AN: Hi everyone, sorry it's been such a wait to get this new chapter up! I hope you enjoy it, it's a little longer than usual and things are starting to come together. In this chapter, I shall admit that I shamelessly filched the idea for Force binders from KeelieThompson1's fanfictions over on AO3 - she's writing a fantastic series called Stand the Hazard of the Die, where 7-year-old Luke is sent back to the Clone Wars era, bringing Anakin a warning. Anyway, I read them and thought the idea of the binders worked well for my plot, so here we are. Head on over to give them a read!

Again, I own nothing except vague plot. If only... :P Thank you to everyone who has followed, favourited or reviewed - it makes my day to know that people are reading and enjoying this, so keep them coming. Let me know your thoughts!

Chapter Three:

You will not take her from me!
His brother's – former brother's – words repeated themselves, over and over, in Obi-Wan Kenobi's mind, reminding him of how he had failed. Even then, he just wanted to curl up somewhere away from this, somewhere he didn't have to think about all he had lost, about the deaths he'd been forced to witness over and over through the Force. Most of all, he wanted to deny that Anakin had fallen, that if he fled fast enough and far enough his best friend and brother would be there waiting for him, and they'd argue the way they always had. Maybe he'd even forget what he'd seen on those temple holocrons.

With an effort, Obi-Wan pulled himself back to the present. He knew Padmé was heavily pregnant and yet Anakin-Vader had Force-choked her, dropping her to the ground with the callous disregard of the Sith. He knew she still lived, but her presence in the Force was dangerously low. Worse still, he noticed as he drew closer that her leggings and the bottom edge of her tunic were soaked with liquid that pooled at her waist. Having frantically read through all the pregnancy and childcare manuals he could upon realising Padmé was pregnant (of course with Anakin's child, did they really think he didn't know?), he knew that the liquid meant her waters had broken and her labour had begun. He rested a hand briefly on her forehead, noting the heat and dryness of her skin, but also the strong beat of her pulse at her throat. Shooting a wary look at the Sith apprentice, he hoisted her gently into his arms, beckoning over C-3PO with an irritable jerk of the head. Carefully depositing the unconscious senator in the droid's arms and directing him towards the ship, he returned his attention to Vader.

He turned just in time to see him crumple to the ground, his expression slackening from raw pain and horror to one of peaceful oblivion split seconds before he fell. Obi-Wan held back warily, throwing back his robes to give him ease of movement and igniting his lightsaber in readiness. Seconds dragged by like hours as he watched his former apprentice, alert for any signs that he might come to consciousness or have only been pretending. He didn't stir.

Knowing that Padmé lay on the ship behind him, only hours away from giving birth to the children of the man in front of him, time was running out for him to come to a decision. He knew what the Council would say – Yoda had sent him to Mustafar with the express order to put an end to Vader's evil and thus deprive Darth Sidious of his apprentice. Obi-Wan, however, had been able to slip deeper into the Jedi archives before leaving the Temple…

Moving quickly and furtively, hoping he would have the time to find what he sought, he hastily entered the access code to the vault buried deep amongst the trappings of thousands of years of history, history that was about to be wiped from the face of Coruscant. Running his fingers along the storage boxes until he found the correct one, he yanked it from the shelf, fumbling the movement in his haste to retrieve what was inside: a pair of plainly-wrought steel cuffs, burnished to a gentle glow in the soft lighting of the archives. Slipping the cuffs into his robe, he returned the room to its original state and secured it once more, hoping that the lack of a passcode for this nondescript door in the bowels of the temple would deter future entrance. Hope was a shallow thing, he knew, but in this situation simply his need for the binders was a thin, frail hope that he dared not examine too carefully for fear it would crumble into nothing.

Reaching into his robe once more, he carefully unlocked the binders. This was the delicate part: being able to slip the cuffs onto Vader's wrists before he was aware of it, and then keeping him immobile long enough to get him secured on the ship. Obi-Wan knew it was a tall order, but he found himself clinging to that same fragile slip of hope from earlier: that somewhere deep inside, Anakin Skywalker remained, fighting to return to the light. He knew the teachings of the Jedi as well as any other acolyte – that once a Jedi had strayed to the Dark Side of the Force, they were forever consumed by it and could never return. It was as though the Jedi died and was replaced by the Sith, with no hope of redemption; however something in the way he had treated Padmé in the moments before he recognised Obi-Wan's presence gave him pause. He had seemed so close to agreeing to give up his powers and to flee with her, and had even claimed that his only motivation in turning to the Dark Side had been to save her from death. If any part of that had been true, Vader's grip on Anakin's soul was much less complete than Obi-Wan had believed. If any of that were true, there was a possibility of saving him.
He was not about to lose another brother, not when he could do something about it this time.

