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Chapter Text

White, blinding light. And then black. Void. Anakin had waited for this for a long time. Longer than he knew, and now that it had finally taken him something felt perversely wrong. Unholy. Death had been merciful and swift and nothing he deserved. Then it dawned on Anakin slowly, creeping to him from somewhere in the emptiness around him, digging it’s cruel fingers into him, dragging them through his soul in a sick sense of punishment. His story wasn’t over yet.

In front of him stood the Father of Mortis, eternally ancient and cloaked in grey, barely visible amid the darkness. Guilt crept up like bile in his throat but he stood silent, bracing himself for the justice to be served for his actions. Finally the silence was broken- the Father’s voice clear and tinged with something he couldn’t name and Anakin found himself flinching.

“You were the Chosen One and so you shall start again.”

He’d committed unspeakable acts, betrayed and broken those he’d held dearest and pushed away those he couldn’t. He’d been merciless and cruel and he’d abhorred himself every waking minute. Anakin had never been able to trace it back to one moment. His life had never been beautiful. It had been rough and harsh. He’d been born into the life of a doomed man, though he didn’t blame his actions on his past. It had been him, even in the massacre of the temple. Under the influence of Sidious, twisted and crafted into hate by the apathy of the council. All those innocent lives, the thousands, millions- he’d taken them himself.

In all the hells he’d imagined, the deaths he’d yearned for- he’d never sought something this cruel.

___

The walls were plain and clean, the ceiling arched above him and familiarness washed over him, ebbing the sorrow. He took a breath he never thought he would. Then another. Oxygen flooded his lungs. His ears rang, the room spinning around him and he caught himself on the table by his side, causing the cup sitting on it to clatter to the ground, contents spilling across the floor.

“Are you okay?”

It isn’t real. This isn’t real. His thoughts were muddled together, desperately trying to piece together what had just happened, what was happening. Anakin lurched forward, bashing his head with someone else's.

Blue kind eyes. The face of his son.

His breath hitched, felt as though he was going to throw up. A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he jerked away, looking up, though his sight blurred at the edges with tears. Inside Anakin felt white hot, the rage and confusion churning and surfacing with an explosion. The man in front of him gagged, grabbing at his throat in a frail attempt to rid an invisible force. His eyes widened with fear as Anakin met them with his own.

Blue kind eyes. These ones different. He’d known them more intimately.

“Get away from me.” The snarl ripped from Anakin’s throat with such ferocity it startled even himself, and he clenched his fist tighter. He didn’t know he didn’t know he didn’t know.

“Please…” The man’s voice was faint. “I can help you...Please…” When Anakin finally released the iron grip he held he was shaking, tremors running through his body to the extent of pain. Obi Wan fell to the floor, a ragged gasp catching in his throat as he spiraled into a fit of coughing.

Obi Wan.

___

The council had been called. Never before had they felt as great a disturbance in the force as this- the most worrying part being it’s sudden appearance. Obi Wan had been called down in Qui Gon’s place, though he had only recently completed his training as a padawan. He tried not to let it go to his head. They just need my version of how it happened, he chided himself- sliding into the open room quietly. The meeting had already begun.

“We mustn’t-” Master Windu was cut off when all the heads turned to face Obi Wan, and the young man shifted nervously under their gaze, though he didn’t have anything to hide, he still felt he’d say the wrong words. “Kenobi, I see you have finally arrived.”

Master Windu, didn’t sound pleased, though he rarely did, and Kenobi averted his gaze, looking instead to Master Yoda. Tread carefully. “I came as soon as I’d been notified. What would you like to hear?”

“Your version, to hear.”

“From where-”

“All of it.” Windu settled back into his chair and Obi Wan let the tiniest of sighs escape him.

“Right... From the beginning.”

___

The young man laid now in a hospital bed, his arms and legs strapped down, the tube connected to his arm no doubt feeding him some kind of sedative to keep him unconscious until they came to a decision.

The nurse had given Obi Wan a sour look when he asked to see him. “This patient isn’t allowed visitors but from the Council.” Obi Wan didn’t know much else to do, so he gave him the best smile he could muster, though he could feel it falter. The nurse rolled his eyes, but conceded, agreeing to turn a blind eye to the Jedi.

So there he sat, quietly in a chair next to him, grateful that the curtains had been closed all around the man, so not to disturb the other patients.

Obi Wan could not come to believe that the man in front of him, face soft from sleep, his brown curls falling in front of his eyes, his eyelids dark from what Obi Wan could only guess to be lack of sleep, the scar running from eyebrow to cheek less harsh. It was a stark contrast to how he’d been back in his room- rage and sorrow radiating from him, narrowed eyes dark with hate, chest heaving as he struggled to support his own weight… fist clenched dangerously tight as he’d suffocated him....

