The pale form of Satine flickering on the holoprojector.

Obi-Wan, looking for the words to say.

He came up with some: they know and are you alright? and stay safe.

And she came up with some words for him: I know and I'm fine and you too.

A rush of words, a quiet silence, and then Satine being tugged away to her apartment, Obi-Wan tugged back by the sound of Anakin's footsteps.

And then more silence.

Obi-Wan rolled over in bed to come face-to-face with Anakin.

Well, not quite face-to-face. Anakin was crouched at the side of the bed, his chin resting on his folded hands. When realizing that Obi-Wan had woken up, Anakin smiled. "Morning."

Obi-Wan blinked a few times, becoming more and more aware of the morning light. And then, swiping at his face, Obi-Wan asked, not caring if his voice was slightly muffled by his hand, "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Ten minutes and twenty-seven seconds."

"You didn't count the seconds."

"Sure did."

Obi-Wan started to sit up. He rolled his shoulders—tried to. His shoulder was still stiff from where it had been shot, but it was less painful than yesterday. He reached up, gave it a quick massage as he turned to look at Anakin. "Are the others awake?" He vaguely remembered Anakin dragging him off the couch, guiding him to the bedroom. Padmé's soft laughter. She must have returned late…

"Ahsoka and Rex left with Padmé," Anakin replied. "Trying to get a head start on stabilizing the politics."

Obi-Wan blinked. "They left already?" he asked, and then he glanced at the chronometer. "Anakin—"

"Look, you don't have to do any debriefing until later," Anakin said, standing up. "And the Council hasn't called, so—"

"The Council hasn't called," Obi-Wan said, throwing off the blankets and swinging his feet down to the ground, "or did you just block all of the calls?"

Anakin let out a huff of a laugh. "No, I didn't block their calls. I don't think I can, even if I really wanted to." He leaned back against the wall, his hands tucked behind himself. He lowered his head to Obi-Wan, and then, after an added beat, he said, "Padmé told me that Duchess Satine plans on giving her statement today too—it might be airing in a few minutes, actually."

"A…smart move," Obi-Wan said, standing up. He smoothed down his clothes, looked at Anakin. "I'm sure the news will have quite the exciting run with this."

"Probably," Anakin replied. He shifted a little bit against the wall, and when neither man moved, Anakin finally asked, "Yesterday, when I asked how you were okay…" He shifted again, and Obi-Wan had the feeling he knew where this conversation was going to go. Because he had been wondering about the same conversation himself—he had tried imagining having the conversation with whichever face he could conjure. He always ended those phantom conversations with himself losing his own words, but Anakin was watching Obi-Wan with a careful look that had been perfected over the course of fourteen years.

"I said I wasn't," Obi-Wan finished.

"Yeah." Anakin tilted his head lightly, just enough for it to loll a little towards his shoulder. But his eyes remained on Obi-Wan, that deep blue intent, searching. Obi-Wan waited one moment, two, and then Anakin said at last, "So I have to ask…"

Even though Obi-Wan knew what was coming next, he didn't quite expect that strange little twist in his chest when Anakin asked, "Do you think Korkie's really…" He didn't finish his sentence.

Obi-Wan saw the boy's face flash before himself again: the bright eyes, the hair, even that smile. Korkie couldn't have been that much older than Ahsoka: maybe sixteen, maybe seventeen years old. And judging by that timing...

"It is possible," Obi-Wan said slowly. "More than possible."

A silence.

And then, quietly, Anakin said, "She didn't tell you. If he really is—she didn't mention anything about it to you."

"No."

Another silence.

"Do you think he's…like us?" Anakin asked.

And yet that was another piece that Obi-Wan was still trying to decipher: he saw Satine and Bo-Katan's careful glances at each other again, and Obi-Wan wondered how much Bo-Katan had known. Still knew. And then he remembered those same looks again, a glowing crystal sitting in Ahsoka's palm. Only someone Force-sensitive could use this crystal…

"If he is who I think he is," Obi-Wan said slowly, "then he has to be."

