“You know who will succeed you?”

There are far too many things wrong with that sentiment. First, there’s the possibility that someone (Palpatine) has managed to blackmail Valorum into appointing a successor undemocratically (Palpatine). Or there’s the wild concept that maybe Valorum has conferred with some Force sensitive individual (Palpatine) who has seen a vision of who will succeed him (Palpatine). Or Valorum got so very offended over nearly getting voted out on no confidence that he’s decided to take things into his own hands and is starting some sort of institutional monarchy (... probably not Palptine’s fault but still bad.)

Obi-Wan’s rapidly spiralling thoughts are quickly interrupted by a dismissive wave of Valorum’s hands, “Certainly not. This Republic is still a democracy you know. Rather, there are a few core candidates, and that’s not me playing favourites, simply a matter of politics.”

Obi-Wan valiantly doesn’t address the sheer volume of relief coursing through him at knowing that he is not about to have to fake investigate the very real Sith attempts at seizing power. 

“There are some I would prefer more than others,” Valorum continues obliviously, “But regardless. This last week, well, this last year - has proved to me that I am not as in touch with the political landscape as I should be.”

True regret seems to line the Chancellor’s features as he speaks. “I do not think I shall last long in this role, Knight Kenobi. I love this Republic, but I am not the leader it thinks it needs right now. That does not mean I wish to leave it in the hands of someone who might bring our democracy any real harm.”

“That is admirably altruistic of you, Chancellor.”

His features twist into a semblance of a smile, though one that is far, far too sad. “And that is kind of you to say. Still. I know I’m in danger. I know I am in the way of change. It is imperative then that we use this little time we have before I am removed from that path, peacefully if I can be optimistic, and I want to use it to ensure a bright future for the Republic.”

Obi-Wan can’t quite express how relieved he is to understand those motives. He’s honestly a bit surprised that Valorum has come to terms so wholly with his own removal from the highest seat of power in the galaxy. Although perhaps that’s just because Obi-Wan has been comparing him to a Sith Lord who was willing to start a war with himself just to keep that stupid seat. Might not be the fairest comparison. 

“Who then do you wish to investigate?”

“Well there are a few names who are well established; Mon Mothma, Tundra Dowmeia, Aang Roona and the like. There are even some upstarts who are looking quite promising in the news if public opinion can be believed. I’m sure you remember the Senator from Alderaan? Bail Organa? He helped in our efforts on Naboo and it certainly seems the galaxy is quite the fan of him.”

Obi-Wan manages to stop himself from beaming brightly at the mention of his current-past friend, pleased that even at this young age the man is seen as promising for such an important role. Of course, that joy is quickly diminished as Valorum’s tone turns all too serious.

“Then there are the others. I have heard rumours that the Trade Federation has been seeking to back certain candidates that could spell true danger for the Republic. Those like Horox Ryyder, Com Fordox, and of course Nute Gunray.”

Obi-Wan takes in the names with a thoughtful hum, comparing what he has learned in his past few months here to the vague memories elicited by those names from his past life. Those who went on to make a great impact and those he can barely recall. The war made it all too hard to remember who was still important, who left for the Separatists and who died in the fighting. 

“Finally…” Valorum trails off uncertainly, “There is one Senator who has posed little direct opposition to me but… well something seems off about my dealings with him. He is a clever man, quite genial really. But there’s something about the way he discusses my position that has put me on edge for some time now.”

“And who might that be?” Asks Obi-Wan, entirely prepared for the next name that falls from the Chancellor’s lips.

“The Senator for Naboo: Sheev Palpatine.”

-

Obi-Wan returns to the Temple in a storm of confused thoughts. His to-do list seems to grow exponentially each and every time he takes a single step out of his own rooms these days. So it is mere instinct that seems to find his feet tracing back the familiar and well worn path to the Archives, years of conditioning coming to the surface when he finds himself lost or unsure. At the very least the entire wealth of Jedi knowledge can surely set him in the right direction for any one of his million questions that each demand a million more answers from him. 

After agreeing to Valorum’s proposal to launch an unofficial investigation into the man’s most likely successors they’d spent much of the day strategizing on the most effective methods of delving into each candidate’s past. Valorum helpfully provided Obi-Wan plenty of context on the names he was less familiar with, and even managed to point him into some potentially quite lucrative directions in regards to others. There’s a few folk he will have to look into more for formality's sake than anything. Like Senator Mon Mothma who has maintained a rather strong moral foundation in her politics and a steady conviction for good with a fair eye for compromise across her whole career. Obi-Wan wants to believe in her work, he does, but he knows all too well that from the brief staticky holo-news updates he’d scraped together on Tatooine that she’d remained active in the Empire’s Senate too. Political survival in that sort of landscape has all too many implications that Obi-Wan is determined not to dismiss. While she certainly doesn’t pose a real threat to the integrity of the Senate, due diligence requires him to check on her anyway. 

Then there’s the rather more… exciting cases. A few names that Obi-Wan is sure he himself, or various other Knights were tasked to look into in the other timeline. Plenty of Dooku’s Separatist associates that Obi-Wan hopes he can now use to his advantage considering his new familiarity with his grandmaster. 

And then there’s Palpatine. 

Because there is always Palpatine. 

Of course Obi-Wan has not let his attention fall from the Sith Lord in the months he has been in the past. One of his recurring appointments that he holds in Coruscant’s lower levels is to an especially pricey private investigator who has agreed to keep a concise, secret record of the Nubian Senator’s comings and goings. His known (and some unknown) financial purchases. Who he meets with on the regular and his known associates. Any scrap of detail or evidence about just what in the sith hells Palpatine gets up to when he is planetside is carefully gathered and collated by Obi-Wan’s detective.

Between those findings and Obi-Wan’s own careful watch, a rather substantial dossier on the man has been growing larger and larger over the last half year. Unfortunately, it’s all far too focused on his life as a politician - any accusations that Obi-Wan could lobby at him would all have to be centred on his Senatorial kniving, his backroom deals and some shadier negotiations with unfavourable parties. The Sith is irritatingly efficient in ensuring that not a single true darksider association can be made against him. At least, he’s certainly not engaged in anything that even a particularly skilled private eye could notice. Though Obi-Wan doesn’t need some Coruscanti contractor to keep an eye on the Sith’s dealings with the Force. He’ll handle that when it comes to it. 

Still, a little more research could hardly go amiss. Especially since Obi-Wan now has a motive to follow up on one of the other threads he has been slowly but surely strengthening in this new life. And if he’s going to be calling up Padme to question her about the manner of her own Senator, he would like to do so with some evidence of his own to back up any argument he might be making. 

Obi-Wan is in fact so distracted with the concurrent exhaustion of looking into the Sith’s dealings and the joy of getting back into contact with his young queenly friend, that he almost doesn’t notice the silent figure blocking his entrance to the Archive until he nearly runs into her.

“Madam Nu!” Obi-Wan stumbles back a step. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Knight Kenobi.” The archivist’s face is pinched in fierce concentration. “Follow me please.”

Jocasta Nu turns on her heel without another word before swiftly marching into the depths of the shelves around them. Obi-Wan follows after a beat, curiosity as always winning out over the mild concern her strange behaviour has sparked in him. 

They pass a dozen Jedi all searching through the collection at their own leisurely paces which only further alienates the hasty march that Master Nu leads him on as they slip deeper and deeper into the shelves. Eventually Madam Nu pulls Obi-Wan into a room he has never seen. As something of an ex-High Council member Obi-Wan can’t help but wonder how on earths he’d missed this private sanctuary in what he’d thought were such familiar halls. Yet when he enters he finds that just as there it is everywhere else in her domain, Jocasta has arranged this space with perfect precision and a clear eye for detail. 

There is a homely nature to the carefully arranged piles of datapads awaiting sorting. Not to mention the dozens of shelves lining the walls covered in flimsy that all seem to hold some sort of significance to the woman who breezes past them without a glance. Obi-Wan dutifully trails after her right until they reach a terminal set in a rounded base at the centre of the room. Madam Nu keeps her eyes fiercely concentrated on the holos that light up before them as she types in command after command. 

Obi-Wan resigns himself to waiting patiently across from her while she does this, sure that he will be receiving an explanation eventually. Apparently she hadn’t actually been expecting him to come by so unexpectedly because it takes her some time to pull up a half dozen files, scrolling through reams of information he doesn’t even attempt to glimpse before she finally lets out a satisfied breath. 

“Knight Kenobi,” she calls sharply, directing his attention to a rather familiar star chart pulled up on the terminal, “What do you see here?”

He doesn’t do her the indignity of playing dumb, especially not now when faced with her pinched expression warns him of the great trouble he would likely face if he dared lie to her now. Whatever suspicions she’s now gathered for herself he sees no reason to draw this moment out any longer than he already has. A small nervous flutter fills his chest as he realises just what he’s surely about to commit the galaxy to knowing; a burden that it will never again be relieved of.

“That would be the Kamino star system.” He observes coolly, “Though its planet is absent from this particular diagram.”

Jocasta’s nose twitches as she struggles to bring her own expression back under control. 

“And why is it missing?”

“I believe it has been deleted from our collection.”

“And who deleted it?”

Now Obi-Wan hesitates. The honest answer is of course Count Dooku, the technically correct answer she will be expecting is Sifo Dyas seeing as the Count stole his codes to get access to this in the first place. Obi-Wan really doesn’t want to lie to the archivist in front of him but he can hardly throw his grandmaster under the speeder here either. He aims for tactical neutrality instead.

“I presume that the records of whose codes were used to delete this information would still be protected in the Archives servers.”

Her eyebrows furrow just a little at his careful avoidance of an answer.

“So they do.”

“Well one would assume that would solve the mystery, hmm?” 

“It would. If the answer itself wasn’t a mystery of its own.”

“How do you mean?” Obi-Wan braves a tentative step forward now that the Master’s attention seems captivated by the premise of knowledge she currently doesn’t possess.

“Master Sifo Dyas’ codes are connected to the last swipe of Temple data.”

“Master Dyas died two years ago didn’t he?” Obi-Wan asks once the pregnant pause between them stretches on for too long. “Do you suspect someone stole his codes?”

Master Nu looks deeply troubled by the notion but doesn’t immediately refute him. “It would certainly explain how such a respected Master supposedly got into our systems from beyond the grave only to desecrate our records.”

Obi-Wan waits patiently for the woman to work through the thoughts that are clearly consuming her. Eventually she continues, almost absently as if she’s half forgotten her current audience and is too enraptured with the tangled web of information that lies before her.

“Then the next question of course would be why? Why should anyone want to erase our knowledge of such a distant world?”

“Have you looked further into Kamino?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Of course I did,” she sniffs imperiously, her nose twitching again as she does so, “I had to enter the Coruscant Global Library, I haven’t been there in many years.” Her voice turns contemplative for a moment, almost curious until she wrestles it back under control “It appears that their records systems are wholly intact. According to their data Kamino is a distant planet that has had few dealings with the Republic in recent years. However they are a fully civilised world so of course the usual information one would expect from past dealings with the Republic are all still available at the Library. Information that I am certain we once held.”

She clicks around in the terminal again, bringing up pages of data she clearly hunted through the library to bring here.

“Most notably Kamino has an interest in the development of cloning technologies,” Master Nu’s tone is not judgmental, a pure academic curiosity overtaking her as she speaks, “There’s also plenty of information about the planet’s formation, its geography, even its weather patterns are all readily available to the public. So I cannot for the life of me understand why Master Dyas’s imposter wanted to infiltrate our collection specifically. I’ve reached out to dozens of other core and mid-rim planetary archives and all report to hosting the same general volume of information as Coruscant possesses.”

Honestly Obi-Wan can’t recall Madam Nu getting this involved last time around. He can only presume that his making it a specific challenge for her to find out what she can with the implication that she’d fail has made this all much more personal for her. It is strange to think of the old archivist as having such a strong sense of duty and possession about her work though not wholly unreasonable considering her unwavering pride in the archive itself. 

“So it was a deliberate attempt to cloud the Jedi’s knowledge?” He prompts her carefully, more than happy to let her draw her own conclusions now that the pieces are laid before her.

“Indeed Knight Kenobi, an astute observation. This infiltrator was most certain that we would have no reason to look outside of our collection. I am ashamed to admit that I myself wouldn’t have done so had you not challenged me so assuredly,” she spares him a piercing glare through the soft blue light of the holo between them, “And I shall be getting an explanation from you about how you knew this was missing young man.”

Obi-Wan offers her a sheepish grin, though he quickly gestures for her to continue. The longer he can delay any effort to explain himself the better as far as he’s concerned. Master Nu is far too intelligent to fall for any half-baked lies or mistruths which is exactly why he spent his youth as an initiate perfecting the art of redirecting her attention to a wholly different topic before she could find the time to question about just what he was doing in her archives at inopportune moments.  

“There is no history I can see between the Kaminoans and the Jedi as far as I can tell so an investigation will certainly have to be made into why Kamino of all places was erased.”

An idle thought enters Obi-Wan’s mind now that he has the time and space to actually consider the problem before them. “Is Kamino’s information the only one deleted? Are we missing any other planets from the Archive?”

Jocasta is already shaking her head before he finishes speaking, “No. I have already cross referenced our star maps with multiple other institutions from different sectors of the Republic. Thus far there is no indication we have missed anything as major as a planet or a star system, even uninhabited ones, aside from Kamino itself which certainly suggests this is a targeted attack.”

“Madam Nu,” he continues warily, “Does anyone else have any way to see that you have been looking into this?”

She stares at him in confusion, “No. I do not believe so. Why?”

His hands shift uncertainly in the confines of folded sleeves. “You yourself said this is a targeted attack. If someone has gone to all the trouble of removing Kamino from the Jedi’s attention alone that likely means they are trying to hide something the Jedi specifically would have an interest in.”

Her eyes widen in shock at his sombre implications. “You believe the Sith have some relation to this planet?”

“I don’t think we should be hasty,” he cautions, “But it stands to reason that we have been left in the dark quite deliberately.”

Madam Nu blinks widely before hurriedly tapping on the pad before her. Pages of information rise and are dismissed just as quickly while the woman hunts. Eventually she settles on a file detailing the Kaminoans’ latest known advancements in cloning: the ability to mass produce identical batches of clones from a single source.

“What do you make of this Knight Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan scans the document carefully, knowing the old woman has ideas of her own. He’s sure that her eagle-eyed gaze that is so closely watching him now is nothing more than her attempt to see if he will ‘independently’ come to the same conclusions. It’s reassuring to him really that she so clearly wants to see if he too will uncover what she has seen in the data and that she’s not just trusting in her own preliminary assumptions without further investigation.  

“That if there is a Sith involved in this plot then the Kaminoans’ ability to mass produce clones would ensure that the Sith could have an army at their disposal being created without our knowledge or awareness?” Obi-Wan’s enforced neutral tone feels incongruous to the roiling discomfort flooding through him. 

He’s known for a decade of his life that the Sith had clearly had a hand in creating the clone army that he’d served alongside throughout the war. But he and the Jedi had all grown complacent about questioning the why of the clones being commissioned. It had always felt like there was not enough time for a true investigation into the matter, not with war brewing around them and death tracing their every foot step across the galaxy. At some point he supposes they’d all gotten too used to counting the simple blessings of having the clones by their side, that they’d simply forgotten to hold any mistrust for just what put them there. Their men had all been far too good. And too loyal. 

Obi-Wan looks away from Nu’s files, lost in a memory of blaster shots, rushing water and nothing more than the dreaded certainty that the men he’d trusted most wanted him dead. He thinks of Cody and allows himself three whole seconds to mourn the man who had stood by his side unwaveringly for years on end. By the end of those fleeting moments Obi-Wan’s expression has settled back into a careful construction of peace, not that Jocasta even noticed, her lips pursed in concentration as she fiddles with the terminal. 

“That is exactly what I hoped you wouldn’t say,” she notes wryly, “We must take this to the council.”

For a bizarre moment Obi-Wan wants to protest. With his new assignment guarding the Chancellor he is all too aware that he won't be the one chosen to go back to Kamino again which just feels inherently wrong. That’s how the mission went last time and now that he knows so much more, he is certain he would be able to properly investigate the facility. In fact, even by arriving so much earlier than in his last timeline he might be able to catch a glimpse of the first few batches of clones. Cody might be in there somewhere. 

Whatever dreams he has of getting the chance to have a proper do-over, to desperately try and make things right this time, Obi-Wan knows he has to ignore them all. His personal connections and regrets have no bearing on this time, he reminds himself sharply. The creation and shadowed origins of the clone army is something that had occupied his mind often amongst the quiet dunes of Tatooine. After all, there was no reason they all should have turned on the Jedi at once like that. No matter how clouded by the dark the Force had felt in those final years of the Republic there truly is no way that the Jedi could have all missed a mass, secret, malicious intent held against them by the millions of men under their command. He’d thought long and hard about what had caused all of them to turn so immediately. In fact it had been after a full year of exile before Obi-Wan had finally made the connection between their betrayal and a stray memory from the war that he’d buried alongside many others.

Obi-Wan remembered Tup’s betrayal of the Jedi, a tragedy amidst a sea of tragedies that befell the Jedi every day in that war. And then he remembered Fives. Anakin had mourned Fives’ death as the misunderstood disaster he’d thought it was. But out in that burning desert, alone but for his thoughts and a child he couldn’t see, Obi-Wan had remembered the urgency, the paranoia, the way Fives had stopped trusting in himself and his brothers. 

He still didn’t know the particulars but Obi-Wan was there when Lama Su told him that the Kaminoans had modified their genetic structure, supposedly making them more obedient. That they would obey an order without question. 

After years of serving alongside the Vode, Obi-Wan had questioned that sentiment many times. He knows how often his men had most definitely questioned orders. He’d encouraged them to share their opinions if the men didn’t agree with him. But the day of the Purge. They’d acted as one, unified and terrifying and stripped of all the vibrant personalities that Obi-Wan had cherished so much in his men; in his friends. 

Something happened to the clones on Kamino. Something that led genuinely good people to betray those they had trusted. Obi-Wan knew it in his heart as he knew it in the Force that the clones had never wanted to hurt the Jedi the way they did. Once again this could be traced back to Sidious… he just didn’t know how. 

Madam Nu is still bustling around the room by the time Obi-Wan pulls his mind back from a future that he will never come to see again. She is pulling out a handful of datapads, shoving a few into his hands before he can even ask her what she is doing. With a final glance around the room Jocasta nods sharply, apparently satisfied before she picks up her own mountain of datapads and a couple of flimsy sheets absolutely covered in writing. 

She strides from the room.

“Come along, Knight Kenobi.” 

He follows.

Chapter Text

Once again Obi-Wan finds himself waiting outside the Council Chamber doors in bemusement. 

He really would like to clarify that he doesn’t mean to keep ending up here, though he hardly has the chance to even greet the gathered masters when he enters - let alone offer any explanations - before there is the unmistakable sound of the Master of the Order slapping his own hand to his forehead in defeat at the mere sight of Kenobi. 

“Obi-Wan.” Mace groans. He doesn't even say anything else but the sentiment is clear.

“Hello Masters,” Obi-Wan greets as politely as possible in the face of Master Windu’s uncharacteristic lack of decorum. “Pleasure to see you all again.”

From somewhere to his left he hears Depa snorts a quiet laugh at her old master’s exasperation. She always did like to see whenever anyone could get a rise out of the stoic man so Obi-Wan supposes he must surely be on his way to becoming one of her favourite people on the whole damn planet by now. 

Yoda too looks amused at how Mace still has his face buried in his hands as if Obi-Wan - and all the many troubles he inevitably brings - will simply disappear as long as he doesn’t look at him.

“Back again, hmm, very soon this is,” Yoda says, “News you bring us? With the help of Master Nu, I see.”

Madam Nu admirably doesn’t comment on the waves of amusement that radiate from the council at her unlikely companions' presence. Instead she steps forward, her teetering stack of datapads a helpful visual cue as to the intensity of her concerns. 

“Masters,” She inclines her head swiftly, “Knight Kenobi and I come with potential grave news indeed.”

The Council sobers immediately at her terse announcement, any humour of Obi-Wan’s returning presence is lost under the intensity of the archivist’s sharp movements. 

“We believe we have encountered signs of a Sith plot.”

In an eerie show of synchrony, the Council’s eyes all snap to Obi-Wan even as he stands there with motionless poise. He swallows a small sigh that he is very quickly becoming the Council’s touchstone for Sith activity out in the galaxy. Still, they certainly are all looking far more willing to entertain the idea of a Sith’s machinations than they had been all those months ago when he first arrived. Not a single Councilmember here is even pretending to hold onto any blindly self-assured notion that the Sith are gone. 

Instead, the Council are looking at both him and Nu and taking their combined presence as an actual indication that there is a true threat that must be dealt with. Obi-Wan tries not to find it too endearing but seeing as he is the only one here who knows that the clones at the very least aren’t an actual imminent issue he can finally find some space to appreciate the attentive nature of his once-and-future friends all trying their best to grow and learn together.

Madam Nu quickly launches into an explanation of her findings about the lost data on Kamino, their theories on why the Jedi are the only ones missing this and their current hypothesis about to what end a Sith would hide a planet full of cloners. In turn, the Council listens in respectful silence until Madam Nu has finished her piece and stepped dutifully back to Obi-Wan’s side. 

“These theories of yours suggest a great darkness,” Master Mundi says, his brow furrowed. He reaches a hand up to stroke idly at his white beard, pensive in every movement, “A clone army? To be brought against the Republic itself? The Galaxy would be outmatched if Kamino’s clones are of such high quality that Madam Nu’s reports suggest.”

Obi-Wan swallows his immediate response about just who the Clones are supposedly meant to serve as none of the resources he could even plausibly claim to have checked should be able to give him that information so he bites his tongue and hopes the Council will move on quickly. Mace, of course, chooses that exact moment to finally look at the time traveller. He is squinting again, the way he always does when Obi-Wan’s shatterpoints apparently flare up so brightly that Mace has to turn away complaining about what a headache Obi-Wan is to deal with. But Master Windu’s piercing gaze still manages to catch Obi-Wan’s minute fidgeting. His brow raises. 

“Master Nu,” Mace says evenly, though his eyes don’t leave the Knight who is currently trying very hard to disappear from sight with nothing more than sheer willpower. It’s not going very well. “How did you say you came across the information that Kamino’s data is missing from our collection?”

Jocasta sends Obi-Wan a fleeting, hesitant glance but that movement alone is enough to have half the Council sighing before she even opens her mouth to respond. 

“Knight Kenobi asserted that I should look into the Kamino system when we were discussing just how complete the Jedi Archives collection was.”

“Of course he did,” Mace says drily, still holding Obi-Wan frozen under his glare, “And Knight Kenobi.”

“Yes Master Windu?”

“How?”

Mace doesn’t even bother with filling out the rest of his sentence. There’s no need when everyone else in that room clearly is wondering the same thing. Obi-Wan watches Depa sit forward at the edge of her seat, poised to hear what new nonsense he is bringing to the Council. Plo Koon, at Mace’s side in turn settles back in his seat to get a wider view of everyone’s reactions. Master Mundi’s beard stroking stills into a familiar contemplative stance Obi-Wan used to employ when he sat at this council himself. 

“Well…” he begins inelegantly, “I have established a few connections with some people who are able to get a different read on the galaxy than I can get from within the Temple,” all the Masters kindly pretend not to know that Obi-Wan means he’s met up with plenty of criminals and lowlifes who respond better to money the Knight shouldn’t technically even have than any real sense of goodwill, “I have heard some references to Kamino. Nothing too explicit but enough that I thought to look into it myself.”

Jocasta’s nose scrunches up in confusion, “Then why not simply tell me that you found the absence of our information here? You specifically requested I look into it, Knight Kenobi.”

“I did not wish to just waste the Council’s time with baseless accusations,” he hastily defends, “It seemed prudent that I get a secondary look, to see if you caught anything I didn’t.”

“And did she?” Mace asks, obviously suspicious that Obi-Wan is still hiding things. 

“Yes, actually.” Obi-Wan straightens up to his full height, “The targeted attack on the Jedi archives alone suggests that the party responsible for this was entirely confident that we would not be motivated to look outside of our own resources to ascertain this information.”

“Why is that relevant?” Depa asks clearly unsure why Obi-Wan is bringing this up when up till now the Jedi Archives have in fact served perfectly well for all the Jedi’s immediate needs.

“Because it is another sign that our enemy knows how we think.” He says, his feet drawing him forward until he is well and truly the centre of the Council’s attention, “They know that we are secure and comfortable in our assurance of ourselves. We don’t question the knowledge we have and we don’t look outside our boundaries.”

Various council members twitch and fidget uncomfortably at his words, seeing where his accusation is heading. 

“The dark clouds our awareness. It has managed to infiltrate sources we thought impenetrable and hid this blind spot from us with no difficulty. We haven’t had to face an enemy working at this scale in centuries and it is showing. We have not been vigil in protecting ourselves because there has been no need to,” Obi-Wan splays his hands out to gesture at the comfortable, safe Temple they have all known all their lives, “We are out of practice at living in a galaxy that does not operate on unchallenged peace.”

“Some difficulty,” Yoda says nonsensically.

“Pardon, Master Yoda?”

“Said the dark hid this from us, with no difficulty, you did. But found this out, you have. A difficulty you yourself are, hmm? To our opponents.”

“Oh. Well, yes. I suppose I am trying to stop them.” he concedes carefully. Yoda shakes his head.

“Not trying, you are. Doing.”

Obi-Wan can’t help the arch of his brow at that. It is rare for the old master to actually confirm someone is ‘doing’, he's much more fond of warning them against the follies of just trying. He’s not quite sure how to respond to that. Thankfully Master Nu rescues him from the need to figure it out when she tires of this distraction and refocuses the Council’s attentions back on the matter at hand.

“Knight Kenobi’s help has ensured that we at least know that now we must look into the reasons that Kamino specifically has been hidden from our view. I would ask the Council to send a Knight to investigate this planet. There have been next to no communications between Kamino and any known Republic planets in many years which means that they themselves are a blind spot in our understandings which we must remedy. It is imperative that we ascertain whether we have enemies gathering out of sight.”

She is rewarded with various nods and general hums of agreements. Mace and Yoda confer with little more than a shared glance before the Master of the Order sits up.

“Yes, Madam Nu. We shall send a Knight out immediately who can report back. Thank you both for bringing this to our attention. We shall discuss who shall be best equipped for this mission.”

Both Obi-Wan and Jocasta bow deeply to the Council as they take their dismissal. They stride from the room together, Obi-Wan in particular glad to have escaped the interrogation Mace so clearly wants to give him. 

They wander through a few halls in companionable silence before Jocasta breaks their quiet peace with a contemplative hum. She stops before a peculiar and not particularly memorable statue he doesn’t recall ever noticing before. The stone looks worn, almost forgotten in this out of the way corner of the Temple which doesn’t get visited very often. Though under Jocasta’s hands it looks almost reverent, important beyond appearance as she traces its sweeping curves with delicate motions. 

“Your insight has revealed quite the oversight, Knight Kenobi.”

He winces. “Apologies Master Nu, I did not mean to offend-”

She waves him off easily, “No, no. It is important. I might not have been happy to hear it earlier when you suggested my archive was insufficient. But you had a point. And I have allowed myself to gain too much distance from those in my field outside of the Order. I shall have to confer with the other institutions of knowledge more frequently I think.” She offers him a tight smile, “It is good to be reminded of how much we have to learn outside of these walls. You have reminded me, young Kenobi, of how much is truly out there.”

Obi-Wan is floored, unsure what to say to that. Once again though she doesn’t give him the chance, just patting him gently on the shoulder before she presses one knobbly finger into a near invisible divot amongst the stone. He hears gears grinding and a quiet woosh of air then the wall before them before splits apart, just enough to reveal a whole new entrance to yet another section of the Temple. She throws him a sly grin over her shoulder then steps forward, moving out into the passage she just revealed

“Thank you for this lesson, Obi-Wan. May the Force be with you.”

He watches her leave, purpose infused in her every step as she heads down a path he didn’t even know was there.

-

It’s not until Obi-Wan is already arriving at the Senate the next day that he realises he didn’t actually get a chance to look into the senators in the archive like he meant to, too caught up in Master Nu’s discoveries and reporting back to the council. With this itch to finish his previous plans burning under his skin, his idle day of watching over the Chancellor seems to pass excruciatingly slowly. The most excitement he gets comes from the few spare minutes between meetings where he and Valorum can confer on their impressions and suspicions about just who has it out for the Chancellor or his position. 

Then again, perhaps he resigned himself to boredom far too quickly, he thinks to himself as he catches a flash of a familiar figure turning through the senate halls as Obi-Wan leaves the Chancellor's office that afternoon. 

He does his best to tamp down the natural rush of adrenaline that floods his system even while double and triple checking that his shields are up and absolutely impenetrable through the Force when Senator Sheev Palpatine catches Obi-Wan’s eye just as they both step out into the hall. Palpatine’s face splits into what he probably assumes is a kindly, avuncular looking expression but Obi-Wan can see through it all too easily. The one thing that brings him a small spark of joy is the tightening of Palpatine’s smile at the corner as the man can’t help but look enviously into the occupied Chancellor’s office that he no doubt believes should be his. 

“Knight Kenobi, my boy. What a pleasure it is to run into you.”

“Senator Palpatine.”

“How have you been?” Palpatine steps closer even as Obi-Wan casts about for a viable excuse to abandon the forced niceties that polite society demands of him now. “I haven’t seen you since you ‘dropped in’ on my speech the other day.”

The Sith’s following chuckle would surely sound as a good humoured, if slightly admonishing response to Obi-Wan falling through the Senate hearing, assassin in hand, to anyone else - but even now Obi-Wan finds himself hunting for double meanings. For the way that Palpatine’s hands flex with just a bit too much tension as he gestures the whole debacle aside. The way that his ever-present smile never even touches his eyes. The humour that is so clearly laced with venom, poisoning every word that falls from his lips. 

“I have been well.” He swallows a grimace, “And yourself?” 

“All the better for having caught you now!” Another noxious laugh that makes Obi-Wan’s insides curl in disgust, “I heard rumour that you have been lurking around these halls for the past week though I hadn’t found you myself. Are we under threat, Knight Kenobi? I’m sure my fellow Senators and I all have you to thank for our continued safety but it is certainly nice to know if there are any enemies lurking about.”

How, in all the Sith’s Hells, did they not know Palpatine was Sidious all those years ago? Obi-Wan can’t help but wonder at the brazen confidence of the man before him to so thinly veil his own machinations right to a Jedi’s face. How many oblique references or blatant admissions had Sidious made in Obi-Wan’s own company without him ever the wiser? Fury floods him for a few brief moments before he can find it in him to dismiss those feelings before they get him in trouble by encouraging that tiny voice in his mind that is telling him to break the Senator’s nose with a swift punch and maybe a lightsaber blade through the heart for old time’s sake.

“I’m sure you have no enemies you need to worry about Senator,” Obi-Wan says, his own false smile staying confined to the barest limits that polite society can expect from him, “I am here simply as assurance for the Chancellor until the assassin’s employer can be found and brought to justice.”

“Ah yes, terrible business all that,” Palpatine nods agreeably, “Who could imagine that politics could be quite so thrilling, hm?”

“Indeed.”

“Are you one for statecraft, my boy? With such a sharp mind on you I’m sure you must have some thoughts on the matter.”

Obi-Wan does his very best to not squirm away from the slimy, plying tone that coats Palpatine’s voice. He can’t help but be reminded of just how much time Anakin had spent defending his friend the Chancellor and how fondly he’d always thought of the old man. It sets Obi-Wan’s teeth on edge enough that only dedicated years of maintaining perfect poise in contentious wartime negotiations are enough to hold him back from outwardly hissing at the man before him. 

“No, Senator. I can’t say I’m overly fond of politics, nor its practitioners.”

Palpatine’s smile flickers, some unknowable emotions crossing his calculating gaze. Fury, curiosity, hunger. Whatever the man is angling for though Obi-Wan wants absolutely nothing to do with it. 

“Ah then you’re a smarter man than I, my friend.”  Palpatine uses his half-hearted ‘joke’ as an excuse to step forward - officially breaching polite standards of distance between acquaintances and crowding further into Obi-Wan’s space. Whatever this man wants of him he is so clearly angling to build some sort of connection to the Jedi who is almost unbearably overcome with righteous fury as his worst enemy attempts to sidle up to him. 

Perhaps it can then be blamed on the will of the Force that it is at the exact moment Sidious goes to raise a companionable hand to pat at Obi-Wan’s arm in some facsimile of grandfatherly care, that the Knight catches sight of a welcome figure from amidst the crowds. 

“Bail!” Obi-Wan calls out with the kind of shameless self confidence that comes from not being hunted down by an empire, even if it makes the nearby Senators startle at his sudden volume. 

Bail Organa for one does manage to turn on his heel, a bright smile crossing his face as soon as he recognises Obi-Wan. The Alderaanian senator makes a move to join Obi-Wan and Palpatine but is halted mid step by the near frantic expression Obi-Wan flashes his way once the Sith’s attention is flickered away from him for a brief second. 

“Forgive me Senator Palpatine but I have urgent business I must discuss with Senator Organa if you’ll excuse me.” And without waiting for even a moment for Palpatine to drag him back into conversation Obi-Wan strides forward to his friend. 

“Ah Senator Organa,” Obi-Wan greets at a far more normal volume when he’s finally in range of his friend. He’s pleased that Bail immediately grasps at his arm in a warm welcome, even managing to pull Obi-Wan further out of Sidious’ poisonous range. 

“Obi-Wan,” He says with affection even as his eyes spell out a million questions. 

In response Obi-Wan only flashes a firm grin, all too aware of Palpatine’s sharp attention still blanketing the pair of them. “I was just looking for you Bail, I have news about the proposal we were discussing earlier.”

Recognition twigs in the Senators expression. “That’s excellent to hear. You should join me in my office if you have a spare moment.”

“That would be wonderful,” Obi-Wan’s voice comes out all too breathy and relieved but Bail does him the kindness of not pointing it out. He even keeps a gentle hold of Obi-Wan’s arm and starts steering the pair of them further into the Senate and ever farther from the Sith lord. 

They chat idly for a few minutes, Obi-Wan asking after Breha and Alderaan and Bail asking after the Jedi and how Obi-Wan is enjoying his post at the Senate.

The Jedi huffs out a short laugh. “Oh I’m afraid I can’t say it is my preferred variety of assignment.”

“More used to a little more action,” Bail teases, “Perhaps some daring rescues?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even attempt to hide an eye roll at his less-than-subtle reference to their last proper meeting. “Yes. Something like that.”

Bail halts them before a door that Obi-Wan hasn’t had cause to visit in this timeline but the Alderaanian senate office is just as he remembers when he steps through, missing only the beautiful sculpted vase that Breha will gift to Bail for their eighth wedding anniversary in a few years which he recalls Bail making sure was always filled with the freshest imported Alderaanian blossoms each week. 

“What a lovely place you have here,” Obi-Wan says easily as he drifts to his favourite chair that is yet to receive a notable dent on the left leg from Anakin whacking his lightsaber hilt against it during a particularly pronounced fit of boredom in the third year of his padawanship. 

“Home away from home,” Bail says, casting his eyes over the corporate, astounding bland decor of the room. Obi-Wan grins at him. “But shall we ignore my tastefully decorated prison and talk more of this ‘proposal’?”

The Jedi sighs but submits himself to the questions that Bail is no doubt about to lobby his way. It seems fair enough considering just how smoothly he went along with Obi-Wan’s blatant lie in front of Palpatine. 

“Would you believe me if I said I simply needed an escape from an uncomfortable conversation?”

“Honestly yes.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him.

“Wait, really? That’s the only explanation you need?”

“I have in fact met Senator Palpatine,” Bail says leadingly even as he futzes about with a datapad left across his desk - a distraction that does nothing to cover the man’s subtle frustration with Palpatine. 

“Ah,” Obi-Wan nods, “Well thank you for the rescue, my friend. It is… much appreciated.”

“I can’t say I expected to ever be the one rescuing you,” Bail’s lips twitch in a grin, “You don’t exactly strike me as the type to spook easily.”

“Well I certainly try not to. But Senator Palpatine is perhaps not one of my favourite members of this Senate.”

“Ooh. And what has the Senator of Naboo done to earn such a harsh review from someone so genial as yourself?”

Obi-Wan scoffs lightly, “I would hardly call that harsh.” Especially not when the Jedi has a veritable wealth of much harsher, and perfectly accurate accusations he could fairly levy at the Sith should he so choose. 

“From anyone else I would agree. You, however, are a diplomat at heart. I can tell. I would bet there are at least ten different layers of meaning that accompany every sentence you say - I’m just guessing at which one you actually mean.” He winks at Obi-Wan over the top of his desk, “Not to mention that the man is an absolute blight on the Senate.”

“Bail!”

“What? It’s true and you know it.” Bail shrugs easily, as if what he just said wouldn’t end his career if the wrong ears were listening in, “I’ve been speaking with Queen Amidala, you know, and she told me all about how her Senator was pushing for that no confidence vote much much earlier.”

“I didn’t know you two were staying in touch.”

“Oh yes, Her Majesty and I have been collaborating rather a lot lately.”

Before Obi-Wan can find a way to delve into any more about what that could possibly be referring to Bail lights up, “Oh! That reminds me. Queen Amidala actually wanted me to pass on a message. She says she’s trying to find time to come back to Coruscant soon and that you owe her a drink.”

“She’s fifteen!” Obi-Wan gasps.

“I believe she was referring to tea, but if you intend to get an underage galactic world leader drunk I demand you invite me too.”

“You’re incorrigible.” 

“Very true.”

“As long as we’re all in agreement.”

“Oh of course we are,” Bail waves aside the accusation with good humour and a fond glint in his eyes, “Now enough about your corrupting forces on the youth of today-”

“My wha-”

“- I want to hear more about this assassin you stopped. Do you have any more leads on the matter?”

Obi-Wan settles more comfortably back into his chair, resigning himself to spending even more time in the Senate building than he already has to. At least now he’s doing it in good company and flimsy as that office door might be, Obi-Wan can’t help but feel a little bit safer in the Light of his friend’s presence with at least one more barrier between them and the Sith he knows all too well is still lurking these halls

Chapter Text

The rapid slapping of his feet against polished stone is the first sign that Obi-Wan knows he’s running late. The second is that Yan Dooku is already waiting in the centre of the room, arms folded and lips pursed. 

“You’re late,” he announces while the younger man folds over at the waist, rapidly attempting to get his breath back. 

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan coughs out, “I noticed.”

Dooku huffs but even he can’t quite hide the sly smile that crosses his face at Obi-Wan's impertinent tone. One would think that half a lifetime of wrangling Anakin Skywalker into attending meetings, classes, appointments and even wartime briefings on schedule would ensure that Obi-Wan would be capable of keeping himself on track when meeting with his mostly-not-evil saber instructor and grandmaster. One would be wrong. 

Being the generous man that he is, Dooku gives Obi-Wan all of seven seconds to recover before the tell tale hiss of a lightsaber igniting fills the room.

“Shall we begin?”

All too quickly the two of them fall back into the easy, well practised rhythms of their training sessions. Dooku leads Obi-Wan through the Makashi katas and even manages to not look condescending the whole time which the Knight takes as an indication that he is improving much faster than Dooku wants to admit. They circle one another, each ducking and twisting between the other’s blade with barely a breadth of space between them and the burning plasma. 

It is Obi-Wan who starts on the defence as per usual. He tracks each fluid whip of Dooku’s blade, watching carefully for how the man shifts his weight, how that swing is accompanied by a step forward and how that foot twists to the right to provide the angle for-

Obi-Wan’s blade hovers in the air, a mere inch from Dooku’s neck. 

The room goes silent but for the hum of sabers and rapid breaths as master and apprentice stare at one another in mute surprise. 

“Solah,” Dooku surrenders quietly. 

Obi-Wan however remains frozen in place as his grandmaster steps back. He has only been training with the form for half a year, he really hadn’t thought he would manage to best the galaxy’s foremost master of the form this early. Perhaps Obi-Wan has been underestimating just how quickly he could attune his mind back to this young body. While he knows logically that he was an expert in Soresu by the end of the war, and he’d dabbled in the other forms, it just doesn’t seem right that he is now the victor of their spar. 
More than anything though, he supposes that he’d simply expected such an outwardly confrontational style of Makashi to stay on the edges of his capability. Soresu makes sense to the man Obi-Wan was when he first learnt the art of sabers following the death of his master, with a padawan of his own to protect. He can’t quite figure out what it means to him now that the Force itself thrums with rightness in the face of victory.  

“Our match has concluded, Obi-Wan, traditionally this is where you stop pointing your weapon at your opponent.”

Hastily, he turns off his saber, tucking the hilt back onto his belt. He moves back, almost stumbling away as he suddenly finds himself needing some distance between himself and the man who has just given him the key to his own defeat should it ever come to that again. Dooku reaches for water, taking a drink even as he eyes the younger man with all too knowing eyes. 

“You have improved markedly,” Dooku notes when he finishes, “I did not expect you to dedicate yourself so… fervently to this form.”

He shrugs genially, “I told you I wanted to learn.”

“So you did.”

Obi-Wan distracts himself by pushing back to his feet and stretching to keep warm between their bouts. As always Dooku seems to think himself above the indignity of being witnessed having to move his body, lest anyone dare think of him as a mere mortal man. He stands instead, observing quietly as he tends to do. Obi-Wan in turn ignores it as he tends to do. 

Their shared routine of deliberate silence is shattered all too quickly by the Count. 

“You saved the Chancellor’s life recently.” 

Obi-Wan looks up. “Yes.”

“From an assassin.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Dooku glowers at Obi-Wan’s unhelpful answers but he has no intention of being any more helpful until Dooku starts doing anything other than announcing well known facts. He drops down into a lunge, ignoring his brooding audience of one.

“You foiled an assassination attempt on the Chancellor of the Republic; a clear sign of political unrest, or at the very least it was part of a larger plot that you have now disrupted.”

“That sounds about right to me,” Obi-Wan adjusts his footing for a better stretch across his hamstrings. 

“Someone with the power and resources to sneak an assassin into one of the most well guarded buildings on this entire planet has now seen you actively foiling their intended strategies to disrupt the Republic.”

He steps up into a side stretch, his arms crossed over his body as he twists, Dooku’s frustrated expression still perfectly visible. “That also sounds about right to me.”

“Obi-Wan,” Dooku hisses.

“Count Dooku,” he replies, switching sides. 

“You are not giving this matter your full attention.”

“Well I’m a bit busy trying to focus on getting ready for our next match. Care to join me?”

Dooku sneers, mutters something almost certainly unfavourable under his breath before igniting his saber and striding to the centre of the room.

“You appear perfectly ready to address any troubles, I see. Let’s spar.”

He can tell he’s being goaded. Admittedly he also knows that it is in fact a stupid idea to let oneself be goaded into duelling a master of his craft. Particularly while he’s busy being frustrated with your blatant dismissal of his fears and you are well aware that in another life he turned evil and betrayed everything you’ve ever stood for. 

But also… it’s Dooku. Obi-Wan loves fighting Dooku. 

He steps onto the mats. Without hesitation he drops back into his ready pose. Before him, Dooku practically thrums with energy. His normally serene stance is disrupted by a series of minute shifts and adjustments. It’s one of the first times Obi-Wan can recall having actually seen the man struggle to keep himself from an impulsive move. 

Still, Obi-Wan once raised Anakin Skywalker during his teenage years so his patience is more than a match for a fussy Count who can only hold out for so long, before he lunges forward in an uncharacteristically aggressive move. Obi-Wan sidesteps the attack effortlessly, his saber already moving in a swift arc to deflect Dooku’s incoming blow. They retreat. Obi-Wan’s eerie stillness is an unusual foil to the Count’s tight pacing. He circles the younger man who in turn watches him for the first sign of-

There. 
Obi-Wan shifts his weight back like he’d seen Dooku do last time, he twists to the side, locking his blade alongside Dooku’s. Their momentum works in tandem to bring their bodies closer to one another even as the force of their blows push the sabers away from them. The sudden closeness seems to surprise Dooku. Quickly backtracking, the master pulls back until he has room to launch forward again on his own terms, his blade a rapid blur of blue that occupies all of Obi-Wan’s concentration to keep from hitting him. 

“You are playing a dangerous game, Obi-Wan,” Dooku sneers, “Your opponent is not a forgiving man.”

“Oh are we bantering?” Obi-Wan ducks below an oncoming hit. “I love bantering.”

“Do you treat anything with the respect it deserves?” Dooku pushes his assault forward with a sharp ferocity until Obi-Wan is stumbling back. 