Even now the energy flowed off of him in force. When Obi Wan closed his eyes he saw it like a feverish glow, more powerful than any Jedi, even Sith, he knew.

Where did he come from? What had made him this way? Who was he?

____

“Sir.” The nurse from earlier gently shook him awake. “The council is on their way. I thought I should notify you before they...saw you here…”

Obi Wan started, letting out a small sound of disgruntlement, and blinked groggily. “Yes. Thank you.” He stood up quickly, ducking under the curtain before turning on his heel. “Could I ask you something?”

The nurse grabbed the datapad resting on the bedside table and hummed. “Probably.”

“Did he say anything after he was brought here?”

The nurse paused glancing from the unconscious man to the jedi. “He was pretty incoherent and we drugged him as soon as we could... but he did mention something or someone named Obi Wan.”

The nurse's brow furrowed in confusion as he saw Kenobi blink. “Does that mean anything to you?”

“I’m not sure yet.” He murmured, running a hand along the beginnings of his beard, allowing one last look at the man he’d just met. Past the opaque white curtains a door opened, and he could hear the voices of the Council. With one last quiet thanks, he slipped out the back before they could spot him.
____

Several days of silence from the council passed but to Obi Wan they crept. As far as he’d been told the stranger was still sedated. Though he couldn’t be sure that was actually the truth. They lied to the public when it was necessary and he knew in this instance that he was included in the public, that they would never tell him the whole truth if it came about. The council was being incredibly cautious, and it only made the wait for any news slower.

He spent the time pacing in his room alone, restless for answers. He’d been sparring with less focus than usual, and he had the bruises to prove it. Master Plo Koon chided him gently after practice, though he wasn’t as harsh as he could be. The entire council knew that the young knight was fretting ceaselessly over the strange man they were keeping hidden.

“Kenobi.”

Obi Wan looked up from his task of unwrapping the bandages on his knuckle, startled at the sound of his own name. “Yes, Master?”

“You are unfocused. You mustn’t let this eat away at you.” Plo chided gently, tossing his sparring staff into the pile near the mat. He took a step towards the younger man. “A jedi must always be in control of themselves, even in the most turbulent of situations. It is our way.”

Obi Wan sighed, and he looked past Plo, the weariness from the lack of sleep settling in his bones. “I wish I knew how.” His sparring mate shook his head, seemingly out of sympathy and turned to finish cleaning up. The words left his mouth before Kenobi could stop them. “Is he okay?”

Plo started to answer but instead he cut him off, kicking himself for his further lack of control. "That's alright. I know you can’t answer. Thank you for the practice, Master.” He turned on his heel, face flushing red with embarrassment. Thank the Force Qui Gon still hadn’t come back from his mission. Obi Wan cringed at the image of him reprimand his former padawan for his reckless impatience.

____

At nights, he lay awake- trailing a finger over the dark and heavy bruise on his neck. When he closed his eyes all he saw- felt - was the hatred. He ran through his memories, searching for anyone or anything familiar to those piercing blue eyes but came up empty every time.

He did not know the man. He was sure of it. And yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d gone through eternity together.

____

The fifth day and night passed and still the council was silent. Obi Wan did what any rational person would do.

He gave a sharp knock on the large doors to the Council Chamber, and sucking in a deep breath, walked in. The last thing he’d expected to see behind the doors was his former master speaking to them in confidence. His back was turned to Obi Wan and his shoulders sagged as he spoke softly. His force signature drifted off of him sluggishly. Qui Gon had never looked so fatigued.

Windu cleared his throat and gave the young knight a rather heated glare, though at this point it was a glare Obi Wan was used to. He stood his ground. “We have unexpected company.”

Qui Gon turned, and immediately pressed a hand to the arch of his nose, closing his eyes with a sigh. “Obi Wan.”

He regarded the man addressing the counsel silently, the secrecy of the meeting setting him on edge. Jinn had not even alerted his former padawan to his presence on Coruscant. “Master...I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Shaak Ti straightened, the tiniest of amusement tracing her soft voice. “And what exactly did you expect to find?”

Obi Wan glanced from his Master to Yoda, who sat silently, then back to her. Though he formed the sentence carefully in his mind, he was struck by the boldness when it left his mouth. “A council whom could finally come to a decision.”

Qui Gon’s voice was sharp with warning. “Obi Wan-” He paused when Yoda waved a hand, commanding silence and the room’s attention.

“Correct, the young one is. A decision, we must come to.”

Obi Wan winced at his voice, though perhaps it was a leftover reaction from his training, his mind still telling him that it usually was followed by an exposure of his own error. For a moment it didn’t sink in that the Grand Master had allowed him his overstepped comment. When it did, he realized that the masters now looked at him, awaiting his opinion on what decision he felt would be best. Qui Gon gave him a small encouraging smile, however distressed, and he proceeded with caution.

