Disclaimer: Sadly, I still own nothing. This has not changed since I last updated in June.
Author's Note:
On to Part Two! I have all but the final two scenes done, so I felt pretty safe posting this. Thank you to everyone for hanging in there and waiting for me to get this done. I appreciate the continued support.
puts foot in mouth: Thank you so much! I really love to hear that I managed to convey the characters' emotions convincingly, since that's the part of the story I care the most about. I'm better with character development than with action sequences. I'm also glad you liked my take on the Jedi's flawed views. That's always a fun topic to explore with Anakin and Obi-Wan, mainly because attachment is Obi-Wan's main weakness as a Jedi, and actually something that I don't really view as a weakness at all.
Anakin T Skywalker: Yes, the Force-sensitive twins are going to give Obi-Wan and Anakin quite a run for their money.
Hazelcloud: Yes, Anakin does need a little bit of hope. He's finally starting to get it.
Kyer: I'm guessing they'll fare the same way that Obi-Wan did between ROTS and ANH. Somehow Obi-Wan was able to avoid the Empire all those years, so Anakin and the twins will probably be able to do it with him. I have to laugh at the idea of Anakin and Obi-Wan shopping for baby supplies, though. Poor guys.
xBrainsx: Thank you! Their emotions are quite fun to write.
ObiBettina7: I'm very glad you liked the ending—it took me a while to come up with.
Kimsa Ki-Lurria: Anakin has a long way to go before he's completely whole again. He's got a lot of things to fix, both in himself and as a result of the things he's done.
Jedi Angel001: Yes, they've both got a lot of healing to do.
Siriusly Loopy: Nope, not the end—just the end of the first part!
MegumiFuu: It is the clam before the storm, indeed. And I was always sad that we never got to see Daddy!Anakin. With all the trouble he gave Obi-Wan, he deserved a little parental pay-back.
jedigal125: Thank you!
Feedback: Keeps me from turning to the dark side! Haha, just kidding. I'm on whatever side Obi-Wan's on. ;)
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Five Years Later
Tatooine's twin suns are just barely sneaking over the horizon when Anakin wakes. It's early, but the room is already warming, hinting at the promise of another hot day. He hates the heat. When he'd been a child he'd hardly noticed it—he'd never known anything different—but after living on Coruscant, where the weather is controlled, he's found the smothering warmth hard to get used to again.
Sighing, Anakin sits up in bed. If he had his way, he'd turn over and fall back asleep for another few hours. He'd really like nothing better, but the sounds of Obi-Wan puttering around in the kitchen, making breakfast, are enough to tug him from the enticing clutches of slumber. The twins will be up soon, and he should go help Obi-Wan.
Apparently, sleeping late is a luxury he can no longer afford.
Donning his Jedi robe—brown now, instead of the black Darth Vader wore—he slips out of bed and pads softly into the living area of their tiny hut. The place is so small, though it's better than when they first arrived here. Back then, it had only been a living area and a raised kitchen and bathroom, along with a small basement underneath the dwelling. At least now they've added two small rooms off the back—a bedroom for the twins and another for him—and while he still doesn't like the fact that Obi-Wan doesn't have a room of his own but instead sleeps in an alcove in the living area, it's better than nothing. At least they have a home.
At least they're all alive.
"Morning, Anakin. I was beginning to think you'd sleep all day."
Muttering something completely unflattering under his breath, Anakin sinks down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "The sun's hardly even up, Master."
"And by the sound of it, you wish you weren't."
"I heard you in the kitchen, and I knew the twins would be up soon anyway."
"Honestly, Anakin, I was capable of handling you as a child when you were hungry—I'm fairly certain I'm qualified to watch Luke and Leia."
Of course he is. He's probably more qualified than Anakin. "Whatever," he mutters instead, reaching for the cup of caf that Obi-Wan sets before him. He can't have a battle of wits this early in the morning—not with Obi-Wan. His former master is too skilled with words.
Sighing heavily, Anakin runs a hand over his face. There are things he needs to do today: run into town to get some supplies, fix the power generator in the basement that has been acting glitchy, and possibly even repair one of Luke's toys. The need to accomplish leaves him feeling restless and irritated.
At least, that's what he'd like to think it is.
Obi-Wan, apparently, knows better. "You're on edge."
"I don't know why," he admits, taking a generous drink of caf. Too hot. It burns going down, and he finds himself grimacing. "There's no reason for me to be."
"Have you considered that it might be because of reasons not immediately obvious?"
In other words, has he considered that it might be a warning in the Force? Of course he's considered that. The problem is, he doesn't trust his own instincts so much anymore. How can he really ever trust himself again after what he did?