"And who do you think he is?" Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin. "The healing crystal," he said simply. "Only the Force-sensitive are able to harness its energy. And if Satine and Bo-Katan were trying to keep the identity secret…"

"You think it's Korkie," Anakin said. "And if it is Korkie, and if Korkie is..."

"I don't know of any Force sensitivity in Satine's lineage," Obi-Wan said with a dry smile. The smile felt wrong. "So that certainly narrows down the possibilities, doesn't it?"

"I guess it does," Anakin replied. He pushed himself off the wall. "When you spoke with Satine yesterday, did you two mention…"

"No," Obi-Wan replied. "We were…more concerned with what would be coming later today." He glanced at the chronometer, even though he didn't know what time Satine would be giving the statement. Anakin had said a few minutes, and a few minutes had passed.

"Right," Anakin said, though Obi-Wan noticed that slight flicker of confusion on his face. But then Anakin was gesturing out the bedroom. "Breakfast? And if you want to watch the statement…"

Obi-Wan considered turning down the second part of the offer. He could perfectly see Satine standing before the Senate, her chin lifted in that defiant way of hers, blue eyes flashing even in the hollower light of the holograms. He didn't need a viewing screen to know what Satine would look like when she gave her statement, but Obi-Wan nodded anyways because—

"Alright," Anakin said. He gestured out the door.

And so Obi-Wan followed Anakin out to the hallway, down to the main living quarters of the apartment. Obi-Wan eyed the dishes that were already piled in the sink, but Anakin didn't seem to mind. Anakin walked over to the stove, said over his shoulder, "Oatmeal or eggs?"

"Either one," Obi-Wan said, sitting down on the couch. He watched Anakin take out a bag of oats from the cupboard, turn on the stove. There was something familiar about Anakin's movements, and not just because Obi-Wan had watched him in the kitchen before. But Anakin moved around with ease, and Obi-Wan suddenly could see Anakin doing the exact same thing years from now, only this time with Luke and Leia coming back from school. And then Obi-Wan realized that he couldn't imagine Luke and Leia away from Anakin or Padmé at all.

He suddenly could see the twins as older versions of themselves: Luke, with a tangle of blond curls and Leia, with her inquisitive dark eyes, and the two of them hopping up to the kitchen island with words spilling over the other as they tried to get their father's attention first. The image came so clearly and sharply to Obi-Wan that he almost couldn't entertain any other possibility.

And neither can he, Obi-Wan realized, watching Anakin move around the kitchen.

Anakin tossed Obi-Wan a look over his shoulder. "What?"

"Are you happy?"

Obi-Wan didn't know how long he had meant to ask that question until he had asked it. And he hadn't known how long he had been wanting an answer from Anakin himself until Anakin stopped to look at him—fully look at him, with his entire body turned Obi-Wan's way—now.

"Like…" Anakin's voice drifted, his eyebrows inching towards his hairline. "At this exact moment, or…?"

"Not at this exact moment," Obi-Wan replied. "But are you…happy—in general. Here."

A silence.

"Yeah," Anakin said at last. "I'm happy here. I mean…" He let out a short laugh, turning back to the stove. "Right now isn't exactly an ideal situation, with all the news and the politics, but mostly…" He lifted a shoulder, gave Obi-Wan something that was a cross between a frown and a puzzled smile. Obi-Wan wasn't sure. "Where's this coming from?"

"No real reason," Obi-Wan replied, even though he could see other futures, other possibilities flash through his mind: Luke and Leia, probably underneath a speeder with Anakin. Padmé, shaking her head at something that Anakin had told the children. Luke and Leia again, this time as teenagers, tumbling into the apartment and complaining about something or other to their parents. And at the center of it all, Obi-Wan could see Anakin's face smoothed of its hard, battle-earned lines and instead replaced by laughter and pure, uncomplicated love.

And Obi-Wan suddenly realized that this would be Anakin Skywalker's life—this would be where Anakin Skywalker thrived, surrounded by his own family. His family, not the Jedi Order or anything or anyone else.

