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Chapter 15

Obi-Wan stood at the entrance to the Temple and watched the sky transition from gold to orange. Sunset was always beautiful at the Temple. In any given direction, the world shifted from silver to gold, as if for that fleeting moment everything became a treasure of immeasurable worth. Then the gold faded to a glittering display of bronze and rubies.

It had been a week since they'd returned to Coruscant, and he hadn't been allowed to check in on Anakin since they'd arrived at the Halls of Healing. Obi-Wan had his wounds treated, gathered a fresh change of clothes and his cloak, and then spent the remainder of his time waiting at Padmé's apartment. Waiting for what, he wasn't certain. He repaired and then left Anakin's lightsaber there. It felt right to leave it somewhere other than the Temple.

After seeing Anakin in such a dreadful state, Obi-Wan's mind had been sent reeling. The peace he'd acquired since the vision had fractured, and he struggled to find it again. Sidious' words did nothing to help.

And now you have played your role magnificently—not just one rejection, but two.

His heart sank with the light. What role had he played in Anakin's suffering this time?

A familiar string of beeps drew his attention towards the large doors at the end of Processional Way. Obi-Wan half turned before R2 squealed at him belligerently, zoomed across the walkway, and slammed into his leg.

"Stop doing that," Obi-Wan snapped at the droid, and he stepped back and rubbed his leg. R2 beeped at him and then abruptly died, same as it had the last time. "Oh, come now. Being a little dramatic, aren't you?"

"Obi-Wan!" Padmé followed R2's path out of the Temple and onto the walkway. She supported her stomach with both hands, a bright rosy glow to her cheeks only accented by the crimson red of the watercolor sky. "Obi-Wan, is it true? Is Anakin all right?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, but he frowned at her. "Are you all right?" Even though her pace had been slow, she panted for air and sagged under an oppressive weight.

"Yes, yes." She waved her hand dismissively and then placed it on R2. "They haven't let me see him. They're afraid how he might respond. What does that mean? Is he okay? Did something happen?"

Obi-Wan searched her face and then her shoulders hanging low from the invisible burden of concern for her husband. He managed a smile.

"He's all right, Padmé. He hasn't fallen. He's still with us." Though if the wraith of a man Anakin had become did not respond positively to treatment, things could take a turn. How he wished they'd let him see him, to see his progress. But attachments were lethal to the Jedi—could be lethal. And yet…

His attachment to you kept him bound to the light for far too long.

Obi-Wan stiffened when Padmé let out a puff of air and leaned forward, her face twisting in a frown.

"Are you all right?" He took her arm and supported her, and she pushed her weight against his side. One hand she set on his shoulder, the other held her belly.

"I thought so. I've felt a little pain, but they said that might happen. But now—ah!" Padmé grimaced and folded in on herself. Obi-Wan caught and held her, and she fastened her hands on his arms in a steely grip.

"Padmé, I think the babies might be coming," he said, gingerly, as if not quite certain how she'd respond.

Padmé offered a tiny smile, and sweat shone on her brow.

"I think you might be right."

R2 screamed, burst to life, and zigzagged to the Temple door, squealing and beeping the entire way. Padmé chuckled but remained hunched over, heavy on Obi-Wan. He led her inside, trailing R2, and once through the doors, Obi-Wan called to the nearest Jedi, "She needs to be taken to the Halls of Healing right away!"

The Jedi used her comlink to call for aid before rushing to help them. She half took Padmé from Obi-Wan as if to take her to the Halls herself.

"What?" Padmé's face snapped in Obi-Wan's direction, and she stared at him in horror. Her cheeks were flushed but the rest of her face paled. "You need to come with me. You were there—you need to be there."

"Padmé," Obi-Wan started to say, but he had no argument to give other than that he no longer belonged here. Neither did she, so the argument was irrelevant. He nodded, and they supported her halfway to the Halls of Healing before several healers and droids came to their aid.

The birth of the twins was attended by several Jedi healers and medical droids, plus Obi-Wan. A bit livelier than the future had been. Obi-Wan hoped it would make a difference, that things would play out differently. Just as they'd seen in the future, Obi-Wan received Luke moments before Leia arrived. Padmé looked on in love at both children and declared their names. She was drenched in sweat, breathless and gasping, but she reached out and caressed the face of each child as they were shown to her.

"How are they?" Obi-Wan asked Chief Healer Vokara Che, who attended to the little ones.

"Healthy and strong," she replied, passing him a glance.

When they were taken away to be cleaned, Padmé exhaled a long breath and turned her head to the side, as if the life went out of her.

"And Padmé?" Obi-Wan could not conceal the sudden concern in his voice.

"Well." This time, Master Che smiled, though it was fleeting. "She is fine."

