[Content Warning: Real world religion and personal tragedy. TLDR at the beginning of the next chapter.]

"I'll admit, I thought you'd be upset," I told my Earth counterpart. "It was a decision that took me a long time to come to."

"Meh." Adam briefly threw up a hand in dismissal. "The primacy of divine revelation has always been an important point in Christianity's favor on Earth. If you find yourself in a galaxy that's never heard of Jesus Christ - that has no enduring tradition of God made flesh - it would make sense to reconsider."

"I'm still not understanding this shift in topic," Olana mentioned.

"I'm a monotheist," Adam explained. "An adherent to a very mainstream Earth religion. One that emphasizes personal guilt and forgiveness."

"Religions all seek the same truth, pointing towards the reality of the Force," Ben insisted.

"Except we don't have the Force in my Galaxy, at least not that we know of," Adam said. "Psychic phenomena don't seem to actually occur; certainly nothing as unambiguous as what happens here."

"So," Chion asked, "on Earth they do not have to explain away Force powers, because there aren't any… but they invent religions anyway?"

I interjected before Adam could respond. "Let's venture away from the topic of Earth religions, please? I don't think that's where my cognition needs to be changed; do you?"

"It is possible," Ben said, "that you have some lingering guilt regarding your abandonment of your old beliefs. That could be why Adam is here."

I paused to consider the matter. "I don't believe so," I finally concluded. "Yes, my faith was important to me. But by the time of," I gestured vaguely to Adam, "you, it was the shared community aspects of faith that had taken center stage in my life. Having lost my church - my family - and having a new connection to my spirit through the Force, I'm comfortable I made the right decision."

"I think you touched on it, though," Olana added. Her voice was gentle, and I realized she was preparing to say something I wouldn't want to hear.

"On what?" I was finally able to make eye contact as she looked towards me.

"Your family," is what she led with, and I endured a wash of grief and panic and she continued. "Your wife and sons. I don't think you've gotten over them."

"Over this way," Chion pointed. The mist on one side was swirling again, opening into what I immediately recognized as a hospital room...

Jeanine, beautiful in her spent exhaustion, slept as Adam jerked awake to the baby's sudden cry.

"Comin' buddy," he announced as he scooped up the baby in one practiced motion. The newborn started cooing and Adam immediately began shushing noises, poking the little mouth to make sure he wasn't hungry, checking to see if he needed a change. When neither seemed to be the issue, he made sure the swaddling was tight and rocked the baby back and forth, singing a lullaby in his high clear voice as he looked down at the blinking eyes that met his. "I love you, Andrew, oh yes I do…"

The cry hadn't awakened her, but the singing did. "He hungry, baby?" came the weakened voice from the narrow hospital bed.

"No, just restless. I'll have him back down in a minute." The baby's eyes were already starting to close. Adam carefully sat down as Andrew faded fully to sleep. "Don't worry, son. Your momma and I will always be here for you. We love you so much..."

"I've gotten pretty good at that. Baby number three, and all." Adam had trundled up to stand next to me as I watched the scene unfold. "It was nice of Jeanine's parents to watch the first two while we had this one."

"A moment of calm before the storm," I said.

"More like the eye of the storm," he added. "Remember all the crap surrounding Zach's school transfer, me taking a new job, and then… well…"

Adam was perched at an awkward position over the hospital bed, his lip's meeting his wife's carefully without lowering any of his bulk onto her reclined form. "Statistically speaking," he murmured, words clearly meant for her alone, "you're going to be fine. These sorts of internal injuries are a routine complication. The doctor knows exactly where the problem is and how to fix it."

"I know, but nothing's gone routine with this pregnancy," she said. "One in ten thousand, and I'm the one." Her hands were constantly moving, touching his shoulder, running against his arm. "I love you. And you know what to tell the boys, if…"

"I love you, too. The boys will be fine. Other than missing you." He grabbed her hand, entwined it in his own. "You really will be fine, you know. And you'll come home and have that full household of boys to look after."