Obi-Wan told himself he wasn't surprised—he had to have seen this coming at some point or another. He knew that there was no real way for Anakin to ever separate himself from the children, even if they were proven Force-sensitive. He knew his own flesh and blood, in a way that Obi-Wan—

Anakin gave Obi-Wan another quizzical look before turning back to the stove. "If you say so," he said, reaching for the cupboard above. He set a bowl on the counter and leaned back to look at Obi-Wan again. They were quiet for a few seconds—Anakin leaning back against the island with his arms crossed over his chest, Obi-Wan still sitting on the couch, each of them mulling over the almost-silence. (Almost-silence because they could both hear the sound of the slightly bubbling water at the stovetop.)

Obi-Wan broke the silence first. "I am glad," he said. His voice came out quieter than he expected, but he was being sincere. And he found with some relief that, judging by the little smile Anakin gave him, Anakin knew that he was being sincere.

"And I'm glad that you are," Anakin said, pushing himself off the island. He lowered the heat on the stovetop, stirred the oats in the pot. There was a quiet clatter as Anakin reached for a ladle, portioned out the food in the bowl. Anakin turned to Obi-Wan, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. "Do you want it plain, or…?"

Obi-Wan stood up, took the pear out of Anakin's hand. "I can cut this myself, you know," he said lightly.

"Yeah, yeah," Anakin replied, plucking the pear back. "But then that wouldn't be too much fun, would it?"

Obi-Wan managed a smile back, and then he was watching Anakin cut up the pear and toss it into the oatmeal. "Neat," he commented.

"Surprised?"

"Hardly," Obi-Wan replied, fishing a spare piece of stem out of the bowl. He flicked it over to Anakin, who didn't so much as give it a second glance before tossing it into the trash compartment. "Thank you."

Anakin grinned. "Welcome," he replied. He walked around Obi-Wan, sat down on a stool at the island. Obi-Wan slipped beside him, and for a blessed little while, there weren't any words needed between the two of them. Only the occasional nod or half-smile, sometimes a silent pass of a napkin.

For a little while, they could almost pretend that there wasn't anything else going on outside the apartment: just another quiet morning, maybe the first quiet morning in a long string of many quiet mornings.

But Obi-Wan knew they couldn't keep the ruse up, not even as they transitioned to a full-of-nothings conversation about Anakin's dishwashing routine. (Anakin preferred drying, and he didn't like the smell of the dish soap they currently had, and they'll probably have to swap it out with something else soon…)

So when they turned on the holotelevision, neither one said anything. They just moved to the living room, watched.

And when Satine appeared on the screen, Obi-Wan found that he had been right in all his previous assumptions: Satine, with her chin tilted up and eyes sharp and steady even in the harsh lights of the Senate chambers.

"She doesn't look nervous," Anakin commented.

"No," Obi-Wan said. "She doesn't." Of course she doesn't.

"I came here on the assumption that I would be able to make my presence known on my own terms," Satine was saying now. She had a wry smile on her face, but Obi-Wan could detect that slight clench in her jaw that told him that she was already preparing for a lash. "It would seem that someone has beaten me to it."

"I understand my presence brings with it much confusion," Satine added. "Especially in regards to Mandalore's stance in these new political proceedings." She paused, continued: "We have always done our best to make Mandalore a peaceful world. Even in this new time of rebuilding, Mandalore will look to better maintain that peace and, in time, open its arms to those who wish to make a new life for themselves."

Obi-Wan couldn't see how the other senators were reacting—Satine's face lingered on the screen, her shoulders thrown back, eyes staring straight ahead at those undoubtedly watching her.

And then the screen shifted over away from Satine and to someone else: Senator Burtoni, wearing an unpleasantly cool smile. "You might as well cut to the chase, Duchess," the senator said, leaning forward. "You mean to speak of welcoming clone troopers on your planet."

"Such was one of the main reasons why I came to Coruscant, yes," Satine replied, her voice level. "Many clone troopers fought valiantly for Mandalore in a time of need, and we are more than willing to return them the favor."