Padmé shifted again. Alive and well. Her eyes shone and her cheeks glowed. Even as she unleashed a heavy sigh, she smiled when she looked at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan sank on his stool. He smiled in return, and a weight on his shoulders suddenly lifted. How different this future had the potential to be.

Afterwards, a whirlwind of activity erupted around them. The twins were cleaned and given to Padmé, who treasured them for as long as she was allowed, until droids and healers ordered her to rest. Then Obi-Wan somehow received both children as he sat quietly in a chair in the corner. The two little bundles wriggled in his arms awaiting someone to take them away again. But for a moment, they were his to protect and to cherish.

Obi-Wan's grin grew. He couldn't help it. Luke dozed peacefully, but Leia wrestled in her blanket, her little fists already shaking at the world. Twins, but already radically different.

Two different sides of Anakin reflected in two tiny bodies. Fiery passion for justice and indelible faith in others. Warrior and lover. If things had happened differently in another life, Anakin would have seen some of his best and worst in both of them, as all parents likely would at some point. He'd be exasperated about it, wondering how in the world his children could be so unruly. How pleasant it would be to watch Anakin suffer the innocent rebellion of his children after Obi-Wan spent over ten years suffering the same with Anakin. How right that world would be.

And it still could be.

Droids came to take away the children, and Obi-Wan relinquished them to their care. Padmé slept, alive and well. Everything could change—everything could be different this time.

An explosion obliterated his fantastical thoughts and drew him back to reality. The walls rumbled and the ground gave a slight shudder. Obi-Wan felt the disturbance in the Force. An oppressive grip strangled him. He rose at once, and Padmé stirred from the commotion.

"Obi-Wan?" she asked, her voice scratchy and quiet.

"Stay here."

Obi-Wan exited the room. Several healers ran down the corridor to one of the vast rooms filled with bacta tanks. He followed them and the shuddering Force. He stood in the doorway of the room to find several of the bacta tanks shattered, their fluids spilled on the floor.

Anakin sprawled in puddles of bacta and clawed at the breathing mask half attached to his face. He writhed the same as he had in the black suit of armor, his body twisted and contorted on the floor, and his eyes rolled back. He let out a muted cry as though in the throes of death, and his fingers dug into the shards on the floor. His mechno-arm had been restored and seemed to be functioning properly, though he'd lost another small portion of his flesh and bone. As he twisted, the shards on the floor cut his skin. Ribbons of blood spread out from him.

Healers gathered in the room along with several Knights with lightsabers in hand. Master Che knelt at Anakin's side and tried to catch his shoulder and limbs, but he thrashed out of her grip and away from her healing touch.

"Be still, Anakin," she said.

"Take it off," he muttered, and he ripped the mask off his face and threw it aside. "Let me go!"

Another pulse shot from him that shook the walls and shattered the remaining bacta tanks in the room, spilling their liquid contents. Master Che and several other healers meditated over him, trying to put him in a trance, and several droids tried to sedate him, but Anakin lashed out and resisted. His eyelids fluttered, his eyes rolled back, and he tore at his own face and skin. He screamed through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body taut and strained. Several healers grabbed at him, but he threw them away with a violent Force push.

Obi-Wan stared, paralyzed. After a week with the healers, he'd expected to see improvement. He saw none. Anakin was a living corpse. His skin clung to bone, all traces of muscle and healthy fat depleted or erased. Sunken eyes and cheeks. Purple and green bruises mottled his otherwise pale skin. Soaked in bacta, his usually wispy hair plastered his face and head. Anakin screamed, and the walls shook. People spoke over him and around him, but no one spoke to him, and likewise he did not respond.

The future had the potential to change for the worse, but also for the better. Sidious had expected Anakin to fall on Kamino and had been legitimately surprised when he resisted. Whatever future Sidious insisted he saw was still not set in stone. Whatever darkness he saw was not for certain. But they had to do better this time.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, and he stepped into the room.

A few of the med droids ordered him away, but he pushed past, and the Jedi did not stop him, so the droids gave up the fight. He knelt beside Anakin and caught his former Padawan's shoulders to steady him on the ground. Searing heat burned through Anakin's skin to Obi-Wan's hands and made him grimace.

"Anakin, listen to me," he said, and he flinched when he became painfully aware that his bond with Anakin still remained nonexistent. Whatever had severed it at the reactor, if not death, still remained in effect. Perhaps it was Anakin himself who shut him out. Regardless, Obi-Wan could not reach him. "Anakin!" When his young friend still did not respond, seizing on the floor with eyes rolling back, Obi-Wan looked to Master Che. "What has happened to him?"

