The night was cold, the crisp, cool breeze biting at his skin despite the cloak that was draped around his shoulders. The streets of Tattoine were nearly deserted, the usually lively town dead asleep. Not that Obi-wan could blame them, it was far too late an hour for anyone to be awake.
He sighed, glancing down at the child sound asleep in his arms. His young face was the picture of peaceful, unaware of the horrors that had befallen his family mere hours ago.
Obi-wan didn't doubt that the Lars couple would take good care of the boy, but he still couldn't help but feel saddened as he stared down into the features so similar to Anakin and Padme's that it made his heart hurt. Images of what could have been flashed through his mind, nearly making him forget about why he was here in the first place.
Strengthening his resolve, he shook his head, hoping that it would dispel the thoughts from his mind. It did, temporarily. But Obi-wan knew that they would plague him for as long as he lived, always lurking within the cracks and crevices of his psyche.
Kneeling down before the front door, he gently placed little Luke Skywalker down upon the ground. He adjusted the blanket, hoping that it and the heating spell that he had cast on it would be enough to keep the child warm until someone within the household took notice.
With one last glance down at the boy, Obi-wan stood.
He would make this right.
He would rip the empire down. The empire that had turned his best friend against him, and killed everyone who he had ever known.
Eventually.
Even if it meant he would become one of the monsters he had sworn to destroy while doing it.
And with a small, nearly unnoticeable popping sound, the only thing left upon the front porch of Lars home was the sleeping baby.