"Mandalore," Senator Burtoni said delicately, "still seems to have a long way to go in its rebuilding efforts, does it not?" Another wry smile. "We all know of Mandalore's fickle past."

A pause—Obi-Wan could practically feel the tension through the holotelevision as Satine's face came back into view.

Satine herself was still, but only for a half of a moment.

Satine smiled, its wryness matching that of Burtoni's. "Bold words for someone whose own homeworld has been rife with scandal," she said. "As I understand it, your own people are responsible for yet another conflict regarding the clones, are they not?"

Burtoni's face closed. "Are you sure you want to speak of scandal here, Duchess?" she asked. "After all, we are all aware of yet another cause for upset on Mandalore, are we not?"

Satine didn't so much as blink, but Obi-Wan saw that clench in her jaw again. "You will find, Senator," Satine said, her voice cold, controlled, "that you underestimate what it takes to upset Mandalore."

Some stirring amongst the Senate chambers. A few murmurs were caught, but none of them quite loud enough to be projected in the holotelevision.

"No?" came the senator's response. "A temporary occupation from a terrorist group, a killed and seemingly resurrected ruler, as well as a secret direct heir would rattle anyone, I would assume." Another cold smile. "You'll have to forgive us, Duchess, if you think we would be so easily convinced as to your own influence over your own world."

And there, Obi-Wan saw it: a small flicker of doubt in Satine's eyes, the slightest downward tug of her lips that told Obi-Wan Satine had been wondering similar things. The murmurs from the Senate chamber grew into a dull roar, and then Chancellor Mothma's voice was cutting above the noise: "Senators, please—"

Obi-Wan stood up.

Anakin turned off the holotelevision. Looked up at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan looked back down at Anakin. Hesitated. "If the Council calls—"

"I suddenly have no idea where you are," Anakin replied. He settled down on the rug, suddenly interested in picking off the children's toys. "You could be eaten by a gundark, for all I know."

"Anakin—"

"Fine, no gundark," Anakin said, standing up. He walked away from Obi-Wan, returned with a cloak. He tossed it at Obi-Wan. "Be careful out there."

"Aren't I always," Obi-Wan said dryly. Or tried to sound that way. He was dully aware of the tightness in his chest, the extra second it took for him to put on the cloak. He looked at Anakin. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Anakin replied. He gestured vaguely. "Door or balcony?"

It took a moment for Obi-Wan to get at what Anakin was suggesting.

And despite himself, Obi-Wan managed a weak huff of a laugh. "For goodness' sake, Anakin," he said, moving past his friend to the door. "I'm not running a covert operation."

"No," Anakin replied, following Obi-Wan. "But you could be surprised."

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, adjusting the hood over his head, "I don't think anything could surprise me anymore."

Satine hadn't yet returned from the Senate chambers when Obi-Wan reached the apartment. It was strange—he hadn't even needed to ask where she was staying. He had just assumed she would be in the same apartment she had stayed at during the first few times she had come to Coruscant, and for a terrible moment, Obi-Wan wondered if Satine had actually been moved to a different apartment, and he was considering walking away, searching for Satine elsewhere when the lift doors opened.

"Obi-Wan," Satine said, stepping out of the lift with her guards.

"Satine." Obi-Wan bowed his head slightly. "I saw your statement."

"Yes," Satine said, moving past Obi-Wan. "Senator Burtoni's quite…something else. I can't understand how Ahsoka and Rex were able to handle her the first time." She brought a hand up to the keypad at the door. Obi-Wan noticed the lightest tremor in her hand, but then the door was sliding open, and Satine dropped her hand back to her side.

There weren't any words exchanged between them afterwards: Satine walked into the apartment, Obi-Wan followed. The guards remained outside, and then the doors slid closed behind them.

For a while, they only stood in the apartment. Satine, standing at the center of the apartment, one hand resting atop the head of her cane, the other dangling at her side. Obi-Wan, standing just two steps standing in front of the door, cloak still wrapped around his shoulders.

"The boy," Obi-Wan said at last. He saw the slight stiffening of Satine's shoulders. And then the inevitable drop of them as Obi-Wan continued, "Korkie."