“I try not to,” he grins, shifting his footing and feinting to the left. Dooku falls for it for only a second but that’s enough for Obi-Wan to dart out of his range, his stance now grounded and secure.

“Valorum’s life is not worth bringing his attention to you.” Dooku snarls while aiming for Obi-Wan’s neck.  

The Knight swerves again, his arm already following through on the movement so his blade comes up to Dooku’s chest who has to abandon his offence in favour of saving his own organs. 

“That is almost a nice sentiment there,” Obi-Wan observes, his voice remains carefully casual though strain reveals itself through the harsh breath he releases as he drives Dooku back step by step to the edge of the mats. “The part about my life apparently being worth something to you, less so the whole ‘let the Chancellor die’ bit.”

Dooku can’t allow himself the space to roll his eyes, though Obi-Wan is certain he wants to.

“I didn’t say let him die.”

“No?” Obi-Wan swings forward to intercept Dooku’s own obvious feint, “It sounded like you want me to put my self interest above the life of the Chancellor.”

Dooku growls softly that his move was so easily deflected, “Perhaps you should. He will die anyway. Do you intend to become collateral to an eventuality?”

Obi-Wan huffs out a disbelieving laugh, “You can’t mean that.” He tries to drift to the Count’s weak side, though he’s too ready for that and blocks Obi-Wan’s path forward, “Everyone dies eventually. That does not mean I can just stand aside when I can help.”

“You can if you are more valuable. You can live another day to help others,” Dooku carefully matches Obi-Wan’s every step until they are once again circling one another, neither gaining the upper hand. Their ragged breathing fills the room. 

“You can’t claim I am more valuable than anyone else.”

“I can.”

“The Jedi are meant to be protectors! This is exactly what we are meant to do!”

Obi-Wan launches forward but he telegraphs his move too soon and Dooku is already there to meet him. Blow for blow. 

“It doesn’t have to be.”

They trade a rapid fire series of blows before each leaping back, breaking apart once again. 

“You can’t be serious,” Obi-Wan gapes at his opponent, “I am not leaving the Jedi!”

“Do not pretend that you haven’t thought about it,” Dooku says far too seriously for his liking, “I know you threatened the Council that you would leave if they did not train that Skywalker boy.”

Obi-Wan swallows thickly, not sure how their spar turned to this. Dooku stalks forward and with each step Obi-Wan feels himself pressing back.

“You know that the Jedi Order is not the only path forward.”

“But it is the path I choose.” He protests, lightsaber wavering.

“You are not beholden to that choice,” Dooku’s steps continue in their measured pacing, driving Obi-Wan further and further into the room. “There is much that can be accomplished outside of these walls. You know who your true enemy is yet you squalor your time researching in defiled archives and protecting the lives of those destined to lose.”

Obi-Wan stops his backtracking. Instead he pushes his heels back into the ground, a solid stance that provides just enough tension for him to push off, leaping at his opponent with a single minded focus that has Dooku in turn stumbling back. 

“We are not destined to lose,” he says, eyes burning, “Defeat is not our destiny and I will not submit to fear fueled by that man - or by your insecurities Count Dooku.”

With a harsh flick of his wrist Obi-Wan whips his blade until it rests, hissing and searing hot but steady. It doesn’t drift or waver when its sizzling heat turns the pale skin of Dooku’s neck a flushing red under the steady threat of Obi-Wan’s victory. 

“Solah,” Dooku says, his voice little more than a hushed whisper. 

Their sabers extinguish at the same time. Without their burnishing light the room feels dark, almost encroaching against them. Dooku straightens up when it is clear that Obi-Wan will make no moves towards him, the man seeming to almost slip into the shadows themselves, like the shade will protect him from the fierce, burning protectiveness that he can see in the Knight’s eyes. Obi-Wan doesn’t move. 

“Thank you, Count, for this enlightening lesson.” 

He turns on his heel, not even sparing the other man a glance, and begins to make his way from the room. Behind him, the man who was once a Jedi stands frozen in the steadily darkening room. 

Chapter Text

“Obi-Wan!” 

His name being shouted at him from across an entire room is the only warning Obi-Wan gets before an excitable blur of blonde hair comes careening toward him with no regard for such inconsequential things like ‘reasonable control of speed’ or ‘not wanting to knock over the man you’ve just tackle-hugged’.

“Hello, Anakin,” Obi-Wan laughs at the boy who at this point is practically sitting upon his chest where he’s landed on the floor of the creche. 

“Obi-Wan! You’re here!” 

He winces a little at the boy’s enthusiastic shout, “A sound observation,” Obi-Wan ruffles Anakin’s hair before pointedly looking at where the ten year old’s knee is currently digging into his ribs. Anakin’s grins sheepishly and scrambles to his feet. He sticks out a tiny hand which Obi-Wan takes, letting the child think he’s helping him up. 

“Well,” Obi-Wan smiles, “It’s nice to know I was missed.”

Anakin nods enthusiastically, still not letting go of Obi-Wan’s hand. “You’ve been gone forever .”

“Oh? Last I checked I haven’t seen you in only three weeks.”

Anakin’s serious agreement almost forces another laugh from him, “ Exactly , forever. Like I said.”

Obi-Wan does let himself chuckle when the boy, apparently deciding they’ve been standing around doing nothing for too long, promptly starts trying to drag Obi-Wan further into the next room.

“You missed my lightsaber training,” Anakin accuses, “But I will forgive you if you look at the holo Jinchee took when I won.”

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan pretends to think, “I suppose I have time to take a look.”

“Yes!” The tugging on his hand resumes, more persistent this time until Anakin deems him appropriately close enough to let go so he can go digging through his mess of a bed for the holo. Obi-Wan receives a handful of less-than-subtle over the shoulder glances to make sure he hasn’t magically evaporated into the air in the three seconds Anakin has had his back to him. “Here it is!”

Obi-Wan takes the proffered holo and doesn’t have to fake the fond smile that crosses his face immediately. It’s Anakin, of course, standing in all his four and half foot glory, a practice saber in hand and a proud glint in his eye. The holo was captured right at the peak of a fight, Obi-Wan assumes from the way Anakin’s opponent looks exhausted, clearly on the back foot though there is determination in her eyes too. Anakin, in contrast, already has that surety, almost serene confidence that he remembers from another lifetime. The boy looks in his natural element to stand there with a lightsaber in his hand, an echo of the impeccable swordsman he will grow to be. 

“Very impressive,” Obi-Wan says softly but Anakin catches it, his grin doubling in size. 

“Look! Look!” He says, diving back to his bed for another holo, “Biala took this with me after!” 

Obi-Wan is surprised to see the second image that ends up in his hand. This one is of Anakin again, and the girl from the last holo - Biala, apparently - the two children are beaming up at him, both sweaty and tired but grinning fiercely. Anakin’s arm is wrapped over her shoulders while her hand is reaching up to poke him in the side playfully. They look so happy.

“Didn’t you beat Biala?” Obi-Wan can’t help but marvel.

Anakin misses his tone completely too busy launching into his story. “Oh yeah I did. Biala is the best at lightsabers for now, but I told her I’m gonna get even better. She’s super good though, that’s why it’s so wizard that I beat her. She said I’m doing heaps better than I was when I started and she also said that she’s gonna keep getting even gooder so that we can keep practising against each other. That way we’ll both be super good at fighting because we improve when we are willing to learn from one another.”

His voice shifts when he gets to the end of his little speech, clearly mimicking the tone of one of his teachers who must have imparted that last particular lesson to him. Obi-Wan feels his eyes crinkle slightly at such a serious and imperious tone coming from a boy with one foot still tucked under the covers of his unmade bed. 

“That’s very wise of you to say, Anakin.”

“Thank you, Knight Kenobi,” Anakin lasts all of a second before snorting at his own formality. Then his eyes light up, “So that’s the most important thing you missed while you were gone but now you gotta tell me what you were doing!”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, “Oh, I ‘have’ to, hmm?”

Anakin scrunches his nose but corrects himself, “I mean, could you please tell me what you were doing?”

Obi-Wan appreciates the effort. He sets down the two holos in their pride of place on Anakin’s dresser. This way they won't get lost in that tangled heap of blankets again. And, he thinks, it is far too nice to see evidence of an Anakin who appreciates his friends who challenge him, who make sure that a win does not need to come at the cost of disparaging the loser, that a win can come right alongside fun and gratitude for what one’s opponent can offer them. 

“I think I will tell you,” Obi-Wan decides, “If you’d like to accompany me.”

“Oh?” Anakin bounds off the bed, only stumbling for a moment when he realises his foot still hasn’t escaped the blanket trap he set for himself. “Where are we going?”

“Outside.”

The boy gasps, “You mean… outside the temple?”

Obi-Wan winks at him and moves for the door. 

-

Obi-Wan is very grateful he’d thought ahead to alert the Creche masters that he was taking Anakin out for an excursion that day, because if he hadn’t already he doesn't think he would’ve been able to hold Ani still long enough to do so before he practically sprinted his way out to the Temple exit.

Anakin had quickly gotten tired of waiting for Obi-Wan’s slow, measured steps to lead them where they are going. He’d started off just rocking back and forth on his heels, which then graduated to bouncing up and down while Obi-Wan caught up. That then evolved further into Anakin picking a target a short distance away that he could sprint to and then run back to him. Now he’s treated to the sight of Anakin darting forward for a few beats before visibly reigning himself back into line. This repeats many, many times. 

He looks on ahead serenely the next time they fall into step together, which Anakin doesn’t notice at all, too busy looking down at his own slow feet. Waiting for the perfect moment of the boy’s distraction Obi-Wan feels a smile tug at his lips. 

“Race you.” 

Anakin’s head jerks up just in time to see Obi-Wan push off from the ground, charging ahead.

“Hey!” Comes the high pitched cry from behind him, “No fair!” 

A laugh bubbles up inside his chest, bright and fearless as he continues to spring ahead of the young boy who is rapidly gaining distance. A handful of Jedi stop in their tracks to watch the unusual pair run wildly down the Temple steps. Obi-Wan pays them no mind, though he is pleased that at least a few seemed so startled by the sight they too started laughing in amusement. 

Obi-Wan lets himself slow his pace just a fraction so that Anakin can think he is catching up only to spring forward with another well of energy when he gets close.

“Obi-Wan,” the boy whines behind him, though the smile is clear even in his voice, “you have longer legs than me!”

“So I do,” Obi-Wan agrees freely, he switches his footing until he is jogging backwards, facing the red-faced grinning child, “And you have all the vigour of youth. So we’re pretty even.”

Anakin’s face pinches in confusion at the unknown word before getting even more caught up in a different point and squints at Obi-Wan accusingly, “You’re not old .”

He laughs brightly, “I’m going to remind you that you said that in a decade.”

“Yeah, okay,” he huffs, “I’ve met Yoda now though so you’re gonna have to try harder to make me think that you’re old when he looks like that.”

The pair of them have slowed down during their conversation, though Obi-Wan continues to walk backwards - mostly because he can see how much it amuses his young friend to see him do something so out of the norm. “It’s Master Yoda, Anakin,” he chides lightly, “And I can assure you I am older than I look.”

Anakin looks dubiously at the still-growing beard on his face and for once politely chooses to say nothing. 

Eventually Obi-Wan steers them to the speeder he has waiting for them at the bottom of the steps. Anakin’s quick gasp of excitement is swiftly interrupted.

“You’re not driving it.”

“But I can pilot!”

“I am aware.”

“I’m a good pilot!”

“Very true.”

Obi-Wan gets behind the controls, his companion jumping eagerly into the passenger side. 

“So can I drive on the way back?”

“No.”

“What if I drive only half way back, then we can swap and no one will know I was driving.”

“So you admit you know you’re not meant to be driving?”

“I admit nothing.”

“Hmm. And remind me, are you planning on not telling all your creche mates that I would have let you drive? You intend /*to keep that to yourself?”

He doesn’t need to look over to see the pout getting sent his way, “I can keep a secret.”

“Sure you can.”

“Does that mean I can drive?”

Obi-Wan grins at him, “Absolutely not.”

The rest of their trip is filled with an enthusiastic deluge of stories about all of Anakin’s classes and the private lessons he’s been getting with the usual ever changing roster of Masters who come to explain Jedi life to the boy. Obi-Wan asks which Masters Anakin felt explained concepts best, who confused him the most, who he had the most fun with, and compares all those answers to his own expectations from the last timeline. 

He’s pleasantly surprised by how much more receptive Anakin seems to different teachers than he did last time, even ones that Obi-Wan remembers him struggling with. It is impossible to pinpoint just where these changes are stemming from but as Anakin babbles happily about the fact that two different masters tried to teach him the same lesson in totally different ways, but neither was angry when he pointed it out to them, Obi-Wan feels that same steady sense of rightness that comes when he sees how free and light this version of his once-padawan is. 

Periodically Obi-Wan’s inquiries into his life are interrupted by a sly attempt to weasel an agreement to let him drive which Obi-Wan deftly ignores. He’s decided that if nothing else Anakin is getting some sort of education on the skills of negotiation while he tries to come up with a new tactic to convince Obi-Wan to illegally let a ten year old loose in Coruscanti traffic. 

It won’t work, but it is fun to see him try. 

Anakin is once again in the midst of a new pitch for why piloting is a valuable skill to foster and practice when he realises they’ve come to a stop.

“-and, you have to admit it would be good if I can be familiar with all types of speeders because what if an emergency happens, huh Obi-Wan? What if you’re busy protecting everyone and I have to take someone to safety? Oh, and! And what if-” he blinks in surprise, “Where are we?”

Obi-Wan parks the speeder, exiting the vehicle in one quick move before turning back to help Anakin out while he’s too distracted looking up at the restaurant before them. It’s by no means an opulent building, in fact Obi-Wan would laugh at the mere suggestion of someone like Dooku setting foot in a place like this. Instead this place, set a fair few levels down into Coruscant’s depth, radiates a surprising sense of homeliness. 

There’s mismatched wood panelling all down its side, imported from countless planets across the galaxy. An eclectic mix of interior styling is all blended together in a confusing yet pleasant mess once they step inside. Different cultural pieces are interspersed with cheap knick knacks that seem to have just caught someone’s eye for one reason or another. The patrons of this restaurant seem equally as diverse and strange. Obi-Wan ends up putting a hand on Anakin’s shoulder to steer him towards a spare table because the boy is far too occupied trying to turn his head on a full swivel to take everything in. 

They sit down surrounded by a pleasant hum of light hearted conversation and soft music playing a foreign tune Obi-Wan doesn't even know how to place. 

“Wizard,” Anakin whispers. 

“Indeed.”

“Why’re we here?” his wide eye stare is constantly shifting around the room with wonder. Obi-Wan reaches for a menu so at least one of them will know what they’re going to order. 

“I thought you might like it,” Obi-Wan’s voice is deceptively casual which is his first mistake clearly because Anakin whips back just to peer suspiciously at him.

“What’s the real reason?”

“Why do you assume I can’t have a simple motivation of introducing you to somewhere new?”

“Because you’re you,” he says, like that explains everything, “You’re Obi-Wan .”

The man tilts his head curiously, “Yes?”

Anakin huffs at his apparent obliviousness, “You’re super smart. You always think of everything and you are always trying to do like a million things at once. Plus you didn’t want to talk to me about what you’ve been up to back at the Temple. You took me all the way here so you obviously had a reason.” He rolls his eyes, “Duh.”

Ah. Apparently Obi-Wan has not been giving the young boy enough credit for his observational skills. He’s grown too used to this new younger Anakin who hasn’t spent years at his side. After the first few weeks of catching himself when he expected Ani to know just what he was thinking like they used to, he course corrected a bit too hard. Now he finds himself surprised at the shrewd understanding of himself that Anakin is clearly starting to pick up. Apparently this young version of his friend is already catching on to his old patterns and habits far quicker than he’d thought. Regardless, something about his words seem just off enough for Obi-Wan to furrow his brow at the child. 

“What do you mean I’m always trying to do a million things?”

Anakin’s mouth snaps shut sharply, a light blush coming to his cheeks. “I, uh, maybe overheard some of the masters talking about you…”

“Me?” Obi-Wan gapes.

“Yeah… Apparently everyone thinks you always try super hard? And you’re already very impressive so you don’t even have to? And Master Tilles said you probably don’t sleep enough.” He slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with panic, “Wait! I wasn’t meant to repeat that! You can’t tell anyone I told you!”

After dutifully promising he won’t tell anyone, and privately tucking those observations into the back of his mind to consider later, Obi-Wan gets Anakin to calm down enough to look at the menu himself. 

He waits patiently for the boy to make his way through the items listed, happy to see him sounding out the words quietly to himself. His literacy has been improving in leaps and bounds since he got to the Temple, especially with the additional help of a dozen different masters spread out across their private sessions with him. 

He knows the exact second Anakin gets to the item he was waiting for because of the short gasp of surprise that interrupts his quiet reading. Anakin darts his eyes up to meet Obi-Wan’s gently smiling face.

“They have ahrisa here?” 

“They do,” Obi-Wan nods. 

“And lamta!” 

A small part of Obi-Wan had been worried that Anakin wouldn’t have wanted to be reminded of Tatooine, or its cuisine, but Obi-Wan had been so excited himself when he found the spiced baked goods Shmi had served him back on the desert planet. He’d actually started to learn how to make ahrisa himself in his exile, as well as haroun bread but he hadn’t been able to find the right ingredients to make them for himself back on Coruscant. 

Still, it was a delight to see Anakin eagerly waving down the wait staff and ordering these simple dishes from his home planet. His excitement was so infectious Obi-Wan ended up ordering the same for himself, with a glass of water that would have been a luxury back in those deserts. 

Anakin’s lopsided grin is practically plastered onto his face while they wait. 

Obi-Wan rests his hands on the wonky table before him, “You asked me why I brought you here?” Anakin blinks in surprise before nodding quickly, “This place is run wholly by freed slaves.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what sort of a response that would get from the boy. They’d never done anything like this in their first timeline, when things were always an uphill battle to get the boy adjusted to Temple life, with Obi-Wan being his main source of instruction or information outside of his classes. When Obi-Wan barely knew how to be a Knight let alone a Master. 

Now though, Anakin’s mouth just drops open in quiet surprise. This time, he turns his head slowly, taking in the peculiar decorations that celebrate lives lived across the galaxy, at the crowd that moves with an earned sense of comfort in this new place. Obi-Wan continues even as he looks, giving Anakin the space to take it all in.

“Each dish comes from the homeworld of a different staff member,” his voice is low but he knows Anakin is latching onto every word, “It was designed to be a space to celebrate the good times in their past. To show that even in the darkest parts of their lives, they still had pieces of joy, whether that be from a piece of art they loved, or their first possessions, or if they simply had each other. Those who were freed, in one way or another, and ended up on Coruscant say they like to come here to be reminded that they are not alone. That there is a better life that they can still have while not denying their pasts.”

Anakin shifts back in his seat, his expression sombre but bittersweet, a strange expression to see on one so young. But Obi-Wan knows what type of life Anakin lived before Qui-Gon found him. He knows that this child has already been through more pain and fear than most people who live on this planet have experienced in their entire lives. He smiles sadly up at Obi-Wan.

“I didn’t know this was here.”

“Neither did I at first,” Obi-Wan admits gently. “But I wanted to make sure you knew that a place like this could exist.”

Now Anakin is the one to tilt his head in confusion, silently urging Obi-Wan to continue.

“Your time on Tatooine is important Anakin,” he starts carefully, “It defined a lot of concepts for you growing up. It introduced you to a lot of darkness in the galaxy from a very young age. Most Jedi haven’t seen that sort of darkness before,” it’s an admittance that he’s not sure anyone has ever really explained to the boy before. 

For all Obi-Wan's insistence on getting multiple masters to come teach Anakin the different ways to live life as a Jedi, none of them should neglect the one he has already lived outside of the Order. He’s sure they tried, but even in his few but long years on Tatooine, he’d learnt much about the type of life Anakin had left behind - with no one in his new life who understood all the ways it differed so much from the only home he’d ever known. He doesn’t blame his younger self for not knowing how to guide Anakin around all these concepts, when he himself hadn’t known the shape of the boy’s past. But now he is here, in the comfortable warmth of a building that stands as a defiant symbol of past and future, of pain and potential, all fused into one. 

“The Jedi care for you, Anakin, but sometimes care can be directed in ways that don’t necessarily benefit each individual perfectly. There are people here who can tell you about their experiences. They might be similar to yours, or maybe entirely different. But they will talk, and you can listen, and together you might find new ways to feel comfortable with the new life you have here on Coruscant.”

Obi-Wan swallows the choked emotion that threatens to block his words. This is too important. Anakin deserves to know of a life that isn’t built on fear of his past. He deserves to know that he is truly built for more than serving a master who doesn’t care. He deserves to have never been put in a position where Sidious’s cruel manipulations felt familiar and comforting - as if he were being understood in a way the Jedi would only ostracise him for.  

For now though, Anakin isn’t thinking about a future built on lies and pain, he’s staring at Obi-Wan like he has just hung the first star in an inky night sky. They let a comfortable silence fill the space between them, each lost in their own thoughts but together. Always together. 

The waiter comes by again, this time with plates heaped with delicious food that wafts achingly familiar scents over the pair who both dig in with a sweet nostalgia. They eat happily, reminded of different, but better times on a dusty planet half a galaxy away. Memories of happiness that were once watched over by two dutiful suns. 

Obi-Wan sets his glass down, quietly marvelling at the taste of ahrisa when paired with fresh water. “There is another reason I wanted to bring you here, Anakin.” 

His unfocused gaze snaps back to the Knight when he breaks their calm silence. Having Anakin’s whole attention directed solely at him remains a surprisingly intimate experience, even after decades. Obi-Wan can feel the unfiltered truth of Anakin’s earnest trust in him. His gratitude at being shown this place, his curiosity and unflinching faith in whatever Obi-Wan is about to tell him. 

“A few months ago, after you arrived at the Temple, I went back to Tatooine.”

Anakin’s glass slips from his hand, though Obi-Wan catches it before it can shatter on the table. He sets it down carefully, then meets the wide blue eyes staring intently at him.

“Did you see-”

Anakin cuts himself off, wary caution overtaking him. Their easy, quiet peace now feels fragile. Like Obi-Wan could shatter it as irreparably as that glass nearly was. He proceeds with caution himself, filling in when it becomes clear Anakin doesn’t know what to say next.

“I went back to see your mother.” Obi-Wan grins ruefully at the small gasp he is awarded for that, “Or more accurately; I went to free your mother.”

He’s not sure what response he expects but the sudden, eerie stillness in the eternally bubbly boy before him feels so deeply wrong. 

Eventually the statue of a boy moves. “Did… did you free her?” 

“I did.” 

Obi-Wan has enough time to blink once and then there is a ten year old throwing himself across the table, his tiny arms wrapping themselves so, so tightly around the startled Jedi.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you .”

Obi-Wan hugs the boy who saved his life more times than he counts. He hugs the boy who stood beside him, a partner, a friend, a brother. He hugs the boy who grew up to betray everything and everyone he ever loved. He hugs the boy that betrayed himself in another life. 

Anakin pulls back, his eyes shining bright with unshed tears and a smile that makes every muscle in his face strain with a burning happiness that Obi-Wan can’t help but try to memorise. To protect this moment. The Force echoes Anakin’s happiness, attuned to its Chosen One as it always is, leaving Obi-Wan too to bask in the infectious joy radiating from the child tucked carefully into his arms. 

“You saved my mum?” Anakin asks again, just to hear him say- 

“Yes.”

“Where is she?” Anakin twists in his arms to look, as if Shmi had merely been hiding in a corner he hadn’t checked yet, waiting for her moment. 

Obi-Wan strokes a hand over the blonde hair before him, gently pulling the boy’s attention back to him.

“She’s not here, Anakin. I took her to another planet. She’s safe there. I left her with someone I would trust with my own life. He has been looking out for her.”

Anakin’s disappointment is palpable, but he takes a shaky breath, steeling himself against the sadness of missing his mother. Instead, once he’s taken a second to centre himself, Anakin turns those hopeful blue eyes back on Obi-Wan.

“She’s safe? Really?”

“She is, I made sure of it myself.”

“Is she happy?”

Obi-Wan takes in the precious boy before him, who has already learnt so much in such a short time. This Anakin who has already taken his disappointment and set it aside in favour of ensuring that his mother is somewhere out there, living a better life than he’d left her in. 

“I think so,” Obi-Wan says, not willing to make up a false truth just because it would sound nice to both of them, “She misses you terribly. I told her how wonderful you’ve been, how proud we all are of you. She says she’s pretty proud too.”

Anakin’s smile turns watery again, but he waits patiently for Obi-Wan to speak, not daring to push his luck. 

“I don’t think it would be good for you to know where she is at the moment, you’re both adjusting to very different lives and you both need the space to figure things out on your own. But I’m going to keep an eye on her, Anakin, you don’t need to worry about her. I know she’s important to you, and you deserve to know that she’s not in any danger.”

He prepares himself for the oncoming argument, the accusation that he’s hiding her from Anakin and that if he won’t tell him where she is then he’ll run off on his own to find her himself. Instead, Obi-Wan feels those small arms tighten around him, and a blond head burrow into his chest. Anakin’s young voice is muffled by his robes but Obi-Wan hears him anyway.

“I understand Obi-Wan. It’s okay that I can’t see her now. You’ll keep her safe. I know you will.”

Obi-Wan breathes in shakily, his hands tightening around the child. 

“Of course I will, Anakin. She’s safe. You’ll be okay. We’re all safe.”

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan has about three seconds of warning between the time a sharp knock sounds at his front door and the unmistakable sound of someone keying in his passcode and entering anyway. 

He peers over the edge of the couch he is currently lounging on. He's been reading up about how to better care for his increasingly large collection of plants that have now spilled over his windowsills and are currently occupying two thirds of his dining table. At this rate he is almost certain his rooms will be closer in climate to the forests of Kashyyk than even the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Entirely oblivious to his musings on flora, and peering suspiciously down at him from his own doorway is Qui Gon Jinn who takes all of a single second to make sure no one else is in Obi-Wan’s rooms before striding forward. The door slams shut dramatically behind him which Obi-Wan vaguely suspects was on purpose, until he can loom over Obi-Wan’s reclined form on the couch and point an accusing finger at him.

“You’re leaving the Order.”

Obi-Wan blinks up at him. “Now?” 

“Now?!”

He blinks again. “Not now?” 

“Not now? Then when?!”

Obi-Wan is entirely unsure what is happening. In fact the only thing he is certain of is that he has never seen his master’s face turn that shade of red so quickly. “When do you think?” 

Qui-Gon throws his hands up into the air, frustration and worry leaking off him in waves. “Oh now you ask me? You plan it all out on your own when we specifically had a conversation about you not threatening to leave the Order without warning me and now you ask me when you should do it?”

Slowly Obi-Wan sets his readings aside so he can give his very frazzled master the due attention he clearly needs regarding the absolute nonsense he’s spouting right now. 

“Master, I genuinely do not know what you’re talking about. I have not threatened to leave the Order at all. I was asking why now because you are the one who came into my rooms to tell me I’m going.”

Qui-Gon’s frustration seems to at least partially leak away at his earnest confusion. He eventually elects to join Obi-Wan on the couch after hesitating a moment too long. 

“Master Dooku said-”

Obi-Wan scoffs. 

“Of course he did.”

“Of course?”

“That man does not know what he is talking about Master.”

Qui-Gon’s eyebrows make a valiant attempt to recede into his hairline at that. “I rather thought you were getting along well. Is he not a sufficient duelling teacher?”

Obi-Wan elects to ignore the largely unsubtle curiosity in his voice in favour of huffing out another sigh at the once-sith and all his delicate anti-jedi feelings. 

“He’s a fine duelling master. He is an astounding obtuse person. Two things can be true at once.”

Qui-Gon lets out a low whistle, “Astoundingly obtuse. That’s quite the review.”

“It’s a fact is what it is.”

“Dare I ask what has transpired between the two of you since I left? He was very determined to inform me that you were straying from your path and that I should ensure you stayed on track. I believe he was insistent that you were losing focus though he did not share any more specifics with me.”

“And from that you concluded I’m leaving the order?”

“What else could it mean?”

He throws his master a rueful grin, “I think you’ll find Dooku is actually more bothered that I am staying with the Order.”

Qui-Gon’s mouth drops open like a fish removed from its pond suddenly confronted with oxygen for the first time. 

“He wants you to leave ?”

“Yes.”

Qui Gon lasts exactly fourteen seconds in stunned silence before fury crosses his eyes. “Excuse me. I believe I need to go have a little chat with my old Master.” 

Before he can do more than plant his feet on the ground, his expression fuming, Obi-Wan has reached out and grasped Qui-Gon’s hand, halting him before the man can even get off the couch. 

“Master, you really do not have to bother. I am not going anywhere and the Count needs to learn he cannot use you to meddle in my business. I am not going to succumb to his manipulations anytime soon.”

“What manipulations?” Qui-Gon lets himself be pulled back to his seat though not without a fair few grumbles. 

“Misleading you into thinking I’m leaving. He wanted you to be mad at me for not telling, to seed distrust between us so that I have fewer connections keeping me here.”

His master looks at him absolutely appalled. “He wouldn’t.”

“He would,” Obi-Wan is well aware that the Count is perfectly capable of far more devious and cruel machinations than simply telling on him to his master. Frankly compared to the quite literal war crimes the man had committed in another life, tattling on him is the least concerning problem Obi-Wan is currently dealing with. “He just needs to cool off and get over himself.”

Qui-Gon does not look less like a surprised fish at that remark, his eyes doing a valiant attempt to leap out of his own head. “Cool off? You expect Count Dooku to ‘ cool off’ ?”

“I suppose he can stay mad at me if he’d like but that’s not going to help him achieve very much at all.”

His master shakes his head in stunned disbelief. “Sometimes I truly do not understand you, my padawan. 

Obi-Wan smiles, “Well I wouldn’t want you getting bored of me being too predictable.”

“You know, I truly do not believe that is something I have ever needed to worry about.”

Now that it seems that his master is not about to go charging right back out his front door to go and harass the Count, Obi-Wan decides it is probably safe enough to get up and start making tea for the both of them. He’s barely even had time to register that his master is back on planet after his last mission and he really would like to actually spend time with the man. 

“So how were your travels?” Obi-Wan calls from the kitchen over the sound of his kettle starting to whistle.

“Dry.”

“Incredible. Thank you for such a profusive answer. Do I get any more details than that?”

“Well it was a desert planet Obi-Wan, dry seems an apt description.”

Obi-Wan is careful to keep his tone perfectly neutral, his face turned away from his guest as he starts measuring out the right volume of leaves for their respective cups “And what is it you were doing out on a desert planet?”

Even from another room Obi-Wan can feel Qui Gon’s wry amusement.

“You’re not so sly as you think you are my young padawan. You know perfectly well that I cannot speak to what my mission was.”

Obi-Wan gives into the temptations of his apparent youth, groaning theatrically as he walks back to the lounge, tea in hand. He deposits Qui Gon’s in front of him but makes sure to steep the leaves just a little too long. Is it petty to make his Master’s drink slightly too bitter? Perhaps. But that's what he gets for withholding secrets. And no Obi-Wan does not intend to acknowledge the hypocrisy right now. 

“Just as you haven’t been able to speak of your last four missions either?”

“Indeed.”

“Well,” He huffs, “At least tell me how you’ve been? I haven’t been able to get a single message to actually send through my comm to you in weeks.”

Qui Gon’s wrinkles curl up at his eyes, amusement evident in his small smile. “I have been well, Padawan. Very little to report now as before. My assignments are predominantly negotiation based. As you know, I’m not one for combat these days.” 

He offers a wry shrug that only serves to highlight the stump of his arm where it was severed by Maul all those months ago. Obi-Wan has long since grown used to the sight enough that he barely spares it a glance. He finds himself more worried about the well hidden regret that just laced his words. 

“I’m sure you haven’t lost all your skills in battle Master. There are plenty of prothesi-”

Qui Gon huffs, “Oh I know. Forgive an old man his dramatics Obi-Wan. Perhaps one day I will get back into the salles but that is not a discussion for today.”

Obi-Wan relinquishes his careful prodding, just as he has done every other time Qui Gon has made some passing comment about his capabilities. It’s a peculiar conversation to navigate, so unlike the ones he’d had with Anakin when he’d lost his own arm. Back then he’d mostly just found himself trailing after his padawan and trying to absorb even half the information he’d sprouted about the mechanics and engineering of his new hand. Anakin had directed perhaps too much of his energies into designing and redesigning his mechno-arm to the point where Obi-Wan had never really had to learn how to be sensitive about his padawan’s loss as he now does for his master. 

Perhaps sensing Obi-Wan’s hesitance Qui Gon is swift to redirect the conversation into safer topics, but not before prodding a little more about just why Dooku had set him up to build conflict with his padawan. Obi-Wan diverts and distracts as much as he can but an hour later Qui Gon leaves his apartment with a furrow between his brow and a soft swirl of confusion trailing after him. 

-

It is chance more than anything that has Obi-Wan up and about wandering the temple in the dark hours of the early morning. He hasn’t been sleeping well for the past few days, torn between his duties in the Senate and the uneasy chill that has developed between himself and Count Dooku. He’d shown up to the scheduled saber lesson that afternoon and waited in solitude for the entire hour until packing up and returning to his rooms. 

Restlessness is no stranger to him so Obi-Wan has taken up an old habit of meandering around at night, a pastime he hasn't been able to indulge in for years between the dangers of an active battlefield and the freezing cold of Tatooine nights. It’s pleasant now to wander aimlessly around his home. He nods politely in greeting to the sparse nocturnal Jedi that are also out at these quiet hours. 

Idle plans to perhaps head out into the lower levels of the city begin to form in his mind. On nights like this there is very rarely anything he can do to lull himself back to rest until he’s expelled his energy in one way or another. On Tatooine he’d fallen into the habit of quiet, lonely patrols across the dunes. His senses stretched just far enough to track the steady pulse of Luke’s force signature safe at home with the Lars’s. 

Miraculous though it is that Obi-Wan is back in a past where there are actually too many Jedi all gathered in one place for him to trace them all, it does mean that the low anxieties that follow his every step are not quelled by the lack of certainty. How is he to know if he has missed a single light amongst this sea of stars? Each and every one of them are too precious for him to merely assume that all of his family is safe. 

He is all too familiar with what too much uncertainty will do to him. Fears and doubts held over from war and exile will seep in if left unattended. At least allowing himself to be proactive has a way of pulling him out of the more maudlin thoughts that plague him. Hence he soon enough finds himself trailing into the hangar bay to see if he can commandeer a speeder for the night. He may as well check in on the hacker under his employ and see how the security of the Temple’s files are going. 

However as soon as he enters the hanger he is pulled up short by the unexpected presence of a very familiar silhouette accompanied by a young padawan. 

“Feemor?”

The man in question snaps his head up at the sound of his name, a pleasant grin crossing his face as soon as he recognises Obi-Wan. Beside him stands a padawan with soft brown fur and sharp green eyes in her feline face as she follows Feemor’s gaze to him. 

“Obi-Wan! This is a surprise,” Feemor reaches out to clasp Obi-Wan’s hand in his, a warmth radiating off the man that manages to drag a matching smile to his own face. “Oh! You haven’t met my padawan yet, have you? This is Anani.” 

Obi-Wan watches in subdued delight as Feemor tries to lightly push his padawan forward in encouragement, no doubt hoping she’ll introduce herself properly; only for the young lady to resolutely dig her claws into the floor and hold her ground. He is all too familiar with a new master’s desperate attempts to get their padawan to socialise with another adult so he’s more than ready to forgive Anani’s hesitance. Though the embarrassed red flooding Feemor’s cheeks as he keeps getting met with resistance is certainly payment enough for the social faux pas. 

“Hello Anani,” Obi-Wan greets warmly when it becomes truly clear the girl is feeling far too awkward to start a conversation.

“Hi.”

Feemor’s grin tightens, “Well I guess we’re all introduced to each other now!” He pats Anani lightly on her shoulder which is probably just meant to be a reassurance that everything is alright and she doesn’t need to be worried. But Obi-Wan is instead treated to the sight of watching a preteen studious decide to misinterpret that gesture as meaning she’s okay to promptly turn tail and hide behind her Master’s cloaks. 

“Wuh-” Feemor tries turning far enough to follow his wayward apprentice only to turn a full rotation without catching the spry Cathar as she ducks and weaves away from his gaze. Feemor admits defeat after only a single turn. A fuzzy tail flicks slowly in and out of view from behind Feemor’s robes which Obi-Wan resolutely manages to avoid laughing at. Though he can see the wry tug of a grin on his friend’s face too. 

“Well that was my padawan. Though I seem to have recently misplaced her.”

“It was lovely to know her while she was here,” he agrees sagely, “I’m sure we’ll all miss her until her return from wherever it is she has disappeared off to. Lost to time and space as she surely is. A brave padawan adventuring where none have gone before.”

Feemor and Obi-Wan nod in agreement, the action punctuated by a muffled giggle emanating from behind the robes.

Feemor rolls his eyes at her antics, instead focusing his attention back onto Obi-Wan, “Wayward apprentices aside, what brings you out here tonight?”

“Poor sleep is all, I’m afraid,” he dismisses with a casual shrug, “Thought I’d head out for a short fly. See the city.”

“Can’t say you struck me as the type for late night flying my friend.”

“What can I say? I aim to surprise.” 

Feemor scoffs, “Now that I can believe.”

“And what about yourself? Where might you two be off at this hour?”

“Us two?” Feemor's eyes widen, “I don’t see anyone but you and I out here. No companions to join me on my journey. It’s just little old me tonight.” His robes giggle, a quick flash of a tail peeks out for just a moment before disappearing again. “And to answer your question: I am actually heading out on a mission.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan doesn’t bother hiding his surprise. He is perfectly aware that very few new master-padawan pairs get sent on missions together, especially not a pair as fresh as Feemor and Anani. 

His friend easily reads the shock and can only offer up a shrug, “It surprised me too. Apparently Master Windu made the request for us specifically.”

“Master Windu?”

“Yes. I’ve barely spoken to the man before but apparently he was adamant I had to be on the mission.” Feemor’s bemused expression slips for just a moment, sharp eyes darting across the space as if afraid for unwanted attention directed their way. His voice drops just a fraction and Obi-Wan doesn’t even have to think before he is leaning in to close the distance between them. “I don’t suppose you know of Master Windu’s proclivity for shatterpoints?”

Obi-Wan’s face doesn’t twitch. “I’ve heard some talk.”

“Master Windu apparently didn’t wish to say so too publicly but he told me that I’ve gathered far too many shatterpoints about myself and this mission. Something in the Force wants me out there, against some of the rest of the Council’s better judgement.”

Obi-Wan lets out a low whistle, “Well, I suppose it’s good we listen to Master Windu when we can.”

Whatever piercing focus had overtaken Feemor appears to settle at Obi-Wan’s agreement, a softer expression appearing back on his face. “I’m glad to hear you say so.”

“Oh? Why me specifically?”

“Master Windu did imply you weren’t exactly the best at ‘following direction’ yourself,” he says with a grin.

Obi-Wan huffs a laugh, though finds his mind churning in mild surprise, “And just how did I factor into your conversation? I thought Mace was rather above gossip mongering about me.”

Feemor's smile slips uncertainly just as a pair of feline eyes peek out from the edge of his robes. Anani echoes her master’s confusion out into the Force until Obi-Wan is suddenly convinced he’s missed something important here. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Of course you came up,” Anani’s voice is quiet but in the dead silence of the night Obi-Wan has no trouble hearing her, his gaze flicking to meet hers, “Master Windu says you’re the one who found this mission.”

“I don’t know what you mean young one. Where is your mission?”

Anani slips out from the shelter of her master’s silhouette, only to cross her arms over her chest, childlike exasperation abundantly clear as she spells it out for him, “We’re going to Kamino. Duh.”

Chapter Text

Upon reflection, maybe he should have seen this coming. That's the only thought he can seem to find himself coming back to time and time again as the next few days stretch out before him. He's sure that Feemor and Anani must be close to Kamino by now, a detail he can't help but fixate on even though he desperately wishes his mind would turn to any other topic. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he wasn’t sent on the mission but now that he knows that it is on its way, without him, there’s nothing else that he can seem to focus on.

It is not that he means to obsess over their mission, though Feemor’s admittance of the apparent shatterpoints Mace saw connected to his friend's involvement in this first contact with the clones has done very little to quell Obi-Wan's paranoia or worries. 

The simple fact is that paranoia seems to be all he has right now. His investigations into the Senators that Valorum targeted keeps him on his toes trying to discover their true motivations. And Palpatine’s skulking presence through the halls certainly isn't helping. And now all he has left to do with his time while he waits for news from Feemor is sit and stew in his worries. It's unbecoming of a Jedi but this ever present worry of his is a familiar companion by now. 

Obi-Wan does his very best to calm his nerves. He heads to the room of a thousand fountains to meditate. He finds time to meet with Bail between Senate duties. He even approaches Yoda to have tea with him though that perhaps backfires as he spends most of that afternoon worried that the Grandmaster will somehow be able to see right through him and ask about the time travel.

Finally after all too many days of concern and confusion eating away at him, Obi-Wan finds himself awoken just as the sun begins to peek into his room.

At first he isn’t sure what wakes him. It might be his comm, beeping softly at his bedside to alert him of a missed message. Or perhaps it is the usual hustle of the Temple waking itself up in the early hours. Alternatively Obi-Wan has always been something of an early riser himself so it could be just like any other morning if it weren’t for the insistent tug in his gut that tells him he’s missing something. 

He rolls out of bed warily, taking a few extra seconds to peer around his quarters just in case someone or something has infiltrated his rooms without his know-how. It’s unlikely in this time, and in the temple of all places but he knows far too well what a lack of hypervigilance will cost him. 

Bizarrely Obi-Wan feels lighter than usual when he wakes, which ironically enough is plenty of reason for him to immediately begin feeling suspicious. No doubt it is the Force telling him to stop peering into the shadows seeking out trouble where there is none. He huffs but does reach for his comm which is still blinking for his attention. 

Sure enough the message that awaits him does in fact lift his spirits immediately. 

Obi-Wan, I hope this message finds you well. I have just arrived on Coruscant, escorted by your friend Quinlan Vos. He certainly had some stories to tell me about you. I am staying in the same rooms as my last visit, if you would do me the privilege of joining me for tea I would be most grateful. I believe we both have much to discuss.

P.A.

While it's definitely unusual for Padme to have messaged him from an unfamiliar comm number, he finds himself far more focused on getting dressed as quickly as possible. Whatever questions he may have for her will be best answered in person so he pauses only long enough to send a reply confirming he is on his way.

From there it is a short flight before Obi-Wan finds himself right back in front of the Queen's quarters where he once dissuaded her from moving Sidious into the Chancellorship. Idly, as he waits for his knock to be answered, he wonders what sort of political scandal she’ll be bringing with her this time. It is Reneé who opens the door to him mere seconds later, a pleasant smile on her face that stretches in sincerity when he greets her by name. She waves him inside with a brief, furtive look down the hall behind him before sliding the door closed once again. 

She leads him into the main sitting room where Sabé is decked out in the Nubian royal garb. He greets her as if she were really the queen, suddenly unsure about the unusual formality he is being greeted with. He had certainly thought he and Padme’s handmaidens had developed something of a rapport, or at the very least they had respected their queen's apparent fondness for him - but there remains an icy formality throughout the room as he joins their charade of propriety.

“Knight Kenobi,” Sabé greets him, “It is a pleasant surprise to see you here.”

Obi-Wan is quick to school his face into a neutral expression once it becomes clear Sabé is clearly performing this formal distance for someone even if he doesn't yet know who.

“Your Majesty,” he inclines his head in a slight bow, “it has been some time.”

“Indeed.” One of the other handmaidens makes a show of whispering into Sabé's ear, an urgency in her movements that does not echo as sincere in the Force. 

“Ah,” Sabé says with a faux surprise, “I am afraid an urgent matter requires my attention. If you are amenable to waiting an hour or so I shall return here once this issue has been dealt with.”

“Of course my lady,” he acquiesces.

“Excellent,” Sabé stands with effortless grace, “my handmaiden Padmé will attend you whilst I am gone.”

Obi-Wan only just remembers to complete the formal protocols of bidding goodbye to the ‘queen’ but within two minutes of his arrival Obi-Wan now finds himself alone in the Naboo suite with Padmé Amidala, dressed as one of her own handmaidens. Or at least he thought they were alone.

A voice appears from the shadows behind him. “Hey Obi.”

He sighs, “Hello, Quinlan.” 