“What do we know of the stranger?”

Obi Wan blinked when Master Windu chuckled, leaning back into his chair in a confident manner. “Almost nothing. We know that he didn’t exist and then suddenly he did. We know that all of us can sense that his power with the force is immense... Which can be explained by his midichlorian count- our infirmary reported back that it's the highest we’ve ever encountered. Higher even than Master Yoda’s. And we know that he attacked you, the evidence is still visible on your throat. So, Kenobi, what do you believe to be our best course of action?”

Suddenly Obi Wan realized the weight of the decision he was given. He held the stranger’s life in his palm. There was no hesitation in his answer. “Put him under my care and guidance. It would be dangerous for the galaxy to have such a powerful being untrained with the force.”

Qui Gon brought a hand to rest on his former padawan’s shoulder. “He tried to kill you, is that really the safest course of action?”

“Yes, he did. I’m aware better than any of you his attempt at my life. Despite this, I don’t believe his actions were intentional. More than anything else I could feel the fear washing off of him. He was scared. And last I checked, Jedi didn’t harm a creature acting out of self defense. He deserves our help.”

____

Chapter Text

Waking him up was an agonizingly slow process and Obi Wan had half the mind to voice some strongly worded opinions on the topic of the nearly lethal amount of sedatives they’d pumped into his assailant. In fact, 24 hours after the sedatives had been taken off his list of medications, he was still dead to the world.

“Were you actually trying to kill him? I’m just wondering.”

The nurse took several steps back when Obi Wan grabbed at his datapad, eyes widening at the ferocity in the Jedi Knights voice. There was a stark difference to what he’d been like a week ago when he’d kindly asked him if he could visit. “I...I’m sorry it was the council’s orders...they, uh, really didn’t want this guy to wake up until they explicitly said so.”

“Of course they don’t.” Obi Wan had already turned his attention back to the datapad, sifting through the information dump that was the stranger’s file.

No name, no history, no criminal record. Besides the fact that his file was created to keep track of his medication, the republic had no information about this man. That being said, it was possible for some to slip through the cracks. There were a fair share of people from outer rim planets that they’d yet to have the opportunity to gather information on. Obi Wan supposed this man could be one of them. Though why and how he’d suddenly appeared in Obi Wan’s room still remained a mystery.

He hadn’t showed up on the low level threat scan that the temple always kept active. He’d jumped straight into the high threat holomap, which detected any great disturbance in the force. No one had detected him sneak in, so perhaps he hadn’t. The whole situation got under his skin. The picture was much bigger than what laid in the hospital bed in front of him, but he couldn’t grasp at it. And if there was one thing Obi Wan hated, it was being left in the dark. Grumbling, he resigned himself to the guest chair. When he woke maybe he’d finally receive some sort of resolution.

***

Anakin’s lungs were on fire. Oxygen flooded them, the sensation a searing burn in his chest. He hadn’t breathed so easily in years. Thoughts rushed to his head, but they were muddled. Vague and blurry like a dirty mirror, distorting even his reflection over time. A cough wracked his body and he convulsed, his wrists catching painfully on something. When it finally subsided he turned his attention to his hands. They were bound with metal cuffs to the railing of his hospital bed. Anakin felt a noise of distress leave him as he willed the force to break them. He huffed, yanking at them again, his wrists were already bruising from the previous impact.They were Force proof.

A pronounced, soft voice broke his concentration.. Struggling will only make your situation worse, Stranger.”

This can’t be happening.

“Oh, but it is happening.”

Anakin turned to face him, unable to slow his racing heart. The Father’s words boomed in his head, earth shatteringly loud. He was doomed to repeat his mistakes. The words felt strange in his mouth, his throat scratchy from disuse. “Obi Wan.”

“That is my name. The question we all have is: what is yours?” The man sitting in the chair across from him nodded, a hand pressed to his beard. His blue eyes bore into him, analytical, but sparking with curiosity. Anakin felt heat rush to his cheeks under his gaze, ashamed.

His first instinct was to lie. He immediately second guessed himself, however. What purpose was there to lie? It would only convoluted the entire situation further when it was clear that neither of them fully understood what was happening. Darth Vader. The words were prominent in his memories, the title a brand seared to his mind. No, not Vader... Anakin. “My name is Anakin Skywalker.”

“Well then, Anakin, welcome to the Jedi Temple.”

***

Anakin was struck by a wave of nostalgia as he was led through the halls of the place he had once long ago called his home. The outer walls consisted mostly of windows, overlooking the airways of Coruscant. The sun was setting on the horizon, lighting the towering buildings gold, their own windows glinting reflections of the ships that flew by. Initiates walked by in groups, making their way back to their dormitories, looking weary and whispering jokes to and from. Anakin remembered his brief time as an initiate and realized he must have looked much the same. Obi Wan had been kind enough to advocate for his placement as his padawan, though he had not been much older nor experienced as young Anakin.