"You're wasting time, Kenobi," he chided himself, drawing in a deep breath that felt almost aflame with heat, and opened himself to the Force. Anakin had drawn on the Force as easily as breathing, so he needed any opening he could to ensure he had the upper hand. Steeling himself, he eased the Force into a gentle but firm grip around Vader and, before he had time to second-guess his plan, snapped the cuffs onto his wrists. The anticipated explosion did not come, and if anything the other man's body seemed to relax, the tension draining out of him as though a nightmare had come to an end. Knowing he had little time to get Vader to the ship and away before Sideous came looking for the apprentice that had vanished from the Force, he hoisted him over his shoulder and headed back to the ship, cursing the lanky limbs and dense body mass that he had been carting around ever since his apprentice hit puberty. At the last moment, prompted by some stirring in the Force that he couldn't quite pinpoint, he extended a hand to the lightsaber discarded on the ground behind him, quickly clipping it to the opposite side of his belt from where the unconscious man's hands dangled.

Settling his burden into one of the ship's cots, he threw himself into the cockpit, prepping the ship for the jump to hyperspace with the madcap movements of the truly desperate man. Inputting the hyperspace coordinates Artoo sent him, he ignored the voice screaming at him that he had a Sith and a woman in labour bunked in the same room, one of whom had almost killed the other less than a half hour prior. He could only trust to the hope that the shock of losing connection to the Force would keep Vader unconscious long enough for him to get Padmé to a med centre, and then…
He refused to think about what came after.

Flicking the settings to autopilot and instructing Artoo to keep an eye on the ship, he headed back to the sleeping quarters, trying to ignore the leaden feeling settling into his stomach. He'd avoided forming expectations of what he'd find, but the scene that greeted him left him frozen and speechless in the doorway. Padmé knelt beside Vader's bunk, her fingers laced through those of his flesh hand while the other smoothed his hair back from his face, like a mother soothing her child's nightmares. Her jaw was set against the contractions he knew she must be feeling, but she was so intent on the unconscious man that it took Obi-Wan clearing his throat for her to notice him.
"Obi-Obi Wan!" she exclaimed, hastily lowering her voice with a glance at her husband. The relief and love that spread over her face at the sight of him, unharmed, brought a lump to his throat. He was the reason her husband had turned on her, believing she had betrayed him by conspiring against him with Obi-Wan, he was the reason Anakin had even been able to fall to Sidious' manipulations. If he had been there when the Sith Lord made his move, he would have been able to do something – but he had been worlds away when his brother needed him the most, and his wife had nearly paid for it with her life.

Almost as though she had read his thoughts, her eyes narrowed and her expression darkened. Detangling her fingers from his and pressing a light kiss to his cheek, she heaved herself to her feet and brushed past Obi-Wan, crooking an imperious finger for him to follow. Simply looking at the way she walked, her back straight and rigid in spite of the weight she carried and every step using taut muscles, he was able to gain a rough estimate of her mood. Padmé Amidala, former queen of Naboo and representative in the Galactic Senate, was not merely angry. She was furious enough to be in a battle rage, but he knew her well enough to expect ice-cold, cutting anger that was much harder to stand against than Anakin's impassioned fury.

Seating herself in one of the chairs in the tiny council chamber, she frostily motioned for him to seat himself opposite her. Now that he could take the time to look at her, without her usual careful makeup and robes constructed to mask her blossoming frame, the bags under her eyes and nails bitten down to the quick jarringly obvious.
"Tell me, Obi-Wan Kenobi," she began, her voice lashing at him like a whip, "just what did you think you were doing, stowing aboard my ship? You know what he's like, you know him best of anybody!" She bit her lip, eyes suspiciously bright as she smoothed the fabric over her belly.
"Padmé…" he began, then stopped. He had no real explanation, no way to justify his actions. She was right, he had known exactly what he was risking but had felt he had no choice – reasons that seemed hollow now that he had time to examine what he had done. "I'm sorry, Padmé," he said quietly, meeting her eyes squarely and trying to project exactly what he was feeling. She sighed, wilting a little now that she no longer had her anger to keep her upright.
"There's still good in him, you know," she said quietly, tracing designs on the tabletop with one finger. "Anakin's in there somewhere, we just have to bring him back."
Obi-Wan swallowed hard. "I think… I know," he told her firmly, holding onto the words like a lifeline.
There's still good in him.

Me Again: Drop me a review or message me if there were things you liked, didn't like, could improve, or even if you have ideas for where this could go! May the Force be with you. ^_^