The Kiffar Knight pouts, “Can't you at least pretend to be happy to see me? I brought you your favourite queen and everything.” He pauses and frowns at the door Sabé just left from, “Although I did think she would stick around longer.”

Padmé, who has done little more than watch Obi-Wan with quiet intensity since he walked into her chambers, raises an eye at that proclamation.

“Knight Vos,” she says primly, “I do believe you were assigned to escort me here for a diplomatic engagement, not just so I may entertain Obi-Wan here.”

Quinlan blinks at her twice before understanding dawns across his face. “You're the Queen.”

“Yes.”

“Not her.” He gestures once again to where Sabé just left.

“Correct.”

He turns to Obi-Wan as if expecting similar shock to having been duped so effectively by a fifteen year old who isn't even remotely Force sensitive only to catch the sly grin tugging at his lips. Quinlan scowls.

“You knew.”

“Obviously.”

He throws up his hands and groans, “Do either of you speak in full sentences? Is this why you're friends? You just want to make me look like a fool?”

“Quinlan,” Obi-Wan says placatingly as he pats the Knight on his shoulder, carefully avoiding any skin contact, “we don't have to make you do anything of the kind. You manage quite well on your own.”

The dry look his friend sends him is all the more worth it when Padmé barely stifles a small laugh.

“And you two are good friends you said?” She smirks at Quinlan who huffs dramatically. 

“Apparently I was being ambitious,” he groans, “or maybe I’ve just been off planet too long and forgot what a charmer Obi-Wan really is.”

Obi-Wan notes the dusty smears trailed across Quinlan’s robes with mild interest. His friend has in fact been off planet for a while now, nearly three months if he remembers correctly. He’d gotten a last minute assignment with the Shadows, the elite team of Jedi Sentinels who focused on destroying relics of the Sith. Already Quinlan’s powers of retrocognition are being put to use. It’s exactly the thing he recalls being what pushed Quint to take on more and more seedy and dangerous jobs out in the fringe of the galaxy back in his own time. So it is nothing of a surprise to see him heading down this same path once again. Quin had always had something of an affinity to toying with the Dark. 

“May I ask why you're really here Padmé, if not just for the delight of my company?” Obi-Wan probes in an effort to distract from that line of inquiry. He’s not sure how much Quin and Padmé have gotten to know of one another in their travels. Though at least they both appear comfortable in each other's presence so he takes a gamble and leads them both to the plush couches in the centre of the room. 

Quinlan doesn't even attempt to hide his open curiosity at the question as he too settles down on the seats which at least means Obi-Wan isn't the only one out of the loop here. Padmé's relaxed posture tightens just a little more at the question though, a pinched expression crossing her face.

“I suppose I am here for a few reasons. One of which is that the Chancellor personally invited me.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan can't help but ask. He's been by Valorum’s side for two weeks now and hasn't heard a thing about this.

“Yes,” she says, faint bemusement colouring her voice, “he said he's worried about how his stance in the Senate is going and that he wanted an outside opinion.” She casts Obi-Wan a wry glance, “I assume after telling him about the vote of no confidence he thinks I will give him an honest answer - even if he doesn't want to hear it.”

Quinlan, who had just picked up his own teacup to take a delicate sip from, nearly chokes as he realises what Padmé is saying. 

“And why else are you here?” Obi-Wan asks before Quinlan can recover and pry for my details. Also because Padmé, poised though she may be, is fidgeting. It's careful and unobtrusive, mostly hidden by her large skirts but he can see the way her foot is bouncing and her hands clench just a little too much.

She meets his gaze, then flickers away to stare out of the large windows that line her rooms. 

“I am also here… because I believe Naboo is under threat.”

Quinlan and Obi-Wan share a shocked pulse of surprise in the Force before they can reign it back in without Padmé any the wiser. 

“There is something afoot on my planet and I am certain that I am being lied to about it.”

“Lied to by whom?” 

“By my correspondents in the Senate,” she says firmly, “each of the representatives I sent to negotiate the aftermath of the Trade Federations blockade have been sending me nothing but drivel for weeks. Half hearted missives and vague terms all which tell me that they are not fighting for our people at all.”

She huffs with frustration, “Both the Trade Federation and the Banking Clan have refused to provide full reparations to my planet, despite direct order from the Senate. However, any time I question where those funds are my representatives all assure me they are proceeding as expected! Just last week I was sent a financial report that does say that the Banking Clan was moving large sums over to a Nubian account but none of my financial advisors have a clue where it has ended up.”

Righteous fury fills her eyes as she glares into the Coruscanti skyline, “I have no patience for being used further as some sort of puppet on other people's agendas. I am here in person to investigate these matters until I have my own answers.”

Quinlan lets out a low whistle, “That's a tall order, your highness. Are you sure you have to be the one to investigate? Shouldn't your planet's Senator be on top of this?”

As one, Padmé and Obi-Wan stiffen at the mere mention of Palpatine. Quinlan absolutely notices the movement, his eyebrows climbing even higher.

“Oh. Now that doesn’t look good.”

A slight flush has filled Padmé's cheeks, as if she's embarrassed to be caught thinking unfavourably of her own Senator.

“Sheev Palpatine is…” she hesitates, “supposedly monitoring the negotiations.”

“But you don't trust him,” Quinlan finishes for her. 

“He does seem…  overly involved in the proceedings. And yet hasn't… delivered much.”

Never before has Obi-Wan seen his friend so hesitant. She's usually so very sure of herself that this uncertainty is a foreign look on her. Not to mention how delicately she is wording everything, as if genuinely worried about being overheard criticising him outwardly. 

He shares another glance with Quinlan who seems to be doing an impressive job of reading his mind.

“Maybe we should forget all this,” he says all too casually.

Padmé gapes at him, but before she can muster up an affronted protest Obi-Wan chimes in.

“Yes this does all seem rather a bit much. Politics has certainly never been my forte anyway. It is good to know Valorum trusts you, your highness, but maybe these investigations you want to do are more likely to waste your precious time than they will produce results.”

Padmé's betrayed expression is beginning to clear up as she sees Quinlan rise silently from the couch. Obi-Wan blathers on about how she should refocus all her efforts on supporting Valorum while she's here and maybe just remind Palpatine of her expectations. The sound of his voice is hopefully enough to cover the way Quinlan has taken up a hunt throughout the room. At first he closes his eyes, reaching out with the Force until something must twinge for him. Then Quinlan starts the lengthy process of picking up or swiping his bare hand across as much of the room's decor as possible. 

Whilst Padmé doesn't seem to know about Quinlan's telemetry she has picked up enough of their ruse to start arguing back against Obi-Wan. He's impressed to see that she even manages to bend her arguments just enough to come across as much more malleable than before. She starts conceding ground to Obi-Wan and even announces she will hold off on any investigations of her own until she has conferred with Palpatine - which is right when Quinlan's eyes snap open.

They keep talking but their attentions are solely focused on the way Quinlan starts digging into one of the hideously expensive vases that decorate the room. His hand emerges clutching a tiny microphone. 

Padmé manages to stifle her gasp of surprise but Obi-Wan makes sure to keep up his end of the conversation while she recomposes herself. Quinlan manages to scrounge up three more listening devices before Obi-Wan can divert the discussion back to safer territory.

“- anyway,” he says with a dismissive casualness, “you have barely been planetside for a day Padmé, I am sure a break would do you good.”

“A break?” She says faintly.

“Absolutely,” Quinlan chimes in, “space travel always makes you a little loopy, right Obi?”

“Of course.”

“So, obvious solution: while your girl is out there playing Queen, how about you let two fine Jedi Knights kidnap you for an hour and let you clear your head?”

At that Padmé does let out a small giggle, finally showing some of her true age despite the heavy tension that has filled the room, “and where might these two fine Knights be?”

Quinlan gasps, “Did you hear that Obi? She doesn't think we’re fine. Us! Name one Jedi more fine than you or I, huh?”

“Oh I couldn't possibly.”

“Exactly .” Quinlan tugs his gloves back on before striding confidently back to the front door, “We can't let such slander stand Obi. We'll just have to prove her wrong.”

Obi-Wan stands too, offering a hand for his friend to take which she does after only a moment's hesitation. 

“I suppose we must, would you like to be shown at least some of this city that doesn't have anything to do with politics and conspiracies Padmé?”

“Very well,” she quirks a small grin. “To getting away from politics we go.”

-

“This is clearly about the politics of it all,” Padmé says fiercely. 

“Of course.”

“Obviously.”

The Knights nod in agreement, stuffed into their shared booth across from the young queen while the crowds that normally fill Dexter's place move around them. It was the first place Obi-Wan could think to come when they’d successfully absconded with their disguised royalty. It does have the dual benefit of definitely being off Palpatine’s radar and that Dexter himself is judicious about checking for any bugs, droids or devices that his less than savory clientele wouldn't appreciate finding. 

Padmé had looked with idle curiosity at Obi-Wan's choice of locale but had seemed substantially more at ease when she caught the way Dex had utilised all four arms to crush Obi-Wan and Quinlan into matching hugs on either side of his body. 

“Is there anyone else you've told about your investigation?” Obi-Wan asks once they’re all settled.

“No. Not even my handmaidens, I didn't want to endanger them until I'd spoken to you about how to proceed. Bail tells me you're stationed at the Senate now and I thought you might have some first hand knowledge I can use to plan ahead.”

“Excellent thinking,” he says trying to pull another smile from her to replace the maudlin look she's trying to hide, “I can't say I've run into any of the Nubian representatives aside from your Senator lately, but I'm sure I can dig up something for you.”

“And I'll be around to see what I can pick up,” Quinlan offers easily. In turn Obi-Wan does him the favour of not showing his surprise at that. Quin has expressed to him many times how unsavoury his telemetry is in the Senate - too many bad intentions and ill intent that suffuses most surfaces there. 

Padmé, however, sighs in relief, “Thank you, Knight Vos, I admit I will feel better with a Jedi by my side. Intentions are hard enough to read in normal politicking, I do not wish to be undone if there is a genuine conspiracy I'm missing here.”

“Of course,” he says with an overly charming grin that has his companions stifling groans. 

Obi-Wan knocks his elbow into Quins side without looking at his smug face. “Ignore him, we all found him loose in the temple years ago and simply haven't found the right home for him yet.”

“Hey!” Quinlan squawks in protest but is summarily ignored. 

“Understandable,” Padmé says “my condolences.”

“Thank you for your sympathies.”

“I have decided just now,” Quinlan announces, “That I do not like either of you.” 

“Perhaps you will like me more,” the queen offers, “when I tell you that there is another reason I am here on Coruscant.”

Both Knights perk up at that before promptly pretending like neither of them can be so easily tempted by a teased mystery. 

“Oh?” Obi-Wan says, suppressing the curiosity in his voice but not doing too good a job of it by her knowing look, “What else brings you here?”

There's a brief moment where she eyes Quinlan, sizing up whether she trusts him enough to share the details of whatever this is. But it seems that she finds what she's looking for in his open and honest expression and presses on. 

“Bail and I have been working on a bill to present to the Senate,” she says, leaning forward across the table and dropping her voice low. The Knights lean in together to head her better. “We're going to take out the Hutts.”

Surprise catches him so off guard that Obi-Wan chokes on air only to start coughing loudly and violently enough that half the restaurant turns to them. Quin does his best to slap Obi-Wan on the back unt he's breathing again, and Dex even comes by to give him a pity refill of his drink while he composes himself. 

“You're going to what ?” He hisses once the three of them are no longer the centre of attention.

Padmé looks back at him with level eyes. “We're going to dismantle their cartel and free all the enslaved people under their rule.”

Quinlan lets out a long, low whistle, “Wow you really know how to pick ‘em Obi. She's got guts.”

“She also clearly hasn't thought this through.”

“She is sitting right here thank you,” she says with a huff, “And we have been thinking it through. It's not ready yet, obviously, but there's only so far we can get through coded messages and oblique references made through the official channels. If we are to do this then Bail and I want to do it properly.”

Never before has Obi-Wan sympathised more with Mace's eternal desire to put his head in his hands and claim an oncoming migraine when he's around Obi-Wan, who now is feeling awfully similar when faced with Padmé's impressively bold ambition. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“And you of all people cannot think I am joking.”

“Can I wish for it anyway?”

“You may wish all you like,” she says confidently, “but it will not deter me in the slightest.”

Quinlan, who has been watching this back and forth like it is a particularly invigorating game of tennis, interjects before they can derail any further.

“‘Scuse me,” he says with one hand raised like a youngling in class, “what do you mean by him ‘of all people’ not think you're joking?”

“Because I know very well how he feels about the unjustness of slavery. He liberated a half dozen slaves in one day just because he knew one person, whom he had never even met, had been mistreated.”

“Obi?”

“Yes, Quinlan,” his voice is muffled by the fact he has very much now dropped his face into his hands - but they can both hear him just fine anyway.

“Was that rescue for a mission?”

“Of a sorts.”

“One you assigned yourself?”

“Maybe.”

“Obi-Wan!” Quinlan socks him in the shoulder, his grin audible even through the precious safety of his hands, “you sly little lothcat. You made an unsanctioned rescue in Hutt space without Council approval!”

“Please stop sounding so happy about that.”

A consoling hand pats him on his shoulder. 

“Absolutely not,” Quinlan promises solemnly. 

“If you two are quite done,” Padmé interrupts, “I would like to get back to the matter at hand.”

Despite only just peeking through the very tips of his fingers, he can absolutely still see the way Quinlan leans forward all too eagerly, “And just how may we daring Jedi Knights be of service, your highness?” 

“Well,” Padmé pauses, “I'm not quite sure just yet. There's so much data we need, and personal accounts and so much background research to begin and-”

“And this is a massive undertaking,” Obi-Wan says, finally relinquishing all further attempts to hide behind his fingers. “You need help.”

“I do,” she replies, unashamed. 

“This is not going to be easy.”

“I understand that. But it is necessary. There are people who are suffering and you helped show me that we all have the power to help. My people chose me to lead them because they believed I could bring growth and change to our world. How can I face them again if I am not willing to instigate the change we deserve to see? Am I to be a passive observer to an uncaring galaxy?”

Obi-Wan feels a small, fond smile tugging at his lips. “Oh Padmé, I would never expect that of you.”

“So,” Quinlan grins, “you want some pointers on taking down the biggest cartel in the Outer Rim?”

She quirks an eyebrow at him, “Do you have any to share?”

“Oh don't you worry your highness, you've come to the right Jedi.”

“Unfortunately Quinlan is correct,” Obi-Wan sighs, “he has more experience in the Outer Rim than most Jedi, and has plenty of practice dealing with, let's say, unsavoury characters across the galaxy.”

“And ,” Quinlan says pointedly, nudging his elbow into Obi-Wan’s ribs, “this one here is too smart for his own good. He might not have all the worldly experience of yours truly, but he’s a damn good strategist.”

In what he would like to consider an impressive display of self control, Obi-Wan does in fact manage not to cackle at Quinlan's insistence that he is in any way inexperienced. He tries to cover the grin that threatens to betray him with his hand, but by the look on her face Padmé can see right through it. Her eyes narrow with that extra touch of suspicion that he would very much like to curb so he’s quick to elbow Quinlan back.

“You can't call me an excellent strategist just because I beat you in Sabbac so often.”

Quinlan scoffs, “I can call you a strategist because I know you Obi. Everything is orchestrated with you, and you've been getting your way over the Council’s recommendations for months now. Whatever happened to you on Naboo has made you sharp, man. No point in denying it.”

All three occupants of the table are suspended for a brief moment in a haze of unspoken suspicions and secrets. Obi-Wan knows very well that both of his friends here have come to their own conclusions about what has overtaken him since that day on Tatooine, but thus far neither have truly broached the topic. He wants to hold on to this peace as long as he can but Padmé has always been too perceptive for her own good.

What's happening now really is just an invitation; it's a chance for him to volunteer the truth. He does not take it. Perhaps it is cowardly of him, but there is the faintest buzzing under his skin as he lets the quiet stretch - now is not the time. But it is coming, and it is coming soon. 

The moment passes with a few jagged edges; where Padmé and Quinlan make great efforts not to look accusingly at the other to see which of them is supposedly to blame for Obi-Wan's reluctance to share. 

He does his best to ignore it all and push forward before anyone can think too hard about it. For a once famed negotiator it is something of a weak tactic. But hey, if it works it works. 

“Right,” he says, clasping his hands together on the table before him, “You want our help to abolish slavery in the Outer Rim? Then we should get started.”

Chapter Text

“You're late.”

“I am not.”

“You were meant to meet me here an hour ago.”

Obi-Wan looks out from beneath his hood with unsympathetic eyes. “No. I was not.”

The man before him scoffs which quickly turns into a hacking cough from lungs which should've given out years ago. From somewhere deep within the ill-fitting shirt he wears, an engine softly whirs. Black market body modifications are hardly a rarity this deep in the planet, something Obi-Wan resolutely elects to ignore. However this man came into possession of his artificial respiratory system is none of the Jedi’s business, at least not right now. His informant wheezes out an achy breath that has Obi-Wan’s own chest clenching in sympathy, though his expression stays icily cold. 

“Fine, fine,” the man says when it is clear Obi-Wan won't be offering an apology. “I found your guy.”

“And?” 

Obi-Wan’s voice drips with dry disdain. It feels wrong the moment the words slip forth but this persona is not one that affords room for kindness. To have even made it this far Obi-Wan has had to sacrifice all sense of pleasantry or gentleness. To this man, and to all the informants he had to get through first, Obi-Wan is no Jedi - he is an astronomically wealthy businessman who has done unspeakable things to end up here. The kind of person who spends credits faster than he can think of what to buy, who was willing to do whatever it takes to keep earning more of them. 

He is, as Anakin would surely put it, pretending to be an absolute sleemo. 

The man before him sniffs again, wiping his grubby hands across his nose which only seems to make that situation worse. “And? Whaddaya want from me? I found ‘im so pay up.”

Obi-Wan stares at the dirty hand making grabbing motions at him with only slightly feigned disdain. 

“That was not our bargain.”

“Sure it was. I get him, then you give me money.”

“And have you in fact ‘got’ him?” He makes a show of looking around the impressively filthy alleyway they're currently standing in, “Because I do not see him here.”

“Ah, c'mon. I got his comm codes.”

“What are they?”

“Credits first.”

Obi-Wan snatches the man's hand out of the air before he can make a dart for his pockets. The guy startles and tugs weakly against his grip. 

“I said : what are they?”

“H-here,” he holds out a sheet of flimsy with a shaking hand. “I swear this is all I could get. He don't take many jobs no more. Word is he's on some long con and took himself off the register.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan says simply as he memorises the code in front of him. He releases the hand with even more disdain. “If these codes work as you say they do, you will have your credits wired directly to you by the morning.” He pauses, drawing up to his full height just to loom over the already trembling man. “And if they do not work, I want you to know that there is nowhere on this planet, or any other, where you can hide that I cannot find.”

He gulps, eyeing the disguised Jedi with nothing short of terror. “Alright, alright. They'll work I swear! But don't you come complainin’ to me when the guy turns down your job.”

Obi-Wan turns on his heels and stalks back towards his speeder without a second thought for the snivelling man behind him.

“Oh he won't,” he says to himself. After all, how could Jango Fett say no to a job like this?

After he has sent off an encoded message to the bounty hunter Obi-Wan begins making his way through the lower levels to check off on a few more of his usual errands. He meets up with his hacker who informs him that now the Temple archive backups are now backed up again on twenty four discreet planets through eighteen star systems with multiple fail safes installed to ensure that even should one backup be found the others will remain wholly independent. 

That particular task cost Obi-Wan quite a few credits for not only the time the hacker spent working on those programs but he'd had to buy out multiple properties on those respective planets to go and host that volume of data and pay off one or two local authorities that were trying to stick their noses into his business. Still, it's nothing short of a relief for Obi-Wan to know that the Jedi's knowledge will be preserved for future generations no matter what. That even when he himself is long gone and one with the Force there will be records and histories and stories for the next generation to come across should the Temple ever fall again. 

He takes an extra hour there to shore up some of his own holo skills. Thankfully his hacker seems perfectly happy to not question why the Jedi needs to learn how to slice into encoded holo transmissions as long as the credits keep flowing freely. 

For that matter Obi-Wan has to head to what he reluctantly will call his favourite gambling den. Once again he climbs up the ranks of the sabbac tables in a deceptively short time. Through careful and consistent cheating he swiftly earns all the necessary funds to keep his retainer of clients and contractors pursuing the goals he needs them to. He does try not to use the Force when he can help it - after all his poker face is more than capable enough of letting him bluff through plenty of easy games. He even gets a free drink from the wait staff sometimes if he manages to score a few extra credits from particularly rude customers. 

When his coffer is refilled and the usual payments made Obi-Wan can finally shed his civilian cloak, shoving it deep into the recesses of his speeder. Then he's off.

The temple rises before him as a softly lit silhouette emerging from the city skyline. It's well past midnight by now so Obi-Wan has no real expectations of running into anyone as he parks his speeder bike and tucks the remaining credits he won this evening into his rolled up cloak. In fact he makes it all the way to his room with his not-quite contraband winnings with no untimely interruptions at all. When that causes a genuine sense of worry he finds himself wondering if maybe he is in fact a little bit too paranoid. 

He decides to enjoy his quiet stroll through the Temple. His mind wandering as he goes, plans and strategies for his various to-do lists flashing in and out of his attentions. He falls into a familiar rhythm of evaluation as he checks in on which plans have come to fruition, which are in progress and the ever shifting network of information he has to track across the present and his old past. The timelines converge more often than not when he tries to recall which famous celebrity has been caught in which scandal, which planet has hosted which intergalactic ball in the year. But there’s plenty to note as different too: there are politicians who have proposed new bills without the influence of Chancellor Palpatine, news organisations that highlight different stories. It’s hard to be totally certain on if events have changed for the better or worse, but he is definitely starting to notice echoing ripples spreading across the galaxy. 

As per usual these lines of thoughts are enough to keep him occupied right up until he reaches his own door and is pulled up suddenly by the unexpected force signature waiting for him within. And this, Obi-Wan thinks ruefully, is exactly the problem with thinking he's just overly suspicious: it really isn’t paranoia when they are out to get him. 

His door slides shut behind him with a soft hiss but that hardly matters when he registers the darkened silhouette haunting his rooms. 

“Hello Count,” he greets warmly, “did you know it is typically considered quite rude to break into someone's home?”

“Obi-Wan.” 

Count Dooku rises from his seat with a frankly undue amount of grace and decorum for someone caught sneaking around well past midnight. 

“You are in late this evening,” he observes drily. 

“And you shouldn't be in here at all,” Obi-Wan replies just as smoothly. 

“Your security could use some work.”

Obi-Wan nobly doesn't rise to the bait but he does make a mental note to test his new found tech skills to ensure that this little intrusion can never happen again. Fixing his door’s access codes could certainly be an interesting challenge. Obi-Wan moves into his small kitchen without sparing the Count a second glance and clicks the kettle on. “This is a peculiar way to start an apology.”

His back is still to Dooku so he can’t see the look of affronted indignation that is no doubt being thrown his way, so instead he settles for imagining it and ignoring that mental picture too. 

“For what reason should I be apologising?” 

This time Obi-Wan does turn to look over his shoulder at the man who seems to have graduated to standing somewhat awkwardly in the middle of his living room. 

Obi-Wan hums, “Would you like the list alphabetically or chronologically?”

The Count’s scowl deepens but the Knight ignores it in favour of hunting around for two clean mugs. He’s pleased to see that all his favourites are dirty anyway so Dooku will have to settle for the atrocious monstrosity that was gifted to him a month ago by Anakin after completing his first ever pottery class. It's hideous and he is sure Dooku will despise it just as much as Obi-Wan cherishes it. 

He starts up gathering tea leaves and a strainer in the time it takes for his uninvited guest to begin speaking again. 

“I do… understand that our last interaction did not go… smoothly.”

“Oh,” he observes mildly and measures out the leaves. “If you were curious, I do believe that you might actually be headed in the right direction to an apology.”

If Dooku is grinding his teeth in frustration Obi-Wan certainly can't hear it over the rising whistle of the kettle. 

“Will your impertinence continue to disrupt this conversation or shall I proceed?” 

Ah, now there's a genuine threat. As fun as it is teasing the man, Obi-Wan has no illusions that Dooku will simply walk right back out of the Temple if he isn't actually allowed to get a word in edgewise. Obi-Wan raises his hands in surrender, brandishing the two full mugs as a peace offering. 

“Very well Count, by all means: continue.”

Dooku eyes him warily but when Obi-Wan manages to hold his tongue for a good few seconds he finally relents. 

“It was admittedly foolish of me to challenge your dedication to the Order. You are much too stubborn in your ways to defect even for your own safety.”

“Thank you.”

Dooku’s eyes narrow until Obi-Wan pointedly occupies his mouth with tea and not words. 

“However, my concerns remain justified. By saving Valorum’s life you have interrupted a far more long standing plan than you know. Sidious is not pleased.”

“Count, it is no trouble at all to confess that I truly am not wracked with guilt about interrupting any Sith plots.”

Dooku scoffs, “I do not care for your guilt and neither will he. The key element you are missing here, Obi-Wan, is that you are making no effort to hide your involvement and now Sidious's attentions are trained on you and you alone.”

Obi-Wan resolutely swallows down any nerves that bubble up at that sentiment. “That is a sacrifice I am willing to make. If his attention is such a threat then it is better directed at I, who knows just who he is, than anyone unsuspecting.”

“You are not listening,” he growls, “it is not about protecting others. He does not want to hurt you in someone else's stead, foolish boy.”

Now that truly is a surprise. “Then what does he want with me?”

“To train you.” Dooku’s irises are hard to see in the dim light of his living room but Obi-Wan can almost swear to himself that he catches a flash of gold reflecting from his grandmaster's face. “You have proven to be the most interesting opponent he has faced in his life and your youth and inexperience is exactly what he is seeking. You are young and malleable and he wants to break you apart.”

Silence reigns over Obi-Wan's small rooms for an indeterminate amount of time. The two men face one another with equal intensity. For Dooku this comes in the form of fierce eyes and pinched brows as he tries his very best to convey the true severity of his words. 

As for Obi-Wan, well, he looks like a man using the entire volume of his self control not to burst out laughing. 

“You-” his voice trembles, “you cannot be serious.”

“Of course I am.”

He snorts. “I did not know Sidious was such a fan of fruitless endeavours.”

“Obi-Wan!” Dooku snaps, all humour leached out of him, “for once in your short life I beseech you to take this matter seriously! Since I refused to study under Sidious as his apprentice he has turned all too much of his political might against me and my people. He does not handle rejection with grace and should you dare treat him with this irreverence when he inevitably comes to you - he will kill you where you stand.”

It occurs to Obi-Wan in this moment that he has never before seen his grandmaster care so openly for someone else's well being. It is all the more surprising that he himself is the subject of that care. However his attention is snagged again by what Dooku just revealed. 

“He is threatening your people?”

Dooku pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Are you so truly incapable of focusing on the topic at hand for a single moment?”

“Yes, yes,” he waves his hands dismissively, “I'm in trouble, Sidious will make me rue the day I say no to become his newest pet, I get it. But what I don't understand is what has been happening to Serreno. I have heard nothing of any troubles on your planet.”

“Because I do not publicise my failures, young one.”

“Well would you enlighten me anyway? What has he done to your people?”

“They're still living,” he says shortly and Obi-Wan can feel himself blanche at the idea that Dooku would even consider annihilating a planet full of sentients as a remotely plausible reaction from Palpatine, “though we have not had new imports in quite some time. He has partnered with the Trade federation and the Banking Clan to freeze our interplanetary negotiations. Serreno is now operating almost entirely by virtue of its own resources.”

Obi-Wan lets out a low whistle at that. It's a bold move for them to try and cut off another prominent outer rim planet so soon after Naboo and the public outcry that arose from that. Before he can get too deep into the half formed strategies he's already floating in his mind - Dooku interrupts. 

“Do not think you are going to fix this yourself, young Knight. I am the Count and I shall resolve this issue as I see fit for my subjects.”

“Very well,” Obi-Wan agrees, “I will leave it in your capable hands.”

Dooku eyes him warily which is probably fair considering Obi-Wan is most definitely lying, but at least he doesn't challenge him further and instead focuses on redirecting the conversation back yet again. 

“This is exactly your flaw Obi-Wan,” he says not unkindly, “you are far too focused on the well-being of every other lifeform in this galaxy. Sidious will use this to his advantage. He will leverage your care and break your spirit until you are left with no choice but to submit to his will.”

“Master Dooku, your concern is appreciated. Truly. But you are simply wrong. Sidious has no hold over me and he never will.”

“Your arrogance will get you killed young one.”

Something about Dooku’s condescending surety chafes all too roughly against Obi-Wan’s own pride. He bares his teeth, once sharpened on Tatooine sands. “My confidence is earned , Count.”

Dooku stills. For all his endless accusations of immaturity and irreverence, this is the first time the Count has ever truly reckoned with the durasteel core at the heart of Obi-Wan Kenobi. While the time traveller may choose to bring good humours to his second life where he may, there is never a single moment where he has forgotten where he has come from. Each and every second he has earned in this life has come at an unforgivable cost.

Obi-Wan feels a brief nudge in the Force: a probing curiosity trying to peer beneath his walls to understand the cause of this shift. Even though he can sense that Dooku is looking now with earnest interest, the Knight can't help but snap his shields up, cutting off any further contact. Dooku recoils, a genuine flinch. 

“My… apologies.” He says carefully, “I did not intend to offend.”

Obi-Wan smooths down the already pristine lines of his robe. “I assure you, you would have to try much harder than that, Master Dooku.”

Maybe it's the term of respect, something Obi-Wan tries to use sparingly and carefully, but Dooku acquiesces gracefully, pulling his senses back to the confines of his own shields enough that Obi-Wan can at least loosen the iron tight hold he has on his. 

“Indeed,” Dooku muses. “Your shielding is quite impressive.”

“Thank you.” He replies shortly. “But I believe we were discussing Sidious.”

“Ah yes, a much safer topic.”

His lips twitch at Dooku’s dry humour. It is one of the things he's learnt over his months of Makashi lessons: Yan Dooku is very quietly hilarious when he wants to be. Together the two of them had almost managed to drive Qui-Gon up the wall when he used to come in and observe their early lessons together. 

Irritated as he might have been by Dooku’s attempts to corral him from the Order, Obi-Wan can recognise that in his own emotionally stilted way this is in fact how Dooku is attempting to show he cares for his student's well being. He sighs at that thought and reminds himself to be patient with the man who has never strayed too far away from that precipice. He may still be rooted in the Light but Obi-Wan knows that the Dark still calls to his grandmaster. 

“Is he why you've been on Coruscant so long?” He can't help but ask. It was one of those things he'd idly noticed but not done much with the information. After all, Dooku was hardly known for his small talk and aside from being conveniently available for saber lessons, Obi-Wan hadn’t had much reason to pry on why he's been present so often.

“Indeed. Sidious has great influence over this planet, it seemed prudent to keep his movements under watch.”

Obi-Wan couldn't agree more, though his hired investigators still haven't been able to turn up much evidence on the man while he's planetside - except, of course, that he has been making increasingly frequent trips away from Coruscant using forged tickets that can't be traced. 

“I did not know you were holding such a vigil over him.”

Dooku twitches, “Someone must.”

“And you think I am not?”

“Considering how much of your time is spent flouncing around the Senate as a glorified bodyguard to an incompetent Chancellor: no, I have not been convinced.”

Reading between his words Obi-Wan can easily see the frustration that laces Dooku’s tone. Whilst Obi-Wan hasn't actually seen his grandmaster around the Senate he's known he was usually around somewhere, so it's no surprise that the inverse is true. The presence of another Force sensitive in those halls is all too clear, especially when the two of them have been in such proximity for so long. Unless one intentionally shields themselves, as Palpatine does, it is hard to truly avoid one another. And if he can safely assume the Dooku has been this focused on Obi-Wan without them ever being in the same room, then he has no doubt that the Count has been just as acutely aware of Palpatine’s lurking through those halls.

As much as Obi-Wan has enjoyed playing his game of loth cat and mouse with the Count during their Makashi lessons, he feels that comfort waning. Their spars have always been categorised by an equally sharp battle of wits as they fight. When Dooku is not critiquing Obi-Wan’s saber forms, the two of them cannot help but debate the other into the ground whenever possible. For months Dooku has been urging Obi-Wan into taking stronger action against the Sith, to rise up and kill the man before he can do so first. In turn Obi-Wan needles away at the resentments that Dooku has been building for years. He challenges accusations against the Jedi’s complacencies and counters any claims that the Republic is doomed to corruption. 

It is a peculiar kind of fun to take from their interactions, but satisfying nonetheless. However, here and now Obi-Wan can feel a quaking rift tearing between them. Dooku is too convinced of the Knight’s ignorance. Whatever stray fondness he has developed for the Jedi is being strained yet again by his perceived dormancy. Dooku, more than anything, is a man of action. There’s a reason the Count of an Outer-Rim planet managed to rise the ranks into leader of the Confederacy in a few short years. He is a shrewd politician, a powerful Jedi and an even more vicious Sith. 

Should Obi-Wan let this interpretation rise then he can be certain that Dooku’s tenuous grasp on the Light will slip. If he is to be honest with himself, he can almost guarantee that the moment Dooku embraces the Dark he will turn his energies into destroying Palpatine where he stands. 

There is a brief, flickering moment of indecision where Obi-Wan can feel himself consider that reality. A timeline where his once-enemy does him the favour of taking out the man who broke the galaxy in one fell swoop. In this world where Dooku’s darkness may very well be harnessed for good, where Obi-Wan can leverage their lineage connection to turn the Fallen man towards the true evils of the galaxy. 

Obi-Wan shudders. 

These thoughts are not his to have. Swiftly he shuts down any further considerations on the subject. No matter what darkness he remembers from another life there is no guarantee that Obi-Wan Kenobi could truly know what good can come from bad. There is no justification for letting his grandmaster Fall when he knows he can save him. Wherever that brief temptation came from, it is his duty to turn his back to it. 

The Dark craves vengeance and cruelty. Obi-Wan’s life has left him vulnerable to the whispered promises of revenge that seep from the shadows around him - but he will not fall victim. He draws in a heavy breath, holding tight for a single moment where he feels the ebb and flow of the Force through his very soul. The Daughter gave him a chance. He will not waste it. 

From across the room Dooku continues to gaze steadily at the younger man. Obi-Wan could guess at what thoughts are occupying his mind but the pair of them have lifted their shields far too high. Ironically enough, in the midst of all this tension, the Force is of no use. The Jedi and the Undecided are left with nothing but words to tip the balance of peace. 

Ultimately it is the simple fact that Dooku came all the way here to give his own stilted apology that finalises his decision. As lacklustre as that apology actually was, it is still yet another puzzle piece slotting into place as Obi-Wan catalogues how this timeline is changing: that Count Dooku has been kept in the Light long enough for his loyalties to miraculously shift toward Obi-Wan - and against Palpatine. It is a fealty that deserves to be honoured, and returned in kind.

The answer comes to him swiftly, with a kind of unexpected surety that Obi-Wan finds himself surprised by. In truth there is only one path that will root Dooku in the Light - only one way to prove that Obi-Wan’s words have had any merit to them at all over these long months. 

He smiles wanly. A small affair that feels incongruous to the enormity of the decision before him, but at least he can still take some pleasure from the bemused quirk of the Count’s eyebrow at the shift in his demeanour. 

Ah well. That confusion will surely dissipate as soon as he reveals his most tightly guarded secret. 

The Knight makes sure he holds the Count’s full attention before he lets himself speak.

“I do not fear Sidious,” his words echo in the Force - determined and true, “I resent him. I distrust him. I may even hate him. But there is nothing he can do to sway me to his side. Not as a Sith. And not as Senator Palpatine.”

Dooku blanches. 

“You know his name?”

“I have known it since before we met.”

“You- you never said.”

“No,” he admits, “It is not exactly knowledge I intend to advertise is in my possession.”

“And the Council?” 

Obi-Wan resolutely ignores just how shaken Dooku sounds right now. 

“They do not know either.”

“But-” he halts again, obviously searching for the right words as he stares at Obi-Wan with newfound understanding, “But you told them there is a Sith.”

“I did. It was… simpler at the beginning. You were right you know,” he says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, “back when we first met and you said the Council was afraid of change. It's true. They were. None of them would have taken me seriously if I had just dropped this on them all at once. At best they would have sent a Master or two, perhaps a Council member, and tried to question him.”

Obi-Wan stares at his flooring like it'll hold any answers for him there, “they would have died Master Dooku. I know that much. Palpatine has thrived under the Jedi’s watch because we all have underestimated him and I could not bear to let anyone fall into his traps.”

“And now?” Dooku challenges, “you said I ‘was’ right, but as you have doggedly insisted for months: the Council has been changing.”

“They have. I think they would take me seriously now, or at least give my accusation due consideration. But it's not enough. He’s a public figure - it would not do well to have the High Jedi Council accuse a sitting senator of being a mythical villain that we ourselves have claimed to eradicate a millenia ago.”

He shrugs, “Not to mention the sheer volume of conspiracies and ploys that Palpatine has his hands in. Should we take him from the playing field without careful preparation, any number of his plots could rupture in unforeseen ways. I hardly intend to bring the Republic down through sheer negligence. And I know you know damn well about the clones - am I to leave them to fend for themselves? Millions of soldiers primed for a war that will never come?”

Dooku sucks in a sharp breath as neither of them have dared mention Dooku’s infiltration of the Archives since their first meeting. 

“He is building a battleground that the Jedi need to be ready for,” Obi-Wan's expression slips, “and we, quite simply, are not. Patience is my only option.”

“I… see.” 

“So do not worry yourself over Palpatine trying to worm his way into my graces.” Obi-Wan dismisses the very thought with a wave of his hand as he sinks back into his own seat, mug in hand though his tea is unfortunately tepid by now. “I find that man as repulsive as ever, especially when I must watch him waltz freely through the heart of our democracy. He will not be rising higher through the ranks while I am watching, I assure you.” 

“Yes. I suppose so.” 

Dooku also seems to sink into himself, his perfect posture cracking under the weight of Obi-Wan’s revelations. His brows furrow and his knuckles whiten as tension leaks through him. Obi-Wan watches quietly. 

He makes no effort to hide his observation; it would be a disservice to the both of them to feign ignorance now. Instead he finds himself focusing on the way that Dooku’s presence waivers in the Force. He can feel pulsing waves of confusion, resentment, surprise and all manner of emotions drifting in and out of the man’s focus. There is a small part of Obi-Wan that finds himself waiting for a flash of gold to reach the Count’s eyes. 

It is a pleasant surprise minutes later when Dooku finally looks up, the cool blue of his gaze a steady reassurance. 

“I see there is much you have been keeping from me, young Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan shrugs easily, not denying the accusation in any way when there is no need for further pretences of ignorance. Neither of them are under the illusion that Obi-Wan has revealed all he knows, nor that he is going to. Dooku has earned only so much trust and the younger man has no intention of pushing that any further tonight. 

Dooku tilts his head in consideration of the Jedi, “You have done marvellous work in your deceptions. A truly impressive mastery of mistruth and misdirection. You should be proud.”

It is an obvious ploy. And yet, in spite of Dooku’s brazen tone, Obi-Wan finds himself bristling at the subtle digs. 

“My focus is not on deception .”

“Of course,” he agrees too easily, “I am merely noting your aptitude for manipulation. After all, you had myself thoroughly fooled. Not to mention your ongoing omissions to the Council. I presume Qui Gon is similarly in the dark about Sidious?”

Obi-Wan’s tight-lipped silence speaks for itself. 

“I see.” Dooku stands with an almost unnatural grace - none of his earlier distress at all visible in the smooth movements as he adjusts his robes until they fall perfectly in line under his attentions, “Then I commend you on your discretion young Kenobi. It appears I underestimated you.”

To stop his uninvited guest from looming over him in his own home Obi-Wan too, rises. He steps to the side just enough as to indicate that Dooku can see himself out. “So it would seem.”

The Count’s wry amusement surfaces at Obi-Wan’s own subtle rebuke, “As you seem to have your own strategies well in hand I suppose I shall leave you to it. Lessons shall resume next week. I will see you then.”

And without waiting for a single noise of affirmation Count Dooku sweeps out of Obi-Wan’s apartments, not turning back once. 

Obi-Wan waits until he hears the steady click of his door sliding back into place before letting himself fall back onto his couch in a heap. He stares blankly at the ceiling for a while, watching dust motes swirl through the air. Eventually he blinks, huffs quietly to himself and announces to the empty room: 

“Honestly… that could’ve gone worse.”

And with one last heaving sigh Obi-Wan Kenobi drags himself back up so he can shuffle to bed and hopefully get a few hours of sleep before tomorrow comes with yet more demands for his attention.

Chapter Text

If anyone were to ask Obi-Wan, he would like to put it on record that technically no one said he couldn't use the Council codes he conveniently still has the access for to check on starship logs. Funnily enough though: no one ever asks. 

Then again there’s not too many people he would even have to worry about checking up on him at the moment. After all, he now stands in the Temple hangar late in the afternoon with only a few stray lifeforms coming and going with the last rays of sun. He’d absently noted them when he’d entered but currently finds most of his attention occupied by the bubbly child before him.

“And these power couplings aren't even right,” Anakin informs him very seriously, “they're gonna blow as soon as the backup generator kicks in. Duh.” 

Obi-Wan feels his lips twitch in amusement, “but isn't that why we rely on the primary engines?” 

The child throws him such an impressively disgusted look he has to smother a laugh behind his hand. 

“Nuh uh.” He pouts, “it's a redundun- a redone- uh”

“A redundancy?”

“Yeah! One of those. You can't build an engine like this if your redundancy is just gonna make your ship go kapoot in the middle of space.”

“That is an excellent point, young one.”

Anakin pretends not to preen as he starts tugging at wires in the half disassembled engine part in his hand. Idly, Obi-Wan wonders if he should be discouraging this considering Anakin isn’t his padawan now and some adults may express concern over a child’s handling of machinery. He could offer them reassurances that this is all perfectly normal Skywalker behvaiour if he wanted - though that might not work out too well. Because while it would certainly be funny to try, he’s not sure he’ll get away with telling everyone “don’t worry, he’ll successfully steal one of Yoda’s own datapads and completely refigure it to only play the Boonta Eve Classic podrace in the next six months.” 

The boy has already half rebuilt the most uppity protocol droid Obi-Wan has ever encountered in either life by this time, so he is perfectly sure that a little fiddling with an engine is really not that bad. Although… he did specifically promise the creche leaders he would carefully supervise Anakin and that there would be no ‘unnecessary risks’. Ah well.

“Yeah well most people who make ships like this don't have to think about space travel I guess,” Anakin says with a shrug, “but it's an easy fix if you just reconnect the fuel gauges back here anyway.”

Obi-Wan watches carefully as the boy does just that. Even after all these years there is something wonderful about watching Anakin Skywalker apply his immeasurable skill in mechanics with such ease. His small fingers deftly retwist wires into a neater configuration and draw from the pile of scrap he'd gathered up earlier only to reshape them all into the perfect parts until Obi-Wan knows he is looking at a frankly beautiful piece of engineering. 

Anakin holds it up to the light, his small nose scrunched in fierce concentration. To Obi-Wan the improved engine looks nearly impeccable but Anakin clearly finds something else to fiddle with and draws it back towards him, screwdriver at the ready.

“Anakin,” he asks with a small smile, “are you making this speeder space worthy?”

He looks up with a hint of red tinging his cheeks, “maybe.”

“You do know this ship will never leave the atmosphere don’t you?”

“Well, you don't know everything Obi-Wan. Maybe it will.”

“You are not going to steal this ship.”

“I never said I was gonna!”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

Anakin screws his eyes shut. “No you can't.”

“Yes I can.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yeah huh.”

“Nuh uh, ”

“Oh dear. It seems we are interrupting a terribly important discussion.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin whirl towards the new voice in twin surprise. While Anakin’s confusion is plastered blatantly across his face, Obi-Wan’s lights up in recognition.

“Feemor!” He greets his friend with a smile even as he kicks himself for missing his arrival, “and Anani. How are you both? You've just arrived?”

Feemor clasps his hand onto Obi-Wan's shoulder in such a casual display of affection that Obi-Wan is almost sent reeling. Very few people are so tactile around him but it's rather nice to feel such friendly care shown without any of his many years of baggage between them. 

Anani too even manages a polite nod in his direction, though much of her attention is obviously drawn to Anakin and his small mountain of machinery. 

“Yes,” Feemor says tiredly, “just arrived moments ago. What a funny coincidence that you found us at take off and managed to be here for the welcome wagon.”