He felt a tinge of guilt at the idea that the man who walked next to him, even in another reality, another point in time, despite his already cruel pattern of actions, still had a heart bigger than should be possible. He was nothing if not empathetic of those who had more unfortunate lives. Even in the dim light, the bruise Anakin had pressed into his neck was still visible, though it had started to fade.
Anakin couldn’t think straight. It was like he’d hit his head too hard and all of his thoughts were muddled together. He knew what he had to do, Mortis had been clear on his instructions. The thoughts were there, his past was there, but it was just of out of reach and the more he tried to understand and remember, the more weary and restless he grew.

Everything was over stimulating- light burned his eyes, smells disoriented him, the softness in the way Obi Wan treated him confused him. And deep inside, simmering low in his gut he could feel all this hatred. Obi Wan’s death. His murder. Anakin had done it. Why he didn’t couldn’t tell. His past life was a daunting enigma. But he knew him. He knew this gentleness. He was alive.

Finally Obi Wan spoke, and Anakin could barely keep up. “The council has put me in charge of you, as you may have guessed. I’m to train you to control your abilities. They aren’t very fond of the idea of someone as powerful as you not being in control. You are on a tight leash. If you act out we will likely both be punished, do you understand. My former master is to teach you if I can not. They do not trust you, and I can understand why, though I think you have great potential, Anakin.”

He started to to respond but closed his mouth when someone entered the hall from a doorway ahead. Instead he gave Obi Wan a sincere look and the tiniest of nod. “Of course.”

Master Shaak Ti walked past, her long brown robes trailing behind her. She looked as ethereal as she had when he’d helped her train clones on Kamino, her face kind though hinting at her stern nature. She gave Obi Wan a curt nod, and though she hid it well, Anakin could sense her sizing him up, her voice dripping like honey. “Kenobi... good luck.”

He reciprocated the gesture, and gently put a hand on Anakin’s elbow as they reached a split in the hallway. “This way.”

Every fibre of his being screamed at the touch. “I’m not a child. You don’t have to lead me.” Anakin hissed, yanking away his arm, posture stiffening.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you know your way around the temple? In that case go right ahead. I’ll just follow you.” Obi Wan articulated, crossing his arms and giving Anakin a heated look.

The man didn’t dignify a response, bitterly realizing that Obi Wan was right. He had no navigational memory of the hallways.

The bearded man gave a smug noise and then stopped abruptly in front of a grey door. He turned to face him, and his voice was coated with what Anakin would almost call superiority. “Have you ever been combat trained, or even simply force trained?”

***

The door slid open and one by one the overhead lights in the sparring room flickered on. Anakin took a deep breath, breathing in the energy around him and exhaling his unease. The world felt stagnate, as though everything had come to a halt. In a sense it had. All his actions had been undone. This was a fresh start. There was no downward spiral. He was given a second chance to write his wrongs, no matter that he felt he didn't deserve it. It was quietly dawning on him how calculated his actions had become. The Order could never know why he was here- what his true story was. To them he had to remain a stranger.

Under his feet were the soft mats he'd fallen into so many times as a youngling. Force training was centered around becoming better than what you believe your limits are. Push here, strike there. Foresee what comes at you next, shift aside so their hit falls past you. Plant your feet as firm as you can- they are the roots that ground you. Keep your movements fluid, so that no harm can come to you. You are a warrior of peace. You are our hope.

The word tasted bitter in his mouth. He didn't know hope. But perhaps he could learn that too.

"We'll start with something simple." Obi Wan mused, his voice carrying easily across the large room. Along two opposite walls were mirrors, bouncing their images in an endless repetition. The two other walls had shelving, various sparring weapons organized by type. Wooden staffs were held in a tall cylinder in a corner. They clanked together with a hollow noise as Obi Wan retrieved two. Shrugging, he let his outer robe fall of his shoulder.

The familiarity of the gesture gave Anakin a warm feeling. He'd forgotten his friend's penchant for disrobing, even if the situation hadn't called for it. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, in the past he'd follow his actions, but today he only wore a simple cream shirt and dark brown pants. Without warning Obi Wan tossed him his staff. Anakin caught it easily.

The council wasn't wrong, in a sense, that he had no force training. Anakin didn't know what he knew. But if there was anyone he trusted to help him discover what remained of his skills, it was Obi Wan.

He took a step back, placing one foot a hips width apart from his other, crouching down only slightly, enough that he could feel the weight of his body on his forward knee. He took a deep breath, and steadily brought his staff of so it cross diagonally along his chest. It felt strange to have an organic hand again. Muscle memory still left in his mind disoriented by the lack of the mechanical movement.