"It appears he underwent a significant amount of torture," she said carefully, but Obi-Wan steeled his face and gave no reaction to the word. Torture. Her face tightened, and she frowned over Anakin's emaciated form. "We cannot successfully put him in a trace, he doesn't respond to sedation, and so we have had a poor time healing him. We thought for a moment we could get him into a bacta tank, but then…" She waved her hand about the room, and then she shook her head. "We cannot heal him if he will not allow it."

Obi-Wan cringed and returned his gaze to his former Padawan, to the young man he loved as a brother. Anakin had tried to crush himself in one of the detention rooms, had sacrificed himself at the reactor, and nearly destroyed himself in an attempt to stop Sidious. He did not want to live, that much was obvious. Yet the Force, as always, deemed Anakin a necessity and persisted in keeping him alive. As always, just barely.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, firmer than before, and he slipped an arm under Anakin's head and drew his thrashing, gaunt friend close, securing him with both arms. Anakin gave no indication he felt his presence or heard him. "Anakin, I need you to listen to me. Please hear my voice." Still nothing, so Obi-Wan shouted, "Anakin!"

Anakin's entire body jerked as if hit by Force lightning, and then he stilled, and his eyes rolled straight. Unfocused, but he found Obi-Wan. He reached with his flesh hand and grabbed at Obi-Wan's sleeve.

"It is all right," Obi-Wan told him, softly, and Anakin stared at him, lips parted, stunned. "You are safe at the Temple, and the healers are trying to look after you. I need you to be still. Please."

Anakin continued to stare. After a moment, tears wet his eyes and his lower lip quivered—he used to make that face often as a small boy, but he learned quickly to conceal it behind a mask. Not so this time. His face crumpled and he let out a quiet and pitiful sob.

"I'm sorry," he said, and his grip on Obi-Wan's sleeve tightened. "I'm so sorry, Master."

Obi-Wan did not want to discourage him from speaking, so he resisted the urge to quiet him. Instead, he brushed a wet clump of hair away from Anakin's eyes and fixed his grip on him, keeping him secure and comfortable. Anakin was nothing but bone, and even holding him was excruciating. The heat of his fever was equally as unbearable, but Obi-Wan did not let him go.

"I'm sorry," Anakin said again, and he allowed his head to rest on Obi-Wan's arm, face turned inward to hide in the folds of Obi-Wan's cloak.

Meanwhile, Master Che and the others worked hard at administering what may have been their first successful round of treatment, healing his scratches from the broken bacta tanks. One of the droids pressed a hypo against Anakin's arm, which emitted a click. Anakin shivered but remained quiet.

A ripple of worry in the Force drew Obi-Wan's attention up. Padmé stood in the doorway and leaned against the frame. R2 crept up behind her, blinking but offering only a few, muted beeps. Several young healers requested Padmé return to bed and hovered around her in concern, but she ignored them. She stayed wholly focused on Anakin, her eyes running over him, and then she set her head against the doorframe and allowed tears to spill down her cheeks.

Wearing only her recovery gown, barefoot, hair disassembled, she looked so young, as young as when they'd first met all those years ago. She was young, over a decade younger than Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan allowed his gaze to fall back to Anakin. And Anakin was younger still, little more than a boy at 22.

"I hope you have nothing planned for the next few weeks, Kenobi," Master Che said with a hint of amusement in her tone. Curious, coming from her. "It seems you will have to be present in order for us to administer treatment."

Obi-Wan offered a faint chuckle and a limp smile, and then his eyes returned to Anakin. His former Padawan breathed easy then, eyes closed, as if he'd fallen asleep. Seeing as much gave Obi-Wan his peace back. One look, one fleeting belief that Anakin might be okay, calmed Obi-Wan's mind, unraveled the knot in his stomach, and firmed his resolve. If it took weeks at Anakin's side to see his friend—his brother—well again, Obi-Wan would do it without hesitation. Weeks, months, whatever it took.

He would not lose Anakin again. He would do better this time.

Obi-Wan stepped into the High Council chamber the next morning, the sun's rays streaking the sky with brilliant, near-white gold. All members were present, as he'd requested, and nearly all chairs occupied. He glanced at his own, but did not feel its loss. His decision remained right—at least in that moment. He had meditated through the night, and he was more certain of his decisions than he ever had been about anything during the war.

"You had a request," Master Windu said, inviting him to speak with the slight wave of his hand.

"I intend to go into exile on Tatooine," Obi-Wan declared, and he folded his hands behind his back and stood straight.

He eyed each of the Council members individually, and then at last he set his eyes on Master Yoda. To his surprise, the Grandmaster smiled and had a slight twinkle in his eyes—as if he knew.

With complete confidence and no hesitation, Obi-Wan added, "And I would like to take Anakin with me."