Yes, he doesn't say, coincidence. Nothing to do with his access to the Council’s meeting schedule where Feemor is listed to report back about his mission in Kamino in two hours. 

Obi-Wan laughs easily, “Some welcome wagon, I didn't even see you land.”

Perhaps dragging Anakin all the way out here so he’d have an excuse to ‘stumble into’ Feemor wasn’t his brightest idea. Every time he spends time with the boy he can’t help but devote himself wholly to this bright, unburdened child before him. It’s as distracting as it could possibly be but he doesn’t quite have it in him to regret any time he gets to spend with his once-padawan.  

“Well,” Feemor says with a tight smile that is missing just a little too much humour, “I suppose I can't expect you to predict everything that happens out in the galaxy.”

“Oh?” The question goes unspoken but Feemor certainly takes notice anyway, his posture tensing almost imperceptibly. 

“Kamino was… interesting, let's say. Though I really should report to the Council first.”

“Anything I can help you with?”

“Ah,” his friend hesitates, “I'm not quite sure yet. Master Windu did say you were the one to bring this mission up, so I suppose you must know about what they specialise in on that planet don’t you?”

Obi-Wan can see the way Feemor seems to watch everyone else milling about the hangar, clearly wary of saying too much.

“Yes I am familiar with their… product.”

“Ah. Good. Well they, uh, certainly seem to have been… producing a lot lately.”

Despite his very best efforts Obi-Wan truly can’t read his friend’s tone. Desperately, he finds himself hoping that Feemor has come away from this venture with a kind view of the clones. It will be so much harder to pave a better life for them in this timeline if the Council is primed to distrust the men as mere pawns for the Sith and not as the brilliant individuals they all are. 

“You sound surprised.” 

He has to walk a careful line here, too much familiarity with the clones could very well push him into prime suspect territory. Considering Dooku’s meddling with the Archives and the obvious fake out of Master Dyas’s codes, whoever commissioned the clones is still a mystery to the Jedi Council.

If he keeps being too knowledgeable about something that has been so expertly hidden, even Mace would have difficulty assuring the Council that Obi-Wan’s intentions are benign. But feigning total ignorance just isn’t possible, not when he needs to start working on safety measures for the clones’ continued security outside of Sidious’ influence. 

“That’s because I am. The Kaminoans were very excited to show us their work.”

“And why is that?”

“Well,” Feemor hesitates, honest bewilderment in his eyes, “They seemed pretty convinced we were the ones who commissioned them.”

Obi-Wan tries to infuse uncertainty into his voice, “We?”

“The Jedi.”

“But the Council has never spoken about-”

Feemor shakes his head, “I do not believe they did.”

“We were framed?” Obi-Wan quirks his head, “To what end?”

“That’s what I hope to discuss with the Council,” Feemor blanches lightly, “Oh please don’t tell anyone that I said any of this to you. I was really meant to keep this a secret. It’s just so bizarre isn’t it? I had to tell someone. ”

“Absolutely."

“Exactly!” He throws his hands up, “I felt like that entire planet was pulling some big joke on me the entire time we were there. But they’re so serious Obi-Wan and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what they think we would possibly want thousands of identical men hanging around for.”

“Thousands?”

“Oh yes, they were showing me their plans for the next decade of production.”

Obi-Wan swallows thickly, “And how many now?”

“A few thousand. Most still in their childhood phases so they haven’t gotten to the heft of the training.”

Oh . All his men. Something stirs in his chest - knowing that the brave soldiers he fought beside are now children. Already preparing for the very war he is trying to unravel before it ever gets to start. 

“And by training…” Obi-Wan trails off, wary of the two younglings who have migrated to Anakin’s scrap pile. Anani now pointing out different pieces while Anakin explains what they do even while he’s moved on to building something else entirely which Obi-Wan won’t even pretend to recognise. 

Feemor nods stiffly. “Exactly what you’re thinking.”

“Oh dear.”

He huffs a quiet laugh that echoes without any humour at all. “Yeah that’s one way to put it.”

Burning with curiosity though he is, Obi-Wan can see twinges of discomfort in Feemor’s stance. He has hidden his hands up the sleeves of his robes in a move that Obi-Wan himself is more than familiar with, a way to put just a bit more distance between oneself and the problems of the galaxy.

His gaze also keeps darting to Anani, who is now halfway through assembling her own mimicry of Anakin’s machine. Obi-Wan can see the way his friend stares at his padawan, eyes filled with boundless caring that is tinted now by a shadow of worry. He is nervous as to what the clones’ presence means and where that will leave his new charge. 

Reluctantly Obi-Wan forces himself to end the conversation here, for Feemor and Anani’s sake if nothing else. 

“My friend,” he says, resting a hand gently on Feemor’s shoulder, “I’ve kept you too long. I’m sure you are both tired from your journey and the Council will likely want your report before you can sleep."

Feemor offers him a tired grin, “You might have a point there.”

“I usually do.”

“Oh, confident aren’t we?” 

Feemor’s teasing tone draws the children’s attention. While Anani looks dutifully sceptical of the adults' behaviour Anakin stares up with rapt attention. 

Obi-Wan smirks as an irresistible idea enters his mind. Before he can stop himself, temptation overcomes caution and Obi-Wan can feel the perfect joke forming. 

“Of course,’ his grin widens, “You can trust me on this. I am, after all, from the future. So obviously I know what’s going to happen next, Feemor.”

Anani and Feemor roll their eyes in synchrony, with the other Knight even going so far as to playfully shove at him. “Oh stop it Obi-Wan. If you keep up with jokes like that you’re going to end up the boy who called lothwolf and no one is ever going to believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”

The time traveller laughs, happy to get away with the truth for once - and even more happy to see the long-suffering amusement on his friend’s face start to wash away the edges of all that stress. 

Until, of course, Anakin’s small voice huffs with displeasure, “Nuh uh. He’s telling the truth.”

All three of them turn to Anakin while Obi-Wan’s heart does its very best to escape from his own rib cage. 

“Really?” Feemor says with amusement, “He’s from the future?”

“Yeah,” Anakin nods.

“But that’s not possible,” Anani says, her furry brow furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah it is. Obi-Wan did it. The Force likes him.”

“But-”

Whatever protestations Anani clearly wants to make are halted by Feemor’s hand gently touching down on her shoulder. She looks up at him and must read something in his expression that has her posture dropping. 

“Okay Anakin,” she agrees hesitantly. It’s clear that she wants to set the record straight but Feemor’s gentle nudging has her relinquishing the fight before it can start. It’s frankly a wonderful display of trust between a master and padawan and Obi-Wan would normally love to compliment Feemor on his excellent relationship with his new charge but he’s a little busy absolutely panicking. 

Anakin has obviously missed the subtext of this interaction, any conversational nuances lost beneath the allure of returning to his little machine until he’s thoroughly distracted after a mere matter of seconds. While the other Jedi pair must assume they’ve simply let a child carry on with a harmless, if amusingly false understanding, Obi-Wan finds himself rooted in place. Anakin’s certainty is evident. 

For whatever possible reason he truly does believe that Obi-Wan is from the future and was simply confused that no one else already knew it. He said it like it is the most obvious thing in the world. 

Feemor shoots him a commiserating look, the way adults normally do when children say something delightfully misleading. He struggles to return the expression, having to tear his eyes from a child who knows more than he should. 

“Well on that note Future Man,” Feemor teases, “We’ll leave you two here. You’re not wrong about needing sleep.”

“What did I say,” he agrees faintly, “I know everything.’’

Feemor laughs, and knocks his shoulder into Obi-Wan’s, “It’s starting to sound like you also need to get some rest. Assuming that’s something you people still do in your future times.”

“Well, I’m a little out of practice.”

“Then I’ll bid you a good night and take my leave here. C’mon Anani, let's go say hi to the Council.”

“Yes Master,” she says, her tail swishing lightly as she stands, handing off her own creation to Anakin who immediately starts trying to incorporate it into his work. “Nice to meet you Ani.”

He beams up at her with a toothy smile, “You too! Next time I can show you how to get a sonic scanner to short out a comm.”

“ Okay ,” Feemor interrupts hastily, “Let’s keep property damage to a minimum you two.” He tosses a final smile over his shoulder at Obi-Wan, “Get some rest.”

“You too. Good luck with the Council.”

-

It isn’t until two more days have passed that Obi-Wan has time to sit down and make his way through Feemor’s report. Valorum has been keeping busy in the Senate which means Obi-Wan’s presence has been required for security reasons. Surprisingly enough he finds himself actually stopping another attack on the Senate - though he cannot trace it back to Sidious at all. Apparently there are a few independent financial actors who have taken umbrage with Valorum’s latest economic reforms against excessive political lobbying. 

These days Valorum seems determined to wrap up as many current bills and committees that he has his hand in before the inevitable election rears up. Now that he has publically conceded to the Senate’s request for an election there are only three months left of his term. And he seems determined to make the most of them.

Obi-Wan understands that there have been a lot of deals getting made to swing things this way. It’s certainly not a conventional leadership spill but it does give Valorum time to resolve his time in office. As best Obi-Wan can gather from the holonews this grace period has been allowed due to the absence of a Vote of No Confidence. Seeing as Valorum isn’t getting pushed out on such an immediate deadline, the Senate has enough time to actually nominate candidates for the position. 

All that is to say that Valorum has spent more time in the Senate than outside of it. Obi-Wan has now been joined by Luminara Unduli in his security role. The two of them trading out who is guarding the Chancellor, though admittedly fear of another assassination attempt has lessened since Valorum announced his intent to concede peacefully. The Council even suggested halting the protection of a Knight, but Obi-Wan has to admit that regular, unquestioned access to the Senate is working out plenty well in his favour at the moment so he’d pushed back until this compromise was arrived at. 

Regardless, he has finally slipped away and made it back into the archives where he is once again using his old Council codes to pull up the latest report Feemor had submitted about Kamino. 

From a brief scan of the document it certainly seems like the clone operation is going pretty similarly to his own experiences. Though of course by the time he’d shown up in just over nine years there had been over a million clones already fully grown and trained. This early in the timeline the first two hundred thousand men are in their early adulthood and well on their way to being full trained soldiers. It’s certainly not an insubstantial army but still a far cry from the masses of bodies that the Jedi inherited all in one go. 

Feemor’s brief estimations place another few hundred thousand or so already in earlier development stages, some of the men that Obi-Wan knew as grown adults are still children - their accelerated ageing bringing them ever closer to the future he is trying to avoid. 

He’s on his second reread of the document before the words before him suddenly swim into sharp focus. 

The Kaminoan guide, Taun We, informed us of one of the modifications made to the ‘products’. A personality chip has been implanted into the clone bodies in an effort to minimise aggressive tendencies, ensure cooperation and subservience.  

The report goes on to list some further details about the process of inserting the chips but what Obi-Wan finds himself locked into is one of Feemor’s personal notes. 

I have flagged this chip as a potential note of concern: While the Kaminoans seem convinced the Jedi ordered these clones for the sake of an army and have thus trained the young men here in service of that goal, the context of peacetime must be considered. Subservient attitudes may very well be convenient for military hierarchy but the moral ethics of controlling a being’s emotional state should be addressed.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is an idiot . 

He hurries to copy over the files onto his own personal datapad before wiping the archive console's memory banks of his presence. Feemor's report fades from the screen as Obi-Wan swiftly gathers his supplies and starts a hasty march back to his personal rooms. 

He wants to kick himself for not thinking of it before but those chips had always been something of a taboo topic. Most Jedi were naturally against the idea of predetermining any being’s free will to any degree, but there was no time between discovery of the clones and their immediate deployment under the Senate. Obi-Wan himself was told by Lama Su that removal of the chips could spell disaster for the clones' health and safety. Moral protestations were set aside as the Jedi found themselves unwitting commanders of an army - all they could do was their best to protect the men that now served them, both Jedi and clones conscripted into the Sith’s war without room for a moment’s thought. 

Obi-Wan will need to investigate further of course, but he does find himself pleased that Feemor has clearly come into Kamino with exactly the kind of open mind needed to pick out this issue amongst the sea of ethical quandaries that arise amongst a lab grown army. Maybe, he thinks, this is the reason Mace had seen so many shatterpoints tied to Feemor and Anani’s involvement in this investigation. He is almost certain that he would have been distracted should he have made that return trip himself. 

Obi-Wan’s confidence in his future knowledge may very well have caused him to enter that facility with total belief that he knew all he’d needed to. It would have been a performance more than an investigation, as much as it rankles to admit. But that has been something he’s found again and again in this second life - where he needs to retrace his steps just so he has an answer ready when anyone asks how he knows what he does. Kamino would have been the same: a performance to prove that his information is sound and an excuse to see the men he’d fought beside. 

He spares a brief thought for the Daughter. If she, in all her cosmic wonder, had somehow had a hand in shaping events like this, if Feemor has been pulled into the web of past and future merely by association or if there is something more to him that Obi-Wan should know. 

Those thoughts are swiftly interrupted by a ping on his comm. Well, a ping on his other comm. 

When Obi-Wan returned to the past he’d quickly come to the conclusion that while the hermit lifestyle he’d developed in the sandy wastes of Tatooine was far from ideal, one sliver of positivity there had been the fact no one ever tried to comm him. Mostly that was because everyone who knew him thought he was dead or they already were. But still. It worked out well that if he ever heard a ping he knew immediately that urgent business was afoot. 

Yet back in this time he frequently found himself with adrenaline flooding his system every time Quinlan wanted to send him a ‘funny’ joke, or when Quigon was running late to their lunches or when Bail wanted his opinion on a piece of legislature. He’d started getting used to being back in the rhythms of communicating with his friends but the panic was slow to die down. He was terrified at the mere possibility of an urgent message getting ignored because Obi-Wan had tried to mute his comm for a minute’s peace between Quinlan sending him every image he can find of a miserable looking tooka and saying "Is this you?”.

So the obvious solution was that he got a second comm that his beloved Jedi and friends would never need to use. It’s certainly not a foolproof plan but it does help him separate work and pleasure. At least work in the sense he is trying to rewrite history and pleasure in that he will begrudgingly admit to smiling at some of those tooka pictures. 

His work comm is now mostly in use as a way to check in with his hired private eyes and informing his lower-levels hacker when he’s available to learn more coding. Plus he hands it out to a few of the more seedy contacts that cannot know he is a Jedi. It doesn’t always ease the worry but it certainly helps.

He reaches into the hidden pocket he’d sewn into his robes, where meddling Anakins can’t reach into in vague hopes that he had actually brought the kid a snack whenever he visits. Admittedly that might be due to the precedent he set where he keeps bringing the kid a snack any time he visits. But still. 

The comm beeps again alerting him of a follow up message. He hopes it’s one of the PI’s who have hopefully started chasing down where the Naboo relief funds have been going like he’d asked after his meeting with Padme. 

Instead a comm code he’d memorised days ago pops up. 

I hear you have a job for me? - JF

Ah. Well. Time to hire a bounty hunter. 

Potentially. It could be dangerous - I need to know you are willing to take this risk. Discretion will be necessary. - O

He doesn’t have to wait long at all before he gets another response. Evidently Jango is an efficient business man when it comes to his work. 

Done. I was promised that you have enough credits to make it worth my time? - JF

Yes. When are you available to discuss details? - O

In person? -JF

Yes. - O

Next week. I’ll be on Corellia. - JF

Understood. You will be paid a third upfront. The rest will be sent only after completion of your mission. - O

Got it. - JF

The conversation lasts barely a minute but Obi-Wan can feel his heart racing. It’s absolutely a gamble to hire Jango for this and he knows it. The problem is that while Obi-Wan had certainly met his fair share of bounty hunters, pirates and mercenaries in his time, plenty of whom he’d developed something of a rapport with - now he isn’t in his time. And even if Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, High General of the Galactic Army might have earned the right to handle some more questionable interactions with certain individuals, Knight Kenobi certainly hadn’t. 

It’s hard enough already trying to keep his Coruscanti appointments secret, he just doesn’t have time to head out into the galaxy and rebuild all the old morally dubious relationships he’d once had. 

So. Bounty hunters. 

It seemed almost inevitable that Jango would be the one he settled on when he was considering who to hire for this. On the one hand it lets him get a bit closer to Kamino, even if Jango doesn’t say much at all about it Obi-Wan intends to get as much information as he can out of the man when they meet up. It also conveniently keeps the bounty hunter off that planet while the Jedi are investigating the clones. He certainly has no particular fondness for the man, especially after he kicked him into Kamino’s oceans that one time - but something in the Force is telling him to keep Jango under his watch. Plus, should the Jedi have need of him it’d be much easier to catch the man under his employ rather than have to relive that particular fight in the storms of that damned planet. 

There’s also the simple benefit that keeping Jango tangled up in Obi-Wan’s own machinations keeps him from being a player in Sidious’s schemes. It’s hard to tell just how involved Jango got with the Sith, if at all, but he was chosen by someone to be the donor body for the clone army and whatever other nuances there might be here, Obi-Wan doesn’t intend to let Palpatine get his hands on anyone else if he can help it. 

He pulls up another document on his pad, planning to write up a request for off planet travel next week but before he can think of a suitable excuse for running off to a notorious midrim world he hears a sharp knock on his door. The knock sounds only once and he can’t hear his passcode getting typed in so presumably it’s not Quigon barging in again. 

Curiosity has him rising to his feet, his datapad set aside next to a particularly leafy specimen on his side table. Obi-Wan crosses the room with the faintest hint of trepidation. While the Force certainly isn’t telling him he is in danger, something about an unexpected visitor at this hour makes his hackles begin to raise just a bit. 

He peeks through his view camera and is relieved to see a familiar face waiting impatiently at his door. A few pushes of a button later and Obi-Wan is face to face with Mace Windu. 

“Master Windu, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Mace takes one look at the Knight with an unreadable expression that only seems to furrow the longer he stares back at him. 

“Obi-Wan. What the hell have you done?”

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan blinks. 

“What have I done? Hmm. Great question. Not sure. Would you like some tea?”

Mace huffs at the non answer but does step inside. Obi-Wan shuts the door behind him, now terribly curious about what Mace could be mad at him for now. The list of possible actions that would elicit this response is embarrassingly long and he can only hope Mace doesn’t intend for him to start guessing. 

His guest has already moved to sit upon the lounge while Obi-Wan migrates to the kitchen. It’s not like they visit each other's quarters too often but over the last few months there have been occasions where Obi-Wan just wants to spend time around someone who doesn’t expect him to be an inexperienced twenty year old Knight. Mace has always been very accommodating of that, when it’s just the two of them he treats Obi-Wan as a fellow Master and is far more willing to hear out his opinions when he doesn’t have to couch them beneath mistruths and obfuscations. Plus, he imagines the man is more than interested in whatever hints of his old future Obi-Wan is willing to share during those quiet conversations. 

So it is no surprise to either of them that Mace is willing to make himself comfortable in Obi-Wan’s rooms while he pulls out Mace’s favourite tea to start brewing. He’s just gotten out the mug that Mace usually uses when he hears a curious hum from the living room. 

“You want to go off planet?”

Blast. Obi-Wan hadn’t turned off his datapad before welcoming the man in and had left the leave request form open on his table. 

“Oh yes,” he calls back casually, busying himself with the mugs so Mace can’t read his expression, “Thought I needed to get out a bit more. See the galaxy.”

There’s a judgemental silence coming from his living room which is loud enough to let him know that he is absolutely not getting away with that lie. He grimaces to himself for a second before masking his face in a polite smile. Mace’s arched eyebrow when he enters the room bearing two mugs tells him he is not succeeding. He lets the smile drop with a roll of his eyes. 

“Alright, alright. I’m going off to meet someone. I’m allowed to miss people from my past, you know.”

Mace doesn’t bite on the obvious bait. Which is something of a shame because normally any allusion to his sad old existence is enough to get Mace to stop questioning him too closely and normally means he technically doesn’t have to lie. 

“Of course you are. But this isn’t a social visit.”

“What makes you say that?”

Mace levels him with an unimpressed gaze. “When is anything ‘just’ what you claim it is.”

Well now that’s just rude. Not inaccurate. But still rude. 

“Regardless, you didn’t come here for my travel plans.”

He grumbles at the subject change, his eyes scanning the pad once more before taking the proffered mug from Obi-Wan’s hands and taking a tentative sip of his drink. 

“Indeed. I came to hear what the hell you think you’re doing with council codes.”

Uh oh. 

“Traditionally codes are used for accessing information, so I suppose that’s all I’ve been up to.”

“Obi-Wan.”

“Mace.”

“You’re a very difficult man.”

“So I’ve been told.”

The master sighs, drinking his tea with an exceptionally put upon pout. “How did you get the codes Obi-Wan? Honest answers only, please .”

Obi-Wan thinks he does quite an admirable job of not squirming in his seat like a youngling when caught under that stare. “Well in a funny turn of events it seems the Council doesn’t regularly update their passcodes which makes it quite simple to just… put them in and use them like normal. If one happens to already know them.”

“And why, pray tell, do you already know them?”

Obi-Wan elects to not answer, letting his silence give Mace the room to come to the rather obvious conclusion. His mouth drops open.

“You were on the Council.”

“Well you don’t have to sound quite that surprised.”

“You?”

“I was actually very well respected in my time,” He defends in a huff.

Mace leans back into the couch seat with a look of what can only be described as pure glee, “One of Qui Gon’s padawans made it to Councilor.” He beams at Obi-Wan, “You must let me be there whenever you tell him that.”

Obi-Wan blinks. “You are taking this… much better than I expected.”

“Oh do not worry Master Kenobi , I have plenty of time left to be furious about you having unauthorised access to the Council’s files.” his expression shifts into another smirk, “And that you held out on telling me you made it to Council so young.”

Kriff, Obi-Wan was hoping Mace wouldn’t do the maths on that one. He’d always been the baby of the Council through the war. All his peers had been masters for much longer than him, most having served on the Council while he himself had still been a Padawan. With such varied ages amongst their species Obi-Wan as a human was always going to be seen as a rather young addition to the group, but even amongst his kind he was quite... youthful. 

“I didn’t exactly lie to you about it-”

“But you certainly didn’t volunteer this information either,” Mace interrupts smoothly, “This is something of a theme with you, isn’t it? Technical truths and frequent absences of important details.”

“My age is hardly an important-”

“Regardless, I have come to the conclusion that a more direct approach will be necessary.”

Obi-Wan dreads to imagine what Mace Windu of all people considers a direct approach.

“Oh?” He asks warily, “And that would entail…?”

Mace grins, “As you apparently cannot be trusted to relay the necessary information to me yourself I shall simply have to do my own investigations.”

Valiantly, Obi-Wan manages not to wince. “Really, Master Windu I’m sure you-”

“Have better things I could be doing?”

The constant interrupting before he can finish a single damn sentence is certainly an interesting tactic that his friend has taken up. And it is apparently annoyingly effective because Mace is already answering his own question before Obi-Wan can even open his mouth. 

“Yes. I do. But it turns out that my only time travelling friend from the future refuses to be clear with me on what does and does not count as vital information thus requiring me to learn about significant events only via shatterpoints which is in no way a reliable method of learning much of anything. So investigate I shall.”

He tugs Obi-Wan’s datapad back into his hand, observing the half filled form for a moment before levelling the Knight with a blank expression, “What a coincidence. It seems my investigations will be taking me to Corellia in a week's time.”

“Mace, you can’t be serious,” Obi-Wan is above pleading he tells himself. Usually. Sometimes. Actually, maybe not. 

“I most definitely can,” he muses, scrolling through details on the planet. “Oh, lots of criminal activity going on here, how exciting.”

“Master Windu. Corellia isn’t that important to you, surely your attentions are needed here on Coruscant.”

Blatantly ignoring him, Mace scrolls further down the page. “I do hope I can meet some smugglers. Perhaps a bounty hunter or two.”

“Really?”

Mace grins at him, “How many spice runners do you think will be there?”

“You can’t come with me,” Obi-Wan declares, “My friend is terribly shy. You’d scare him off.”

At this the other Jedi pauses, “Oh? Can’t I?”

This feels like a trap. “No. You cannot.”

Mace hums, “Very well. Then I suppose I will just have to deny your leave request.”

Obi-Wan gapes. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“And what reason would you give the Council?”

Mace smirks, “Shatterpoints. They all know you attract them like flies. Frankly it would be for the best of everyone’s interests if you stayed planetside.”

“You’re lying.”

“How would they know?” Mace pauses, “And from a certain point of view it would be the truth. You’re certainly covered in enough of them Kenobi. This little mission of yours is no exception.”

“But certainly not to the extent where the fate of the galaxy rests on me meeting someone?”

“Again. How would they know? You’re a very impactful person.”

How in the Force Obi-Wan has ended up here is a true mystery. But no matter what protests or arguments he could possibly come up with he knows that Mace has already latched onto his plan and nothing short of a galactic war would interrupt him now. The Jedi Master on his couch takes a pointed sip of his tea, staring over the rim of his cup with nothing but amused self-satisfaction as if he can see Obi-Wan caving in as he sits there. 

“You cannot cause problems,” Obi-Wan warns, “And you have to follow my lead. In fact, best leave the talking to me whenever possible.”

Mace arches an eyebrow, “This sure seems like a lot of conditions for a little holiday.”

Obi-Wan doesn't bother hiding his eye roll, “You know damn well that I am not going for fun, but you seem quite determined to go and erase the plausible deniability I’ve been trying to give you.”

Mace grins, “Finally we’re getting somewhere.”

“I wouldn’t look so happy if I were you. I do not exactly intend to go as a representative of the Jedi.”

“Ah, undercover are we?”

“Something like that.”

“This just keeps getting more exciting,” Mace says drily, “Now that our travel plans are sorted though, perhaps we should revisit your access to the Council codes?”

“I would prefer not to,” Obi-Wan offers.

“Interesting. We’re going to anyway.”

“Yes I assumed as much.” he pauses, struggling for a moment to figure out how to spin his story. It’s an issue that he has thought about many times over the last few months, more than certain he wouldn’t get away with it forever. At the very least he can be glad that it is only Mace who found him out so he doesn’t need any of his more elaborate lies as an excuse. 

“I have told you before that the Sith has plans for the Jedi, that we are being manipulated without even knowing it.”

Mace’s quiet smile falls away. “Yes. You have.”

“Well I’ve been trying my best to keep tabs on him but there is a reason he has evaded our attentions for so long. The Sith has been meddling for years already, having access to the council codes is helpful for me to know the extent of that, and it can help put certain things into perspective.” he steadies himself, preparing for what he is about to admit, “For example… Feemor’s report.”

“You’ve read it?”

“Yes.”

Mace grimaces slightly, “I thought you might’ve. You were the one pushing Madam Nu to check the Kamino records in the archive, and one look at Feemor’s shatterpoints I knew you would’ve been involved.”

“Because we’re friends?” Honestly that bit does surprise him, he didn’t even know Mace had been aware of their friendship nor why it would lead him to make that relation between shatterpoints and the mission.

Mace waves his question away easily, “Well the connection was obvious when I knew you were a part of this.”

“Right,” Obi-Wan agrees, only half understanding Mace’s certainty. 

“So Feemor’s report?” He prompts.

“The clones.”

Mace peers at him, “You know where they come from?”

Obi-Wan barely bites down on a scoff, “Oh I have some ideas. But in all honesty we lost sight of tracking down the details.”

The Jedi Master looks genuinely surprised, “Lost track? Thousands of men ordered - supposedly for us - and no one thought to look into it?”

“Millions.” Obi-Wan says quietly.

“Millions?” he echoes.

“By the time we learnt of their existence there were millions on the way. Different stages of development of course, but plenty ready to go straight to war.” He makes eye contact with the man opposite him, beseeching him to understand, “We knew of them for barely a week before the first battle started and I watched dozens of men who had never been out of the labs they were grown in, die to save my life.”

“When did you-?” 

“Nine years. I found Kamino almost by accident. I was chasing down a bounty hunter and stumbled into our army.” He sneers, not at Mace but at the fact it had genuinely been a mistake. All these years later he never has quite figured out how to reconcile what shape the galaxy would have taken if he hadn’t been hunting Jango and ended up there. It’s far too late to consider whether the worlds would have been better off with or without the Galactic Army - but that doesn’t stop his thoughts from drifting back there every so often. 

Mace lets out a low whistle, “I can see why you were so adamant about this mission. And these clones? You knew them?”

“I led them.”

Now that the two of them have done away with any pretences or lies, even Mace doesn’t bother trying to hide his shock at that. His mouth drops open, trying to form words but apparently not knowing what to say. Obi-Wan takes pity on him, offering a weak smile. It’s something of a novelty for him to be the one leading Mace into the darker areas of life. Not that the man hasn’t seen conflict before but he doesn’t quite seem to know how to reconcile that with the life of the Jedi nor with Obi-Wan himself. 

“You are looking at the former High General of the Galactic Army of the Republic.” Obi-Wan offers a fake, half bow from his own seat on his couch. A parody of his former glory - if one could call it that. 

“High General?” Mace asks, “But…”

“But I was so young? But the Jedi are peacekeepers not generals? But it goes against everything we stand for to bring these men into a life of servitude to a Republic who refuses to honour or care for them? Yes. I would have to agree.”

Mace ignores his dry sarcasm with long practice, “Then why did any of this happen Obi-Wan? Is this war really what you’ve been hiding from me?”

He lets out a harsh breath, trying to frame his words right in his head before he speaks. 

“By that point we weren’t left with much of a choice for anything. Either we took charge of the men and did our best to lead the war to a swift end with as few casualties as possible, or we relinquish all responsibility and leave their lives in the hands of a Chancellor who had just gained more emergency powers than he deserved and was never going to treat them with an ounce of respect.”

Maybe his views are coloured now, retroactively knowing how much Palpatine had set them up for failure here. Still that had been the general reasoning at the beginning: that they had a duty of care to these men who would otherwise have been abandoned to fend for themselves with no advocates in a system designed to kill them one way or another. 

“Not to mention,” he adds with a false calmness he doesn’t feel, “The Jedi are servants to the Republic. Our allegiance is to the people of this galaxy regardless of who sits at the head of the Senate - we were conscripted as much as the clones. For the greater good.”

Once again his sarcasm is ignored, “This is what you’re avoiding? What all your meddling has been for?”

“Not all of it,” he admits, “There are other wrongs to right. Injustices that I know how to fix here and now - some before they ever happen.”

He can feel Mace’s studious gaze settle over him but he refuses to meet it, wary of whatever clues the other man is already picking up from his closed expression. This is already more information than he’d expected to share today so he is swift to redirect the conversation away from his other plots and plans. 

“The clones are good men,” he asserts, suddenly desperate for Mace to understand, “They were pawns in the Sith’s games but they were loyal and brave and-”

“Obi-Wan.” Mace leans back from his urgent waving, “I am not accusing them of anything. If you say they were good men then I will believe you. I intended to meet them for myself anyway. Whatever you have been doing you have evidently given us much more time to address these problems.” 

He reaches over Obi-Wan’s small coffee table, clasping his hands on top of Obi-Wan’s with a surprising gentleness. The steady reassurance of his warm hand draped over the Knight’s far shakier one is an unexpected but needed relief.

“We will not abandon these men to the Sith. I promise you that.”

With a jerky nod Obi-Wan relents and doesn’t launch into his any of his thirteen preprepared arguments for why the Jedi need to help the clones. Number four does admittedly need a slideshow and he hasn’t yet gotten round to making one, so maybe it is for the best. 

“Right. Of course. Thank you Master Windu.”

Mace smiles softly and releases his hands which Obi-Wan promptly hides back into his sleeves to mask their continued tremors. He offers his guest a wry grin. 

“Would you like to hear about the inhibitor chips next?”

Mace sighed, rubbing his forehead as if to ward away whatever next headache Obi-Wan is about to cause him.

“By all means Obi-Wan. Enlighten me.”

-

Now that he has a week left planetside before he has to head off for Corellia, Obi-Wan finds himself filling his every waking hour with tasks, trying to get as much done as possible before he goes. First his to-do list has him getting his PIs to report back on where Naboo’s relief fund has been going - thus far they’ve traced the money to a handful of shell companies hosted on multiple planets that Obi-Wan remembers well as being strong Separatist supporters. 

Then he tries to put his newfound tech skills to the test and builds a hopefully untraceable backdoor into the Council files so that Mace won’t be able to see when he’s been checking them out. This act is perhaps less than scrupulous but he decides it’s probably fine because now that his easy access is gone he can finally get started on shoring up their defences without obstructing his own entrances. 

He also dons one of his nicer disguises during his next jaunt down to the lower levels and starts trying to make connections with some of the offworld bankers who operate just out of the Senate’s purview. This isn’t a task he’s ever really tried to do before so he has some false starts with obvious scam artists and pirates masquerading as businessmen. Eventually though he thinks he has some viable contacts and a few more upper class names he can try to contact later. He knows Dooku insisted that he would handle Sorreno’s situation on his own but if there is a way to start opening up at least some trade routes so that the people of Sorreno can stay afloat then that’s exactly what he plans to do. 

Once that’s complete he makes his way back to the Senate as soon as possible. In theory he’s still here to guard Valorum but the man is not too concerned with any real assassination attempts now that they are veering closer to the next election. It would make more sense to wait him out rather than kill him off and leave an unnecessary power vacuum. So now Valorum mostly keeps Obi-Wan around to keep up on his investigations into the newest candidates as they’d discussed. 

It’s been slow going work especially as the Knight has often had to sit back and refamiliarise himself with political events that to him happened decades ago. Does he particularly care that Mas Amedda was seen attending dinner with Passel Argente from his opposition? No. But it’s the type of information that can lead someone to trace backroom deals and underhand negotiations that Valorum is looking to know about. Additionally Obi-Wan did uncover some general hints towards bribery from Nix Card in the Banking Clan that he couldn’t nail down himself but was happy to hand off to the Security Corps who made an arrest a week later. Now the people of Muunilinst has had to hastily elect a new Senator who seems green enough that she doesn’t pose any real threat to the current political landscape. 

It’s all a bit of a mess so he thinks he should be forgiven for forgetting one or two things. Like the fact he’d promised to meet with Bail and Padmé to figure out their general plans of taking down the Hutt cartel on their own. Because none of his friends can ever make things easy for him. 

It’s coincidence more than anything that has him in the Senate on the right day at roughly the right time. He’s been wandering the lower levels of the Senate building to follow up on Onaconda Farr who had been a big proponent of the Military Creation Act when in his first life when he stumbles into Bail, Padmé and Quinlan. All four of them blink at each other in surprise. 

“Well,” Quinlan grins, “That answers where Obi’s been.”

Padmé rolls her eyes, “Come on, we don’t have time to waste. Bail?”

“Too true, your highness. If you’ll all follow me.”

Before he knows it Obi-Wan finds himself getting dragged along with his friends right back upstairs to Bail’s office where he waves his guests to sit down. Quinlan hesitates, first taking his gloves off and moving across the room with his eyes closed. Once his sweep is done and he confirms there are no unwanted listeners anywhere he joins them at the desk. 

“So,” Padmé begins, “We want to take down the Hutts.”

Really. Obi-Wan just needs one singular friend who isn’t going to give him a stress ulcer. Unfortunately Bail and Quinlan are both nodding along like this is a perfectly reasonable goal they’ve set for themselves.

“We’ve got the outline for our bill drafted,” Padmé continues without a care for Obi-Wan’s anxieties, “Right now Bail and I are profiling which Senators and political bodies we think will be sympathetic to the cause. We will need support from across the galaxy before we even have a hope to get this legislation to go anywhere at all.”

Quinlan lets out a low whistle, “That’s not going to be quick work though, is it your highness?”

She frowns, “No. I don’t imagine it will be. But it is better to get the ball rolling now, is it not?”

“I agree,” Bail says, “The Hutts are independent of the Republic but that doesn’t mean they don’t have any ties to what we do here. There are plenty of people in this very building that have cut deals with either the Hutts directly, or any number of the, uh, organisations they control.”

“So?” Quinlan asks, “What’s the play? You two find some friends in here, get everyone to sign on and agree that they’re all going to leave the Hutts alone? Then what?”

“At least it’s a start,” Padmé says, offence creeping into her voice, “If we cut off any of their sources of revenue or power that means we’re one step closer to weakening their hold on the outer rim. The only reason they’re so strong and no one has bothered to truly fight them is because the battlefield is too large. If we hit them head on then they’ll slink away and hide behind the senators in their pockets. And if we try to take them one planet at a time they’ll just move to the next one before we’re done-”

Quin hurries to stop her before she can get too worked up. “You’re right, sorry. Didn’t mean to imply this wasn’t a good step. I just don’t think going through the Senate alone is enough.”

Bail peers at him, “Then what do you suggest?”

“Her highness is correct, it’s got to be a fight on many fronts. Even if you guys get this thing into legislation then the Hutts will just find another schmuck to hide behind once you’ve rooted out all the ones currently on their payroll. You’ve got to interrupt their supply routes, got to discourage new buyers, got to set things up for where the Freed people will go next.”

He stares into the earnest, if somewhat confused expressions of Bail and Padmé with mounting worry, “You guys do know the Hutts control everything out there right? It’s not going to be neat or clean. The Outer Rim won’t just quietly agree to rules that a bunch of rich strangers halfway across the galaxy made up in their free time.”

Quinlan turns to Obi-Wan, desperation tinging his voice “Please tell me you didn’t think this was going to be easy right?”

Three sets of eyes study him carefully. He carefully folds his hands into his robes to hide the twitch of his fingers as he plans his next words. 

“No, Quin, I am well aware that it isn’t easy.”

The other Knight watches him suspiciously, “You’ve done something.”

Obi-Wan gapes at him, “How could you possibly know-”

“You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The scheming one,” he dismisses with an easy wave of his hands, “Now tell us what you’ve been up to.”

He spares a moment to wonder whether Quinlan was this pushy in his last life, or if he just didn’t go on enough missions with the man to notice. Then he remembers chasing down Ziro the Hutt on Nal Hutta and remembers that his friend has always liked to cause problems for him. 

With secrecy thoroughly out the window Obi-Wan resigns himself to being honest with this haphazard team he’s apparently a part of. 

“I may be hiring a bounty hunter to track down all major Hutt trade routes and their largest credit stores. I also might have started poking into their records and seeing where their sales happen.” 

The other three all stare at him wordlessly. Obi-Wan tries not to fidget under the combined weight of their attentions.

“And I have maybe been tracking down the leaders of a few different slave rebellion groups across a couple of different planets.”

“Obi-Wan,” Quinlan says, “What.”

It’s not really posed as a question but he feels compelled to answer, “Well what else was I meant to do? I can hardly draft a bill for myself,” He throws a hand out to Bail and Padmé who both seem to have short circuited at some point in the last minute and are just watching him enraptured, “And everything I’ve found so far is all on the holonet if you know where to look. I didn’t want Padmé or Bail going into this empty handed. They’re going to need data and facts and all kinds of information that it would hardly be appropriate to send a Senator or a Queen out to go find for themselves.”

“But… where did you learn to do all this?”

Padmé throws Quinlan a surprised look, “Is this not typical for Jedi?”

“No!” 

“I’ve been getting lessons on cyber security,” he says airily, which does absolutely nothing to convince his companions to drop this line of questioning.

“From who?” Bail asks.

“Ah. Well I believe he tends to go by Zag but I’m not convinced that’s his real name.”

It’s not. His hacker is a young man by the name of Gerrins Coplask which Obi-Wan imagines is not nearly as ‘cool’ as he wants it to be. So Zag it is. A name whose ‘coolness’ could probably still be debated. 

“And where did you find this individual?” Padmé asks, her lips pursed. 

“He’s on Coruscant.”

Quinlan, Bail and Padmé all exchange matching exasperated looks to one another. 

“Best not to ask?” Quinlan says. 

“Agreed.” They nod. 

Well. It’s not the most conventional way he’s ever gotten out of having to explain himself but at least his friends have reached this consensus on their own. 

“Now then,” Bail says, taking charge of the conversation, “Obi-Wan has clearly taken the initiative on that front. Padmé and I will continue making contacts here in the Senate and amongst other planetary representatives when we can. Knight Vos, I understand you were brought into this plight somewhat unexpectedly. Is there anything in particular you would like to pursue here?”

Quinlan hums to himself for a moment, “I suppose if Obi’s gone to all this trouble finding out where the Hutts are I may as well go check them out. See if there’s anything I can find on the ground that hasn’t been uploaded onto the holonet yet. I’ve got some leave available that I can use to start hunting” 

“Ah,” Obi-Wan interrupts as a thought occurs to him, “You might want to hold on to that plan for a while. The bounty hunter I am employing will be heading out into Hutt space shortly. He can scope out some of the more important focal points I’m sure - it would certainly save you some time.”

“You have a bounty hunter?”

“Assuming he agrees to my terms when we meet then I will have a bounty hunter.”

“Great.” Quinlan’s voice couldn’t be any drier if he tried. “Thanks for clarifying that part of my question. It was really what I was focused on.” 

Obi-Wan offers him a guileless shrug. Quinlan Vos is certainly not the only Jedi who has made an artform of evasive, somewhat irritating answers. It was exactly the kind of thing that brought Obi-Wan endless entertainment when Anakin was still a padawan - his ability to deliberately misinterpret poorly phrased questions taught his apprentice the value of clarity far quicker than any other lesson he’d ever planned. 

Once again it is Bail who provides the voice of reason amongst their little team as he swiftly interrupts the squabbling Jedi. He runs through a few details of the proposed bill, taking notes and adjusting phrasing depending on what information Quinlan or Obi-Wan is able to provide on short notice. Padmé takes up the effort of creating her own lists of talking points and pitch notes for different senators that she thinks she can talk around to their sides. The meeting carries on like that for quite some time until night falls across the city and all four of them reluctantly realise they do in fact have other responsibilities to attend to. 

“Well,” Bail says with a tired smile as he shuffles his pads back onto the desk, “I suppose this should be counted as quite the successful meeting. We all have our assignments, yes?”

“Sure thing,” Quinlan drawls. He stands to his full height and stretches out his legs from where he’s been curled up in his chair for too long, “Obi meets his bounty hunter, I get some locations and make some connections. You’ve got the paperwork sorted and her Highness is going on her recruitment missions. Sounds like a plan.”

When no one can find any fault in their surprisingly open ended strategy they disperse with friendly goodbyes and a promise to meet again when possible.

“Obi-Wan,” Padmé calls just as he is about to turn the corner back to the Chancellor’s office where he left his datapad earlier. 

“Yes?” 

“Would you mind if I walk with you?”

He offers her a grin and stands still long enough for her to catch up until they resume again, walking side by side through the empty halls of the Senate. They move in silence for some time, which Obi-Wan takes the time to sort through his ever lengthening to-do list and start shuffling around some of his priorities. The quiet reverie is broken by Padmé, her words uncharacteristically soft.

“Thank you. For all the work you’ve put into this.”

He looks down to her, surprised to see her gaze steadily trained on the marbled floor below them. “Of course. I am always at your service if you are in need of help, Padmé.”

“I know this isn’t the right place to pry,” she says, carefully eyeing the shadows that cling through the Senate’s halls like a poisoned skin. “But I believe there is a conversation you promised me some time ago.”

He keeps his expression carefully blank while hers too remains decidedly neutral.

“I was just talking to Bail about how much I would enjoy seeing the Jedi Temple someday. Would that be something you might be able to arrange?”

She is far too clever for her own good, Obi-Wan decides fondly. Of course she has already thought ahead on how to set the terms of their discussion. And what protest could he offer? He had indeed promised her an explanation all those months ago on Naboo for his strange behaviour and the many liberties she entrusted him with. Not to mention that he cannot suggest the Jedi Temple wouldn’t be appropriately secure for them to talk - not when his home has borne safe witness to all manner of his meddling and scheming since returning to this time. 

She has elegantly trapped him by his own admittances - which is quite impressive and deeply inconvenient.

“Of course,” he says, “I would be delighted to give you a personal tour.”

Her careful facade cracks just a fraction, pleased victory flashing across her features before she can reign it in. She pulls to a stop just as they reach a fork in the hallways and waits for him to join her at the threshold. He stills, head tilted at her curiously.

“Thank you Obi-Wan,” she says earnestly, “I look forward to it.”

Then before he can think she has leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek in what he can only assume is gratitude. He knows it is a practice common enough on Naboo, a way to show sincerity and kindness but it has been so very long since he has had to think of such a thing as royal pleasantries being afforded to him that he feels thoroughly out of practice. She takes in his stunned expression with a bittersweet smile. 

“I imagine that conversation will be quite illuminating for me,” she decides with a sharp nod to herself, “Good night Obi-Wan.”

And then she turns down the hallway and departs into the inky darkness of the Coruscant night, leaving him to make his way back home on his own.