"I think we'll start with a test of your current skills. I will figure out the next steps of your training once we can assess them properly. Disarm me."

Quicker than a heartbeat Anakin slid forward, feet moving without a thought, and he started to swing wide before quickly bringing his staff back in close, instead jutting out forward and then swiping left with force to knock the staff out of his opponent's hand. He then immediately brought the end of the staff up under Obi Wan's chin, who stood, meeting his gaze with a steely expression.

"Well then. It seems you do know a thing or two. And I was going to take it easy on you." He stepped back, shaking his slack wrist, cringing at the familiar vibration that seemed to still be carrying up his arm from the contact. He waved his hand and the staff floated back up into his grip. He took his starter stance. It was as ridiculous and suave as it had been so many years ago- one arm extended forward, hand closed but for two fingers, the other arm brought back behind his head, lightsaber horizontal. He'd never seen the appeal of it, but it had seemed to serve him well enough.

His subconscious screamed at him that the last time he'd fought his friend had also been the one in which he'd killed him. Pain washed over him. The scream of anguish from his son. The way he'd resigned himself to his end. Something shifted inside of him.

Anakin couldn't hear anything but the wringing in his ears and he charged forward without finesse, Obi Wan easily side stepping and twirling around to face his opponent again, who was already advancing again, a wide swing bringing his staff toward him in an arc. They clashed together, Obi Wan's crouch absorbing the most of the blow, leaning backwards against the weight of Anakin. He caught a brief glimpse of his eyes, and swallowed at the amount of wrath he saw in them. This was a different person from the one he'd been with a moment ago.

A guttural noise erupted from the taller man, and he pushed forward on where their staffs met, sending Obi Wan stumbling backwards.Without a moment between the action he hurled himself forward again, swinging his staff with everything he had in him. Obi Wan met his strikes, but just barely, parrying at the last second, unable to advance. Hatred seeped off of him, the space around him pulsing angrily. The force presence in the room was no longer one of calm or quiet but one of war.

Then it closed in on him, once again clenching around his throat. He coughed, voice sputtering incoherent thoughts as he watched Anakin raise his hand again, face darkened with malicious intent. Obi Wan's eyes flitted around the room, and he raised one of the shelving units, slamming it against his back with the force, splintering with a crack. Anakin doubled forward, his concentration breaking, his mind heavy and clouded and then he was gone, falling limply to the mat.

***

The sun had sunk behind the horizon, now the only illumination in her room the glowing lights of the ships rushing past her window. Coruscant’s nightlife was arguably more vibrant than it's day to day ways. Neon signs glowed all the way down the different levels of plazas. The lower you descended to the surface, the seedier it became. But that was part of the appeal, the planet's gradual transition from that of the Senate and the Jedi Order to one of bounty hunters and night clubs. Padme had debated going out that night, invited by several friends to a Gala in celebration of a bill they had just passed, but eventually she had opted out.

She was buried deep in her work when the Chancellor entered her office. It was only when he coughed that she looked up from the papers spread on her desk, startle from her concentration. She blushed, embarrassed at her own obliviousness. “Chancellor, I hadn’t expected you.”

He gave her a kind smile, folding his arms in front of him and allowing a courteous nod. “I know, my dear. I thought I might consult you on something.”

She stood up to offer him a seat, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of her desk. “Of course.”

He eased himself into the chair with a chuckle. “It’s late. Surely you must rest sometime, or is the life of a Senator one of endless work?”

She glanced over at the array of legislation, and sighed, bringing a hand to press at the back of her neck, expression passive. “Someone has to set the Trade Federation straight.”

“I do not deny that to be the truth. We are all grateful of your tireless commitment to the Republic, Senator.” He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in the thought, but when he continued there was something in his voice that unsettled her. “What do you know of the stranger the Council’s keeping so well under wraps?”

Padme frowned, sitting down behind her desk, hands twisting in the silk fabric of her dress uneasily. “Not much, I’m afraid. Though they appear to have the situation under control or we’d have been told otherwise at this point.”

Palpatine hummed, seemingly in agreement. “What of your Jedi friend Obi Wan Kenobi? Has he spoken to you about it? I’ve been made aware the stranger is now in his care.”

She tilted her head, almost minutely, and her response was more thorned than she’d have liked to enunciate. “He hasn’t said much of anything. You’ll have to find this information somewhere else, Chancellor.”

“Forgive me, Padme, I have overstepped.” He leaned back in his chair, and from her years of service in a form of government that often relied on interactions that happened outside the great meeting chamber, she knew he did not care whether he had overstepped, or whether or not she'd forgive him for his intrusive questions.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried her best to exude genuineness into her voice and expression. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just tired, that's all. I've been working on this all day. You were right that I should get some rest. Perhaps we can speak more of it tomorrow when I am refreshed?”