"Do you sense something out of place?" he asks instead.
Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow and pauses from where he's getting out a plate. "That wasn't an answer, Anakin. I asked you."
"I don't know. Maybe."
"You need to learn to trust yourself again. You're intuition is quite often valuable."
"And when it's not, I end up destroying the entire Jedi Order," he snaps, running a hand through his hair. It's unruly, just like it always is when he wakes up. "Forgive me if I'm a little hesitant to follow my instincts."
Obi-Wan doesn't look convinced. "That was your problem, Anakin--you didn't follow your instincts. You knew that giving into the dark side was wrong, but you did it anyway."
It's too early for this. He's not ready to have a discussion of this magnitude. Maybe later when the fog in his brain has cleared, he'll be ready to talk about this. Or, maybe not. Maybe never, at least if he has his way. "I'm not awake enough to talk about this. Just let me eat my breakfast, Obi-Wan."
"Certainly. Right as soon as we finish discussing whether or not the Force is giving you a warning."
"For the love of—" he starts, but then cuts himself off, clenching his fist around his cup. "Obi-Wan, just admit that you've picked up something in the Force, too."
"I never denied that I did." Calmly, he puts out a plate of food for both Luke and Leia. Undoubtedly, he can feel them beginning to stir, their consciousness in the Force becoming more defined. Anakin can sense them as well—they'll be up in a few minutes. "I feel something also."
"You don't look all that worried."
"As you said, it's too early in the morning. I'm sure you'll recall, I'm a morning person by necessity, not by choice."
"And I'm a morning person because you've forced me to be."
Obi-Wan laughs. "That's simply untrue. I've encouraged—not forced. Now, this... uneasy feeling that you're receiving: have you meditated on it?"
No, he hasn't. Up until about two minutes ago, he was still trying to chalk it up to stress. "No."
"I have, but I can't sense what it centers around. It's... something elusive."
"I know. Just unsettling, as if something's about to happen."
"I feel the same."
Anakin smiles, enjoying the easy way that Obi-Wan admits that. They don't always agree, of course, but it has become a far more common occurance. That began after Anakin was knighted—he and Obi-Wan often were more likely to see eye-to-eye on things. Mostly, it had been Anakin's doing; once he was classified as Obi-Wan's equal, he'd stopped feeling the desperate need to prove that he was as good as his master. Now, it's even easier. In some ways, they've become opposite sides of the same coin—different, but inseparable, always complimentary to each other. Their opinions, even when different, fit together; they are a seamless team, just as they were during the Clone Wars, but devoid of the certain amount of friction that they'd still possessed even at that point.
In short, Anakin no longer has to balance what Obi-Wan says with what Palpatine tells him. Before, while he trusted Obi-Wan with his life, there was always lingering doubt when it came to trusting him with his thoughts. He never quite believed that his master would still look at him the same way if he showed him what really existed in his mind. That distrust was one of the major factors Palpatine used to tear their relationship apart—and he did tear it apart. Obi-Wan saw the absolute worst of him... and somehow still came back. He will always come back. Anakin is sure of that, and even if it doesn't make divulging the less pleasant parts of himself any more enjoyable, it does make doing so possbile. He trusts Obi-Wan now.
It's himself he doesn't always have faith in.
"Any ideas?"
"About what we should do?" Obi-Wan shrugs. "Right now, I suggest that we give your children breakfast."
As if on cue—and, really, they are, because Obi-Wan knew they were coming—Luke and Leia patter into the kitchen, rubbing their eyes and still looking a bit sleepy. "Hi, Daddy," Luke mutters as walks over to Anakin and climbs up onto his lap, his sandy blond hair flopping around in a way resembling, as Obi-Wan often teasingly tells him, the messy fur of a bantha.
"Good-morning," Obi-Wan greets them pleasantly as he pushes a plate of food toward Luke before heading to get his own. Leia, unsurprisingly, trails after him, her tiny lips pursed in frustration when he doesn't stop for her.
"Ben?"
"Mmm?"
"Ben!"
Leia is Anakin at her age. Striking. Opinionated. Loving. Remarkable. Anakin doesn't always know quite how to handle her. He loves her to pieces, of course, but sometimes she confuses him, because he sees himself, and he's not quite sure how to deal with the things in his personality—in hers—that he doesn't like or that he fears. In seeing himself, he sees what she could become—what he became—and it scares him.
Obi-Wan, however, is entirely comfortable with her.
Glancing down at the little girl who's planted in front of him, sporting a look of stalwart determination and waving her small arms in the air, begging to be lifted up, he merely raises an eyebrow. "Leia, where are your manners?"