Chapter Text

The departure date for Mace and Obi-Wan’s trip to Corellia seems to come up all too quickly. He has managed to reschedule his more regular lower-level appointments on planet, as well as set up a few automated payments to his investigators so they at least won’t be tracking his comings and goings. These small pieces of administration work are a welcome relief - they’re the kind of normal, everyday life tasks Obi-Wan has missed over the years. Simple comm messages and calendar reorganisation have a surprising novelty in their mundanity. 

Still, he knows he cannot put off all of his appointments so right at his usual time Obi-Wan finds himself back in the salles, training saber in hand, and Count Dooku before him. 

“Begin.”

Obi-Wan whips his saber up a half second before Dooku makes contact with his own face. He doesn’t even have time to think up a sarcastic greeting before he is flinging himself wholeheartedly into the spar. The two of them trading blows back and forth, each gaining as much ground against the other as they lose. 

His grandmaster is not holding back at all as he pushes Obi-Wan’s already sharp reflexes as far as physically possible. As much as these spars are supposedly to teach Obi-Wan the art of Makashi, the Knight can’t help himself but slip between the other forms too. When his defence slips for even a moment he doesn't hesitate to fall back in Soresu’s familiar stances, or when he feels the urge to push harder through Vapaad he does immediately. Those moves in particular still seem to catch Dooku off guard as even he never mastered Mace Windu’s preferred form. 

The first time he had slipped into these deviations in form the Count had reprimanded his “mistakes” - it wasn’t until Obi-Wan had started to actually turn the tide of their spars before he would hear the Knight out. It had taken a frankly excessive amount of arguing and wheedling the man before Obi-Wan had managed to make his pitch that his ability to shift between forms would actually be a strategic advantage if his enemies weren’t to know what move he might pull next.

Now it’s just a new element of the challenge to test Dooku’s own adaptability with Obi-Wan’s unexpected choices. The Count can grumble about it as much as he wants but anyone could see the way his eyes light up at each test of skill. Without being under Palpatine’s apprenticeship yet still being out of the Order, Dooku’s spars with Obi-Wan really are one of the only ways he gets to put his years old saber mastery into practice. 

This spar ends much like their last few - with Dooku losing ground beneath Obi-Wan’s ranging fighting style but the older master still carving out a victory in the very end by pushing through one of the increasingly rare cracks in Obi-Wan’s makashi forms. He claims his victory with a sizzling burn of saber against skin.

Obi-Wan hisses at the pain - even at their lowered training setting lightsabers are not exactly what one would call gentle. He grits his teeth but manages to choke out a quick “solah” before the count can go in for another attack. 

Dooku stands regally above him while Obi-Wan pokes at the harsh red on his arm. At the very  least he can take quiet consolation in the fact that Dooku’s usually impeccable control is slipping - even he has to pant for breath after their rigorous battle. Obi-Wan grins up at him. His grandmaster rolls his eyes. 

“I nearly got you,” Obi-Wan declares when his own breath can be wrangled under his control. 

“Hardly,” Dooku sniffs. 

“Right at the end, with the-” he waves his arm in a vague approximation of a move he specifically remembers Mace teaching him after that fight on Geonosis right at the beginning of the war. It had come in handy many times before and he is more than happy to stump the Count with it again now.

“Hmm.” Dooku pretends to inspect his robes, “If you insist. Now, again.”

“Hold on,” he groans, “Before I beat you-”

Dooku scoffs.

“- I have a proposal.”

“Oh?” His brows furrow, “Is this in relation to-”

“No. Another matter entirely.”

“Very well.”

“I am off planet soon, so our lessons will have to stop for a short while-”

“Yes, yes. Simply send a comm when you have returned.”

“Actually… I was hoping you might be interested in taking another student while I’m gone.”

Dooku stills, his gaze sharpening in deep suspicion. One could be forgiven for breaking down and revealing every secret they’ve even tangentially heard of when subjected to such a mighty glare as the one Dooku is levelling his way. Fortunately though, Obi-Wan considers himself something of an expert at ignoring meaningful eye contact from any lineage member he encounters. If he once managed to say no to Ahsoka’s tooka-eyes when she wanted to keep an entire herd of porgs in her bunk when they’d stopped at Ahch-To then he can confidently say that Count Dooku wont sway him at all. 

The Count does try glaring for a little while longer but when that proves unsuccessful he simply sighs, tipping his head back to glare at the ceiling in defeat instead. 

“And just whose presence are you expecting me to tolerate?”

“Don’t worry Master Dooku, we all know you actually like him, no need to pretend that you’re terribly grouchy.”

Dooku squints. “Who?”

Obi-Wan summons as much courage as he dares, “Qui Gon.”

“Is this… a joke?”

“No. Just a request.”

Obi-Wan is struck suddenly by the realisation that he has never seen someone look more wary than his grandmaster does right now. 

“And this request… is it from you or are you speaking on his behalf?”

He hesitates, “It’s from me. Is that a problem?”

“Qui Gon Jinn is a master himself,” Dooku explains with a frigid temperance, “It is one thing for you as a Knight to seek out my expertise. But I think you will find that your teacher has no interest in being my student again.”

He can see that his grandmaster is already closing himself off from the mere possibility of this opportunity and Obi-Wan quite simply will not let that happen. 

“How about a wager?”

The Count stares. Obi-Wan decides to take that as implicit permission to continue. 

“If I win the next spar, you ask him.”

“And if I win?”

Ah. One of the key problems of making up a bet on the spot is that he doesn’t actually have any counterwagers prepared. He shrugs. 

“What are you after?”

He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, as though the Count has had this answer well prepared and simply lying in wait for the right opportunity. 

“Information. When I win you tell me how you knew of Sidious.”

Kriff. 

“Deal.”

“Very well. Shall we begin?” 

Obi-Wan doesn’t bother replying, he just launches himself as quick as he can across the training room floor, saber burning blue. 

Already his opponent is darting back to avoid his first slashes. Dooku’s face drops into a sneer as he pushes his arm forward, just gaining the reach needed to smash their blades together so Obi-Wan has no choice but to roll with the movement. He pulls his shoulders in tight and dodges the Count’s follow up blow by a mere inch. 

The two of them lean heavily on Makashi, each matching the other’s movements before they can reach completion. Parrys and counter strikes blend into a harsh, sizzling rhythm as they dance back and forth, neither gaining much ground at all. Dooku’s single minded focus has him performing each stance with rigid poise and eerie perfection. 

It isn’t long at all before Obi-Wan finds himself falling back into soresu for his defence, the hiss and burning of their blades a near constant sound as there is barely a single moment they aren’t locked together. 

Whatever had possessed Dooku to seek his knowledge on Sidious appears to be one hell of a motivating factor. Never before has Obi-Wan seen the man filled with such single minded focus aside from their quite literal duels to the death in his other life. But now the taciturn yet effective teacher he has come to know these last few months slips away in the face of a master dueler with fierce determination. 

Obi-Wan stumbles back further and further towards the edges of the training salles under Dooku’s insistent barrage. Their breaths are coming out in ragged pants but neither can hear the noise under the hissing burn of saber upon saber. 
Obi-Wan funnels as much strength in the Force that he can manage and pushes off the ground, his flips in the air hoping Dooku won’t singe his robes as he completes his leap right over his opponent’s head. Dooku curses, twisting on the spot to witness Obi-Wan’s descent. The Count lunges forward again though appears unprepared for the Knight’s retreat into Shii-cho - despite being one of the Jedi’s oldest martial forms, most saberists choose to migrate into the other forms to the point where the simple, yet harshly efficient moves of Shii-Cho can come as a surprise to any unprepared opponent. 

Dooku winces as Obi-Wan takes his moment of shock and pushes back, forcing himself to spend his dwindling supply of energy into launching forward and slamming his blade down with enough force that the Count buckles under his weight. 

For a brief, shining moment the two duelists make eye contact, their faces cast in shafts of blue light that shift and blur their features - but it is more than enough for Obi-Wan to see a sheen of sweat coating Dooku’s brow, his blade trembling under the stress of the fight and a flash of fear in his eyes as he faces down a master in his own right. 

Obi-Wan may have spent some years languishing in the deserts of Tatooine with no one and nowhere to practice his once perfected art of the lightsaber, but he has been back in the past for nearly a year now. He has had time to relearn this old-new body of his. Time to practise his favoured soresu. He has asked every master duelist he can to spar with him in their own preferred forms and has finally regained the near impeccable skill with a blade that he once coveted. Dooku may be a master of makashi - one of the greatest duelists to ever live. 

But Obi-Wan Kenobi is a master Jedi. Trainer of the Chosen One. Sole survivor of the Jedi purge. High General of the Galactic Army of the Republic. Time Traveler. 

He moves faster than Dooku can see, his every muscle surging forth with the exact kind of untapped power that has saved his life a thousand times across a thousand battlefields. Obi-Wan’s wrist flicks out in a now familiar makashi twirl, his blade singing through the air until it rest, hovering and burning right above Count Dooku’s heart. 

The Count gasps, no doubt feeling searing heat pulsing against his skin from just how close Obi-Wan’s weapon points to him. 

A brief flicker of light casts the Count’s eyes an almost unnatural shade but the flash of colour is gone before Obi-Wan can be certain. 

“Solah,” his opponent mutters. 

Obi-Wan retracts his blade promptly, stepping back and bending into a short bow to end their match. After a moment’s hesitation Dooku copies his movements though he lists to his side just a little, cradling his ribs where Obi-Wan had landed a somewhat more vicious than usual attack. 

“Thank you for the spar, grandmaster,” Obi-Wan says. 

“Hn,” Dooku grunts, his face stuck in a sharp grimace - which is maybe the least composed he has seen the man since he and Anakin fought him aboard Palpatine’s ship.

“I shall inform Qui Gon to meet you here at our usual time.”

With a final glance at the old master biting his tongue on whatever acerbic response he no doubt has lined up, Obi-Wan turns on his heel and walks out of the training salle before Dooku remembers he is perfectly capable of just not showing up because Obi-Wan will be in a wholly different star system and won’t be able to stop him. 

Ah well. 

-

With that whole mess finally sorted out Obi-Wan finds himself rushing to complete the last of his duties and responsibilities while still at the temple. He ropes Feemor and Anani into watering his plants while he’s out and makes sure that Madam Nu has all the readings she’s been prodding him for in regards to cloning practices - most of which he’d only pretended to have read when she asked why he knew so much about the topic. He does a quick read through of Bail’s latest recruits in the Senate for the early anti-hutt bills he intends to propose and even sends a few recommendations from some of the more scrupulous politicians he remembers from before. 

Finally his laundry list of distractions runs dry and there’s nothing left for him to do but perch himself right by the entrance of the Temple, his foot tapping an anxious beat that has the steady flow of Jedi that walk past all eyeing him warily. But of course, he is not left to wait long. Force forbid Padme Amidala be late to an appointment - even if it is supposedly just to catch up with a friend. 

“Obi-Wan.”

“Padme,” he smiles at the young queen standing at the Temple threshold, once again dressed as a handmaiden. Obi-Wan catches a glimpse of her real attendants waiting patiently at the foot of the stairs, with one of them dressed in the appropriate Nubian royal garb. It is a sweet sight to see Padme’s companions all watching out for her even though they should all recognise him by now, so he sends them a quick wave and is pleasantly surprised to see a couple of them break ranks to wave back. He turns back to his friend who is still just standing there - an odd nervous energy drifting from her. 

“Padme? Are you quite alright?”

She looks to him with a fierce furrow in her brow and a scrunch of her nose that is most unqueenly but very endearing nonetheless. “I have just realised how little I know of Jedi customs. Is it impolite to enter without being invited? I have received no diplomatic training for your people’s traditions.”

He laughs lightly at her earnest confusion and is rewarded with a tentative smile of her own, “Your consideration is appreciated, your highness, but I promise you it is far too late to make a good first impression on me now.”

She gasps in faux offence, whacking him in the chest. “Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are absolutely incorrigible. I am trying to be polite.”

“And I,” he declares, “Am trying to annoy you.”

Padme pouts, crosses her arms over her chest and doggedly digs her heels into the ground. He waits for her to snap back with whatever witty comeback she surely has prepared but is instead met with a stubborn playfulness he never used to see so much in her adulthood. 

“Padme,” he grins, “Are you really just going to stand there until I invite you in?”

Her head tilts imperiously upward, which would likely have quite a powerful effect were she not a whole foot shorter than him. “Perhaps.” 

He looks down at her and swiftly concludes that he is not going to win this battle of wills. So with a heaving sigh he asks if she would, in fact, like to come in.

She nods and bravely dares to step over the threshold, tentatively following after him as the knight moves back through familiar halls. At first her continued silence surprises him, right until he catches sight of her barely restrained attempts to stare at every single detail in the whole temple. Her neck swivels back and forth with substantially less decorum than he’s used to seeing from her. 

He decides to just be thankful that she actually manages to catch herself before she can trip right over a carpet that she’d missed entirely while subtly trying to inspect the buttresses which artfully decorate the entrance hall. Before she can sprain something Obi-Wan takes pity on her enough to simply loop their arms together and slow his much longer stride so they can keep pace. 

She doesn’t pull away immediately which he takes as permission enough to start leading her through the more scenic route of his home. They stop at some of the more impressive artworks - sculptures and tapestries inherited over millennia of Jedi who have occupied the very halls they are standing in right then. He does his best to recall stories he was told back when he was a youngling. Some have been withered with his true age but there are enough bits and pieces that he can tell Padme about so many of the great heroes and philosophers of his Order that have come before him. 

Unsurprisingly, she’s an avid listener and a dedicated audience. The very second he is done speaking she will chime up with a dozen questions and a handful of insightful observations. She seems particularly curious about any piece that depicts ancient battles between Jedi and Sith. Their enmity has been a source of inspiration for more artworks than Obi-Wan can possibly conceive so there’s always something else he can show her - though he doesn’t quite know what to make of the intense focus that crosses her face at each new depiction of the Sith. 

Eventually though he does manage to pull her attention away long enough that they can emerge into the room of a thousand fountains. He gives her plenty of time to walk about in awe and wonder at the beautiful room - which admittedly isn’t actually that long because she is after all, queen of Naboo and has seen more than her fair share of gorgeous gardens. Still, it’s nice that she does give it the due respect he’s always felt such a space in the middle of a planet wide city deserves. 

“Oh Obi-Wan,” she gasps, “It’s beautiful.”

“Just wait,” he replies, already pushing through a wall of branches that lead into one of the densest areas of foliage. She darts after him with excitement, diving in between the bark and leaves that tug at her handmaiden’s uniform with every other step - which she seems entirely oblivious to. He would wager that it is a rare occasion that the queen of Naboo has the chance to go frolicking out in the woods and this is as close as she knows she is going to get for quite some time. Even as he traces back the years old familiar path that he knows more through muscle memory than sight, he trusts in his friend to pick her own way through in his wake - letting her figure out how she wants to get there for herself.

Finally he breaks through the wall of green into a charming little clearing he has been visiting ever since he was her age. Padme “oohs” appreciatively when she too comes up to the mossy patch of ground where he has passed countless hours of his lives in quiet contemplation. 

“This,” he offers, “is actually where my Master Qui Gon first took me to practise meditation together.” 

Out of the corner of his eye he can see the way she turns to him, head tilted curiously. He ignores her unasked questions in favour of finding a soft patch of grass, covered with dappled sunlight to sit in. After a moment’s hesitation she joins him, her skirts pillowing out around her once she gets comfortable. 

Obi-Wan looks up through the foliage above him. It’s mostly a way to avoid having to hold eye contact while he talks, but he can also admit that he just likes to watch the gentle sway of the branches. It used to be how he would try to connect with Qui Gon after his death. He would sit in this very spot and try desperately to reach out to the Living Force itself, just as his master had always talked about. 

Even now he finds his senses stretching out into the Force, feeling the beating presence of Padme beside him and the slow thrum of the trees that surround him. Pulses of light blur out into the galaxy around them both, further and further across the galaxy as each lifeform blends and melds into one beautiful thread of existence. 

“So,” Obi-Wan says mostly to the leaves around him, but he can see the sharp tilt of Padme’s head as she narrows her attentions upon him, “would you like to share your guesses?”

“What makes you so sure I have any?”

“Because I know you.”

She hums quietly to herself, before her shoulders slump in the tiniest display of defeat. “Oh very well. Yes. I might have an idea or two.”

There’s a rustle as her skirts move again while she gathers her feet in front of her, her knees pressing up into her chest as she curls around herself - another one of those rare moments where she actually looks her age. 

He can see her eyeing him tentatively through the heavy curtain of her hair. “You’re not omniscient.” 

He snorts a laugh. A small smile of her own creeps onto her face at the sound. 

“Oh kriff no. That would be terrible.”

“But you do know more than you let on.”

“True enough.”

“Something changed that day - back on Tatooine. You woke up and knew I was the queen even though nothing else had happened to show you the truth.”

Huh. He hadn’t been sure whether or not she had figured out the exact timing or not, but he certainly wouldn’t have betted against the keen observational powers of Padme Amidala. From the corner of his eye he can see the way she turns that calculating gaze on him once again. 

“It feels silly,” she says quietly, “To just say that it was ‘the Force’ and leave it at that. There has to be more to it.”

“Oh?” He can’t help the sound of his surprise, but there is such a definite surety to her words he can’t help but wonder at where it has come from. 

“Well of course,” she flicks her hair out of her face distractedly, “I’ve done my research you know. As soon as the Trade Federation left Naboo’s atmospheric borders I requested for my advisors to bring me what information we have on the Jedi.”

Now this is definitely news. “You did? But why?”

Her sharp gaze narrows enough that he finds himself unable to keep up his guise of studying the trees around him. He turns to her fully, no more pretences between them. 

Her lips twitch into a wholly unexpected smirk. “So you didn’t know that either.”

It’s not a question - merely an observation. Or, more likely, a confirmation.

She doesn’t give him time to respond, excitement building behind her eyes. “You know a lot but not everything. There are times I will tell you a story and I can tell you’ve heard it before but if I do something on my own without telling anyone else - you have no idea what I’ve been up to. You don’t know everything about my past but you do know my principles and my beliefs. You tell me things about how I think before I even know to put them into words.”

She shifts her whole body now. Instead of hugging her knees to her chest she drops them and tilts forward in eager anticipation of the answer to the mystery that has clearly been plaguing her ever since his return. 

“You knew not to trust in Senator Palpatine and warned me, in that roundabout way you have, about how he’d try to make me call for a vote of no confidence but you didn’t tell me that it would happen for sure. So you know the general shape of things to come but you prioritise letting everyone else make their own decision - you don’t think that life is predetermined. You believe in choices.”

Her skirts chafe against the grass as she shuffles in place. “I looked it up: Jedi philosophy prioritises peace and balance in the Force above all else, correct? So all these schemes and plans and strategies that you have - all of them are to achieve balance. You think it is your duty to move everyone onto a path of balance.”

Before he can even open his mouth to respond she’s speaking over him, already anticipating his counterargument. 

“I don’t mean that you do this because you are a Jedi, Obi-Wan. I mean that you think it is you specifically who has this responsibility to shape the galaxy. You not only kept Chancellor Valorum in power - you brought my people and the Gungans into harmony when we fought back against the Trade Federation. And it is you who saved the Chancellor’s life when an assassin was sent after him at the Senate. And it is still you who showed up to our meeting yesterday having already planned to unite the uprisings across Hutt space before any of us had even discussed the very idea of it.”

Finally she seems to halt her own momentum, unsure of where exactly her conclusions are leading her. Her breath comes out in short puffs of air, her chest heaving with excitement. 

“You know,” he begins quietly, “You make it sound all quite impressive when you put it like that - but I have to confess I’ve only been trying to make up for all the mistakes I made the first time.”

She blinks. “The… first time?”

He grins, “The first time I lived this life.” 

Her entire body freezes in place. Her eyes dart back and forth across his face as if searching desperately for some kind of confirmation she can read into his very soul. For one fleeting moment it seems like she’s willing to wholeheartedly believe him. Then reason and doubt come creeping back in. She’s no idiot - of course she understands the implications of what he is saying. But it is no small thing to buy into that truth - it is the kind of understanding that would shake reality as she knows it. 

Briefly he wonders if this is something that would be harder to digest as a non-force sensitive. Mace had put together his time travel with the kind of unshakeable certainty that could only really come from such an intimate connection to the universe around them. His shatterpoints only a further help from what Mace had intuited himself. But Padme, no matter how much research she may have done, simply has not experienced such an intimate connection with the potential of the Force itself. 

Even now her lived experiences are battling with the theoretical in a way she cannot quite clarify on her own. He can see the uncertainty in her eyes.

“You have a choice now,” he continues in an easy tone entirely incongruous to her quiet shock, “You can choose to believe me. Or you can ignore this. It’s just Obi-Wan making a joke. We can go back to making plans to stop the Hutts, and we can hope that there is nothing worse waiting for us on the horizon.”

Padme shifts, her shoulders squaring and her brows furrowing. “No.”

“No?”

“No, I will not hide behind ignorance, Obi-Wan.” She huffs with all the attitude of any teenager who has ever been underestimated by an adult who thinks they know best, “So you’re what? A time traveller?”

His lips twitch. Of course she of all people would take on his bizarre life with nothing more than moment's consideration before diving unabashedly into the very heart of the matter.

“Yes.”

“From how long ago?” she pauses, “Or from how soon, I suppose I should say.”

“Fifteen years.”

Padme blinks, her eyes wide and round in surprise. “Hm.” 

He expects more follow up questions. This is in fact a conversation he has been constantly preparing for over the last year. In the flashes of downtime he can scrape together Obi-Wan has been drafting up answers for all the interrogations he’s imagined receiving from all of his friends. He’s developed his own parameters for what information he would be willing to share with each individual and Padme is no exception to that. 

He’s thought long and hard about how much detail will be needed to keep her curiosity sated while not giving enough away that it could possibly draw the attention of Sidious. Irritatingly the Sith lord is far too often in close contact with the queen of his planet now that he isn’t distracted with a Chancellorship. There is half a speech prepped and ready to go about how he may want to be wholly honest with her, but there truly must be some secrets he holds close to his chest lest he endanger her to an extent he cannot truly save her.

Of course all that seems to be totally for naught as she pivots immediately into unexpected territory that has nothing to do with politics or deceptions or the future itself really. 

“Did you know me?”

He halts his pre-prepared answers, surprised into blunt honesty by the question. “I did.”

“Were we friends then too?”

“I like to think so. You were… very close with my future padawan.”

She seems surprised, her brow still furrowed, “But not you?”

“Oh we had our moments,” he smiles, “You took great joy over the years in making me all too aware of how much I dislike politics.”

Her eyes crinkle in amusement, “Well I’m glad that I am nothing if not consistent.”

“Most certainly,” he agrees easily.

There is still some uncertainty hiding behind her eyes, despite the levity he tries to infuse in his voice. He can practically see all those calculations and curiosities she’s been trying to keep in check which can’t help but prod up against the edges of his story. 

“Why have you not told anyone?” She finally asks after taking a few moments to study his expression. 

“Well it is hardly an easy story to tell,” he gestures vaguely at her, “Even people who trust in me are understandably sceptical.”

She concedes that point with a slight tilt to her head. But her eyes stay locked on him, clearly urging him to provide a more compelling argument. Once again he bemoans how clever his friends are. He imagines life would be much easier if everyone around him were just a little more unobservant. 

“Not to mention, my story is not a particularly happy one.”

To his surprise Padme does not immediately question him further. She does not demand answers he does not know how to give - nor does she seem to expect him to fill in the blanks unprompted. In fact she seems content to sit back on the grass, her fingers idly picking at stray blades of green - her focus clearly somewhere else entirely. 

Obi-Wan doesn’t quite know what to do with this strange lull in conversation. He eventually settles on slipping into a light meditation just to keep himself occupied. Beside him Padme seems to follow suit in her own way, just sitting quietly and contemplating whatever it is that’s whirling through her mind. 

It isn’t all too long before she clears her throat, drawing his attention back to the present.

“I believe you,” is what she declares, “I am wildly curious about what sort of a life you had to live but you have been holding tight to that information for the better part of a year now. So I will not pry further than you wish to share.”

“Padme, I-”

She holds up a hand to silence him, not unkindly but with enough surety that he knows she needs to say whatever it is she’d thought through. 

“I do have some guesses that I would appreciate a simple confirmation or denial on before I continue on. First, I want to know if we are in any immediate danger.”

Obi-Wan pauses. What a curious question. On the one hand he genuinely doesn’t think Palpatine would dare try to get away with harming the ruler of his own home planet - not when that would immediately throw him under close scrutiny. But she is a political figurehead who is about to embark on a very dangerous challenge of the Hutt authorities. 

“No,” he settles on, “But you are not wholly safe either. If you stay connected to the Senate, the Hutts or even me, you will definitely be a target for some powerful enemies.”

Padme accepts this answer with a solemn nod, her expression pinched as she must compare that response to her own expected answers. 

“Very well. Next question: Did you come back by choice?”

He thinks of that first meeting with the Daughter, that unnatural void of darkness that was his first step into a whole new path. She had pulled him into that space without forewarning him, she had been the one to plan his return - but she had also asked him when he wanted to go back to. It was he who had decided to redo it all from the very beginning. 

“I came here by choice.”

She hums thoughtfully, “But you did not instigate the… time travel?”

“Not particularly.”

“Interesting.” Her fingers steeple together as she thinks and he can almost imagine that he can see the way information slots into place behind her eyes - her mind whirring as she takes this all in with a frankly impressive amount of decorum. 

“You are here to avoid something terrible, aren’t you?”

This is the first time he has heard her voice waver like that since they started talking. He wishes he had some way to comfort her, but he knows that the Padme Amidala he grew so fond of was never one to want platitudes in place of truth. 

“I am.”

“And you’re making progress in this endeavour?”

“Yes.”

She takes in a deep breath, her whole body expanding with the motion until his young friend seems to rise taller, a surety in her every movement. 

“Alright. In that case we will have to be careful. There is much work to be done to avoid whatever future you have witnessed - and I may need your assistance if I am veering close to disaster. But I intend to continue my work and make what changes I can in this galaxy while I am able.”

Obi-Wan can’t help but gape at her in surprise. “That’s it? No further questions?”

She offers him a wry smile, “Would I get a straight answer if I asked anything more complicated?””

He can’t quite hide his grimace quick enough, which seems to be plenty of an answer for her. 

“Oh Obi-Wan, you’re not quite as complicated as you might think.” Her eyes crinkling in amusement, “But you know what? This whole time travel nonsense somehow actually makes more sense than anything else I’d thought of.”

“I dread to imagine what that could mean.”

“Well,” she grins, “feel free to share your guesses.”

Chapter Text

The long ride to Corellia seems to pass all too quickly. Despite Obi-Wan’s extensive memories of endless hours spent in the depths of space whiling away time between his latest postings, this trip seems almost absurdly quick. For one thing, Mace clearly takes this opportunity to start picking Obi-Wan’s brains for any and all future knowledge he’s willing to reveal. It becomes all too obvious how the man climbed to Master of the Order at such a young age as he elegantly navigates between all the right subjects of Obi-Wan’s memories. He never pries into the private life of anyone in particular, nor does he touch on the raw edges of the clone wars - but that still leaves plenty of room for their wide ranging discussion to eat up the quiet hours of space travel. 

Obi-Wan does let slip that he has now told Padme his secret which earns him pursed lips and a quirked brow until even Mace has to relent that the young queen was half way to figuring it out herself - and he concedes that at least it has been revealed on his terms. After he has reluctantly agreed that Obi-Wan’s decade of knowing and trusting in her probably means it won’t be an issue that she’s in the loop, Mace asks if he’s told anyone else and Obi-Wan… hesitates. 

Technically the correct answer is no. He hasn’t sat anyone down and explained the whole time travel thing excepting one poorly thought out joke. But something pulls him short of mentioning Anakin. It is no secret that Obi-Wan has a strong connection to the child - his many speeches (or “unnecessary threats to leave the order” if you were to ask Qui Gon) have erased any plausible deniability about his feelings. Yet over the last few months Obi-Wan’s quiet visits to the creche - and the occasional excursion he can justify dragging young Ani out for - have not been noted upon at all. 

Not one of the Council members has even made an oblique reference to the so-called Chosen One in his presence since Anakin was admitted to the Order. He spent enough time on that council to know that it has almost certainly come up in any number of their discussions behind closed doors but it hasn’t appeared in any of the council minutes that he’s read. And yet they have let him hold his silence on this matter - though whether that is due to Mace’s meddling or not is unclear. 

Still, that peace between them feels almost sacred - a kindness in the Council’s ignorance which has allowed the time traveller to build his new relationship with Anakin far from prying eyes. Their first go around was always overshadowed by his master’s death and all the perils of being so young to take on a padawan. 

Mace’s question hung in the air between them but Obi-Wan just couldn’t find it in himself to share the way Anakin had looked at him. That knowing, easy confidence in which his padawan had understood that Obi-Wan was displaced from time itself. He’d tried to edge around that conversation once Feemor and Anani had left them in the hangar but Anakin didn’t bring it up again, it was like a total non-event to the boy. The sky is blue, womprats are annoying, and Obi-Wan is from the future. 

And so the Knight moved the conversation on, turning Mace’s attentions to matters of state and politics that he is still not caught up on for this era. That topic lasted them all the way until the mangy, unkempt ship docks on Corellia’s dusky red surface came into view. 

Mace had happily relinquished control of the piloting to Obi-Wan as they had entered atmosphere, claiming he was never that keen on flying anyway. Honestly Obi-Wan suspected it was more of a tactic to take measure of how advanced his piloting is for his supposed age. He acquiesces to the silent test easily. After all, landing in a port full of spice runners, smugglers and general miscreants is about as low pressure as it gets for his usual metric of success. No one has even shot a single blaster at them as he comes in for landing. 

Mace does peer over his shoulder as Obi-Wan starts inputting the directions to land, his nose wrinkling slightly at the sight of the ancient shipyards that sprawl below them. Belches of steam and smog rise up from the industrial warehouses and factories which litter the land. 

“Interesting taste in locale, you have here Obi-Wan,” he observes drily. 

“Well I wouldn’t want to be accused of being a poor travel companion.”

“Of course not,” Mace stares with barely disguised repulsion at Obi-Wan’s intended landing port. “And may I presume that this is a particularly reputable shipyard we’re heading for?”

Said shipyard is steadily coming into focus as their ship’s engines groan against gravity. It’s a slow enough process that the two of them can get a hearty look at how masses of unmarked crates and barrels litter the tiny port Obi-Wan has picked out. From his own time he remembered the proprietor as nothing less than spice-shilling scum who would rather shoot an ally in cold blood than lose a single credit. He is a uniquely distasteful man and truly the only redeeming feature Obi-Wan ever found in him was how much he hated snitching to authorities. 

It is by no means the most compelling argument to employ his services over anyone else's, but Obi-Wan also does not particularly wish to explain how he knows that the proprietor is also particularly susceptible to a stray Force suggestion when used carefully. Despite his strategic silence Mace’s expression betrays one or two of his suspicions which Obi-Wan duly ignores. 

The ship lands with no real issue which is enough of a small miracle he decides to throw in a few extra credits with his bribe to the shipyard’s proprietor as they exit his ship. 

In turn, the man does his best impression of a particularly nasty rancor, an intimidation that is laughably inefficient against two master jedi, but he does accept the bribe without any further questions and sets about his work of setting up his usual security measures for the ship’s under his care that do not wish to be noticed. 

Dutifully Mace doesn’t interrupt as Obi-Wan conducts this particular business, but a genuine sense of fascination seems to radiate out from him as he bears witness to a side of the time traveller he has never really seen. Although Obi-Wan really does do his best to stay as scrupulous as possible - there is a point where he must admit he is actually rather good at this kind of flirtation with the criminal underworld. He’d developed plenty of unsavoury skills during his time on Tatooine, but he can’t forget the many years of missions that had him dipping his toe in the shadows of planets just like this. 

He almost wants to regale Mace with a story or two of his time undercover as Rako Hardeen, and the curious skills he’d needed to acquire to pass off as a bounty hunter of that calibre, but one look at the Master of the Order has him rethinking that plan. Ah well. He’s sure there will be time a plenty for him to really start regretting letting Mace tag along on this little mission with him. 

Already he finds himself guiding Mace away from the unmarked crates that both of them can very clearly tell are filled to the brim with highly illicit substances. Tempting as it might be to make a quick arrest here and call the day a success, Obi-Wan is far too well versed in the comings and goings of places like this to not assume that there would be another schmuck in this man’s place by the time sun sets tomorrow. 

The two Jedi move out from the shipyard, deeper into Coronet City, the capital of the planet and the true heart of the local criminal underworld. At Obi-Wan’s request Mace had abandoned his Jedi robes back on the ship and the two of them have donned more local garb that allows them to blend in with the rough and tumble crowd that swells around them. Obi-Wan had made sure they would arrive under the cover of night but it seems the denizens of Coronet City missed the memo that night is a time for rest. 

A steady flow of people push against the Jedi, each being rushing back and forth with purpose in their strides - business to attend to at all hours of the night it seems. Obi-Wan and Mace keep up a silent connection between them. No words spoken for any stray ears to overhear, but a steady pulse towards one another in the Force is enough of a reassurance that they won’t be separated easily. They drift in and out of one another’s radius as they walk separately in an effort to appear even less conspicuous. 

Most of the time it is Obi-Wan setting the lead as he draws ever closer to his arranged rendezvous point with Jango, but on one of the rare occasions where Mace is bringing up the forefront Obi-Wan is treated to the delightful sight of a child attempting to pickpocket the Master of the Jedi Order. 

He watches with undisguised curiosity as Mace’s hand snaps out to catch the child’s arm before she can pull away. The child, a young twi'lek girl gasps in surprise, her lekku flicking out in anxiety. Mace’s face twitches, a hundred complicated emotions flashing across it before he settles on a kind smile and drops to his knee beside the child. The girl hesitates when he releases her arm, unsure whether to run or not. He speaks to her, too quietly for Obi-Wan to hear from where he is, and all at once the girl’s trepidation turns to interest. Mace shifts, reaching into his pocket which she’d just tried to steal from and pulls out a small handful of credits. Carefully, so that no one else can see if they weren’t so focused as Obi-Wan, he pours the credits into her hands, urging her to hide them away. 

The girl beams at what to her is a small fortune, nods at something else Mace says and then darts back out into the crowd - disappearing in a matter of seconds. Mace stands, brushes off the dirt and grime he managed to acquire in the last minute, and throws a quick look towards his fellow Jedi before returning back to their trek. 

And so they carry on for a while longer, the two of them heading deeper and deeper into Coronet until the rushing crowds start to peel away and it is only the stray individual who is left hurrying between increasingly deserted streets. Obi-Wan pulls back until he is aligned with Mace once more, opting for safety in numbers rather than discretion about their alliance. 

“Is it much farther?” Mace asks after they have been walking for quite some time. 

“No,” Obi-Wan says, double checking the coordinates that Jango had sent him right before landing. Just enough time to set up whatever perimeter the bounty hunter wants without letting Obi-Wan arrive early enough to scope out the location. A strategically sound decision on Jango’s behalf but moderately infuriating for the Jedi. 

“Well your ‘friend’ certainly has interesting taste,” Mace continues staring balefully at their dingy surroundings. Obi-Wan has no clever rebuttal to that and simply huffs in amusement at Mace’s talent for understatement. 

They pull to a stop right outside what looks to be an abandoned hangar. Massive transparisteel windows arc up above them, though they’re so covered in grime Obi-Wan can’t see much more than a few vague shapes looming inside. He walks up to one of the much smaller service entrance doors and holds his fist out poised to knock. Before he can do so he turns his gaze back to Mace.

“Please leave the talking to me.”

His lips twitch into a hint of a smile, “But of course.”

“Really, I need you to let me handle this,” Obi-Wan hesitates, and continues far more sheepishly “and as usual please pretend none of this has happened when we get back.”

Mace raises one impeccably judgemental eyebrow which Obi-Wan can only interpret as a sharp “get on with it”. Ah well. Kriff it. 

Obi-Wan knocks on the metal door, a terrible echo resounds through the hangar. He cringes at the noise though no doubt that was Jango’s intention from the beginning. Sure enough a few seconds later an all too familiar voice rings out from inside.  

“Enter.”

Obi-Wan swallows a million memories of a million men who shared an identical voice but held a million histories all of their own. He enters. 

“Mister Fett,” he calls out, his voice ringing out clear and true, “Thank you for meeting with me.”

From the shadows steps the bounty hunter himself. Obi-Wan can’t help but blink in surprise at seeing him looking so young. It wasn’t until right at the end of the war that Kamino was struggling to produce more clones without Jango’s DNA and the troops had just kept getting younger as the years dragged on. The bounty hunter before him now is nearly a decade younger than the man he remembered for their brief meeting on Kamino and then his untimely end on Geonosis. 

Jango appears none the wiser to the swirl of thoughts entering Obi-Wan’s mind, his expression sharp but open. To him there is no history - no reason to suspect that he is talking to a Jedi who knows he is the blueprint for an entire army. There is also no hint of recognition between either of the men with him. Mace is treating Jango as little more than an idle point of interest, no awareness at all of the way he had once decapitated the bounty hunter mid battle. 

“You’ve got a job for me?” Jango asks, throwing Mace only a quick glance before honing back in on Obi-Wan as the arbiter for his employment. 

“I do,” Obi-Wan steps forth to close a little more of the space between them. Jango definitely specialised in long distance and Obi-Wan does not want him to feel like a quick shot at either Jedi is a viable strategy. For the sake of civilised conversation he wants them all to be on as equal footing as he can manage. 

“I was interested in hiring you for some intelligence gathering.”

Jango inclines his head and motions for Obi-Wan to go on. 

“You would need to be posted in Hutt space for quite some time.”

“That’s not exactly going to be a problem for me,” Jango notes drily. 

“Excellent,” he says, “And how would you feel about doing some reconnaissance on the Hutt’s trading routes?”

The first hint of surprise crosses Jango’s features. “You’re going after their trade?”

“Not particularly,” Obi-Wan dismisses vaguely, “I’m scouting out some possibilities.”

Jango lets out a low whistle, but seems more impressed by his boldness than put out by the assignment itself. “Any business in particular? The Hutts like to dabble in many economic pursuits.”

Obi-Wan carefully avoids making any eye contact with Mace at all when he next speaks. “I’m after their slave trade.”

If Jango’s eyebrows could climb any higher they’d surely get lost in his hairline. “You can’t be serious.”

“I can.”

Jango looks between the two Jedi with mounting suspicion, his trigger finger twitching just slightly which Obi-Wan dutifully pretends not to notice. 

“This a test of some kind?” Jango asks, his eyes now darting around the warehouse - ready for an ambush. 

“Only a test of your ability to complete the job I’m trying to give you.”

“And why me, huh? Plenty of other bounty hunters out in the galaxy.”

True enough. In fact there would probably be plenty of bounty hunters out there that Obi-Wan would be able to pull into a job like this with no trouble at all. The problem is that he wants Jango Fett as busy as possible and out of the way of Sidious’ reach as soon as he can manage. 

“Because you’re meant to be good at your job,” he pulls as much cocky arrogance as he can manage into his voice as he speaks, “and I was told you didn’t ask too many questions.”

“That’s how I used to roll,” Jango admits with an easy shrug - but at least seems inclined to think Obi-Wan isn’t currently setting him up for total failure, “But I’ve got a kid now. I’m exercising a little discretion with my work these days.”

Blast. He hadn’t factored Boba’s existence into this negotiation at all. A simple mistake but one that might cost him this entire opportunity if he’s not careful. Of course without the accelerated ageing process Boba would only be a year or two old. An infant is not exactly a great incentive for a bounty hunter to be posted out on a multi week expedition charting the trading routes of the Hutt Cartel’s most dangerous business. 

“I’m not asking you to take them head on,” he tries. 

“Good.” Jango huffs, “But I still want to know why you’ve gone to all the trouble of shaking down old clients of mine to get my details. Why me.”

Kriff.

Obi-Wan drops the posturing, no point pretending he’s just an overzealous, overconfident asshole looking to get himself in deep shit against the Hutts. 

“Because I’m looking to go after Tyranus and you are my best bet. The Hutts are a means, not an end.”

Jango blanches. “I don’t know a Tyranus.”

“Of course you do,” Obi-Wan corrects politely, “He is the man who recruited you to be the template of an army produced on the planet of Kamino.”

Behind him Obi-Wan can feel a pulse of shock from Mace but he cannot risk turning to check his expression. Regardless, Jango wouldn’t have noticed if he gave anything away anyway because the bounty hunter is far too busy staring daggers into Obi-Wan’s very soul. 

“Who told you that.”

“A contact of Tyranus’.”

That’s actually as close to truth as he can manage right now. There’s no convenient way to tell Jango that he himself discussed getting hired by Dooku eight years from now. Something must twinge with the bounty hunter though because all at once his expression narrows in suspicion. 

“You’re Jetti?” Jango sneers, his mandalorian accent hissing out with the accusation.

“I am,” Obi-Wan says and quietly hopes that Mace will not take offence to the careful exclusion. If Jango decides to get violent then a spare Jedi he wasn’t expecting would be quite helpful. And, he has to admit, he is still wary of throwing this version of Mace Windu into a fight he might not be ready for. As strong a man as he might be he just isn’t hardened by the clone wars in the ways Obi-Wan keeps expecting. 

However, Jango doesn’t go right for an attack. Instead he stands, poised for action but not initiating anything until he knows more. 

“What does a Jetti need with a bounty hunter?”

“To chart out the Hutt’s trade routes,” Obi-Wan repeats. His new strategy is to just keep treating this like a typical business interaction and hope that he can lull Jango back into the mindset where this is simply another job and there’s nothing that out of the ordinary about it. 

“And Tyranus? Isn’t he one of your Jedi? Ask him your questions yourself.”

“He is not affiliated with the Jedi. He was working under the employ of a larger target that I am pursuing.”

From behind him Obi-Wan can feel Mace’s frustration at his own inability to contribute to this discussion radiating off him. Honestly all Obi-Wan can do is be thankful that he is keeping to the deal of staying silent, no matter how much of an interrogation he surely has waiting for him when they reach the ship again. 

“I haven’t had any further contact with him,” Jango warns, “Saw him once on the moons of Bogden when he got me to join and then I’ve been based on Kamino which I assume you already know.”

Obi-Wan nods, “I did. One of our Jedi recently made contact with the Kaminoans.”

“I heard.” Jango’s voice comes out low, a threatening growl hidden behind his own facade of politeness, “I’m just lucky my son and I were off planet then. It seems to have led me to this particular meeting.”

“How fortunate indeed.”

Jango’s lips twitch almost involuntarily - he’s clearly amused by Obi-Wan’s blatant disregard for protocol. 

“So this job,” Jango continues, “You really just need the trade routes?”

“Yes.”

“And this isn’t you using me as bait for this Tyranus guy?”

“Oh no,” he dismisses easily, “Tyranus is being dealt with. He has no interest in pursuing you at all.”

Frankly Obi-Wan suspects that Dooku hasn’t had a single thought about Jango Fett since Obi-Wan came in and ruined his fall to the Dark side. Behind him he hears Mace make a choked off noise of surprise that has Jango’s attention slip to him for a second. Miraculously Mace’s response seems to convince the bounty hunter that Obi-Wan must be telling the truth because he lets his hand finally drop away from his blaster. 

“I don’t come cheap,” Jango says sternly, “And I expect half payment up front.”

“But you’ll take the job?”

“Yes. If you expect me to engage with any of the Hutts themselves I expect double.”

“Done.” 

Jango blinks. “You know my usual cost?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re willing to double it?”

“Well I’m not expecting you to engage, but this is a risky endeavour and I’m rather familiar with plans taking a detour from initial intent. So I have the funds needed should our intentions divert.”

“You’re a strange man, Jedi.”

“So people keep telling me.”

That earns him another half quirked smile. “Very well. I accept your terms.”

Obi-Wan swallows his surprise and delves into the specifics of the contract: how much detail he’s expecting, which ports he needs access points for and which planets have the highest traffic. Jango asks a handful of clarifying questions but seems to have moved beyond his initial suspicions enough to start laying out his strategies. Obi-Wan offers a few suggestions based on his previous experience and hands off a couple of leads that might be fruitful. Then all too soon Jango is pulling his helmet back over his head and slipping out of the hangar into the darkness of Corellia, now substantially richer in credits. 

Eventually he can’t put it off any longer and Obi-Wan turns back to face Mace who is standing by the door, hip cocked and arms folded as he levels the Knight with an expectant gaze. 

“I imagine you have questions,” Obi-Wan begins.

“Oh one or two,” he grumbles, “Should we start with Tyranus?”

“He’s not a threat.”