“Of course, whatever you like.” Seeming pleased with her response, he stood and left the room as quietly as he came in. When the doors slid closed, Padme let out shaky breath.

Recently their interactions had become unsteady, though they’d worked together side by side for the Republic for years now. What could he possibly want to know about the intruder that he couldn't simply ask the Council in person? In the morning she’d speak to Kenobi herself.

When she finally drifted to sleep that night, she dreamt she couldn’t breathe.

Chapter Text

He found solace on the rooftop of the temple.The ancient tree stood proud and tall, and had provided peace to many before him, the informal tradition sacred to anyone with a troubled mind. The sun shone bright, and he sought shelter underneath its branches, back leaning against the thick trunk. He closed his eyes. A Jedi learned to be attuned to the energy around him and the tree was radiant with it, the peacefulness ebbing off to soothe him.

Obi Wan could have sworn he heard it. What is on your mind today, young one?

Anakin Skywalker had been conditioned. It was clear to him now. Yesterday's incident had almost nearly been two different people. Obi Wan was not the kind of person to just throw down his life for someone- or at least he never had been, but he could feel his nature changing, shaping itself around the abstractness of Skywalker. More than anything he felt the deep need to help him. He was a wounded animal, one that knew him well. He'd know exactly how to fight him, how to counteract his actions with his own. And when he was awake, when he was himself, he had a hidden gentleness hidden somewhere in the depths of all that pain. One that was likely not permitted to see the light of day. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to coax it out.

He realized he wasn't alone, and cracked an eye open to see Padme Amidala walking towards him. As usual she was dressed elegantly, her dress a soft shimmer of glowing yellow and peach fabric that draped from her figure like a waterfall. She wore her hair up, with ringlet of curls falling to her shoulders. Kenobi stood to meet her halfway, pulling her in for an embrace. "Padme, radiant as always."

Her smile was genuine, and she ducked her head shyly. "Obi Wan, flattering as always." She paused before realizing he was beaming at her. She laughed and pushed at his shoulder playfully. "What are you staring at?"

He hummed, and made a noncommittal gesture. "Nothing in particular. I just didn't expect to see you. I can be happy that my dear friend wishes to see me." He offered his arm with a gracious bow.

She took it, laying her palm on his forearm in a gesture that was intimate and familiar. "Of course, Obi Wan. I hope I wasn't interrupting any of your important Jedi work."

To her surprise he snorted incredulously. "I'm not sure there is any..." He ran a hand through his beard instinctively. "I was just thinking about my new friend. There is a lot that has changed in the past day."

"How is he? How are you?" She turned to him, her expression intrigued. The gentle warm breeze blew a curl into her face and she pulled it away. Her brown eyes trailed down to his neck where a fresh dark bruise overlapped the older yellowing one, both peaking out from under his high collar.

He shrugged, leading her to the small pool that rested in an enclave of younger trees, long grasses and flora prospering in the mild climate. "He seems to have a thing for force-choking. Though I'm realizing he has no control over the anger. I've seen it twice now and it shifts his perception almost entirely. I'm not sure what triggers it, but I'm certain I can sway the Council once again to allow him to stay in my care He needs me, Padme. They won't be empathetic towards him."

She grimaced. As a senator she worked closely with the Jedi order on many issues. The republic was painfully aware of the stubborn nature of their ways. "So long as you believe you are safe. I think I'd like to meet your temperamental acquaintance. He sounds charming."

Obi Wan chuckled. He remembered the way Anakin had looked when he was asleep, deeply tired but as though he knew he could be free of his demons. "In a bizarre way, he is. Once he is back in my stead we'll stop by for a visit."

"That sounds wonderful. I'm looking forward to it." She nodded, looking down in surprise as her stomach grumbled. He grinned.

"Yes... Now I don't know about you but I haven't eaten anything today. Care to join me?"

***

Obi wan had been tucked in his room, once again passing the time it took the council to arrive on a decision, when he received a page on his comlink from his former master. "Master?"

"Obi Wan. If you'd please meet me in hangar 21D7. I don't have much time before my squadron leaves again on a mission, but I must speak to you."

"Of course, Master. I'll be right there." What could be so urgent?

--

The hangar of the Jedi temple was bustling at midday. Cargo ships flew in and out, dropping off needed supplies and picking up goods that the Jedi exported, bringing them to the markets of numerous worlds. Because of the rising unsettlement the Separatists caused, there were also many battleships rattling to a halt in the battle ports, most of which required vital repairs.

He found Master Qui Gon speaking with one of the hangar clerks. The clerk was waving one hand around, gesturing rapidly to his surroundings, face red from frustration. Obi Wan hung back until they appeared to be finished, not wanting to interact with the the cranky clerk. He pressed a hand to his forehead and said something rather forward before scurrying off, allowing Obi Wan to pop around the side of the x-wing.