A beat of silence—the loudest silence Obi-Wan had ever heard.

"Satine," Obi-Wan said quietly. He braved a step forward, found with some surprise that his steps were steadier than he anticipated. Years of standing on a battlefield and balancing himself amid blaster and cannon fire, he supposed, would probably do that to someone.

And then Obi-Wan heard a sharp breath, the kind of breath that one only took after holding in for so long. Satine's head dropped for a moment, and Obi-Wan saw her lift a hand, imagined her pushing it up to her face. He could see the expression so perfectly—he was seeing too many things too clearly today, he realized. And he felt like that was some strange joke, being able to envision things so clearly only now.

"Satine—" Obi-Wan tried again.

"Don't," Satine said. Her hand dropped, her shoulders straightened, her head lifted. "Please, don't ask—"

Something numbed in Obi-Wan's chest at the desperation in Satine's voice. He had only ever heard that tone a few times, and only ever before something terrible happen.

Satine turned around slowly. Her eyes were turned to the ground, made their time to reach Obi-Wan's face. They were clear—too clear to the point of reminding Obi-Wan of glass, the same pale blue glass of the Sundari Palace. But even still, Satine's gaze remained focus, sharp as she shook her head slightly—a small shake, one that anyone else would have missed. "Please," she repeated quietly.

"How could I not ask?" Obi-Wan asked. He took another step forward, and this time, Satine took a step back. Obi-Wan stopped short, that numbness in his chest giving way to cold ice.

They stood still.

"He was the one who used the healing crystal," Obi-Wan said at last. "He somehow—"

"I said not to ask—"

"And I'm not," Obi-Wan replied. He looked at Satine, searched the glass of her eyes. Satine held his gaze—she was always good at that, and now more than ever. And in the end, it was Obi-Wan who looked away first, found himself trying to grapple for his next words, only to realize that he couldn't, for the first time, think of anything to say for the life of him.

Except for perhaps what he said next—

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice too quiet and the silence too loud.

"How could I?"

Obi-Wan looked at Satine.

Satine only tilted her head, a helpless look on her face. She brought up a hand, gestured towards him. "I couldn't ask you to—and I couldn't…" Her voice drifted, and she let out a breath, blinked up to the ceiling. "We had different lives. Have different lives." She blinked again, fixed her gaze back on Obi-Wan. "And I don't expect you to change yourself for me. Or for any of this."

Obi-Wan only looked at her, feeling that ice grow. And he knew—he knew, had known, somehow, that Satine wouldn't ask him to make any sacrifice of the sort. And yet—

"You were alone," he said. "All this time—even when I came to Mandalore—" He paused, suddenly having a terrible thought. "Does he know?"

"He knows I'm not merely his aunt," Satine replied. "I suspect he's known for a long time. But as for…the rest…" She lifted her eyes up to Obi-Wan. "He knows that his father must have been different."

Obi-Wan saw the boy's face float before his eyes again. The more he thought of it, the more he could see both Satine and himself in that face. All this time—

"And what about him?"

"What do you mean?"

Obi-Wan let out a short laugh. It rang hollowly around the room. "If he's able to use a healing crystal now, then he must have expressed some of his own particular skills before."

A pause. And then Satine said, "Only a few times. And only enough times for people to dismiss them all as happy coincidences of an energetic child."

Obi-Wan tried not to imagine what those coincidences might have entailed. Or maybe he did want to imagine—

"Well," Obi-Wan said, looking at Satine, "he knows now that those weren't just coincidences. Must have been aware for quite some time, if he was able to use the crystal." His blood ran cold at the image of the young boy down in those catacombs, his hands wrapped around the glowing blue crystal. Eyes—his eyes—lit up by the glow. Alone.

Alone for all this time—

"He knows now, yes."

Obi-Wan found Satine's sad eyes. Not sad for him, he realized. Sad for both of them.

He wanted to look away. Realized that he couldn't stand that glassiness in them, the feeling that they might break at a moment's notice. He wondered if he looked the same.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Obi-Wan asked. "Even before—did you—"

He wasn't sure what answer he wanted. At least, he told himself he didn't know what answer he wanted.