Mace gapes at him, “Did I not hear you correctly? Is Tyranus not the sith Feemor was informed of on Kamino? The sith who ordered an entire army of men by posing as a Jedi?”

“Ah. Well yes he did do that,” Obi-Wan’s nose scrunches in displeasure, “Not ideal but I was rather too late to stop it.”

“So it was a sith. And he is no longer a threat?”

Before Mace’s mounting horror can expound any further as he surely keeps jumping to his own conclusions, Obi-Wan sighs. “I did not kill him, Mace.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for thinking it plausible after how you ‘dealt with’ the last sith you encountered.”

“Maul’s death is unfortunate but I assure you had I left him be he would stop at no end to take down the Jedi. His hatred of us was personal, and volatile, and far too violent.” Obi-Wan manages to avoid thinking too hard about the mechanical nightmare of a life Maul had carved out for himself after Obi-Wan had first thought he’d killed him. 

For the record, it’s not like he goes out of his way to murder his enemies. If he has an alternate route available to him then that is surely the one he will take. With Dooku Obi-Wan had been certain there would be a way to reason with the man, but Maul was always far too filled with genuine rage and quite frankly Obi-Wan is not in the business of deluding himself if he can help it. 

“Mace,” he continues, “Tyranus has never been a fully committed sith. Sidious was testing him and challenging his loyalties with tasks like this. I have spoken to him myself and told him that I knew which path he was heading down - I offered him an alternative and he took it.”

His friend squints, a thoughtful expression crossing his face but at least the deep suspicion seems to be clearing up. Before he can talk himself into any further worries Obi-Wan jumps in again. 

“I swear to you Mace, I am keeping an eye on Tyranus and am offering him what help I can - and I am certain that he has been making strides further and further from the dark with every passing day.”

Whether it is the urgent sincerity in Obi-Wan’s voice, or the conviction in his eyes, or something else entirely, Mace seems to come to a moment of realisation. He wars with himself visibly for a few more seconds. Obi-Wan braces himself for whatever challenge Mace may have to share but the man swallows down his comments and Obi-Wan is left with a new certainty that this conversation is not wholly over. But for now the two of them can move on. 

Chapter Text

Immediately after meeting with Jango, the two Jedi retire back to their ship. Neither one feeling particularly keen to leave it unattended on a planet like Corellia. Mace remains silent during their walk back, his face pinched in careful consideration which Obi-Wan quietly leaves him to.

Once they board Mace is quick to bid him a quiet good night, promptly retiring to his quarters, the door hissing shut behind him. Were it not for the slow continuous pulse of his Force signature from behind the walls, Obi-Wan would almost think himself wholly alone on the ship.

In an effort to respect Mace’s obvious wish for privacy Obi-Wan sets about on some of his other minor projects. With a steaming hot cup of caff from the ship’s small kitchenette in one hand and the highly secured terminal before him, it takes almost no time at all to link the ship’s computer to the Corellian holo-net to start digging through any and every open network he can slice his way into.

Initial findings come back largely as expected: a series of spice running routes, ledgers of illegal weapons shipments and a very convenient posting of favoured drop off locations by Lady Proxima’s workforce. Data streams before him in a steady flow of information ranging all the way from mildly harmless misdemeanours to the kind of insurrectionist plotting that in another life he would have been handing a medal for even catching wind of, let alone actually stopping it. Soon enough he even comes across what looks to be a heavily spliced into forum of buyers and sellers offering some truly eye watering volumes of coaxium which Obi-Wan is duly impressed by.

After some further digging though he finally hits upon his intended target: a series of local ore mines and interplanetary factory owner communiques. Corellia has plenty of history as a convenient trade port for the exact type of large bulk orders that can get hidden within the constant flow of ships coming in and out of the local yards here.

It wasn’t until a handful of weeks ago that Obi-Wan had even thought to start looking for supply routes for the raw materials needed to build an entire droid army. Back in the Clone Wars the separatists' mechanical army seemed to be a neigh endless supply - for every shipment they blocked, the Seps had a dozen more routes ready to go through enemy territory.  

But the separatists don’t exist now. The Republic is safe, and whole and without Palpatine in the chancellor’s seat there are substantially less official routes that the droid army’s supply chain could possibly be coming through. So. Corellia.

Sure enough Obi-Wan finds a few shipment reports and cargo accounts that just don’t quite match up. A couple of shipping companies in particular seem to be the most frequent perpetrators of these faulty accounts - which he dutifully notes down on his own carefully encrypted datapad. It’s hard to get a confirmation for the exact contents of their shipments from shoddy reports and mislabelled documents alone but at least this gives him a starting point to further his own investigations.

Not to mention that some of these names are listed as being frequent suppliers to outer rim planets heavily sequestered in Hutt territory. He starts up a second document that he can shoot off to Quinlan when the man starts his own outer rim investigations. A few of the listings that he can pull from Corellia’s ledgers are added alongside whichever companies he can recall as being heavily involved in the Separatists supply routes from his previous life. Though back then, he was a bit busy playing High General to even be sent the detailed minutiae of Sep’s supply routes which he is only now starting to begrudge.

A few other names of note belong to a couple of notorious pirates that operate in these parts. Some of them were significant war profiteers during his past, and others still that were making their fortunes in the burgeoning empire - at least the handful who passed through Tatooine’s ports whose names Obi-Wan can recognise.

His list is getting rather extensive and Obi-Wan is starting to think he’s making quite the headway with his little investigation before his comm pings with an incoming message that pulls him from the very depth of an encrypted resource management ledger that he’d spliced into nearly half an hour ago and is yet to make either heads or tails from. Peeling his eyes away from the pad and blinking back the light spots he’s gained from staring at the screen too long, Obi-Wan reads the words sent to him by one Qui-Gon Jinn:

Obi-Wan Kenobi. Explain yourself.

Hmm. Interesting.

Hello Master, he writes back, What can I help you with?

Why is Master Dooku in the sales?

Ah. Obi-Wan does some quick calculations regarding his interstellar travel times, Corellian solar cycles and Coruscanti local time which would just about add up to now being around the usual time that he meets with Count Dooku for his makashi lessons. Which would of course make this the time that he told Qui-Gon to go to his usual training room with the vague promise that something would be happening that he should know about. Admittedly, Obi-Wan was half convinced that his master just wouldn’t go - because there is no way he hadn’t put together the time and location with Obi-Wan’s usual lessons. But apparently he’s there now, so Obi-Wan elects to believe means at least some part of him wants this to work.

Deciding to just do away with any form of subterfuge for once, Obi-Wan answers as bluntly as possible.

He is there to help teach you makashi. The form is surprisingly adaptable to one handed combat.

Obi-Wan. I am not learning to saber fight from my own teacher just because you think I need a hobby.

I never said you needed a hobby.

You just wanted me to leave my rooms.

Briefly Obi-Wan cannot help but recall how many versions of this exact conversation they had had over the years of Obi-Wan’s own apprenticeship. Or, in fact, the many variants he had gone through during Anakin’s teenage years. Memories of Anakin’s surly pout at the mere suggestion of having to learn something new surface in his mind. Obi-Wan particularly recalls his protege’s favourite habit to avoid engaging with anything nearly so scary as participation, and finds himself newly suspicious of his old master’s message.

Master, he hopes his admonishing tone is clear through the text. Are you currently messaging me rather than just talking to Count Dooku?

There is a damning silence from the other end of the comm. Obi-Wan grins.

You cannot seriously both just be standing there not talking to each other.

Qui-Gon’s response comes uncharacteristically slowly.

He is not exactly a verbose man.

Who does he think he’s fooling?

Master Jinn. You are an adult. So is he. You need something to do and he agreed to help. Aren’t you always telling me to take advantage of the gifts offered to us by others in life? Perhaps the Force wants you to take up your saber again.

Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon’s exasperation can be most closely measured by the sheer volume of times he mentions Obi-Wan’s name per conversation and the Knight imagines that they are going to get rather close to something of a record. You cannot attribute all of your meddling to the Force.

Very well. Then I will take credit for my own meddling - and as my teacher you will surely indulge me, your favourite student, and participate in the opportunity I specifically made for you.

There was a time, in quite literally another life, where Obi-Wan would have shied away from making any jokes about being Qui-Gon’s favourite student - where poking and prodding at their bond had felt almost sacrosanct. As though the connection between them could ever be so frail as to fall apart if he were to subject it to the barest scrutiny.

It was something he never really had time to grow out of, not when his apprenticeship was cut short with a bleeding red saber through Qui-Gon’s chest and a thousand words unspoken between them. But he had been there for Anakin’s growth into a Jedi he’d been so very proud of; he had truly become a master to his own padawan. As much as the final days of Anakin’s life have left Obi-Wan with nothing but raw edges and burning embers that cloud his memories - he is not willing to let go of the countless memories he has of both Anakin and Ahsoka. His own students - his own lineage that carried Qui-Gon’s teachings on.

There had been times, sitting around campfires on damp or dusty or deserted planets across the galaxy where the three of them would gather after yet another battle. The clones would be chattering and cheering in the background as three Jedi would eek out what joy they could from one another’s company. He can remember the grin pulling at Anakin’s face as he would loudly declare himself Obi-Wan’s favourite student - as if he had ever had any competition. In turn, Ahsoka would wheedle at him until he admitted she was his own favourite.

It had stunned him the first time those two had thrown around such affection with all the vigour of youth and absolute certainty in the places they each occupied in each other’s hearts. Soon enough Obi-Wan had learnt to tease and joke about his pride for the pair, both too young to have ever been in the position that Sidious had forced them - but a position he was thankful for every time he got to witness his lineage all together under the stars.

Now, in this second chance he has been gifted, Obi-Wan cannot help but wish to bring just a little of that levity to his own master and grandmaster. Their apprenticeship had troubles that he has never been granted insight to - it has always operated as something of a mystery as to how the master that Obi-Wan remembered so fondly had been taught by his enemy. A betrayer of the Jedi and servant to the Sith.

Yet here and now Obi-Wan has come to learn of Count Dooku’s temperance in a way wholly unlike the terse enmity they’d shared during the war. Here Dooku’s wit is sharp but amused. His words cutting, but constructive; and all in service of pushing Obi-Wan towards successes and new heights he’d never had the ambition to imagine for himself. Even Qui-Gon who had been a martyr of the Jedi’s negligence, whose death had sparked the end of life as Obi-Wan had known it - now he has had the chance to live a life outside of his time as Obi-Wan’s master. He is untethered to a student and from what Obi-Wan has gleaned, he has taken this chance to reach out to the living force itself, travelling through star systems across the galaxy in search of answers and all the hidden truths that fuel him.

It is a miracle that Obi-Wan often must remind himself of, that the Daughter chose him for this monumental task. And somehow, against all odds, this has inexplicably led him to sitting across the universe urging his master to talk to his own teacher and not hide behind his comms like a nervous teenager.

Qui-Gon’s response to his last message eventually comes through and something in Obi-Wan twinges as he reads between the lines.

Of course I am proud of you Obi-Wan, no matter your meddling. Thank you for arranging this.

Admittedly… Obi-Wan knows that joking about favouritism and teasing about their relationship is not something he does often. He knows that. And yet something he doesn't want to acknowledge in his heart seems to twist at the lack of Qui-Gon’s recognition of their relationship. It’s not exactly like he has a lot of competition for being Qui-Gon's favourite student.

Still, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a grown man. He doesn’t need Qui-Gon Jinn to agree with his silly teasing, not when he is perfectly confident that his master cares for him just as he cared for Anakin. It is nigh impossible not to feel Qui-Gon’s affections when they are together, his pride radiates almost embarrassingly clearly through the Force whenever they meet again. It just might be nice to have it acknowledged out loud every so often.

He sends back a vague thanks and tells Qui-Gon to stop messaging him so he can spar with Dooku which seems to be enough to end the conversation. He really does hope that his master and grandmaster will take the chance to actually engage with one another but there is little monitoring he can do from halfway across the gallery.

Thankfully, he doesn’t actually have to wait long at all for an entirely different Coruscanti based item on his ever growing agenda to make itself known. While he can’t exactly ensure that his master is socialising right now, he can at least answer the incoming hail from Bail Organa that starts to ping his comm.

After a worryingly long time the call finally connects as the line opens up to reveal an awfully shaky image of Bail Organa. The hologram flickers, even more unstable than usual, its soft blue light illuminates his cramped bunk. Bail appears to be seated at his desk in the senate, his small office out of sight of the holocam but Obi-Wan can still recognise the constant mountain of datapads stacked on his desk which have made their way into the call.

Bail himself is looking a bit worse for wear as he pushes the datapads away and focuses on Obi-Wan before him. It’s hard to tell in the monochrome blue wash of the call but Obi-Wan is certain that there are heavy shadows under the senator’s eyes, exhaustion practically radiating off of him.

“Hello,” Obi-Wan offers with a small smile, “You look terrible.”

Bail’s lips twitch, “Hello to you too my friend. I see you are very much still a charmer.”

“But of course. Now what can I do for you Bail?”

From across the galaxy, Bail’s exhale sounds almost unbearably weary as he blinks into the holorecorder. “If I may be blunt? There’s unrest in the Senate, Obi-Wan… and I just don’t know what to do about it at all.”
 
Worry worms its way through the time traveller. “Unrest in what way?”

“There’s talk of a separatist movement growing.”

Well. Kriff.

Obi-Wan emulates surprise as best he can, hoping the wavy form of the hologram will hide the rush of dread that is already rising up within him. Bail at least seems to buy it and nods wearily in confirmation.

“It’s a shock to us all,” he says, “But I do believe it is true. Do you know Senator Mothma? She is quite certain that these separatists were trying to gauge whether Chandrilla would be willing to join; she told them she would think on it to keep them off her back. But, oh, Obi-Wan. What a mess.”

“What has possibly prompted this?” Obi-Wan wonders outloud, “Chancellor Valorum is stepping down in a mere two months. The election may be soon, but there’s plenty of time for these separatists to have elected a spokesperson should they need one.”

Infuriatingly enough, Obi-Wan is in fact genuinely shocked that the timeline seems to have moved forward so damn much. None of this was what he had predicted and he is particularly irked that he cannot pinpoint how or why his meddling has pushed forth the dissolution of the Republic so drastically.

Last time Dooku had spent nearly a decade as Sidious’s apprentice, largely operating from the shadows while he built the separatist movement slowly, pulling star systems from the Republic one at a time with deliberate care. It had been maddening to watch unfold over the years as the senate, and its chancellor, seemed to do nothing productive at all to stop it. The Jedi and the citizens of the Republic had watched in mounting horror as the democracy they’d all known for the last millenia had disintegrated in front of their eyes before war had even broken out.

“The election may be soon,” Bail says, oblivious to Obi-Wan’s train of thoughts, “But there was unrest in the senate before Valorum left for Naboo; it never truly went away. My colleagues were willing to vote him out months ago Obi-Wan. You and Padme may have bought us more time but Valorum’s cabinet has been on the precipice’s edge for far too long.”

“Very well,” he agrees, more than aware that he’d been picking up on hints of this displeasure during his own posting as Valorum’s guard for some time. Though Obi-Wan has been rather preoccupied with other priorities and hadn’t thought the separatist movement would be needing his attention for another few years at the very least. “Who are these Senators then? The ones that want to break apart from the Republic?”

“I don’t know all of them,” Bail admits, “But Mon found out who their new leader is, and you’re not going to like it.”

Even through the grainy holo call Obi-Wan can feel the weight of Bail’s gaze on him, both men intimately aware of the only plausible culprit for this uprising.

“Surprise me.”

“Senator Palpatine.”

“I’m shocked,” Obi-Wan deadpans, which at least earns him another tired grin from his friend.

“Thought you might be.”

“Did Senator Mothma learn anything else about their platform? What can the Senator of Naboo possibly offer them when his own planet’s queen surely hasn’t agreed to this move?”

“Oh Padme is getting my next call do not worry. She’s apparently been locked in another hearing with her advisors for the last few hours about the missing relief funds. Though her handmaidens assure me she will call back as soon as she is available.” Bail runs his hands through his hair, stress radiating from him, “From what I understand Senator Palpatine has not technically made any promises himself.”

Oh wonderful. How Obi-Wan just loves Sidious’s penchant for technicalities.

“Ah yes. I am sure he is being very subtle,” in the back of his mind, Obi-Wan makes yet another note to follow up on whatever vague promises and bargains Palpatine has been spreading to his followers while his hands are still tied by being a mere Senator and not the Chancellor.

They fling loose suggestions back and forth for a few more minutes, each speculating on what Palpatine could be offering all these senators to dissolve the Republic. Eventually just to distract them both Obi-Wan pivots the conversation around to Bail himself. Prodding at him to get some more sleep and asking after his wife and planet as per usual. But even the famed Negotiator himself eventually runs out of enough smalltalk to distract him, which means that it isn’t too long before Bail turns the tables right back onto him.

“And you?” Bail asks, “How goes your ‘vacation’?”

Obi-Wan pointedly ignores the implicit quotation marks in Bail’s question, instead answering with a crooked smile of his own. “Surprisingly good. Barring a few hiccups and a few more credits than I personally would have preferred, I do now have a new business associate to assist us on that extracurricular project you and Padme have in the works.”

To his surprise Bail does not seem particularly excited by this update - despite his prior fascination when Obi-Wan revealed his preferred strategy for this mission was to simply hire a bounty hunter. Now though the senator cringes, regret flashing in the blue holo light. Obi-Wan stares at Bail. Bail stares back. Obi-Wan stares harder.

“Bail. What is it?”

“Nothing!”

Obi-Wan doesn’t blink. The senator folds immediately.

With a heavy slump of his shoulders Bail groans into his hands, “It really isn’t anything to do with you. Nothing to do with the whole plan, honestly… it has much more to do with the fact I’ve just recalled the whole new problem I’ve had to worry about lately.”

“Oh?”

“I had promised Knight Vos that I would be able to get away for a few days to join him once he’d left for the outer rim. He seemed very insistent that if I am intending to draft bills for the sake of an entire population of lifeforms that had never elected me, then I ought to at the very least meet some so I know what I’m talking about.”

Honestly that seems a rather good idea to Obi-Wan. Though he has no doubt in Bail’s ability to care for any life in the abstract, he admittedly is not particularly prone to leaving the core worlds very often. A little hands on experience could do the man some good. And Bail himself seems to be of a similar mind, which makes the regret in his voice all the more surprising.

“Which I do agree with,” he stresses hastily, “But with these new separatists cropping up, Breha, Mon, Padme and even, if you can believe it, Count Dooku have all approached me insisting I run for chancellor.”

As soon as the words are said Obi-Wan can feel his lips tugging up into an absolutely beaming smile at the mere thought of Chancellor Organa.

Bail, on the other hand, catches the grin before it can manifest and points directly into the holorecorder. “You stop that, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I have not agreed to run.”

“Oh Bail,” Obi-Wan says delightedly, “They’re absolutely right though! You would be a wonderful candidate.”

“Not you too,” he groans, “Obi-Wan I do not know the first thing about running a galaxy. There are plenty more qualified senators available for the job.”

“But will they run?” Obi-Wan presses, “Or will every one of those noble senators who have half a chance of doing right by this galaxy all decide to sit back and trust in someone else taking up the torch? Because you know damn well where that would leave us, my friend. No one of value will step forward to use this power for any measure of good when they know they will have to compete with everyone else who wants to seize it for themselves.”

Bail levels him with a stare that Obi-Wan cannot help but read as begrudging agreement. The man has been in the world of politics for too long not to know the truth of the Jedi’s words. It is a problem that has plagued all sentient life across every planet and every star system throughout all of space and time. It would honestly be more impressive if Bail had managed to delude himself into thinking that the galactic senate of all places was somehow the one exception to this rule.

Far too many of the Jedi’s extraplanetary missions seem to revolve around settling conflicts caused by the exact type of power hungry, overly ambitious individuals that Obi-Wan fears will step forth for the role of Chancellor.

Almost certainly Sidious will try to make another play for the part, but he would not put it past the sith to have a handful of back up candidates that he can puppet in his place. Regardless, without a strong leader like Bail to take up the mantle after Valorum, Obi-Wan is certain that any stability the Republic is currently witnessing will vanish before their very eyes.

Bail seems to follow his train of thought effortlessly which at least tells Obi-Wan that his friend is aware of the scope of this problem. Most likely Bail has already made a gut decision and is simply hesitant to accept the mantle and all it will entail. Unfortunately for him, Obi-Wan has enough motivation to get this man into office for the both of them.

He spends a few minutes lulling Bail into distraction by discussing some of the alternative candidates who have cropped up as the election has neared. It takes very little effort really to prod at Bail until the man can build up his own reasoning for why he would not actually prefer for any one of his potential opponents to take the role.

Mon Mothma has always toed the line of conservatism - which she apparently does to keep her opponents amenable to her suggestions - but that does not paint her as a strong enough candidate for change in the wake of Finneas Valorum. And Aang Roona may have the ambition and motivation to bring radical reformation to the senate if not for his abysmal skills in public speaking. Other names are floated and dismissed just as easily until Obi-Wan lets himself slip into a pointed silence that even Bail’s best deflection techniques can’t ignore.

The senator lets out a hefty sigh as he blinks into the holo recorder. “You’re going to make me run for Chancellor, aren’t you Obi-Wan.”

“No,” he says, “I would never make you do such a thing.”

“Kriff.” Bail groans, “I’m going to make me run for chancellor. Aren’t I?”

“Unfortunately,” Obi-Wan says with a smile, “I think you might.”

“Well kark it all,” Bail curses, his own lips curled in faint amusement, “If I am going to be doing this I suppose I have quite some work ahead of me.”

“If it helps, I truly could not think of a better man for the job.”

“I’ll hold you to that my friend.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Obi-Wan offers.

“What you should expect,” Bail counters, immediately back to business now that his resolve has settled with the enticing promise of a plan of attack, “Is that if I am to do this properly, I will not have the time I expected to help in our - what did you call them? - extracurricular ventures.”

Damn. Obi-Wan will  have to find a way to manage but he must admit he’d been expecting a bit more backing from Bail’s corner to make sure that any information Jango or Quinlan found in their outer rim ventures could be reconfigured into something a little more senate appropriate. Padme quite simply will not have the time as the reigning queen of an entire planet - not to mention the fact that while she is a not insignificant political figure - she is also distinctly not a member of the galactic senate yet.

He is wary to bring in yet another member to this haphazard gathering of theirs but frankly without someone to filter information through Bail’s standing as a senator their little team will struggle to bring any meaningful reforms through the galactic centre. Bail, brilliant man that he is, notes the issue just as quickly as Obi-Wan - though he seems to carry significantly less despair than the poor Jedi.

“Don’t you worry Obi-Wan, I have a contact who will be more than capable of rendezvousing with Knight Vos and your new bounty hunter.”

At that Obi-Wan cannot help the sceptical arch of his brows, “A contact?”

“Let’s say she has quite the personal motivation for ensuring our mission is a success.”

Obi-Wan wracks his brain for any residual memories of Bail’s prior career. Yet nothing stands out to him in particular regarding anti-hutt sympathisers that Bail worked with. Plenty of senators had made various statements on the topic and plenty of Bail’s political allies had produced rather moving speeches that generally amounted to “we’ll have to get to that after the war” - but no one individual he can recall was ever notable amongst his peers.

Obi-Wan cocks his head to the side, his implicit question drawing a sharp bark of laughter from his friend across the stars.

“Oh Obi-Wan, for how much you talk about the boy I didn’t think you’d forget his own mother quite so easily.” Understanding clicks into place right as Bail beams at him, “Shmi sends her regards.”

-


After their call concludes and Bail wheedles Obi-Wan’s location from him with an alarming mention that Shmi was already on her way and would be landing in the middle of Corellia in a handful of hours, without any backup except what he is apparently just assumed to provide, Obi-Wan has to leave his room in a huff.

Evidently Bail has decided that the best way to get Obi-Wan to do what he wants is to just spring a plan on him already midway through its execution. And somehow that has translated to Obi-Wan having to hunt through his clothing for an appropriate disguise so he can trudge through the city unexpectedly to go meet Shmi when her ship lands.

It’s something of a surprise when his quick exit is interrupted by a throat clearing from the ship’s entryway. Mace is dressed in a surprisingly subtle set of robes that can pass well enough for streetwear if no one looks too closely, his saber clipped to his belt looking for all the world ready to head back out into the city.

“I was wondering when you would be making your next great escape,” he comments idly, clearly taking in Obi-Wan’s unusual attire and readiness, “Shall we be off then?”

He turns on his heel and marches out of the ship without waiting for a response which leaves the Knight little choice but to trail after him. Obi-Wan hurries his steps to catch up with his companion until they fall in line together. Mace dutifully ignores the suspicious glances Obi-Wan makes no secret of throwing his way. Eventually he caves under Mace’s famous ability to hold his own taciturn silence for as long as needed.

“For the record,” Obi-Wan comments as the pair swerve around a mysterious puddle of unidentifiable sludge that takes up half the road they are currently wandering down, “I was not intending to just disappear off into the night.”

Mace’s silence is irritatingly expressive and Obi-Wan has to suppress the urge to groan theatrically like his young body clearly wants to.

“If you must know, I am meeting a contact. And I would have told you where I was going,” he risks a glance at the other man’s stoic face, “I was just under the assumption you were… enjoying some solitude.”

Finally Mace’s gaze turns towards Obi-Wan, an unreadable expression crossing his face. “For such a prodigal Jedi, Master Kenobi, you are impressively oblivious on certain matters.”

Obi-Wan’s steps stutter in time with his voice as he scrambles to reply. “What are y-? in what way-? I am not oblivious.”

“Of course not,” Mace agrees far too easily.

The urge to groan like a disgruntled padawan grows stronger. “Master Windu.”

“Master Kenobi.”

“You believe me oblivious?” he does his very best not to let any faint traces of hurt colour his tone, but he would be lying to himself if there isn’t a twinge of betrayal in his heart at Mace’s dismissal.

Irritatingly perceptive as always, Mace seems to pick up on his discomfort all too easily. The man appears genuinely surprised at whatever he has read on Obi-Wan’s face. “I certainly hope you don’t believe I think ill of you Obi-Wan. You have a burden upon your shoulders that I would not wish on anyone and, despite the many headaches you personally cause me, you are doing a wonderful job at bringing change to the galaxy. There is light spearing through shadows that have clouded our vision for so long we have forgotten to look for it. And I am certain you are in the midst of ushering forth yet more growth into existence.

“It is perfectly natural that there are going to be elements that escape your notice,” his voice softens into a kind of fondness Obi-Wan almost can’t bear to hear even after a year of being back in a time where he gets the gift of hearing his friends speak once more, “Allow me my fun on this will you Obi-Wan? It is rare these days that I seem to have a secret of my own - and I can assure you that it is not a secret I shall hold close for long.”

Whatever suspicions Obi-Wan still wants to harbour, he does allow the conversation to drop. Mace has spoken to him many times of learning to let others in to help him in his mission to stop Sidious so he is unsurprised that he elected not to retread old ground now. But he cannot help suspect that whatever Mace has picked up is some other dangling thread in the tapestry of Sidious’s games and the Master of the Order has chosen to hoard this opportunity to contribute to Obi-Wan’s crusade.

It is a bizarrely charming mix of wildly inconvenient and deeply considerate.

“Very well,” Obi-Wan concedes. “You can have your fun.”

“Thank you,” Mace says drily, “For the permission.”

Obi-Wan huffs in amusement as they continue on their path. Considering their late arrival, the meeting with Jango and the time it took to call Bail, it was already nearing dawn when they’d left their ship so by the time the two of them start in towards the inner city shafts of golden light are piercing the dark haze of Coronet. Arguably neither of them have had a moment’s rest that evening, but the space lag has made sure that neither Jedi is even remotely operating on Corellian day-night cycles. Unlike the local denizens who are blearily shuffling through the streets around them, both Obi-Wan and Mace are wide awake and highly alert.

“And who might we be meeting now?” Mace asks when Obi-Wan’s holo-map starts pointing him towards one of the few reputable shipyards in the inner city.

“A… friend of Bail’s.”

Frankly Obi-Wan himself doesn’t have any idea how to categorise Shmi. When he had freed her from Watto back on Tatooine nearly a full year ago, she had been wary of him at first. A strange Jedi appearing at her doorstep promising a kind of freedom she had lost hope for. And then he had employed a bounty hunter to steal her out from under Watto’s nose until all of a sudden Shmi Skywalker was a free woman on her way to Alderaan to be rehomed under the care of Bail.

When they had parted ways she had called Obi-Wan a friend and he had been so very grateful for her kindness towards him. But he has hardly had a spare moment to leave Coruscant since that day, and he has most certainly not made it all the way out to Alderaan. All of which means that aside from sparse updates and a few well-meaning messages passed on through Bail, Obi-Wan has not seen the mother of his padawan since they parted ways on a planet halfway across the galaxy from here.

“Hm,” his companion muses to himself, “Very specific.”

Obi-Wan scoffs, “Very well. If you must pry: she is a companion of Bail’s who I met some time ago, and to my understanding she is here to help out with all of the things I said in front of Jango Fett which you agreed never happened.”

His flustered defence is met with the same quiet amusement he has come to expect from the Jedi Master the longer this little trip of theirs has gone on. It’s as though with each new act Obi-Wan takes, the more Mace has come to view his subterfuges, sneakery, and mild criminal conspiracy as a delightful performance. As far as he’s concerned he’s got front row seats to Obi-Wan’s attempts to reshape the galaxy, and apparently that particular act is much funnier than he’d expected.

“I am excited to meet your co-conspirator,” Mace declares, side eyeing Obi-Wan’s frustrated huff with smug humour, “I can only hope she is half as secretive as you. This meeting is already so clandestine, I cannot wait to see how you two will top it.”

“Oh you are insufferable,” Obi-Wan grumbles.

“Thank you Master Kenobi,” Mace grins, his teeth flashing white as his smile stretches ever wider.

Apparently as payback for the full year of Obi-Wan dancing around half-truths and vague promises, Mace Windu has decided to exact his revenge by poking fun at any and all of Obi-Wan’s attempts at subtlety.

The pair return to silence when they come upon the shipyard that Bail had directed him to. It is still quite early in the morning so local crowds haven’t poured out into the yard for work yet, which means there is plenty of space for the two Jedi. They promptly locate the nearest darkened alcove off to the side and settle in to wait.

Aside from a few notable figures alighting off some rather expensive looking starships that Obi-Wan vaguely recognises as some core-world celebrity couple, not much happens as the two Jedi stand patiently. Honestly if they were in nearly any other landing dock in the city they would almost certainly at least be able to witness an illicit drug deal, perhaps some coaxium smugglers or some interplanetary pirates dropping anchor here. Instead, they’re treated to actual security guards doing the rounds, and a reputable yardmaster taking careful note of his charges.

If he weren’t so sure of the look he’d get from his companion, Obi-Wan would almost want to curse Bail for picking such a reputable locale. It’s almost like he doesn’t know that Obi-Wan is trying to track the passage of illicit goods through unlawful trading ports through the midrim.

Thankfully, before Obi-Wan can dig himself any deeper in Mace’s good graces, they each catch sight of a small, well cared for, Alderaanian freighter coming in to land. Even from here Obi-Wan can almost imagine that he can feel Shmi’s subtle but steady pulse in the Force drawing ever nearer.

While she is of course nowhere near the level of her son, Shmi’s Force signature is one of the most stable, most balanced, presences he has ever encountered. He reaches out for her almost unconsciously as her ship hisses and whirs when it enters atmosphere so far above them - and is met with that same unshakable beat echoing out into the Force.

Despite it all - Mace’s unexpected presence, Palpatine’s grab for power, the rise of the Separatists all over again - Obi-Wan lets out a small sigh of relief when her ship lands without a hitch, the portside door whistling open to reveal Shmi Skywalker, alive and well.

Immediately he moves forward to greet her and is treated to the full strength of her gaze snapping towards him. The very moment their eyes meet Shmi sends Obi-Wan a beaming smile which he cannot help but return in kind. She offers him a quick wave then shuffles back inside to scoop up her belongings.

Beside him Mace groans, which is surprising enough that Obi-Wan turns away from Shmi’s departure to peer at the Jedi who is currently rubbing at his temple.

“Kenobi,” Mace sighs, “Your ability to attract shatterpoints around you is unconscionable.”

Ah.

Obi-Wan glances back to Shmi as she adjusts the bag hiked up over her shoulders before making her way across the shipyard to them. Shmi Skywalker descends from her ship, head held high, looking healthier and all the more comfortable in her own skin than Obi-Wan ever saw her. Even squinting through the Force Obi-Wan cannot make out anything that sets her apart from any other lifeform around them - though it certainly stands to reason that the mother of the Chosen One, on a mission from the potential future Chancellor of the Republic - might just be covered in physical manifestations of consequences. At the very least, Mace does manage to wrangle his expression back under control before Shmi arrives at their little alcove.

“Obi-Wan,” she calls out as she nears, “It’s been too long.”

“Hello Shmi,” he says, reaching to help her with her bags which she swiftly moves out of his way so she can instead pull him into a hug. He laughs in surprise and embraces her, “How are you?”

“Oh you know,” she pulls back, “Some senator hired me a few months back, so work hasn’t been too bad.”

Obi-Wan beams at her teasing, “Bail hired you?”

She doesn’t even bother to hide the pride in her voice as she squares her shoulders, chin tilted high. “You’re looking at the deputy chief mechanic of the Alderaanian Royal Family.”

Obi-Wan gasps in delight. He had hoped that freeing Shmi from Tatooine and the confines of slavery would be enough to set her up on a better path for life - but even he never dreamed of her achieving this much so quickly. For her to go from suffering under Watto’s cruelty to moving up in the ranks of Bail and Breha’s own staff is a victory unlike anything else. He can’t help but sweep her up into another embrace, pride and joy radiating off of him so much he can only hope that she can pick up on it in its fullness.

He sets her back onto her feet, already taking in the increase of firm muscle she has built over the year of no doubt working incredibly hard for the House of Organa. Obi-Wan has some old memories of Breha once giving him a tour through her ancestral home and the fleet of starships stored in the royal hangar had been more than enough to occupy his wayward apprentice’s attention for the whole week they had been stationed on Alderaan. If Anakin at age twelve could adore that fleet so fervently, Obi-Wan can only hope his mother has enjoyed working there half as much as her son.

“Oh Shmi, you’ll have to tell me all about it,” Obi-Wan says, “But first, I should introduce you to my friend here. This is Mace Windu.”

“Hello,” Shmi says, smiling brightly at Mace. “Lovely to meet you.”

She sticks her hand out to shake - a manoeuvre perfectly common on Tatooine but one that is rarely offered to Jedi in the core worlds. Mace smoothly covers any surprise from the gesture, and accepts the hand with ease.

“The pleasure is mine.”

Shmi’s eyes crinkle as she looks him over “Ah another Jedi, aren’t you? You make the third I’ve met now.”

If he is surprised to be clocked so easily by someone who clearly favours outer-rim formalities and carries a strong enough accent to rule her out from most core or mid worlds, he does not show it. Shmi carries on, unabashed by her admittance that she is one of few individuals who have met even a single Jedi out in the galaxy.

“Shmi Skywalker at your service, Master Jedi.”

Mace’s pleasant smile freezes. “Skywalker?”

Ah. Kriff.

Almost imperceptibly, Shmi too begins to tense up. No doubt she is perfectly aware that Mace is only just realising she is the mother of Anakin Skywalker - a fun fact Obi-Wan completely forgot to warn his companion about.

Mace’s eyes flick to Obi-Wan’s for just a second, an unspoken lecture conveyed in a singular heartbeat before he turns back to Shmi.

“Hm. I suppose I can deduce for myself the other Jedi you met. Qui-Gon had much praise for your kindness in assisting him when he and Obi-Wan here were stranded on your planet.” He hesitates for just a moment, “Obi-Wan neglected to mention we would be meeting the parent of one of our new initiates.”

Shmi takes Mace’s elegant diversion with a tight smile, “Well I’m sure he has been plenty busy here. I am afraid Senator Organa did not warn me that Knight Kenobi would be accompanied either.”

“Perfectly understandable. I wasn’t exactly meant to be on the itinerary for this particular trip.”

Obi-Wan watches their back and forth with keen interest.

Shmi at least seems more at ease that Mace knows who she is and evidently isn’t here to yell at her for having contact with a Jedi, nor is he apparently mad about the whole “dismantling the Hutt cartel” agenda for this little mission of theirs. Choosing not to look a gift-rancor in the mouth Obi-Wan suggests they depart from the shipyard and find somewhere half decent in this city to get something to eat.

His companions don’t put up much of a fuss about that, so he starts leading them towards a hole in the wall restaurant he hopes will be operating this year. He recalls it being surprisingly nice and had a great selection of outer-rim recipes that Shmi will hopefully like - assuming the owners have left that gang by now.

While they walk Shmi regales them both with the story of how she had struck up a conversation with Bail when he’d been transporting the recently freed slaves Obi-Wan had passed onto him last year. She’d told him about her work at Watto’s shop and how she’d helped teach Ani everything she knew about robotics to help him build C3P0 at home. In fact, Obi-Wan distinctly remembers her dragging that half built protocol droid onto his ship right before they’d left Tatooine altogether and she had assured him that the droid would be good as new as soon as she got her hands on some proper tools.

Bail had apparently been quite impressed by her mechanical prowess and offered her an apprenticeship under the employ of the Organa family on the spot. Of course, Shmi tells them, she had said yes immediately. Most of what she’d learnt had been cobbled together from listening in to her customers and putting together whatever spare parts Watto thought he could resell if she could just get the motor running again.

So the promise of immediate employment in an area she’s actually qualified in was nothing short of miraculous to Shmi. She tells the story with a kind of humbleness that reflects how much her old life had discouraged her from standing out from the crowd - and yet the fact she tells it at all is a testament to what an accomplishment she has truly made.

Even if he were to assume that Bail hired her as an act of generosity more than from particular faith in her abilities, Obi-Wan certainly doesn’t miss the fact she has made it all the way from an apprentice to deputy chief mechanic in so short a time. As someone who helped raise a prodigy mechanic in another life, Obi-Wan has no doubt that Anakin’s mother must be nigh on a genius herself to fly through the ranks like that. With actual resources and dedicated teachers on her side it is no wonder that a woman who educated herself enough to teach her son to build a functioning pod racer on his own, would excel in an environment that actually accommodated her.

Considering just how many occasions Obi-Wan has dragged Ani down to the hangar lately when he has a spare moment, he finds that he is well primed to keep up with at least half of the mechanical aspects Shmi drops into conversation as they walk. It is an endearingly familiar routine to repeat, where a Skywalker with stars in their eyes talks his ear off about engines, ships and power with such passion he can’t help but do his best to trail in their wake, doing his very best to keep up.

It is a delightful solace when he meets Mace’s eyes over Shmi’s smaller frame and sees even less comprehension in the man’s face than his own. That said, Mace does ask a few questions when he can and does his very best to understand what in the galaxy this woman is talking about.

Eventually they turn enough corners until Obi-Wan is delighted to find that old restaurant which is in fact operable, and also brand new, apparently. He takes in the spotless door that doesn’t have even a single blaster scorch mark on it. And the fresh paint job which shows not a single drop of blood. Mace and Shmi make approving noises at his apparently sophisticated taste in establishments and head inside without waiting for him to search for that crack in the wall which was acquired when one particularly rowdy pirate had his face acquainted with the bricks by an even rowdier companion.

The three of them settle into a small corner booth, out of earshot from the two other early morning workers who seem more focused on their caff than on literally anything else happening on the planet around them.

“So,” Shmi says when her own cup of caff is set before her by an overworked waitress who leaves again without saying a single word, “The Hutts.”

Obi-Wan and Mace both tense at her cavalier attitude. She takes this reaction in with a huff of amusement.

“You two must know it’s not like they get summoned if anyone dares mention them?”

“Of course not,” Mace says placatingly, “Rather we are just cautious because…”

“Because they own people?” she cuts in easily “Yes. I am familiar.”

Mace winces even though she doesn’t sound accusing or upset. Instead she smiles softly at him, grief and acceptance wrapped up in equal mix behind the expression.

“Gardulla may have owned me most recently,” she says unabashedly, “But I have been through many star systems in the possession of many who trade people as product. Mention of the Hutts is no taboo topic, Jedi.”

She takes a sip of her drink, hands cradled tight around the mug. “If, as Bail has assured me, the intent is to dismantle their whole operation - you’ll need to know how the common people think and feel. The only way they can exist is through the fear their name alone can elicit.”

“And what do you suggest?” Mace asks.

“First, we will have to prove this strategy works. Mass liberation will take time, but for any slave to have faith in your ability to help you must have proof that you have no intention to take us from one terrible situation into another.”

The Jedi hum agreeably, well aware that they are now firmly in Shmi’s area of expertise. Even Obi-Wan who has lived alongside the Hutt slavery on Tatooine for a few years himself, cannot know the intricacies of the experience the way Shmi certainly does. She looks to him.

“I took Master Jinn at his word as a Jedi who could save my son. I trusted in you, Obi-Wan, because without Ani to protect anymore, I was willing to risk myself if it would give me the chance to live a better life that would help him feel safer - no matter where he may be in the galaxy.”

“And the others?” Obi-Wan can’t help but ask. He does remember the way the other ex slaves had been trepidatious towards him when he’d offered them passage on his ship to Alderaan, but Shmi had stuck by his side the entire time, doing a wonderful job of reassuring his passengers.

“They saw me,” she says simply, “You removed a bomb from my skull, Obi-Wan, and yet I still stood there and told them you were true.”

The sheer confidence in her voice alone is enough to convince Obi-Wan that this little team will have to be incredibly strategic with just what order they go about setting these people free - only for all of those thoughts to be entirely disrupted by Mace’s hiss of surprise.

“He removed a bomb from your skull?”

Shmi blinks at him, “Well I didn’t particularly want it to stay in.”

Mace turns back to Obi-Wan, his mouth still dropped open. The knight shrugs.

“I didn’t particularly want to leave it in there either.”

“Have you ever done that before?”

“Of course not.”

“You thought you would experiment? Just try it out? On a living person?”

Frankly Obi-Wan isn’t sure he’s ever heard Mace’s voice hit this particular pitch of incredulity and is somewhat fascinated to see just how far it can go.

“I asked Master Che how to do it first,” he defends weakly, which only seems to make Mace drop his head into his hands in defeat.

“Vokara knew you were planning this?” he mutters into his hands.

“Not exactly. But she was very helpful nonetheless.”

“Kenobi, you are going to give me an ulcer.”

Obi-Wan trades looks with Shmi who appears remarkably nonplussed to find out that he had conducted a minor operation on her with minimal medical instruction. She gives Mace a few minutes to massage his temples and bemoan Obi-Wan Kenobi’s mere existence before getting back to business.

“Now, if we’re quite done,” she sets her finished caff back down, visibly steeling herself, “I propose that I meet with this bounty hunter of yours Obi-Wan. Senator Organa has offered additional compensation if I may accompany him on his first forays into Hutt territory.”

“Shmi…” Obi-Wan says, “are you quite sure? This is dangerous work and we won’t be able to protect you-”

“I understand perfectly well. But the truth is that you need someone who knows what this system is like from the inside if you want to earn anyone’s trust at all.”

Sensing the worry roiling off both Jedi in waves, Shmi offers them another small, sad smile. “I promise I am not looking for any extra danger. This is a risk someone needs to take. I have been fortunate for the last year of my life and all the gifts both you and Senator Organa have offered me. But I have a duty to everyone I left behind. If I can live like this then they can too - I have to believe that.”

“Very well,” Mace concedes. “But I insist you let us be present during the introduction. If you feel at all uncomfortable we can come up with a new strategy.”

“Excellent,” she says and turns to Obi-Wan “Would you like to contact your bounty hunter?”

“He is not my bounty hunter,” he grumbles but pulls out his comm to start typing out a message anyway.

Chapter Text

Jango seems none too pleased to be summoned back for another meeting but does acquiesce after Obi-Wan offers him even more credits from his slowly dwindling supply. He’s half compelled to see if Shmi will distract Mace for long enough for Obi-Wan to hit some of the less reputable game tables out there and earn back a little extra spending money.

Unfortunately Jango requests a meet up later that evening which leaves Obi-Wan and his companions a few hours to kill in Corellia. The spacelag hits them around midday so Mace and Obi-Wan take some well earned naps while Shmi sets off to try and hunt down a few spare parts for some project she has going on back on Alderaan. Obi-Wan awakes first and takes the time to try and trace a few more of the shipping routes he’d dug up the day before. There are some promising leads for potential droid army supply routes which he sends off to one of his contacts back on Coruscant to check in on for him.