Qui Gon smiled at him, his cloaks were torn in places and he still had evidence of a recent battle all over him, soot smeared on his face. "Obi Wan. I received news of your new stead and was told to consult you on your plan of action. Windu thinks you are being far too trusting of our violent intruder."

Obi Wan frowned, brow furrowing. He didn't hide his indignant tone well, unhappy to be looked down upon. "Well, forgive me Master, but Master Windu doesn't seem to understand that our friend is complex being and that I know first hand that he needs our help, my help, more than anything else. He doesn't deserve to be punished for our lack of compassion."

Qui Gon's expression was well guarded, and he conceded."I trust in your judgement. You have grown to be careful in how your decision making.” His master chuckled, though it was barely audible over the clamor of the hangar. “A great contrast as to how you were when you first became my Padawan. Anyways, I wish you luck. If you need me, I can try and persuade them of your argument." There was a short blunt signal overhead followed by chatter on his comlink. He placed a hand on Obi Wan's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "I must be going now. There is a crisis on Shili that needs to be handled. May the force be with you."

Obi Wan bowed his head, watching Qui Gon turn and leave, boarding the ship he'd only briefly just left. "May the force be with you."

***

Many people thought it was impossible to contain a force user- at least for a long period of time. Being one with the force had its stigma, especially among non-force users, and many truths were thought to be false and many myths were thought to be true. Anakin, however, was incredibly aware that a force user could be contained. In the past he'd been captured by the enemy, he'd been restrained with energy that counteracted the force, usually pinning his ankles and wrists as he was suspended in the air. The restraints were capable of sending a debilitating shock of electricity throughout his body and they always would. It had been part of the job.

He supposed he could be thankful the Jedi had chosen a different form of containment. When he came to he was inside a large box of some sort, the walls shimmered a nearly opaque white. There was a platform that jutted out from one of the walls, which he laid on. The walls hummed, aggravating his already throbbing head. Tentatively he reached out the wall touch it and it shocked his hand, his fingers going numb but for a faint burning sensation. Yanking his hand back he stood, hyper aware of the extensive bruising on his back. He wondered how many times he'd wake up in pain, wondering what had happened.

"Hello?" His voice cracked. When was the last time he'd had something to drink?

Muffled noise came from behind the wall. He could faintly hear a door slide open, and the padding of footsteps as someone came to stand before him on the other side of the shield.

"Why did you have to go and do that?" Obi Wan.

"I don-"

"I told you that in the event that you misbehaved you'd be taken from my charge."

A lump formed in his throat as he remembered the sparring, how angry he'd felt. Because of his reckless actions he'd be taken away from the only person he could trust, possibly forever. "I'm sorry."

"You should be. Do you know how much I had to grovel to the Council? I have months of extra duties that now await me. It better all be worth it." Obi Wan paused, and Anakin could sense his smile rather than see it. " And you owe me at least part of the truth."

Anakin tilted his head back, relief flooding through him, a laugh resting in his mouth for the first time in ages. "I owe you."

***

"These are just a precautionary measure. You have attempted to kill me twice. And I do believe another mistake will cost us both." Obi Wan clicked the cuffs around his wrists, and then tugged at his collar, bringing attention to the array of bruises ringing his neck. Anakin had the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch them. To feel that he was real, to ground himself in his new reality.

"I understand."

***
As he was led through the halls, his memories drifted to him, disjointed and scattered, but evidently from the same picture. He'd been in these halls before, and though common sense told him that was true, his body knew them. Which turns to take. What doors led to closets and which ones led to meeting rooms. They came to a stop. Their old quarters.

Obi Wan reached out and placed his thumb on the scanning pad and the doors whirred open, natural light flooding the hallway. Of all the places the Father had chosen to dump him, why had it been here. In their own nook in the world. It was different than his previous life. There were signs that it had once been lived in by two people, but that the second person hadn't stayed there in quite some time. Belongings gathered dust on one half of the room- some books, pieces of mechanisms long since taken apart, the intentions of putting them back together seemingly forgotten. Qui Gon must have new quarters, Anakin realized.

His eyes drifted to the beds. They were plain, the soft brown cotton blankets impeccably folded. One of the small sized beds had more pillows than the other, one of which had planets and systems and archaic constellations hand-embroidered onto it with gold thread. Anakin remembered the day Obi Wan had sat down to sew it. It had been a quiet one, their rest between battles. He'd sat across from him on the couch, knees brought to his chest, as he fiddled with a faulty part of C3PO's. The sun had warmed their faces. Anakin had lost his concentration on his work, instead watching the way the light rested on Obi Wan's face. He'd seemed golden in that moment, the light dusting of freckles across his face clearly visible, his lashes brushing against his cheeks.