She pauses, blinks her large brown eyes—Padme's eyes—and then adds, "Please?!"
A tiny smile peeking from under his beard—Leia has that effect on him—Obi-Wan places his food on the table and reaches down to scoop her up into his arms. She laughs happily and wraps her arms around his neck.
Anakin can almost hear the thoughts in her head. Mission accomplished. Objective achieved. She's five years old, and she's already manipulating situations to her liking. This does not bode well for her teenage years. Maybe he'll just let Obi-Wan be the parent once the hormones kick in. He'll take a vacation or something and come back once she's stable, because if her teenage years are anything like his were, he's not sure he'll survive.
"You're getting far too big for this, Leia," Obi-Wan says dryly, though he still lets her cling as he retrieves the last bits of food and heads for the table. "You're making lunch, Anakin," he declares before setting her down in her own chair.
Of course he is. Of course, because Obi-Wan just knows how much he loves cooking—
"I know you hate to cook, but someone needs to make another run into town for supplies—"
"I could get the supplies—"
"And since I made breakfast, I don't think it would be too much to ask."
Yes, and right there is a hint of Obi-Wan's days as a master. The tiny little lift in his eyebrow, as he fixes Anakin with something of a stern speculation, as if he's sizing up just how long he's going to need to make his ensuing lecture. Anakin hates that look.
"Fine." At least in his acquiescence, he'll stop Obi-Wan from issuing another long-winded speech.
Obi-Wan's sternness progresses to the point of mild annoyance, as if he knows his former padawan is only agreeing in an attempt to skirt around a lecture. "That means you have to make something more than pre-packaged food for your children."
"If you want to complain about my cooking, do it yourself."
It's a common argument between them. Neither of them like to cook, and while Obi-Wan is rather good at it, he finds it an annoyance. He'd done it occasionally when Anakin was younger and they didn't want to eat in the Temple's cafeteria, but now it's something they need three times a day, and that's a different issue entirely. They really should have brought C-3PO with them, except that they'd needed someone to oversee the delivery of Padme's body to her family.
Leaning back in his chair as he downs a glass of muja juice, Anakin is suddenly struck by just how surreal this whole situation is in light of what happened five years ago. This is just so... normal.
That is, as normal as anything can be anymore.
Nothing is ever going to make up for the fact that his children don't have a mother. He can't change that, just as he can't change the fact that their father has sunk down into the dark side and found his way—or, as he prefers to say, was pulled—back out again. He can't make it normal that they're being raised by him and Obi-Wan, who Anakin thinks is sometimes as much the twins' father as he is—which he finds now fault with, because he certainly needs the help—while still acting as a cross between father and brother to him simultaneously. It's an odd situation, so abnormal, and yet compared to what their lives might have been, it is normal. Breakfast and family, contrasted with the dark side and Sith lords.
How contradictory.
How confusing.
"If you're going to begin thinking deep thoughts, Anakin, you might as well meditate."
"I'm fine, Master."
He's never liked meditating, but it's even less enjoyable these days. He did it so much after Padme died that he's begun to associate it with feelings that aren't pleasant. If he can get around it, he only meditates when Obi-Wan insists or when he's so consumed by his own negative thoughts that he has nothing else to do.
"Can we meditate again today, Ben?" Luke asks, sliding down off Anakin's lap and slipping into his own chair. The promise of food never fails to get the boy moving.
"Certainly, Luke. In fact, Anakin, why don't you help Leia with it, and I'll help Luke?"
Anakin nods. "All right." It will mean doing it himself, which isn't an overly appealing thought, but the twins do need the help, and he enjoys the time spent with his children.
Obi-Wan swallows down another bite of his breakfast. "We can do that when I get back from town. I shouldn't be too late."
"That's what you always say." He works not to roll his eyes, though he thinks maybe he shouldn't have bothered: Obi-Wan gives him a stern look anyway. "Fine. I'll keep some dinner for you, assuming that I don't incinerate the house with my less-than-fantastic culinary skills."
He knows he's being laughed at when Obi-Wan ducks his head and hides his smile with a hand over his mouth. "That's appreciated."
Ten minutes later, Anakin's left with the dishes and two energetic children who just have to practice sparring with their wooden lightsabers, even though he's very specifically told them before that they can't do it in the house. "Outside!" he orders them, watching them scurry out the door. To make things even more interesting, the heat's still rising, and that niggling feeling he's getting in the Force hasn't gone away.
Sighing heavily, he throws the dishes in the sink to do later and follows his children outside.
This has the makings of an interesting day.