He’s finally feeling like he’s getting somewhere when he slices into an old database from a freighter that got decommissioned a few months ago. The files he can dig up, at least the ones that haven't been too corrupted, tell him that the ship had been making regular and frequent stops in Corellia to drop and resupply multiple batches of the exact same shipments. Coaxium makes a frequent, if small, appearance - presumably someone’s way of keeping Lady Proxima and her gang out of their business. In return Obi-Wan can see stacks of mineral ore that he knows for a fact were integral to the operation of droidekas computing systems back in the beginning of the Clone Wars.

All signs point to this decommissioned freighter being one of the old suppliers for the building of the Separatist army. Frankly, Obi-Wan is a little miffed that the freighter is out of action because in an ideal world he would love to place a couple of tracers in its systems - maybe see where it’s flight paths intersect, or which stops it frequented most. Of course that data has all been lost, flight plans moved or erased as they went, presumably to stop people like Obi-Wan doing this exact thing.

In a desperate bid he tries slicing into at least its final destination and is genuinely surprised to see he’s not the first one to do so. Its subtle, the type of thing he would have easily missed a few months ago if he hadn’t specifically been learning how to catch slips ups like this - but someone else has traced this ship’s passage before, and if he’s reading this correctly, they were the one to shut its programming down and corrupt its data.

It’s not exactly elegant work, more utilitarian than delicate in any way. The person who hacked this ship’s computer wasn’t looking to hide their passage too well, not when they intended to burn it down after. Obi-Wan spends a few more minutes poking around at the digital path this person had carved and can see the traces of someone very familiar with starpaths, someone who knew what they were looking for. There’s a few security walls in the data that were clearly blasted right through with brute force until this person could confirm the ship’s intended destination.

Following in those footsteps it is easy enough for Obi-Wan to recover the scraped data until he is looking right at an awfully familiar set of coordinates. He looks at the name in front of him and duly tries to suppress the headache he can already feel coming his way. Honestly he hadn’t put that much thought into what he was hoping to find. There are so many planets across the galaxy that could have significance in any number of ways that even he isn’t arrogant enough to assume his future-knowledge would be able to reliably point him in the right direction.

But the Force certainly seems to have a sense of humour because the planet listed in wavering, glitched text before his eyes is none other than Geonosis. Perhaps to anyone else this really would be mere coincidence, but to someone who has unauthorised access to the Jedi Council’s codes and mission reports from all Jedi sent on interplanetary missions - well, then that person may just recognise the location of one Master Qui-gon Jinn’s last posted mission.

It doesn’t take him long at all to recognise the signs of his Master’s presence skating through other suppliers that he’s been tracing. There’s a few Jedi Council approved master codes that pop up now that he’s looking for them, and also a handful of the exact same slicing techniques that Obi-Wan was explicitly told not to reveal he knew to any other Jedi back when he was a padawan himself. Qui-Gon had always skirted around explaining just how he knew how to slice into databases but it was certainly a skill Obi-Wan had come to appreciate over the years.

He downloads what he can onto his own pad before doing a final, more thorough wipe of the system so that no one else can trace back the presence of either Jedi. Still. It looks like Obi-Wan can look forward to interrogating his master whenever he makes it back to Coruscant in the future.

-

Once Obi-Wan has packed away his datapads, and encrypted it all to the high hells, he wanders out to wait for Shmi’s return and Mace’s eventual awakening. It really is a novelty to see Mace so willing to sleep for the recommended number of hours. The two of them had been united during the war in their mission to get as much done as remotely possible. As Master of the Order and High General of the Army, Mace Windu and Obi-Wan Kenobi were lucky to parse out a few consecutive hours of sleep between them. Even the other Council members who had more than enough responsibility on their plates, had taken the time more than once to try and host an intervention for the pair of them.

It hadn’t worked of course, but it was still a very sweet gesture.

Now though Obi-Wan is treated to the sight of Mace groggily emerging from his bunk midway through a yawn. He grins at the man and offers up the cup of caff he’d started brewing as soon as he heard the sounds of the other man detangling himself from a mess of blankets. Mace hums some sort of thanks and cups the drink to his chest, peaceably waiting for Shmi with Obi-Wan.

She too emerges soon enough, her bag ladened down with spare wires and core processors and a few batteries amongst a bundle of mess that Obi-Wan doesn’t even bother trying to identify.

He slides another cup her way when she seats herself beside him, which she too draws in close to her chest now that she’s out of the afternoon chill.

“How soon before we can meet?” She asks, reaching past him to the small platter of breads he’d laid out earlier.

“Jango says he’ll message when he messages,” he answers with a shrug.

“Helpful,” Mace mutters.

Honestly it’s not like Obi-Wan has much of anything else to compare his behaviour to, so this may well be perfectly usual for the man. Aside from one rain drenched fight and a quick beheading, Obi-Wan had very few opportunities to interact with the bounty hunter. So he keeps his thoughts to himself and lets Shmi talk him through her most recent project of refitting one of Breha’s CR70 Corvette starships which he thankfully can follow at least eighty percent of because Anakin had once had nearly the exact same thought with an old Temple CR56. Of course Anakin had been fifteen and trying to hide his “repairs” so when an unsuspecting Jedi had borrowed it from the hangar they had been quick to discover that his padawan neglected to reattach the rear power thrusters.

Shmi’s story ends with less Jedi jumping out of a moving - or falling - vehicle, so he thinks she is winning the competition for Skywalkers Allowed Near Any Starship. It’s a very informal competition, but he is certain he’ll be keeping a close eye on that tally in the next few years.

Some time later Obi-Wan receives a ping and an invitation to a whole new abandoned looking warehouse that the trio trudge off to once night begins to fall. At least this time Jango seems to have done away with the heavier theatrics because the man himself is waiting for them just outside. He’s leaned up against the doorframe, green beskar glinting intimidatingly below the street lights that dimly illuminate the industrial district they've found themselves in. Jango’s intentionally cool posing is interrupted for the briefest of moments where he clearly catches sight of Shmi, sandwiched closely between the two Jedi.

“Who’s this?”

“Mister Fett, please meet Madam Skywalker,” Obi-Wan introduces with all the perfectly formulated politeness he can muster. It has proved a surprisingly effective strategy in the past, where if he couches everything in enough pleases and thank you’s then most people will usually let him get away with saying just about anything.

Unfortunately Jango seems to possess more than the bare minimum intelligence needed to live and so he doesn’t let the Knight get away with that.

“Who. Is. This.”

Shmi, apparently tired of Obi-Wan’s very respectable attempts to verbally navigate this engagement, huffs. She pushes away from the two Jedi who both tense in anticipation, and instead marches right up to renowned bounty hunter Jango Fett where she sticks out her hand.

“My name is Shmi. I used to live on Tatooine.”

Jango’s eyebrows raise, though whether that is more about her bold introduction, her outer-rim accent or the obvious implications about Tatooine, isn’t clear. Fett eyes her for a few more seconds which she patiently puts up with, hand still offered. His lips curl in the corner and with a nod he takes her hand, shaking it firmly and letting her go. She throws the Jedi a glance that could not more clearly say “see? I told you so?” if she’d tried.

That’s probably what Obi-Wan gets from trying to carefully manage the mother of a nine year old Force-sensitive who used to work for a toydarian of all beings. He surrenders control of the situation with a small showing of hands - something he is certain Jango doesn’t miss as the man’s eyes dart between Shmi and the Jedi.

Mace seems to have decided his role in these proceedings is to stand a few feet behind Obi-Wan and silently brood. It is quite an impressive intimidation factor, even when the man is sans Jedi-robes. Instead he’s taken on the garb of some of the larger enforcer thugs they’d seen around town. Or at least as close to the look as the Jedi could scrounge up in their scant few free hours planet-side.

Jango gives Mace a cursory look over before visibly deciding that Obi-Wan and Shmi are to be his primary points of contact here which is exactly what he was hoping for.

Shmi, delightfully indifferent to all this posturing as she is, ignores it all.

“Mister Fett,” she says, “I am working with Obi-Wan here. He has hired you to investigate the Hutts as I understand it?”

She waits patiently for Jango to nod in confirmation.

“Excellent. I would like to pay you a fair price for the ability to accompany you on your mission.”

Even Jango can’t hide his scoff of surprise. Shmi remains nonplussed.

“You can’t be serious,” he eventually settles on, “You want to go back there?”

“I want to free people.”

“This ain’t going to be some walk in the park, lady.”

“I am more than aware, Mister Fett. I would still like to go.”

Jango’s head shakes in utter disbelief. He throws Obi-Wan a nigh incredulous look.

“And you want to pay me more for her to come with?”

“Oh no. She’s decided to pay her way. She can leave whenever she would like and you can negotiate your own terms with her. Our deal stands regardless of her presence.”

Frankly, Obi-Wan would be more than happy to leverage the considerable sum he’d promised Jango as an incentive for the man to keep Shmi safe and well, but she had insisted she conduct this business on her own terms.

Jango turns back to her, “I’m not planning to get mixed up in anything that needs close proximity.”

“Perfect. I would certainly prefer not to die from some unnecessary squabble with the locals,” an easy sweep of her hand waves his concerns away, “I just need to get close enough to see for myself.”

“You ain’t coming on my ship.”

“Of course not. I have my own.”

“And if you break down I’m not fixin’ it.”

“Obviously not. I’m a mechanic.”

“You can feed yourself?”

“Definitely.”

“You got a blaster?”

“Not currently. Do I need one?”

“Probably. I’ll teach you to shoot if you know how to fix my hyperdrive.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s making a whining noise on every third boot up.”

“Your motivator is probably loose. You’ll just need to reset it in place.”

Jango gives a thoughtful hum before sticking his hand out again, waiting till Shmi clasps it so he can announce “Deal.”

Shmi offers him a slight smile then draws back to Obi-Wan’s side, apparently satisfied with her wonderfully succinct negotiations. Obi-Wan notices that Jango is apparently far less concerned with hashing out his payment arrangements from Shmi than he was with the Jedi, which might actually be a point in his favour.

They trade comm codes so they can stay in contact and then Jango announces he’s heading back to Kamino tomorrow to check in on his son. He promises Shmi he’ll tell her when he’s ready to head out to the Outer Rim and that they can arrange a meeting place that will suit them both later.

With one final, considering look at Obi-Wan Fett activates his jetpack and takes off into the sky. Shmi watches him go with mild fascination - though that might be directed more towards the equipment than the man himself.

When her gaze falls back to Corellia she turns to the two men with a satisfied expression, “Well that was rather easy. You two seemed awfully nervous for such a kind man.”

“Right,” Obi-Wan says faintly, “So kind.”

Shmi must take this for all the agreement she needs as she promptly turns to Mace to ask him if he saw the restaurant a few streets back that was still open, and whether he’d like to join her in seeing if it is any good.

-

The last few days they have left on Corellia seem to pass all too quickly. Once negotiations with Jango are all sorted, there is little left to do other than cave to the insistence of both Shmi and Mace when they tell Obi-Wan to take an actual break for once in his life. Reluctantly he sets aside the majority of his communications with his private investigators back on Coruscant, as well as his semi frequent check-ins on if Dooku and Qui-Gon have killed each other or not.

Neither of his companions think to take his datapad from him, so he does manage to track down at least four other shipping freighters that have been making regular stops at Geonosis, two of which he manages to place tracers into their systems when Shmi is busy teaching Mace about the local Tatooine industry of moisture farming.

Not that he would admit it to either of them, but Obi-Wan finds himself increasingly grateful for their insistence that he take some time to actually relax. After all, since the very first moment he awoke back in time, Obi-Wan has been acutely aware of the steadily incoming doom.

Grateful as he may be for this second life, there is no galaxy in which he ever forgets the feeling of a thousand Jedi screaming out in chorus as their worlds are ripped apart from underneath them in one fell swoop. Sidious’s poison has infiltrated his life in a million different ways, none of which he can let lie as long as he draws breath. But even he can admit that he has been flagging lately. Too many nights out in the city, long saber lessons that leave his body aching, and all the more responsibilities tying into his daily life as an active Knight of the Jedi. Even finding time to spend with Anakin is hard enough these days, let alone to actually rest or recuperate.

So unlikely as it may be, he finds his foray into the heart of Corellia as nothing short of calming. He actually mentions this to Mace in passing as they make their way to yet another exotic restaurant that Shmi had somehow found out about, to which Mace could do nothing more than blankly inform Obi-Wan that he was probably the first living being to ever say that. Apparently the crime-riddled streets of Coronet, the constant gang activity and dozens of illegal smuggling rings are what most people consider “intimidating”. Or even “disruptive”.

Well. He’s never claimed to come back in time as a particularly normal man.

Soon though, all three of them have to admit to themselves that they each have plenty of responsibilities back home that they cannot continue to neglect. Shmi parts from the Jedi with all of her usual grace, a sincere promise that she will keep them both updated on her travels with Jango and that she will decidedly keep her distance from any threat that would cause Obi-Wan to start going grey even in a body that is barely in its twenties.

Then all that is left is for Mace and Obi-Wan to start their own journey back to Coruscant. Once again they pass the trip in companionable conversation - though Obi-Wan does find himself having to dodge a few of the more pointed questions about just where he learnt to trounce his opponents at sabbacc quite so easily. Letting Mace and Shmi catch sight of him gambling in one of the seedier dens he could worm his way into was not necessarily his smartest idea - but at least those handful of games earned him a pretty impressive payout that has made up plenty for Jango’s fees.

Whilst the rest of the trip passes with relative ease, as the brightly glimmering hint of Coruscant starts to grow beyond their ship’s viewport, Obi-Wan cannot help but note the way his own chest seems to be tightening under the pressure of some undefined dread that keeps twinging at the very edge of his subconscious. The two Jedi finally arrive back planetside late one evening where they both get the unusual experience of both being wholly surprised: after all, neither of them had expected Master Yoda to be waiting in the hangar bay for their arrival.

“Master Yoda,” Mace calls out when they start to descend the ship’s ramp. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

“See you both, I wanted to,” he replies.

“For something in particular?” Obi-Wan can’t help but ask even as his eyes dart to Mace’s to see if they are both equally as unaware of what the old Jedi is up to.

“Talk about young Skywalker, we must.”

Ah kriff.

Obi-Wan cannot for the life of him figure out how the hells Yoda could possibly have known he was meeting with Shmi and even so - technically he was never forbidden from keeping in touch with Anakin’s mother. There are no specific rules prohibiting Jedi from having contact with the family of any initiate, even if the initiate himself is not exactly expected to be maintaining an active relationship with their birth family. Anakin may be a special case considering his late admittance but there is absolutely no reason Shmi’s involvement in an unsanctioned, non jedi-affiliated mission should have any bearing at all on his place in the Temple.

Before Obi-Wan can spiral any deeper into his thoughts, Mace is quick to take the lead.

“Anakin? Has anything happened to him?”

Right. Yes. That is probably a good question to ask. Obi-Wan should have thought of that. In fact it’s absurd of him not to. He needs to be putting Anakin’s health and safety at the forefront of his mind and he really shouldn’t be so neglectful as to forge-

“Alright, he is,” Yoda assures them easily, “Said something curious, he did. Discuss it, I would like to.”

Oh. Okay. That’s fine. Anakin often says strange things. Obi-Wan was ever so slightly panicking for no reason. But that’s alright. Everything is fine.

“Curious?” He manages to ask aloud, “I know some of the other initiates find that some of the things he learnt on Tatooine to be quite foreign, but I do hope it was nothing that alarmed anyone.”

It would definitely not be ideal if Anakin managed to tell some young initiate about any of the horrors of living in Hutt space, or of Tatooine culture in any way that might upset them. He of course should be welcome to talk about his experiences if he needs to. But maybe Obi-Wan should have sat him down to explain that some of the other children have lived more sheltered lives than him. Maybe someone got upset just because they didn’t understand exactly what he was talking about.

“Not to another child, he spoke of this,” Yoda hums, “To me, he announced his suspicions.”

Suspicions. Oh Force. That could mean anything. Perhaps Obi-Wan is now inching closer to actually panicking. Not that he usually does. However Anakin has said something so concerning that Yoda came all the way out here to intercept both himself and Mace which probably means something awful has happened if the Master of the Order is needed already. But also Master Yoda didn’t call ahead so it couldn’t have been that much of an emergency. But that doesn’t mean something terrible isn’t going on right now anyway.

“Knight Kenobi,” Yoda says with the kind of emphasis that usually comes from someone repeating a name multiple times before it's actually noticed, “Panic, you do not need to. Just curious, I am. Helpful, your insight would be.”

“I wasn’t panicking,” he blurts.

Not even Mace does him the service of looking convinced. Rude.

Instead Yoda harrumphs at Obi-Wan and turns tail, starting to hobble back into the temple with the obvious expectation that the other two will follow.

Mace does throw Obi-Wan a questioning look behind Yoda’s back as they walk, clearly trying to figure out if Obi-Wan has any clue what this is actually about but when all he can do is shrug, Mace seems to accept his shared ignorance. Yoda leads the pair all the way to his personal rooms where he immediately sets about making tea. Dooku had recently reminisced on how he missed Yoda’s exotic supply of strange drinks gathered from across the galaxy - apparently throughout his own apprenticeship he’d gained quite the appreciation for Yoda’s extensive palette.

Once the drinks are set before them, steam swirling gently into the air, Yoda sits himself down opposite the younger Jedi and just stares. More than used to this exact kind of behaviour from his time on the Council, Obi-Wan waits patiently. When he’d first joined the Council he’d found Master Yoda’s ability to sit in total silence while he stared into his very soul as somewhat unnerving. He’d often felt out of place amongst his peers: too young to be on the council, only one apprentice freshly knighted as his only experience, and a war launching into full effect right as he suddenly soared up the ranks.

Yoda’s piercing gaze had felt like the Grandmaster too was coming to the same conclusions that Obi-Wan was: that he truly didn’t belong amongst the council. He had spent far too long dodging the old man’s looks, his gaze downcast and unsure. But Obi-Wan had earned his place amongst the Council members - he knows that now. He had won plenty of battles and had grown into his role as High General whether he wanted to or not.

So now, here in the past where he can look back on the war with a clearer mind than ever, Obi-Wan knows he has no reason to shirk Master Yoda’s inquisitive gaze. He has learnt from enough of his mistakes to know he is a peer to both of the Jedi in this room with him.

However that certainty must manifest in his expression, Master Yoda is surprisingly quick to break the solemn quiet. His mouth quirks in amusement.

“Not look back, you used to,” he croaks, “not so nervous around me anymore, you are.”

“I wouldn’t say I was nervous,” Obi-Wan counters easily, “Unsure, perhaps.”

“Hmm,” Yoda grumbles, “Changed, you have.”

Beside him, Mace stiffens almost imperceptibly, his teacup frozen midway to his mouth for the briefest second before he resumes his movement. Obi-Wan shrugs.

“I suppose we all must at some point.”

“Wise, you have become.”

“Thank you, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan says, “But perhaps you would prefer to discuss whatever Anakin mentioned earlier? Has he been having any trouble we should be aware of?”

Yoda accepts Obi-Wan’s diversion with a glimmer of humour, “Indeed. Speaks highly of you, does young Skywalker.”

“Well that’s kind of him,” Obi-Wan says after the three of them sit in silence for a frankly awkward amount of time.

Yoda harrumphs again, apparently having expected Obi-Wan to pick up on some sort of subtext that he truly cannot pick out. Honestly the only saving grace right now is that Mace looks just as confused as he is.

“Happy, he is, that come back, you have.”

Once again Yoda stares at Obi-Wan looking for… something.

The Knight nods slowly, “Well yes, I hardly wanted to stay on Corellia forever, so it is nice to be back at the Temple now.”

“Master Yoda,” Mace says tentatively, “Perhaps you could explain what it was young Skywalker said…”

“Curious he was. So well liked by the Force you are, he wondered.”

Mace scoffs, “Obi-Wan? Well liked? At least we know the boy cannot see shatterpoints.”

Obi-Wan resists the urge to stick his tongue out at the man, mostly because the dawning realisation of just where Yoda is going with this discussion has finally started to settle in. Anakin has only ever really made one remark about how Obi-Wan is supposedly well liked by the Force and that certainly doesn’t bode well for the knowing look in Yoda’s eyes.

Before Obi-Wan can think of any appropriately bantha-shit excuse for whatever Ani must’ve said - Yoda continues.

“Asked me, he did, why you came back.”

“To the Temple?” he asks weakly.

“To this time. Hmm?”

Kriff.

Mace, bastard that he is, chokes on his tea, completely ruining any chance he had of pleading ignorant. Obi-Wan glares at the ceiling while Mace recovers his breath.

“Time?” he squarks when he can breath again, “That is patently ludicrous master Yoda, Skywalker must have been mistaken-”

“Convincing,” Yoda grins, “You are not. Work on that, you should.”

“Master!” Mace protests. Yoda cackles.

“Known long, you must have. To protect Obi-Wan’s secrets so well, as you try to.”

Both Jedi turn to the man in question who is still glaring up at the ceiling as though it will give him any help at all in how to handle this situation. Alternatively, Obi-Wan would even settle for the Daughter herself to appear out of the mists and explain the whole thing to Master Yoda. Because left to his own devices, he imagines that this is about to be a very long conversation.

He sighs, straightens his posture, and finally turns back to the Grandmaster himself.

“Here, you are,” Yoda hums, “No disguises, I see.”

“Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan greets him - this time as a peer. As a master himself. As one man looking at the only other Jedi who was still standing with him at the end of the world.

“Master Kenobi, I assume,” Yoda replies in turn, his head bowing just slightly in a mark of respect that Obi-Wan had almost forgotten.

Mace glances between them both, warily looking past their physical bodies themselves until it is clear he is tracing some notable shifting in the shatterpoints that cling to Obi-Wan like a second skin. Something momentous must be in motion as Mace’s eyes seem to dart back and forth: charting futures and potentials that ravel and twist between the three of them.

Yoda silently waits for Mace to finish, taking the time instead to sip at his own tea and watch Obi-Wan. It is a curious thing to feel so observed by two beings who are looking for such different things. Mace is a million lightyears away as he peers into the Force itself. Yet Yoda could not be more physically present.

Obi-Wan is half convinced that the old Jedi can trace every minute twitch and twinge of Obi-Wan’s body, every secret clue bared raw and open for the Master to chart his history. He imagines battle scars that have never touched this body, all braised and burnt into his very soul until Yoda could surely trace each and every action Obi-Wan had taken in another life.

“Worry, you do,” Yoda announces after some indeterminable stretch of time has passed, “For many things.”

Obi-Wan offers him a weak smile, “You could say that.”

“Earned, your worries are?”

“Yes.”

“Confident, you seem.”

“I am.”

“Hrmm.”

Yoda slips back into quiet as he digests this, even as Mace begins to visibly pull himself back from the shatterpoints. He rubs at his head, eyes squeezed tight against the oncoming migraine Obi-Wan has no doubt just caused him. It’s not much, but Obi-Wan does make sure to push Mace’s own drink towards him in quiet encouragement.

The man blinks his eyes open long enough to cradle the comforting warmth of his cup into his hands before resuming his steady, calming breathing.

“Warned us of darkness coming, you have. From the Daughter, you claimed your knowledge. But experienced it all, you have. Hmm?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Sent you back, she did?”

“Yes, Master.”

Yoda nods like this all makes perfect sense to him, which makes Obi-Wan want to probe deeper into just how long he has been harbouring these suspicions about Obi-Wan’s time travelling. But he doesn’t get the chance to interrogate Yoda as he seems to be on quite the roll himself.

“Defeat the Sith, we must. Know them, you do.”

This one isn’t quite a question but Obi-Wan nods anyway.

“Tell Master Windu, you haven’t.”

“Uh, no Master. The Sith is someone who is involved in… many different avenues of influence. I do not think a direct confrontation will aid us at this point.”

“Hrm.”

Deciphering one of master Yoda’s hums is an art unto itself, and despite years of practice Obi-Wan still can’t quite manage to figure out if his argument has met the Jedi Master’s approval or not. Thankfully, Mace even in this time period has had more than enough exposure to Yoda’s mutterings.

“Master Yoda. Whilst I am not necessarily pleased to be kept in the dark regarding the Sith’s true identity, I do believe that Obi-Wan has been treating his escapades in the present with mostly the due caution one would hope for?”

Obi-Wan’s nose scrunches up. “Mostly?”

An exaggerated eye roll is the only response he earns from Mace before he continues. “Regardless, Obi-Wan has been making great strides it seems. We all know the Dark has been retreating since his return.”

Yoda nods solemnly. Obi-Wan maintains a perfectly straight expression in the hope neither of his companions will notice he is more than aware of Council discussions regarding the Dark lately. It turns out that over the last few months, as Obi-Wan disrupts more of Palpatine’s bids for Chancellor, and as Dooku gets slowly but surely entangled within the Light of the Temple, the Force itself has notably changed. Many of the Council’s recent meetings have dedicated significant room for discussion on this matter - which Obi-Wan has noticed that Mace does not contribute much to, at least according to the meeting minutes Obi-Wan still has access to.

Knowing him, Mace is likely sitting out those discussions in hopes to not draw attention to his knowledge of Obi-Wan’s goings on, but his silence is certainly noticeable amongst the transcripts. Perhaps Obi-Wan should warn him away from veering too far into caution. Although, that said, he did maybe imply that he was going to stop breaking into the private Council records some time ago. Ah well. A problem for later.

Obi-Wan tunes back into the discussion as the other two are in the midst of hashing out just what Mace knows already. This is likely intended to make sure that the two masters are on the same page without Obi-Wan having to dodge around all the secrets he still clutches to his chest. It is after all much more efficient for Mace to speak on what he knows for certain than for Obi-Wan to comb through his decades of memories for what might be relevant for Master Yoda to know in this exact moment.

It’s somewhat strange to hear Mace break down what knowledge he’s pieced together about the future from the sporadic hints Obi-Wan has dropped over the last year. There’s enough of a narrative that Mace has clearly put together the broad strokes, not to mention the specifics that have come up over their various meetings. But the picture Mace paints of his past future is one where Obi-Wan appears to be an almost heroic pursuer of truth and justice - a man who led a war with galant intentions and who was one of the sole survivors of a massacre through his exceptional skill and wit.

There is no mention of Obi-Wan having failed his student so badly that he turned to the dark side and ushered in the end of the Jedi order itself. No discussion of the thousands of men he led to their deaths. Not even a hint of the desolate wasteland he hid himself in, out of fear and desperation and a single desperate hope that a mere child would one day be strong enough to make up for all of his weakness.

Obi-Wan can feel his throat close up, his chest tighten and the all too familiar prick of water behind his eyes that he has to rapidly blink away. Mace Windu is sat right there beside him, telling Yoda of what a responsible Jedi master Obi-Wan was in another life, all while his mere presence in the past is a testament to his failure.

He can feel himself sink into his seat, shame crawling up his spine as Mace carries on about what a good man he supposedly was. It’s everything he wished to hear back during the war; some sort of confirmation that he really was doing the right thing. But here and now he can only feel distraught that he ever participated in a war designed to do nothing but hurt everyone it could. A battle of wits where Sidious held the reigns of each faction so tightly they had no choice but to follow his lead - even to their own doom.

From his periphery he can see the way Mace has finally caught sight of him. He can hear how his voice trails off, concern edging into his tone until finally he stops.

“Obi-Wan? Are you alright?”

How could he possibly answer that? No. Not at all. I never have been. Nothing is alright. Palpatine is still vying for power and everything I’ve ever done has been for naught.

“Obi-Wan?”

“Knight Kenobi, distressed you are. Wrongfully, did Master Windu speak?”

Obi-Wan lets out some sort of noise that is affirmative enough for the other Jedi to furrow their brows in worry.

“What did I miss?” Mace asks, “Obi-Wan. Please. What has happened?”

“I-,” he stumbles over his words, they feel lodged in his throat - the true enormity of everything he has been trying to achieve slamming into him all at once, “I can’t do this.”

Mace reaches out, only for his hand to hover, uncertain, just a few inches away from Obi-Wan’s shoulder. His eyes are almost painful to look at. So compassionate. Too generous in their sadness. As though Obi-Wan could possibly deserve such an understanding friend after knowingly letting the man who killed him in another life walk free for so long.

It is unlike Obi-Wan to let his emotions bubble up this close to the surface - he knows that. And yet here he is. If he were willing to give it much more thought he could probably trace it to the exhaustion of space travel. Or the anxiety that had drifted up at the fear Anakin was in danger. Or even that now Yoda knows. The only other survivor who walked blood drenched temple halls with him. Who saw the younglings cut down by Anakin’s own blade. Now the Yoda before him is not an echo of the being he once knew - now his old eyes follow him with an understanding that Obi-Wan hasn’t seen for years.

“Afraid you are,” Yoda announces into the quiet where the only thing to hear is the slightest waver in Obi-Wan’s breaths, “Fear our judgement you do.”

For all the Jedi teaching about being mindful of one’s fear, Obi-Wan would consider himself something of an expert on the matter. For those cold, awful nights on Tatooine there was little else for Obi-Wan to occupy himself with than to think back on all the warnings he had heard in his life about letting fear rule him. Fear was a powerful emotion for any being, but for a Jedi it was dangerous - Anakin could probably have attested to that if the boy had ever been willing to speak to Obi-Wan about it. Another mistake whose consequences cost countless lives.

Embarrassing as this little slip may be, Obi-Wan is more than practised at calming himself and working through the grief. It is at this point routine for him to reach out with the Force, finding his place in the vast universe, then tracing out all the closest life forms he can. On Tatooine half the relief of this effort came from how reassuringly isolated he was. If the Lars’ farm was the nearest populated location he could find, then that meant the Empire hadn’t found him yet.

Ever since he got back, his new relief could be found in counting however many Jedi he could reach until he was so overwhelmed with their sheer volume that he had quite forgotten to panic in the first place. Yet now, when he reaches out in these familiar routes he finds company.

Beside him, Mace and Yoda both reach out to meet him in that ambient space that echoes the living force itself. They follow his branching awareness as it flits from the class of initiates three floors down, to the ancient Masters who reside so comfortably in the vast archives far in the depth of the Temple. The trio move from the bustling kitchens to the halls of healing to a class of padawans all nearing their knighthoods as they spar in the salles.

It is so very strange to be accompanied on this path that he has only known to be a solitary journey, but Yoda and Mace bring a calming presence that Obi-Wan can’t help but be thankful for.

Eventually they emerge from the depths of their impromptu shared meditation wherein Obi-Wan now feels all the more rested and in tune with his body in this time. Before opening his eyes he takes one more moment to be eternally grateful for his youthful body which does not ache with the years of wear he put it through, nor does his skin feel wicked of all moisture under twin suns that seem to have a personal vendetta against his fair Stewjonian skin. Yet one look at his companions tells him that they have come away from this with quite a different experience.

Even Yoda’s typically wizened face seems to have aged in the last few minutes. And Mace, one of the most noble looking Jedi Obi-Wan has ever known, sits before him appearing more haunted than Obi-Wan has seen of him in the last year.

“Obi-Wan…” the man says, voice shaken, “Is that… how you always feel?”

He hesitates. “You may need to clarify.”

“It all… hurts.”

Ah.

“I do apologise,” Obi-Wan says, tucking his hands into his robe sleeves so neither of them can notice the white knuckled grip he has on his own wrist. A touch of pressure that helps ground him in this moment. “I did not intend to share those emotions so openly.”

“We are not condemning your feelings,” Mace mutters with the kind of abject horror that only overtakes the man when he learns too much about Obi-Wan’s past, “But this… this is not sustainable Obi-Wan.”

“I know,” he says, trying to reign in the defensive impulses tugging at him, “And I’m not always like this.”

“But often,” Yoda says, “You feel this pain?”

“Well sure,” he frowns, “I came to the past for a reason. And it is that no one should have to live through what I did. The galaxy will not be permitted to repeat itself.”

“You felt it all,” Mace murmurs, more to himself than anyone else, “The entire Jedi Order… wiped from existence.”

“I did not mean to make you relive that with me-” He starts, apologetic yet not sure what else he can possibly say in the face of Mace’s own grief, borrowed from Obi-Wan’s memories that he was careless enough not to monitor.

“Apologise, you must not,” Yoda chides firmly, yet compassionately, “Share this burden with us, you will. Let yourself heal, we want you to. Meditate together more often, I suggest we all do.”

“Oh Master Yoda, I don’t have time for-”

“Then make time we all should,” he says with the kind of finality that Obi-Wan had never figured out how to counter in either life. He concedes to the old master’s insistence with as much grace as he can muster despite the way his every nerve feels raw and exposed under the Jedis’ fierce attentions.

Perhaps as a show of kindness to Obi-Wan’s raw emotional edges, Mace takes another few seconds to recentre himself before forging ahead in their prior conversation. He talks through the final key points from Obi-Wan’s timeline, thankfully veering away from any sort of assessment of Obi-Wan’s own actions during that time.

Once Yoda knows about the betrayal of the clones and the fact he was one of the few survivors who joined Obi-Wan in insisting that all other Jedi not return to the Temple as it was under Imperial rule now, the old master sits in quiet contemplation.

“Many changes,” he finally says, “I can see you have made. Revealing the clone army so early, an interesting move it was. Know of these behaviour chips, we now do, and remove them swiftly, we already are. Obi-Wan’s future, we move further from.”

“That’s the plan,” he agrees numbly.

“More differences, you’ve created. Young Skywalker’s future you insisted on influencing,” he eyes Obi-Wan shrewdly before his gaze shifts to Mace, “Condone this insistence, you did. Collude, behind the Council’s back, you two have done. Your travel to Corellia, another plot you have underway.”

That last bit is not phrased as a question as it becomes increasingly clear that Yoda has been onto the pair of them for quite some time. No doubt the Jedi master has been watching the pieces of Obi-Wan’s puzzle reveal itself bit by bit whilst Mace oh so conveniently smooths the way for him to drop relevant pieces of information when he needs. Indeed, Mace has frequently insisted on providing new channels of affecting change through the Council which Obi-Wan simply couldn’t have access to on his own now. It is no wonder that Yoda has picked up on this clandestine collaboration between the two of them. He’s not the Grandmaster of the Order for nothing after all.

“Should we assume you also know about the Hutt plans?” Mace asks defeatedly, and entirely oblivious to the look of gaping surprise Obi-Wan is sending him.

Yoda “hmphs” in the way he usually does when someone says something that genuinely surprises him. Obi-Wan groans.

“Master Windu,” he whines, “Why would you bring that up?”

“Because he knew about the time-travel, it is not unreasonable to assume-”

“You really are young now aren’t you?” Obi-Wan sighs, “On what planet do you voluntarily bring up the plans you’ve already been sworn to secrecy about, huh?”

“Oh sworn to secrecy,” he scoffs, “I made no such promises you’ll find Knight Kenobi. And what do you mean young?”

“Squabbling, you are,” Yoda observes, “Unusual to see, this is.”

Obi-Wan bites back on his repertoire of comebacks at the interruption. Making sure not to pout too childishly, he turns back to the Grandmaster with all the shreds of dignity he can scrounge together.

“Know about the Hutts, I do not,” Yoda hums, “Involved, I do not need to be.”

Huh.

Guess that solves that issue.

“Distant, I should stay,” Yoda announces with finality, “Until my assistance is needed. Trust you to decide upon this time, I will. Until then, less chances to reveal secret knowledge would benefit, as Master Windu demonstrates so kindly.”

“Oh please,” Mace sighs at Yoda and Obi-Wan’s twin looks of judgement, “I’ve made one mistake after holding onto this for a year. Neither of you get to look at me like that.”

“And yet we are,” Obi-Wan counters.

“Do better, from now on, you will.”

“Yes Master,” Mace groans.

Chapter Text

Thankfully Obi-Wan is gifted with a few genuinely quiet days following his return from Corellia. Padme is still planetside, though so caught up in meetings and councils that he gets barely more than five minutes actually in her presence before her handmaidens whisk her away to yet another dull committee she’s apparently entered.

Similarly Bail is largely out of his reach. The poor man apparently turned around after their last holocall and immediately started building a whole campaign from scratch. Now that he’s accepted his role as a candidate for chancellor the man has barely slept. Obi-Wan catches a few glimpses of him hustling through the senate on a mission to meet with as many of his fellows as possible to vie for their support. Apparently he’s gained a fairly decent sized following of planetary coalitions that seem growingly concerned by all the talk of a Separatist movement.

Conversely, Palpatine has certainly not been resting on his laurels either. The sith has of course pulled the economic influences of the Banking Clan, Techno Union, and Trade Federation to put pressure onto multiple planets who have been facing any kind of market strife lately. Promises of lowered tariffs and waiving of import fees seems to have swayed a fair few of the more neutral systems his way.

Then of course there are the Separatists themselves who seem determined to undermine the election as a whole. Plenty of closed doors and hushed meetings reek of the Dark as Obi-Wan passes through the senate’s halls. He takes little solace in the fact that these shadowed gatherings are few and far between.

It does take him some time to find the true silver lining to this whole issue: the fact he can even identify this pull of the dark means that enough of the Senate is washed in enough light that they actually stand out. Back in his past life Obi-Wan had dreaded entering these halls for the sheer consuming greed and power that clung to every wall, floor and lifeform within.

Frankly, shadowy, potentially illegal meetings that are at least notably different than the usual is a blessing in and of itself.

Back at the Temple Obi-Wan is relegated to a variety of odd jobs and menial tasks befitting a Knight in his first year. He picks up a few classes for Masters that have headed out into the galaxy on missions of their own.

Honestly this really is his favourite part of being back in the past. He truly did love teaching, whenever he found the time between his own padawan or the war. And now the kids all absolutely love him because he looks like he just came out of the same training they’re all in the middle of, but with the experience of a good decade of doing just this.

He delights in the way the initiates all try their best to trip him up with their hardest questions, or their most bizarre requests. It’s like a free thought experiment every day that he gets to puzzle over. Or, more often, he gets to watch their faces as he answers every ridiculous question poised to him with a perfectly straight face because no matter how creative these kids are, none of them hold a candle to nine year old Anakin Skywalker who is willing to spend four consecutive hours asking Obi-Wan about different types of rain on all the planets he’s ever been to. There just isn’t anyone else in this temple who could possibly match that experience.

It is a pleasant enough surprise whenever he gets pulled into teaching a class that Anakin himself is in - especially when he ends up as a saber instructor to the younglings. The first time Anakin’s class wanders into the salles where Obi-Wan was waiting patiently, the boy’s excited gasp could probably have been heard all the way back on Tatooine.

Obi-Wan had quickly become one of the most requested saber instructors for the younglings, at least half of which the blame could be based on Anakin’s hounding insistence that Obi-Wan show off his best makashi and soresu moves for the children before any one of them would deign to start the lesson. Could he have been more firm in saying ‘no’ to Anakin? Yes. Did he make more than the barest of protests before conceding to the request when he saw just how eager each and every one of the kids looked for him to display the type of saberwork they might one day be able to practise? No.

Was he then immediately embarrassed the very next day when a child came up to him with an announcement that he was in fact just as good as Ani always said - which means those kids had been listening to Anakin brag about him for who knows how long and mostly just wanted to fact check their classmate? Yes. Yes he was.

Still, it is a nice change of place to substitute in for whatever class or teacher is in need of a spritely young assistant - something he didn’t ever really get the chance to do in his first life. Following the Naboo siege all the other masters were far too preoccupied with trying to coach a freshly knighted Jedi suddenly saddled with a prodigious padawan he had never expected. Honestly he missed a fair amount of the usual Knighthood’s early missions one would typically get as his circumstances just didn’t afford him the flexibility he now finds himself thoroughly enjoying.

The only other real responsibility he finds himself saddled with in these few days of downtime is Madame Nu’s requests that he attend the archive when he has the time. She’s always quick to pile recommended readings into his arms even as she ushers him towards stacks of ancient datapads that need to be restored, or old terminals that aren’t working quite right. He’d once made a passing comment once that he knew how to restart one of the Temple’s more outdated servers that was still running on long discontinued Chandrillan systems.

Master Nu had promptly recruited him as her personal server inspector as far as he’s concerned. Ever since he “discovered” that Kamino was missing from the archives she seems to be on a mission to check through each and every record held in the whole collection so she can cross reference it all with her new circle of interplanetary institutions she’s gotten in touch with.

To Obi-Wan’s surprise it seems she has actually uncovered a handful of disputed data collections and mistranslations that have apparently not been submitted to the Jedi for updated recordings. Madame Nu seems to take particular pleasure in sharing these finds with Obi-Wan, though whether that is in service of further proof that she has opened herself to the possibility of growth for the Jedi archives - or if it is because she is nervous that she has missed some hint of the Dark that she thinks he will pick up on, is unclear.

Yet Obi-Wan is always grateful to take the time and check in on her findings. More often than not it is a minor detail, but one worth updating their records for anyway. As best he can tell, even Sidious hasn’t taken the time to mess with the Jedi one typo at a time. Instead he primarily finds himself pleased to be a part of the ancient practice of learning that Jedi have dedicated themselves to for generations. It grounds him the more he can see the Jedi moving further towards knowledge and understanding - free of Sith influence to cloud their senses.

Soon enough though Obi-Wan is pulled right back into the usual tasks he’s found to occupy himself. He gets a few more data packages from his detectives and sets them on the trails of the handful of shipping companies he’d uncovered in Corellia. He asks them to keep an eye out for similar shipping practices - anyone hauling large, mislabelled resources towards low populated planets known for their industry connections. Surprisingly enough one of his detectives gets back to him nearly immediately, apparently she’d been hired some time back to look out for just those sorts of locations, though she claims it was a pirate who had been noticing those large shipments who’d wanted to try and intercept their routes to steal whatever raw materials they could.

Obi-Wan offers her an extra tip and expenses paid trip if she could hunt down that pirate again to see what he might’ve uncovered in this pursuit. Frankly if there is one thing Obi-Wan has learned over the years it is that pirates are a surprisingly valuable resource all on their own. Plugged into the criminal world as they are, often it is pirates who get to carry messages between the undergrounds of planets across the galaxy. They are always on the lookout for new haunts, always increasingly far from whichever local authority is after them now. So it is no surprise at all that some of these pirates are able to bring in news from halfway across the outer rim and everywhere in between.

Before he can find another excuse to put it off longer, Obi-Wan finds the usual time for his Makashi lessons approaching all too soon. He has heard nothing further from either his master or grandmaster since he sent Qui-Gon in his place while he was away. A fact he decided to take as a positive that meant they probably hadn’t killed each other. At the very least he imagines that by now he would have heard news of the terrible battle waged between two repressed idiots in the training salles and all the collateral damage they surely would have elicited.

Still, Obi-Wan can’t help but dawdle just a bit as he heads to his usual salle. Dooku may hate any excuse he offers for his lateness, but Obi-Wan just isn’t quite sure what to expect when he finally opens the door before him to see who is waiting.

Count Dooku is definitely not a surprise: the man never missed an appointment unless he was currently under fire from an entire battalion of clone troopers as far as Obi-Wan is aware.

Qui-Gon is a pleasant surprise. No doubt his master knows that Obi-Wan has made it back planetside for a few days, even if he failed to seek his ex padawan out. Still, it is nice to see him now even though he had the perfectly built in excuse of leaving the lessons alone now that Obi-Wan has returned.

And finally, Mace Windu’s presence is definitely a surprise.

“Hello… Masters,” Obi-Wan says, taking in the strained silence between the three men. In fact, only Mace seems remotely unphased by the tense atmosphere of the room. He is instead seated calming on the observing stands, hands folded neatly in his lap and his robes splayed almost artfully around him. He looks, for all intents and purposes, like a man who has dropped by to watch a particularly interesting performance and has no intention of moving soon whatsoever.

Mace offers Obi-Wan a dangerously calm smile in greeting - a move that has Obi-Wan’s nerves skyrocketing immediately. Mace has a plan and by the Force itself he intends to see it through. The man doesn’t offer anything more than an amused tilt of his brow when Obi-Wan narrows his eyes in suspicion at him. Both men are clearly aware that the other is onto them in some way. Though Mace definitely seems to believe he has the high ground here as he doesn’t even bother with a pretence that he is here to do anything more than watch.

Count Dooku is the next to break the silence seeing as Qui-Gon is busy pouting in the middle of the room, though it’s not clear if that’s due to Mace’s unexpected presence or if this is just a default expression whenever he is in the Count’s presence.

“Knight Kenobi,” Dooku says, “You’re late.”

“I am aware, Count,” Obi-Wan says with a huff. He decides that dawdling in the doorway is hardly going to win him any favours from anyone else present so he moves more confidently into the room, taking up his customary place in the centre of the training mats.

“Master Jinn,” he says as he closes in on the man who has resolutely been ignoring Obi-Wan’s comm message that he’d arrived back at the Temple.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says, “It is good to see you.”