But when Satine only stared at him, Obi-Wan realized he was lying to himself.

"I see."

Another silence.

Satine looked away first. Blinked a few times, wiped her hand against her dress. "Well," she said quietly, "I won't keep you here much longer. I'm sure you have your own affairs to take care of, and I have mine." She cleared her throat, looked down quickly at the ground before lifting her head back up to Obi-Wan. A dismissal, that was what this was.

This was the part where Obi-Wan left.

This was the part where they would part ways: Obi-Wan in one direction, Satine in the other.

And yet—

Satine turned back around, took a few steps deeper into the apartment. Obi-Wan watched her retreating back, the sinking sensation in his chest reminding him a little too much that he had seen this part before. Too many times.

He knew what he was supposed to do now: turn around, walk out the apartment.

Obi-Wan took one step back—a small, hesitant step back to the door. This was the part where he left.

Obi-Wan looked to Satine's retreating back. In just a few moments, she would be in another part of the apartment entirely, out of his line of sight, and Obi-Wan saw something else: the two of them, alone again. Satine, probably hovering near the doorframe to the other room and waiting for the sound of footsteps to walk out of the apartment, the rush of a door opening and closing. And then they would be alone again.

Satine was walking farther and farther away now, each step taking her closer and closer to that future.

This was the part where he left—

And then Obi-Wan took one step forward, two. Only these steps weren't even, not like the ones he had taken when he had first walked into the apartment. Obi-Wan was walking on rocky ground, on shards of broken glass.

He didn't say anything. He found that he didn't have to, not as Satine's steps slowed with his quickened ones. Their steps turned out of sync, Satine's footfalls sounding a beat after Obi-Wan's own.

And then Obi-Wan was standing right behind Satine. He didn't even need to hold out a hand to reach her. He could lean forward, and he knew exactly where his forehead would bump against the back of her head.

Satine let her head drop.

Another breath. Hers, his, Obi-Wan didn't know.

He didn't have to reach forward—he could just stay here, right behind her, and that might have been enough for both of them.

Might have—

Obi-Wan reached forward, found the spot right above Satine's elbow, right where he used to pull her back from danger or pull her towards him. He didn't pull now—just kept that hand there, a quiet plea.

Another breath.

"Satine," Obi-Wan said quietly. His name was little more than a breath of his own—nearly soundless, but the little tilt of Satine's head gave all the confirmation he needed. He looked down at his hand still at Satine's arm. "Just this once—"

Satine turned around to him fully, and Obi-Wan's hand slipped away as she lifted her face up to him. Obi-Wan saw the red in her eyes now, but there were no tears. She wouldn't let them fall, Obi-Wan knew.

Obi-Wan swallowed. "Just this once," he repeated. His hand twitched, still feeling Satine under his palm. He pressed his hand to his side, even as it ached for a different kind of touch. He blinked quickly, tried to focus on something other than Satine's eyes. He found the window instead. The sun was already high in the sky, shining too brightly and cheerfully.

"Obi-Wan," Satine said softly. And then there was a pause—a hesitation—and then Obi-Wan felt a warm hand cup the side of his face.

Obi-Wan breathed in once, felt that stutter in his chest as he refocused on Satine.

"All those years," Obi-Wan said hoarsely. He reached up, found Satine's hand. Their fingers slipped around each other's too quickly, too naturally. "All this time—" He cut himself off at Satine's sad expression. Please, he wanted to say, even though he didn't know what he was pleading. See this.

"Just this once," he said at last, squeezing Satine's hand, "if we could…do this. Together." He squeezed her hand again. Please—

"The whole galaxy knows about him now," Obi-Wan said quietly. "I want for us to—just this once—"

"Be there," Satine finished. "Together."

Obi-Wan nodded—really not a nod, just a shift of his head. The smallest shift, just enough to feel their fingers brush against his face again.

Just enough—

Just this once—

A/N: As always, reviews/follows/favorites are greatly appreciated!