"Don't remind me," she sighed. "At least you're here. Thank you for being here. Your job -"

"They understand, trust me. They'd be angry at me if I didn't take the time I needed to be with you."

"And you know I'd understand if they needed you. I'm not working now. We're depending on you."

"And you always can," Adam insisted. "You have my heart, Jeanine. Whatever happens, you come first. I'll always be here."

"I know. It's still scary." Her knuckles were white where she squeezed his hand.

"Yeah. Let's pray…"

I looked over at Adam as I felt it: that cold inhuman rage. The clarity that had always descended whenever I felt a threat to my loved ones. Bringing down the Hammer of God, I used to call it in school, before a bully found himself in the hospital, or just ostracized from his friend group. I tried to be less ruthless when bringing down bad adults, but the feeling was the same.

I remembered how it felt sitting in the waiting room waiting to hear the outcome of her surgery: the anger had burned, searing something inside of me. Everyone had acted beautifully: caring nurses, a competent doctor, supportive friends and family. There was no one to hurt. Nothing I could do. Just wait, and fume, and pray.

"I assume you remember this, because I do," Adam spoke. "But she pulled through just fine. Operation was flawless, prognosis was positive. She was back on her feet in just a couple of months."

"Not our doing, though," I breathed. "Others saved her life. We did nothing. Worst than worthless."

"Is that how she saw it?" Olana's expression was neutral, but I could see the growing concern in her eyes. "Jeanine, you said? She saw you as worthless?"

Adam shook his head. "No, she thanked me for… just being there. Acted like loving her was some heroic act. As though holding her hand did anything." He looked down contemptuously at his meaty paw, as though rebuking it for being unable to heal.

"All true acts of heroism," Ben intoned, "stem from compassion. From love. You should listen to your loved ones, when they tell you that."

"It's an illusion that will break, someday," Adam shot back. "She'll realize she deserves someone for whom love is an instinct, rather than a performance. Who doesn't have to decide what he wants to feel before he can feel it." He sighed. "But until she does, she gets everything I have, every day. That's what I promised."

"A promise I failed," I stared into Adam's cold eyes again. "Here I am, untold galaxies and years separating us. I said I would always be there, no matter what."

"No, you didn't," Chion stepped forward, glancing dismissively at the evaporating shapes in the mist. "He did. Adam from Earth made those commitments. Not Obi-wan from a different Galaxy." The general rounded on me, taking both me and Adam in. "You say 'we,' pretend you're remembering events that happened to you. They didn't. That was a different lifetime, and all you are is a Seer who dreamed it."

"That doesn't make it any less real," I urged. "I made those promises, and I loved those people. That's a part of who I am."

"Certainly you loved them," Ben agreed, stepping up next to Chion, also between me and the mists. "And they loved you. But they are gone. If you don't leave the past in the past, how can you dedicate yourself to the present? How can you save the future?" His gaze was distant, and I was momentarily drawn to how many people this old Jedi Master had cared for, in his own way, and outlived.

"So I should just forget my promises," I spat.

"Not forget," Adam disagreed. "But trust." He stared into the mist again, as though he could still see the scenes. "Place your trust in me, the guy who actually made the promises. Who is still there, working to fulfill them." He turned to look at me again. "Stop holding onto my life. It doesn't belong to you."

I searched out his eyes, but as before, there was nothing there. "You'll look after them? Keep them safe? Make her happy?" There was steel in my voice, although I didn't know where it came from.

"I will," he said, and there was no levity or warmth as he extended his hand to me. "And you'll leave them to me, commit yourself fully to those you choose to love in this life?"

"I can do that," I agreed, and as I clasped his hand, I felt the mist blow over us. In a short moment, my hand was clasped to itself as I faced empty air.

"Yeah, okay, that fits the pattern," Chion said as the four of us remaining - me, her, Olana, and Ben - looked about the misty clearing. "There's a little more than an hour before sunrise, and two of us left."