“How have your lessons been, Master?”

It is almost comical to see the way Qui-Gon is clearly torn between wanting to actually greet Obi-Wan properly, versus his want to make a big old show of being mad that he was supposedly tricked into attending saber lessons from his old master. Obi-Wan, more than used to a master who loves a good bit of theatrics, rolls his eyes fondly and nudges the man beside him.

“Come on, Master, how are you going?”

“Fine, padawan. How was your inexplicable holiday?”

“Inexplicable?”

Now it is Qui-Gon’s chance to level him with a disbelieving look, “Obi-Wan, I have known you many years now. Fond of taking a break, you are not. Do you not remember how long it took after Mandalore when I tried to get you to-”

“Okay!” Obi-Wan hurries to interrupt, “I get it. Fine. I’ll stop nagging.”

Qui-Gon scoffs, humour trailing in his voice, “There’s a first for everything I see.”

“Are you two always like this?” Dooku interrupts with dry exasperation.

One quick look between the pair is all they need before they shrug in synchrony, “Yes.”

“Qui-Gon,” Dooku sighs, “I assume it is you I have to thank for raising an apprentice so allergic to showing his elders respect?”

Qui-Gon huffs, “Yes Master, that is exactly how I taught him. I took him in and said ‘Obi-Wan, the first rule of being a Jedi is to actively insult everyone you can find. Now go forth and harass my own master for fun.’”

From the stands, all three of them can hear Mace laughing quietly to himself at this little display - something they all collectively decide to ignore. Obi-Wan is fascinated by this whole interaction himself, so he can imagine that Mace is having a delightful time. See, Obi-Wan has been told many times before that his lineage erred on the side of dramatic, but that was when he was forced to be the voice of reason against a prodigal general and the most wonderfully obstinate Togruta to have ever graced the Order.

Now that he is for the first time experiencing being the newest addition to a lineage, his apparent youth awards him the fantastic juxtaposition of watching his master and grandmaster, two supposedly mature adults, squabble. Honestly it’s something of a relief to see that Dooku has apparently always enjoyed poking and prodding at his students, and even more so has Qui-Gon apparently always bristled against his master’s teasing.

A smile tugs at Obi-Wan’s lips as he gets to watch these two men trade quips and jabs back and forth until he finally decides that just maybe, they should actually achieve something today.

“If you gentlemen are quite done,” Obi-Wan interrupts amidst Qui-Gon proclaiming he, in fact, never learnt anything from Dooku and is practically a self taught Jedi, “I believe I came here for a lesson in Makashi? Master Jinn, as you are already here, would you like to join us?”

Evidently his master hadn’t thought quite far enough ahead to come up with a plausible excuse of begging out of a practice he had clearly come prepared for. Dressed as he is in his training gear, saber clipped to his hip, Qui-Gon makes the wise decision to pretend like he wants to be here with both Obi-Wan and Dooku together. With only minimal amounts of grumbling, both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon soon find themselves standing side by side facing down the Count of Serenno.

“Both of you may attack at once,” Dooku drawls as they each settle into their opening stances, “Qui-Gon, you must remember to guard your flank. Obi-Wan, I expect you have continued to practise your footwork in your absence.”

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan take a singular moment to share an exasperated glance before, without a word spoken between them, the pair launch forward.

Force, but Obi-Wan has missed fighting by his master’s side. They dart forward in unison. While Qui-Gon’s emerald blade sweeps out in a sharp series of Ataru strikes, Obi-Wan draws his saber up high, to sweep in an elegant arc right into the path that his master’s blade is leading their opponent.

Dooku, obviously anticipating each distinct move from the both of them is already throwing his weight back to avoid the tip of Obi-Wan’s blade, while his own saber comes forth to whip Qui-Gon’s away. Obi-Wan, familiar with Dooku’s quick, evasive movements is already moving - he jumps over his master, hoping Qui-Gon will cover him as he flips mid air - using this moment to push himself up and past Dooku.

As he lands he hears the telltale hiss of ozone where Qui-Gon has clearly caught Dooku’s attention, forcing the man to move back, saber drawn close, as the younger two approach from both sides.

“Good,” Dooku praises, not sounding remotely out of breath, “Close in.”

Fearing a trap Obi-Wan hesitates but Qui-Gon shows no such hesitation. He launches forward with the clear intent to launch a rapid series of attacks at his master and yet-

Even from where he has landed, Obi-Wan can see that while Qui-Gon’s mind is sharp enough to strategise this attack on the fly, his left arm is just much less practised in the once-familiar moves of Ataru. His elbow is caught in an awkward crease that leaves him vulnerable to a disarming move should Dooku close the gap between them.

Between one heartbeat and the next Obi-Wan finds himself pushing off again, though not towards Dooku’s still exposed back, but instead he finds himself rushing to fill the space between Qui-Gon’s blade and his right side.

There’s a burning crash as Obi-Wan’s azure blade catches on Dooku’s powerful strike that was mere inches from piercing at Qui-Gon's ribs.

Qui-Gon’s gasp of surprise is lost underneath the sizzle of their blades, Obi-Wan lets out a grunt, enough to urge his master back into motion. Qui-Gon shifts, ducking below the two lightsabers locked in place as their owners push against one another with all their might. Obi-Wan’s younger body may be stronger, but he’d come into this hit at a weak angle when he’d dived to protect Qui-Gon.

Any other saber wielder would likely have missed such a minute detail, but in the burning light of their blades Obi-Wan can see how Dooku has locked onto such a vulnerability. The man grins, his feet shifting to gain just a touch more leverage until Obi-Wan can feel his muscles begin to shake under the strain of such prolonged contact.

He grits his teeth, sets his shoulders in place and pushes back against Dooku’s weight bearing down on him.

They’re both so focused on holding their ground that neither man noticed Qui-Gon’s swift jab until the very last moment. His green blade pierces between them, launching Dooku back far enough that Obi-Wan can recover his footing.

All three of them pant in the sudden absence of battle until Qui-Gon squares his shoulders and launches straight up, blade locked over his shoulder until he has reached the peak of his jump where he can drag it forward - falling into Dooku’s space with sharp precision.

Dooku once again retreats, his own saber brought up in a defence that manages to shift Qui-Gon off centre enough that he does little more than singe the edges of Dooku’s robes as he lands. Obi-Wan, not keen on getting left behind, takes this chance to put his Makashi skills to good use and attempts to draw Dooku into a duel.  

Dooku clocks his invitational stance immediately, his usually solemn face quirked in the slightest hint of amusement. It is almost an afterthought the way he whips his saber out so fast there is little more than a hissing blur of light before Qui-Gon is stumbling away from his master’s blade. Qui-Gon huffs as even on a lowered setting for their spar, Dooku’s saber sizzles against the stump of his arm where Maul had hit him.

Qui-Gon relents, his breath coming out in exhausted bursts, still unused to such intense fighting after his months of recovery. “Solah,” he surrenders to the pair of them, his saber shutting off with a final sizzle as he moves to Mace’s side. The master of the order very kindly came prepared with a few bacta patches apparently as he already has one pulled out and ready for the smarting red along Qui-Gon’s arm.

Left as they are in the wide emptiness of the training halls, there is no hesitation at all between Dooku and Obi-Wan. It is almost an echo of another life, where their eyes would meet from halfway across a smoke filled battlefield and each would know that they would be burning their way through opposing troops until they could meet blades once again.

Except now of course, there are no hoards of droids or clones to carve through, and Obi-Wan is under the impression they aren’t actually about to fight to the death this time. Still, the air between them almost hums in anticipation. Each man panting just slightly, adrenaline coursing through their veins as they ready themselves for a second round of combat. Obi-Wan sinks his centre of gravity lower, poised and ready to defend against the attack he can feel his grandmaster building toward.

Dooku certainly can tell what Obi-Wan’s stance means and in a gentlemanly comportment, he graciously follows through on the invitation offered to him. The man leaps forward, his lightsaber arcing elegantly out before him with all the release of heavy tension built from their prowling around each other. Obi-Wan is already moving a heartbeat after Dooku, his feet pushing him forward so he can close the distance of the strike himself. They clash again - sabers screeching and burning as they draw against one another.

From the stands Obi-Wan can hear a sharp inhale from Qui-Gon as he takes in the sheer ferocity of their battle but there is no room for him to keep tracking after his master’s undoubtedly rising blood pressure, not when he needs to dart backwards, throwing his body into a backwards somersault just to avoid the low blow Dooku tries to sweep at his feet.

He lands with just enough time to block Dooku’s incoming strike, and is ready to return a rapid fire series of blows himself which has his grandmaster shifting back inch by inch under Obi-Wan’s assault.
Thus far they’ve been keeping to Makashi as their duels typically do under Dooku’s insistence that Obi-Wan could always use the practice. Which is perhaps why Obi-Wan is so unprepared for Dooku’s elegant sweeping attacks to pivot so suddenly into the more energetic and aggressive styling Djem So.

It is only through a decade’s experience at Anakin’s side that Obi-Wan finds himself so ready to defend against the whip-fast hits of his padawan’s favoured fighting form. Dooku growls the longer Obi-Wan manages to counter each and every one of his hits.

The knight almost wants to laugh as he lets his muscle memory in Soresu pull to the forefront as he begins to lead his grandmaster on a merry wander through the salle. From the sides he can hear the low murmur of conversation from Qui-Gon and Mace - both clearly observing the shifting change between forms but there is little more he can focus on before he decides to test his grandmaster a little more.

With a triple back somersault Obi-Wan puts a burst of distance between them both, enough that Dooku naturally reverts to yet another opening Makashi move just to close the space - only for Obi-Wan to distract from his every expectation by slipping into Ataru.

Known as the aggression form for a reason - Ataru offers Obi-Wan plenty of sharp cuts that let him release a barrage of attacks against Dooku. More importantly though; Obi-Wan is all too familiar with the adjusted style of the form Anakin himself had developed so long ago. It is a version of Ataru just a bit more ready to deflect a hail of incoming blaster bolts from a volume of droids - but where Obi-Wan has to sacrifice an element of close combat for this adaption, he more than gains in the element of surprise which has overtaken his opponent.

Ataru is already fast enough that to the untrained eye the moves are neigh indistinguishable, but the fleeting seconds of distraction caused when Dooku has to reconcile a move set just a little off from what he is familiar with is enough to send the older man into a hurried retreat. Obi-Wan prowls forward - blade a whirling onslaught as he slips through the barest cracks in his grandmaster’s defences, just enough to singe his robes and finally make contact with his body itself.

Dooku hisses at the saberburn along his ribs, his own saber still raised high in a Soresu move Obi-Wan himself is fond of. Of course, his tenacious padawan had noticed that favouritism quite some time ago and had enough attack strategies that Obi-Wan is happy enough to draw from that it is barely another few seconds before the burning blue of his lightsaber is held tauntingly close to Count Dooku’s neck.

The grandmaster observes his own defeat with wide eyes and gasping breaths. “Solah,” he hisses out, along with a clench of his jaw against the burning pain in his side.

Obi-Wan relents immediately, adrenaline pumping through his blood at finally, finally getting to spar against Dooku the way he remembered. None of the formalities of training, nor the restriction of good duelling etiquette. Instead these two masters of their crafts are left in what could very well be the fallout of a natural disaster in this room.

A quick glance around reveals a shocking amount of scorch marks littering the floors and walls of the training salles. Some are mere charcoal-black smudges as a saber kissed the ground between moves while others are still burning ember hot where a blade dug into the cold stone itself, buried under the sheer force of each move.

Both combatants are similarly covered in scorch marks, Obi-Wan morosely noting that he’s going to have to make another requisition request for a new set of training robes as these are burnt beyond saving. He does take solace in the fact that Dooku has clearly taken more of the brunt of his attacks though - the poor man is missing a full sleeve across his right arm, his side is more blackened than the grey of his robes, and there is a heady amount of searing against his legs and back where Obi-Wan has often noted the man fails to defend quite so carefully.

The sound of scrambling from the seats is the only warning Obi-Wan has before his master comes rushing toward them both. He comes armed with another bacta patch that he passes to Dooku before frantically patting over Obi-Wan in search of any injuries he’d missed. Obi-Wan puts up with the fussing, oddly charmed by his master’s concern as he has become so very used to Dooku’s dry assertions that he pick himself back up after each duel. Not to mention that the sparse surface level burns that Dooku managed to glance across his forearms are so inconsequential compared to everything else Obi-Wan has lived through that it’s nearly comical.

Still, Qui-Gon’s face is pinched in worry. “Obi-Wan,” he tuts, “Are you quite alright?”

“Of course Master,” he grins, “The Count and I were just having a bit of fun.”

He throws Dooku a glance and is surprised to find the man with brows furrowed as if he is puzzling through a mystery. Concern tugs at the back of Obi-Wan’s mind.

“I didn’t actually hurt you, did I Master Dooku?” he asks even as he offers a hand to help him up which Dooku takes after a moment’s hesitation.

Mace is by his side now, applying the bacta carefully along the sear at Dooku’s ribs where the red of his skin is already starting to fade from such an angry scarlet to something much more manageable.

“Of course not, Knight Kenobi,” Dooku dismisses the concern with ease, “Though I must admit I am… impressed by the ferocity you displayed here.”

“Well, I do aim to surprise,” Obi-Wan casts a disarming smile against the men around him, hoping to move the conversation along.

Mace, unsurprisingly doesn’t fall for such a tactic, and with an arm still carefully propping up his grandmaster, Mace squints between the two of them. “Do you two not typically duel like this?” He asks.

“No,” Dooku huffs, “Makashi is the focus of our training sessions as Obi-Wan has assured me he is competent enough in the other forms. It seems his assessment was more humble than I expected.”

Qui-Gon huffs, “You could say that again, Master. I can’t think where in the galaxy he learnt it all, certainly not from me. Padawan, I know you’ve spent much time practising, but that was something else entirely.”

Dooku’s expression closes in even more. “It certainly was. Your master did not teach you this?”

Obi-Wan feels a wavering in the Force, akin to when he could feel himself leading his troops into a Seperatist’s trap only to be caught out in the very last second. “Well Master Jinn taught me much of each form of course, and I have had many teachers over the years.”

Dooku’s attention doesn’t waver at all, almost honing in on him instead until Obi-Wan can feel worry start to gnaw at him.

“And Master Windu has been a great help of course,” Obi-Wan says with a dismissive wave of his hand, hoping his friend will kindly acquiesce to the lie, “He indulges me in a spar or two whenever we can find the time.”

“Yes,” Mace agrees with cool certainty, “Obi-Wan has certainly excelled recently. I thought some of that must have been your doing, Count, as I admit I am surprised that you two have not been duelling like this before. It looked well-practised.”

The force twinges in the back of his skull as Obi-Wan desperately tries to catch Mace’s eyes, urging him to drop this line of questions before he stumbles into something he really shouldn’t. Qui-Gon, caught in the middle of all this, sees the intensity of Obi-Wan’s gaze but is left with little more than suspicious confusion. Unfortunately his master really is no fool, and it is obvious that Qui-Gon can tell there is a certain subtext he must be missing here.

Dooku, however, has not let his attention waver from Obi-Wan for an instant.

“It did appear so,” he agrees, “Your choices in Ataru were inspired, young Kenobi, I admit I am not familiar with those variations.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan hums, subtly trying to urge his master’s fussing hand away from the scorch marks across his shoulder, “Just something I’ve been experimenting with. I’m happy to see it worked well enough.”

Dooku’s piercing gaze seems to chill, the Force drawing almost frozen around him until each Jedi there can feel themselves almost suspended in unrealised potential.

Qui-Gon gives his master a concerned glance. “Master? Are you feeling okay?”

Under Dooku’s watchful eye there is little Obi-Wan can do but freeze as he watches unknowable pieces of a puzzle he didn’t know he was building for the man start to fall into place.

“Of course, Qui-Gon. I was just admiring your padawan’s… forward thinking. Quite the visionary he is.”

Karking hells.

He couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d screamed it from the Temple roof. It’s enough of an admittance that even Mace gets caught off guard. Master of the Order or not, Mace Windu is just a fraction of a second too slow to catch himself before inhaling sharply, realisation cascading over him slow enough that Dooku whips his attention round to him immediately. That singular mistimed breath is all the confirmation he needs before Dooku’s mouth drops open in sudden clarity.

Obi-Wan can feel his heart doing its very best to exit his chest as he watches the once-Sith figure out just how Obi-Wan has always known more than he should. How he has spoken with such confidence about Sidious’ plans and how he ever started tracing Dooku’s machinations about Kamino in the first place. Each of these are topics that have come up often enough in the last year that Obi-Wan never thought for a second that Dooku had learnt to trust him completely - instead the man has apparently been marinating on possibilities until this spar of all damn things has tipped him to the final conclusion.

Qui-Gon, oblivious to the intricacies of this revelation nonetheless is clearly trying to read the waves of shock echoing out between the other three. Obi-Wan is first to slam his shields shut, hoping that Dooku will not read too hard into how he is quite so well practised at that skill, even if it hardly matters at this point. Mace follows suit a moment later, which is enough that Dooku’s fixated attention moves back to him, suspicion and hostility already crawling up behind his gaze.

In the early months of their training, Dooku hardly went a day without demanding Obi-Wan’s repeated confirmation that none of the Council knew that he was on the precipice of the Dark. He would refuse to step foot in the Temple itself until Obi-Wan could thoroughly convince him that none of them were ready and waiting with accusations of his colluding with the sith.

Now, with Mace damn near announcing that he knows about the time travel, Dooku is more on edge than Obi-Wan remembers since he and Anakin were facing him down on the collapsing Separatist flagship while Sidious watched on. Dooku’s hand twitches for his saber, a minute action but one that Mace clocks nonetheless.

Still holding Dooku up it is obvious to see the way Mace Windu’s grip clenches tight, puzzle pieces of his own clicking right into place.

“You,” Mace hisses, “You’re the one Obi-Wan has been-”

“Mace,” Obi-Wan interrupts, “Enough.”

For Force's sake.

Not only has Dooku just clocked him entirely, but Mace knows how to read a duel as well as any Jedi - of course he can see that Obi-Wan is used to fighting this man from across a battlefield not a training salle. Not to mention that Mace can put two and two together to guess at who the Darth Tyrannus that Obi-Wan said he was keeping an eye on could be.

The two men, shaking with their respective revelations, both snap to attention at Obi-Wan’s command.

“Both of you need to stop,” he growls, “This isn’t the time.”

Dooku is just unnerved enough from the combination of the fight and his realisations that he can do little more than mutely nod. He shifts away from Mace’s supporting hand and without a single look back at any of them moves to the exit at once.

Mace, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan each watch him go with trepidation. Even as he stalks from the room it is obvious the way the Force itself is drawn to the man, colder than any of them expected.

Bit by bit Obi-Wan can feel his body finally start to recognise the aching bruises that are beginning to surface beneath his skin, a groan of pain and exhaustion slipping past his lips. Qui-Gon turns back to him at once, a thousand questions in his eyes, though he resolutely keeps his mouth shut long enough that Obi-Wan can let himself slump against his Master’s shoulder, exhausted all of a sudden for more reasons than he can bare to name.

Mace, standing stock still before the pair finally tears his eyes from the door that Dooku just exited from, knuckles clenched white. He stares at Obi-Wan with such sorrow and betrayal in his eyes that the younger man simply doesn’t know what to do with it all.

“Excuse me,” the master of the order mutters before he too strides from the room.

In the echoing silence left in their wake, there is little Obi-Wan can do but let his master lead him gently from the room and back towards his quarters. A hushed whisper that he will be there for his padawan, whatever he needs.

Chapter Text

The next morning Obi-Wan wakes to a hail from Padme and Bail asking him if he is at all available to come to the Senate sometime before the afternoon’s session please and thank you. Quite frankly there is nothing more that Obi-Wan would like than to escape the Temple for even a brief moment - between the frigid cold left in Dooku’s wake, the tense rigidity of Mace’s every move and the deep searching lost look in Qui-Gon’s eyes it is all almost too much to bear in one go.

Obi-Wan wasn’t ready for both of these secrets to spill out at once but between Mace, Dooku, Padme, Yoda and Anakin it is starting to feel like the carefully built walls of discretion that Obi-Wan worked so hard to develop since his return are all about to crumble down around him. Qui Gon tried to start a conversation with Obi-Wan about the whole conflict in the salles but the Knight could do little more than make vague assertions that it was to do with some classified information from the Council that Dooku wasn’t meant to know.

Qui Gon accepted that explanation with pursed lips and dubious trust so Obi-Wan imagines he’ll have to sort out a cover story with Mace about just how he was meant to have come across this so-called classified intel. But to do that Mace would have to be willing to talk to him again instead of stewing on his own sense of betrayal that Obi-Wan has been willingly bringing a once-Sith into the Jedi Temple on a regular basis ever since he returned.

He’d even gotten the unique displeasure of having Qui Gon try to sit him down and warn him off of wallowing in his own misery as it will just breed fear and mistrust between himself and the Jedi. Obi-Wan is not fool enough not to recognise the worry in his master’s voice, nor the way he hesitates over even the mere suggestion that Obi-Wan might be vulnerable to any such Dark thoughts. Honestly Obi-Wan is half convinced his master might start bringing up Xanatos, his first apprentice who Fell many years before, and that is something the time traveller is simply not ready to deal with now. But it certainly must speak to the chilling tension radiating from Obi-Wan, Mace and Dooku combined if Qui Gon is even considering something so drastic as Xanatos’ total fall from the Order.

While he’s certainly not caught up in any true darkness, it does still worry Obi-Wan that he has managed to make two of the men he has come to see as both friends and something of  mentoring figures in his life so deeply distrustful of Obi-Wan himself.  

Dooku believes he has betrayed the Count’s trust by revealing his near-fall to a Council member and Mace believes he has betrayed the Order by facilitating a Sith’s access to the Jedi when they all damn well know Sidious is trying to bring about their downfall. It is a mess that he is actively trying not to think about so when Bail’s summons ping on his comm Obi-Wan is out of the Temple almost faster than he can blink.

It is a familiar path that Obi-Wan traces back to Bail’s office, though he can’t say he expected the bombsite that seems to have taken over the room since he was last here. Flimsy and datapads occupy every spare inch of space. Lists of Senators and interplanetary dignitaries seem to spill off every page and screen he can see. Then there’s the dozens of cheerful reminders that Bail’s assistants must have written out for him to alert him for the seemingly endless array of meetings he is apparently expected to attend every day.

The man himself is looking better than the exhausted spectre Obi-Wan remembers from their last call, though he does catch a few grey hairs that he is almost certain didn’t appear for at least five more years last time.

“Hello my friend,” Obi-Wan says, navigating carefully around boxes full of all types of files he doesn’t even want to guess at that are sprawled across the floor, “I see the campaign planning is going well.”

“Obi-Wan!” Bail beams at him, “It is good to see you back on Coruscant. How were your travels?”

“Oh you know, not too exciting.”

Bail laughs, “Thought you would say as much. Shmi seemed to enjoy it.”

“Well she was an excellent addition to the party. I assume she’s told you of her plans?”

“Yes, yes.” Bail shuffles a few more datapads off the only spare seat available and ushers Obi-Wan to sit, “She and your… contact have been sorting out logistics. For discretionary reasons they’ve decided not to tell me too much about it while they’re still figuring it all out. I believe that was Mister Fett’s request, but honestly I’ll take any excuse not to have to learn anything new.”

Obi-Wan offers him a commiserating pat on the shoulder as Bail scrubs a hand back through his hair looking just shy of totally overwhelmed. He can’t tell now if this visible frazzlement is more to do with just how young Bail is now, or if the idea of chancellorship has really shaken him - but it is definitely fascinating to watch a man he has always known as an absolute pillar of calm and serenity showing such vulnerability here. Obi-Wan decides to take it as a testament of their building friendship that Bail is letting him in so easily.

He listens through Bail’s hurried update on the state of his campaign. So far he’s been doing an admirable job of garnering favour with many of the senators that he knows aren’t keen on Palpatine’s overly ‘moderate’ politics, nor on the growing separatists threats. It’s enough that Bail is sure that he’s actually a strong contender for the role.

He’s just been diving into how much trouble he’s been having with all the worlds still struggling under their debt to the Banking Clan - dozens of planets who act as little more than client worlds to the Muun and are very clearly being coerced to vote with the Banking Clan rather than by any sense of morals - when Padme makes her entrance.

For once actually dressed as the queen she is, Padme glides into the room trailed by yards of fabric so glamorous and expensive Obi-Wan almost wants to use the Force just to hold it an inch or two off the floor for her. She greets them both with the usual decorum her royal persona would be expected to share, with Obi-Wan and Bail offering their own semi-formal greetings in turn until her attendants step outside, shutting the door behind them.

Within what little room the heavily structured bodice of Padme’s costume allows her, the young queen lets her shoulders drop in the far more casual presence of her friends. Obi-Wan swiftly stands and offers her the seat he’s been perched on which Padme accepts with a grateful smile.

“Padme,” he says once she’s as comfortably seated as she’s probably going to manage, “I do believe I missed quite an important date while out in Corellia.”

Both politicians look back at him with confusion.

“What do you mea- oh!”

Padme’s question is cut off with a gasp as soon as Obi-Wan produces the small wrapped package he’d managed to make at least part way presentable before coming over here.

“Happy birthday.”

She blinks up at him, “How could you possibly know when-?”

He gives her three whole seconds before realisation dawns in her eyes. She huffs exaggeratedly, but even through the heavy styling of her makeup Obi-Wan can see his young friend trying to hide the quietly pleased smile that tugs at her lips.

Bail offers his own belated well wishes, complaining lightly that he would have gotten her something too if he had known it was her name day. She playfully pokes back at his complaints, the two of them ribbing each other while she pries apart the wrapping.

Once upon another life Obi-Wan remembers a few scant conversations with then-Senator Amidala who used to reminisce on her childhood as a monarch. Often late at night, when the two of them were caught up on discussion of politics and strategies for the Senate and the GAR’s intentions for victory, Obi-Wan would get more insight into just how isolating a job it is to be Naboo’s queen than he ever knew while she was actually in the role itself. When they were both young Obi-Wan had such brief contact with Padme, especially when he didn’t even know she was pretending to be her own handmaiden - and then they were separated for the better part of a decade before they had any real time together again.

But on those late night strategy sessions, where Padme could look back on her time as queen with the benefit of hindsight and an adult’s experience, she would make the occasional remark about how challenging it had been. She had been queen for barely five months before the blockade of Naboo. Yet she had been ready to fight and die for her people as she infiltrated her own palace. Then of course she had been integral to helping Palpatine take the Chancellorship - a role she had started to question more and more as the war dragged on.

But what Obi-Wan remembers most from all those talks is one time, after a few too many glasses of Rylothian whiskey, she had told him about the time she was eighteen and a visiting Wookie dignitary had heard that it had recently been her birthday. Apparently that very day the Wookie had headed out into Theed’s marketplace to find a bouquet of native Nabooian flowers for her. She had recalled the memory so fondly - that someone of such a long lived species had seen her on what to her had felt like the cusp of true adulthood, but this wookie had simply seen a child who would probably like something nice on a special day.

Obi-Wan has no doubt that Padme could probably talk through every extravagant offering she’s ever received from any powerful or important figure to grace her palace halls - probably she could even give a running lecture on the entire history of every item - but she spoke of that bouquet with a kind of sentiment he rarely saw from the senator.

So here and now, as Padme has passed all of sixteen, and has made it to her second year of queendom, Obi-Wan couldn’t help himself but find something to share with the young woman who once died at his side.

Padme peels through the layers of wrapping with ease until she finally comes upon the small gift resting just large enough to fit her palm.

“Oh Obi-Wan…” she gasps, “It’s beautiful.”

In her hands rests a small, domed terrarium. Familiar red sand cascades gently over a thin layer of soil which houses just enough space for the roots of one of Tatooine’s very few native flowers. The funnel flower is a curling, waxy petaled thing with charming orange hues that seem to almost glimmer even in the artificial light of the office. But under any sun’s beams those orange tones turn into a glistening golden bronze that Obi-Wan had spent many dismal hours of his life on that planet admiring with faint disbelief that something so gorgeous could arise from Tatooine soils. The plant had evolved to catch and drink in any single desperate drop of water it could come across, absolutely flourishing whenever the sparse rains made itself known.

But more than that, this flower is hardy and resilient and endlessly stunning no matter where it is. He watched these rare gifts sprout from the most unlikely places in the dune sea and would be remiss not to think Padme cannot read the significance of its presence here.

She gazes at this gift with understanding beyond her years as she too recalls Obi-Wan’s return to Tatooine for Shmi’s sake. An act which had unexpectedly inspired Padme into chasing a whole new path in life, seeking to do right in the galaxy even when that falls outside anyone else’s expectations of her.

She’d been surprised to learn of the realities of Tatooine when they were there together,  the planet providing a whole new perspective which has shaped who she has grown into now. And Obi-Wan has no doubt she is well aware that Tatooine itself holds a special meaning for him as the location he was in when he returned to his body in the past. She was the first friend he saw when he came to in this time period and that is simply not something he can ever forget. The elation of meeting her all over again was so very palpable.

He hopes, with all her cleverness and kindness that she can understand that while their friendship now is so very different than the one he held with her once before, he is eternally grateful for this incredible young woman who is determined to save the galaxy itself.

She is far too regal to do anything particularly dramatic, but he can see the way her finger gently traces the outline of those golden petals from behind the glass, her eyes just a shade more watery than he almost ever remembers seeing. She blinks once, twice, then lets a gentle smile spill over her lips as she cradles her gift close and looks up at Obi-Wan.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan. Truly.”

“Of course, your highness,” he grins.

Duly she rolls her eyes at his teasing use of her title, but sometimes he really does want to acknowledge how wildly impressive it is that she is out here running a planet at sixteen years of age. She is an exceptional person who he is lucky to have known once in a lifetime, let alone twice.

Bail, incredible man that he is, whirls back to their conversation with an announcement of securing Padme tickets to his favourite opera here on Coruscant which is performing the night before she is meant to head off planet and how he hopes she will join him and his wife as a belated birthday celebration. Quite frankly Obi-Wan has no singular clue how the man managed to accomplish getting those tickets in the brief two minutes since learning that it was even her birthday in the first place. In fact he is almost entirely certain he recently read about that very show being sold out for the next eight months straight. But really this is just further proof that Bail Organa can achieve just about anything he sets his mind to.

Padme laughs delightedly at the offer, accepting eagerly and mentioning how much she’s been wanting to meet the Queen of Alderaan for some time anyway. Bail preens at this, happily announcing his wife’s many wonderful qualities and how he’s just so sure she and Padme will get along brilliantly. Obi-Wan can’t help his smile at the eager way his friends are already making plans and chattering away happily.

“I do hate to interrupt,” he finally says as the conversation veers towards which theatrical performances Naboo has planned to debut next year which even Obi-Wan can acknowledge is wildly off topic, “But I believe I was asked to come here for a reason, no?”

“Oh yes,” Bail says, “Good point Obi-Wan. We should get to it. I do have a senate session to get to this afternoon.”

“And I to a meeting with my advisors,” Padme chimes in with a sigh.

“Then perhaps we best get back on track?” Obi-Wan teases kindly.

“Indeed,” Bail says as he moves back to his desk to start hunting through his pile of datapads. He emerges victorious, pad held up in triumph. “Here we go. This has Jango’s first findings of shady business deals happening across the mid and outer rims. Shmi took a look over it and has corroborated a few locations that she and her fellow Freed folk have either been to personally or that they know from their time… in service.”

All three of them wrinkle their noses distastefully at the truth of what Shmi and the people Obi-Wan helped leave Tatooine a year ago actually went through. At least he can take solace in the fact Shmi has kept in touch with them and they seem to be operating as a community who are happy to reach out to one another and share their experiences with people who actually understand.

Still Obi-Wan can’t help but get caught up on a different detail.

“Wait, Jango has already started preliminary research? And he’s found something useful?”

“Oh yes,” Bail hums, “Apparently he’s more on board with this plan than I expected. Shmi says that once he was convinced you weren’t setting him up to take the fall for something - as he apparently expected a Jedi to do - then he has thrown himself wholeheartedly into this. The only reason he sent this to me first is because he was sorting out his contract with Shmi and she said she’d take a look over it to see what she could add.”

Obi-Wan takes the proffered pad with due curiosity and is pleasantly surprised to see quite the dossier set out before him. Jango is a thorough man it seems, he’s already charted a few key locations for further investigations and has listed some contacts he intends to chase down - even if Obi-Wan suspects at least half of the names here are listed in some kind of code only Jango could parse.

Shmi’s contributions are also quite impressive, she has written out what trade routes she recalls as well as some key hubs of information that Jango will likely need to reference. She also lists out a few of the businesses she knows the Hutts have had dealings with before and even a handful of names that Obi-Wan is certainly interested to look into. He’s not surprised to see the Trade Federation or the Banking Clan involved in this, but it never hurts to have proof of their illegal dealings with the Hutt cartels on hand.

“Oh my,” Padme hums as she too peruses this collection, “They’re very bold aren’t they? They have business all over…”

Her brow pinches in concentration as she traces the seemingly endless list of planets that the Hutts have gotten their claws into.

“This is in the Free Trade Zone,” she mutters, as she reads further down the list, “They shouldn’t be able to do business here…”

Ah. Yes. Padmé's face screws up in anger. Disputes over the Free Trade Zones were the exact reason the Trade Federation set up a blockade around her planet in the first place. They used her home as leverage to protest any action by the Senate to reform the Free Trade Zones from being infiltrated by pirates, smugglers… and black market dealings exactly like those the Hutt’s have been doing.

It is no wonder that Padmé is enraged about all this but Obi-Wan has to admit he is increasingly wary of the righteous fury burning in the back of her gaze.

“Are you alright Padme?” he asks tentatively.

It is only through years of practice staring down endless waves of enemies that he manages not to flinch away when she turns the full force of her stare onto him.

“I most certainly am not,” she announces, “we have got to do something about this.”

“Well yes,” Bail agrees, “but isn't that what we are doing? If we take the Hutts out of the equation-”

“But that won't be enough,” she insists, “There is more criminal activity than just the Hutts in here. Have you seen the reports on the rate of piracy and armed conflict against the traders from this area? It's entirely unacceptable.”

Worried about what answer he’s about to receive, Obi-Wan can’t help but ask, “And what do you propose instead?”

“It’s obvious isn’t it?” Padme says into the quiet, “We’ll have to entirely reform the Free Trade Zones. We’ll need a stronger platform than the one that got shot down in the Senatr last year so I suggest a radical restructuring of the whole thing from the ground up. I mean, clearly it would be best to also dissolve the Trade Federation and revoke their privileges there - or at least revoke their senatorial access, but I’m willing to settle for now.”

There’s a singular beat of silence before the slap of Obi-Wan’s forehead falling into his hands reverberates out. “Padme…” he groans, “could you please have less ambition.”

“I don’t think I will,” she says primly, “After all, there is something very clearly wrong with how much power they have amassed. I’ve had some of my attendants looking into it and they’ve actually been tracing a lot of Damask Holdings financial lobbying to the growth of the ba-”

“Yes, yes,” Obi-Wan dismisses, now pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut, “I’m sure you’re right. But Padme. Please. You already want to take on the Hutts. And Bail is about to take on your own senator and the separatists too in this election. There’s just not going to be time for all of this. You both have your own people to represent and I certainly can’t help with the amount of legislature you’d be needing for this. The Jedi may serve the Republic but we aren’t exactly built to help take out financial monopolies.”

Padme huffs, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. He imagines that if it wouldn’t ruin the delicate work of her makeup that she would be pouting by now. Bail, gracious as he is, clears his throat gently, enough to draw their attention back to him swiftly.

“No one can fault you for your… bold strategies. But Obi-Wan does have a point. You’ll be needed back on Naboo shortly enough - and I have made my own promises about where my attentions must lie now. No one would disagree that the Free Trade Zones have been suffering from the Republic’s absence for too long. I know plenty of Senators in this very building who would love to back any bills that call for reform.”

He sits back with all the refinement and composure that Obi-Wan remembers from the man who married the queen of Alderaan without a moment's hesitation, who stepped up as senator when he realised that his planet needed someone willing to fight for what's right. For the briefest flicker of time, Obi-Wan can almost imagine Bail Organa sat just as firm and commanding behind the desk of the chancellor's office - and that mere image sings out brightly in the force.

“Your Majesty,” he continues, gravitas and kindness melding into one, “This is an endeavour we can certainly work towards. But we will need allies. We will need resources. And most of all we will need time. We ask of your patience not out of reluctance to help - but out of a desire to do this the right way. Will you let us work with you? When we all may give this plan our due attention?”

One thing can be said for certain about Padme Amidala: she is a cunning and sound ruler in all things. With one final sigh she relents this new mission of hers. A nod of acceptance is all that she offers to the men before her, but they both know to take this as as much of an acquisition as they are likely to get.

Even now Obi-Wan can see the way her mind is carefully tucking away these arguments for her to peruse over later. He’s sure that by the time they next speak she’ll likely have a half dozen counterpoints fully drafted up to make her case. But he’ll take what victories he can get at this point. And at least for now Padme’s attentions seem to be reigned back in to the task at hand.

“Shall we get back to business then?” he asks when his politicians seem to have finally talked themselves into a conclusion, “I’ve been gathering some data of my own on the Hutt cartel. Now if you’ll just look here I think I’ve got a few ideas for how to begin but I want to hear your thoughts.”

-


A solid few hours pass in discussion as the three of them bandy ideas back and forth, refining and dismissing strategies as fast as they can come up with them, before both Bail and Padme are called away to their respective duties and their meeting wraps to a close.

Just as she is about to leave Padme pauses by the door, hesitating.

“Padme?” Obi-Wan asks as his friend clearly debates something within herself.

A second later and Obi-Wan has an armful of Naboo royalty giving him one of the tightest hugs he’s ever experienced in either life. It takes a second for his brain to kick back into gear long enough to wrap his arms around Padmé who squeezes in just a fraction tighter. Then between one blink and the next she’s already out the door, handmaidens falling into step behind their most regal queen who strides confidently down the halls.

Beside him, Bail huffs a quiet laugh, “I think she might’ve liked the gift.” He observes drily.

“Apparently so.”

“You make a good mentor,” Bail says, “She needs someone like you.”

Obi-Wan gapes back at him, “Mentor?”

“Well certainly nothing so formal as your Jedi apprenticeships,” he concedes easily, already back to shuffling through datapads in search of whichever one he needs for the next senate session, “But you should hear her talk about you. You inspire her, Obi-Wan. Ever since you went back to Tatooine for Shmi and the others she has been on a mission to live up to the example she thinks you’ve set.”

At Obi-Wan’s continued silence Bail finally looks up to see his stunned friend. “Oh don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. I do hope I’m not embarrassing the poor girl, but I do believe you’re one of the few people in the galaxy she feels she can actually trust. Her advisors are certainly helpful in regards to Naboo, but she’s a young woman trying to lead an entire planet towards a better future for the whole galaxy. She needs a good role model.”

Whatever flabbergast expression has settled on his face is apparently funny enough that Bail can’t help but laugh. He navigates the mess of his office with practised ease, stopping just long enough to clap Obi-Wan on the shoulder and tell him he’s welcome to stay as long as he needs before bidding him goodbye and moving out of the room again.

Obi-Wan was out of Padme’s life until she was already an incredibly accomplished adult in her own right in his past life; the mere idea of her looking to him for advice is one of those entirely foreign concepts that never even occurred to him until he’s forced to reckon with it all at once. He finds himself almost inordinately pleased that his young friend seems to look so fondly upon him in this life, even if he can’t help but think her faith at least a little misplaced.

Still that warm feeling follows Obi-Wan all the way up familiar halls as he passes dozens of senators making their way to session. He offers a stray nod or smile when he catches the eye of anyone he’s familiar with from his time as Valorum’s guard and is pleased to receive some in turn.

It isn’t until the exit is just coming into view when he feels an all too familiar twinge at the very base of his skull. The Force rings out with warning a moment before he can feel his chest clench tight at the voice that emerges from behind.

“Ah, Knight Kenobi,” Senator Sheev Palpatine says, “What a pleasure to find you here, my boy.”

Obi-Wan refortifies his shields even tighter than before, building them up till they're stronger than durasteel walls in his own mind. At this point he never enters the senate building without ensuring they’re perfectly impenetrable, but he can’t quite make himself turn to face the sith until he feels wholly protected.

Sidious emerges from behind the Jedi with all the comportment of a kindly grandfather that he could possibly muster.

“How good to see you here,” Palpatine smiles, “The senate is lucky to have such an upstanding young Jedi such as yourself grace these halls.”

“How kind of you.” Obi-Wan says, carefully masking the stiffness in his voice.

Palpatine nods, “But of course. We could use someone with such a profound moral compass as you clearly possess.”

It is so obvious a bid for attention that Obi-Wan almost wants to laugh at the way the man sighs so wistfully after his own statement. It’s about as subtle as a krayt dragon and yet Obi-Wan can’t help but wonder just what the sith is angling for; and so he finds himself relenting to the conversation he’s now trapped in.

“Surely there are enough senators here to do that for you, no?”

“Oh how I wish that were true. But you see, the Republic is not what it once was,” he says ruefully, “The Senate is full of greedy, squabbling delegates. There is no interest in the common good. I am sure we could all learn from your example.”

“And what example might that be?” Obi-Wan probes.

Palptine looks to him, surprise lacing every muscle in his body, “Why I wouldn’t know where to begin. Knight Kenobi you saved the Chancellor’s life right before me not too long ago. And I hear you have been meeting with the young Alderaanian senator to aid him in his bid for that very role.”

Despite listening out for it, even Obi-Wan can’t detect a hint of resentment in the old man’s voice as he blithely dismisses Bail out of hand. As if he is no more a threat to Sidious than the nearest gonk droid.

“Not to mention the kindness you have shown my own queen,” here Palpatine places a gentle hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his touch burning through the layers of fabric between them until Obi-Wan wants nothing more than to fling himself into the nearest speeder and lose himself into the depths of Coruscant’s lower levels where no one will ever find him again.

“Her majesty speaks highly of your guidance for her. It seems you have quite the cunning mind, my young Jedi friend. Rarely are our Nabooian royals quite so engaged in galactic politics as our Amidala is. You have a way with people of power, I do believe.”

With each silken compliment that Palpatine seems intent to lavish upon him, Obi-Wan can do little more than feel horror and disgust rise within him. This. This is exactly what this man must have done to his padawan.

And oh, how Obi-Wan can see how a man like Sidious would be able to look into the unguarded heart of Anakin Skywalker and draw forth every inch of insecurity and uncertainty that clung to the poor child fresh from Tatooine deserts.

“She is a strong leader,” it’s about the only positive thing he can manage to say under threat of such fury as Sidious seems determined to pull from him, “I’m honoured that Queen Amidala regards me so kindly.”

“Indeed,” Palpatine agrees easily, “I’m sure under your tutelage she will only grow stronger.”

“I am no tutor,” Obi-Wan grits out, “I hold no authority over her majesty, nor do I have any desire to.”

“Of course not, my boy,” Sidious chuckles, “You need not take my every word so seriously. I was merely observing that you have quite the talent for leadership. I’m sure you will be on that council of your Jedi sooner than you think. They could use a mind like yours too, I’m sure.”

Obi-Wan can’t help the clench of his jaw. His fist tightening until his knuckles turn white.

“The Jedi have plenty of strong minds leading the way already, as I’m sure you’ll find Senator Palpatine. I need no further flattery to know my Order is in good hands.”

Here Sidious hesitates. Two opponents watch one another.

He can almost see the way Palpatine is trying to parse out a new angle to reach Obi-Wan. Plying him with self aggrandising comments is getting the man nowhere, and if Dooku is to be believed, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a prize that the Sith lord wants for himself.

This strategy is not working to the effect Sidious so clearly wants and yet there is no clear anger. No fury at being denied an easy win. Instead, Obi-Wan watches as nothing short of delight etches itself across the face of a man who has just found an enticing new challenge for himself.

Obi-Wan’s reticence and resilience is no more a mark against his potential as a potential acolyte than it is an exciting hurdle which the Sith intends to overcome through any means.

Between the two of them the Force seems to almost pulse with anticipation.

Sidious, still smiling, claps Obi-Wan on the shoulder one more time.

“Good to hear, my boy. You are a credit to your Order. Now I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me but the senate is meeting soon. Perhaps I will see you again?”

The offer hangs in the air between them, incongruous hope edging the Sith’s words.

“I’m sure we will,” Obi-Wan promises darkly.

“Very well,” Darth Sidious grins, “I look forward to our future endeavours.”