Anakin felt so suddenly safe, knowing that who he was, what he'd done to Obi Wan before had not happened here. This Obi Wan was still young, untouched by cruelness and war. It was the warmest feeling.

"I hope you find it a decent place." Anakin drifted back from his memory and turned to look at Obi Wan- a different one, yet the same. "It's your home now as much as it is mine."

Anakin didn't know what to say so he didn't say anything. Walking over he placed a hand on the second bed. His mind flashed briefly to something heavy with intention, but didn't linger long enough to allude to him the thought. If his memories were only given to him through similar senses and events, he realized he'd probably never fully remember who he'd been before. He was just pieces of his former self, sloppily held together by the will of the force. "It's been so long since I was here. With you."

Obi Wan didn't respond immediately, instead taking off his outer robe and hanging it on a hook adjacent his bedside table. He dressed differently than in the other universe, his clothes darker. Instead of the numerous layers he'd always worn he donned fitted brown pants and a black over-shirt, of which the neckline almost reached his jaw. Anakin rather liked the look. Kenobi took a seat on the small couch, reaching into the cabinet next to it for a drink, pouring Anakin one as well. They sat in peaceful silence for a moment, each collecting themselves for the conversation they needed to have.

Finally, Anakin spoke. "I don't know everything of what is happening, and I don't expect you to believe me. You might have in another life, but in this one you have every right to think I'm lying. I... led a life before this, one in which I didn't make the any of the right decisions. In fact, I actively chose the wrong path. We knew each other, more closely than anyone else, and... I betrayed you. I don't remember everything but I know I was cold and I was cruel and that there was so much hatred. And then finally, I was stopped, given the chance to pay for all my wrongs."

"You died." Obi Wan sounded harrowed by the idea.

Anakin nodded. "The Father of Mortis told me I was going to do start again, until I became the person the force created me to be." His voice trembled, his hands shook, and his throat felt as though it was going to seal itself shut. "And I'm so scared that that person I was before is all I'll ever be. That the Force is mistaken and that I will always become the man who ended lives without even blinking."

Before he was aware of what he was doing, Obi Wan was next to him, one arm wrapped around his back, his hand cradling his face. Anakin leaned into the touch. "I won't let you."

The moment ended.

Obi Wan took his hand back, rising with a cough. He backed away, knowing he was blushing awfully. "I- Excuse me, I have to..." He stumbled when his knee hit the corner of the bed and turning on his heel he almost ran out of the room.

***

Ahsoka Tano's patience was beginning to wear as thin as the blanket wrapped around her and she bounced her leg anxiously, fist clenching and unclenching as the grief hit her in waves. As far as first missions went, she could only assume this one was going rather badly. Senator Riyo Chuchi sat across from her in their small underground bunker- asleep despite the ceiling rumbling from the constant onslaught of missiles from above. Her Master was gone. They'd been in hiding in the obsolete shelter for two days, unable to even open the hatch to see the enemy, though they knew it was an entire army of Separatist droids.

Earlier that morning they'd finally been able to patch through a call for help, it was only a matter of time before reinforcements arrived on Shili. Captain Rex had been working at the radio all night, turning dials and sparking wires in a desperate frenzy. She hadn't been able to calm him down, though she tried. They had the past Togrutan wars to thank for the bunker, though this one must have been a hundred years old. It wasn't built for another war, and the longer they stayed, the more dust from bombs dropping filled it, the harder it was to breath.

___

Ahsoka didn't think her Master had foreseen the ambush, and he hadn't listened to her when she said that there was something lurking in the forest ahead of them. She'd barely had time to push Chuchi out of the way before a missile landed 15 feet ahead of her. She'd been slammed into the ground, head colliding hard enough to make her vision black out for a moment, her ears rang. Remembering a bit of her training as an Initiate she'd brought her arms up to block her face, rock falling from the sky to bruise her elbow badly. When she could finally stand Ahsoka remembered Riyo. She laid several feet away, curled up tightly, hands pressed to her ears.

"Commander Tano, he's badly wounded." Her comlink crackled in her ear and she turned to look at Rex, her Master hung weakly at his side, blood was smeared across his white armor and she knew it wasn't Rex's. Ahead, hidden in the trees she heard the drum beat of footsteps and the shrill scream as a missile soared just over their heads, combusting against the hill behind them. The ground shook. Frantically she reached for Riyo, slinging her arm over her shoulder.

"Captain! Just beyond the next hill there's an old bunker." She practically screamed it, aware that it was a matter of seconds before the droids had reloaded the tanks. Between the explosions of fire and shrapnel around her she barely breathed, time slowed and each second was a battle for her and her charges survival. Rex lagged behind her and she could hear him drop her Master only feet from the heavy, vault-like door.

"He's gone, Sir."

She swallowed dryly, feeling her whole body go numb as she allowed herself one last glance of her Master's body. This was what it was to be a Jedi.