Cavity warning but it does starting getting a bit darker from here. Thank you, Sectumus Prince!

Chapter 3 - Sleepless Knights

Mace Windu found Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi meditating on the side of the Temple at sunrise. The sun had harkened its arrival by setting the clouds on fire, the blue of the sky dyed in deep pinks and purples.

It was one of Mace's favourite spots if Council meetings didn't drag into the night.

As he approached on silent feet, Mace wondered if he should disturb the child, his energy was remarkably serene. He was a child, so the lack of lines on his face weren't abnormal, yet Mace felt envious.

He had always struggled for calm, to be still was a fight, or at least it had been. He was aware, and never truly sought to dispel the notion assumed by almost all that he was apathetic, unfeeling and as immovable as stone.

But the steadiness they saw was his discipline, balancing the scales by pressing into both the Light and the Dark. It was a dangerous line to walk, but one that had always felt right to him. Only with both could he hear the will of the Force, the warnings and the encouragements.

"Good morning, Master Windu."

Mace startled, covering his scuffed step by folding into a seated position by the Initiate. Obi-Wan had opened his eyes, not to look at Mace, but to look at the sun breaking the horizon, the light sparkling against thousands of crafts, millions of windows; the beauty of Coruscant, a planet dense with life, rich in the Force both good and ill, a nexus at the core of the galaxy.

The darkness was abound here, a poison that sought to rot the surrounding systems, to snuff out the light.

The Jedi had congregated here, not because it was their place of power, not where they were at their best, but as guardians of a trust.

They were peacekeepers, they were meant to push back against the cycles of suffering that built and built until hope was annihilated and left those who remained to rebuild on those broken dreams. The Jedi were on Coruscant to even out the Dark here, to be a check on the Republic, as all bodies of government were entwined with temptation.

Sometimes, Mace worried they had grown too complacent, that they weren't doing enough. As speaker of the Council, it had begun to feel more and more like the voices of the other Councillors had drowned out his own opinions.

He feared that it was the very reason Yoda had assigned him the position.

Mace felt eyes on him and he turned to meet the blue-grey gaze of Obi-Wan Kenobi, who looked decades older than he had moments ago.

Mace held his gaze, wondering what the boy wanted to say, then he realized what he had neglected to say. "My apologies, Obi-Wan, my thoughts are unordered at the moment. Good morning."

Obi-Wan offered him a kind smile and said only, "It is earlier."

Mace waited, but Obi-Wan didn't push, nor had he indicated in any way that he wanted to alone.

The boy was at peace, and it was more than what most Masters could accomplish. Obi-Wan watched the world with eyes open, but he was still within a meditation, letting the world pass around him with acknowledgement but no need of satisfaction. Meditation was not entertainment nor was it inaction. To sit with one's thoughts was challenging, even if often left to physical rest.

Open-eyed meditation was often considered more difficult, especially for humans, who were better at filtering sound and physical twinges rather than to be undistracted by what passed through their field of vision.

Mace folded his hands, closing his eyes to join Obi-Wan. He reached out with the Force, not demanding, not intrusive, but just their Force signatures brushing past each other like a flutter of silk.

Obi-Wan's shields were impressive, far beyond what Yoda had implied when he mentioned the boy's gift for it. However, the shields remained on his thoughts and his memories, not himself. For a moment later, Mace found himself tugged along the same tide as Obi-Wan.

When meditating with Initiates, group meditation was often a redirect. Younglings tended to be better at it, actually, though extreme peace was often punctuated minutes later by other extreme emotions.

But meditating with Obi-Wan was like meditating with Plo Koon, like being carried far out to sea, deep below the waves where the world was vast and you were connected to everything. Suspended, weightless, even as the water pressed down around you.

The Force welcomed him, and Mace's breath caught as he heard the Force singing. The Cosmic Force in harmony with the Living Force, neither Dark nor Light, just the Force.

Mace didn't know how long he sat there in that place of solace and starlight, Obi-Wan a silver gleam beside him. But when he came up for air, remembering that he probably had places he needed to be, he found the sun had dipped past noon.

Kriff, he had missed the morning meeting. He checked his pocket for his com and found none. Right, he was only supposed to be away for an hour or so.

Oh, well. He figured someone would have found him by now if there was something that couldn't wait.

Mace glanced at Obi-Wan, who hadn't moved.

He had a meeting with the Chancellor later this afternoon. However…

Mace reached out with the Force, brushing against Obi-Wan's consciousness.

Obi-Wan blinked 'awake' and Mace smiled down at him, unable to hide his joy that another in the Order had found such a connection to the Force.

Obi-Wan grinned up at him, unlike most Initiates and Padawans, completely unafraid of him.

Something tight loosened in Mace's gut. Intimidation was a useful tool in his arsenal as a Council Member tasked with holding the line between the Order, his family, and the dangers of the Senate and the galaxy, but he had never enjoyed the fear he inspired in his own kin.

Mace stood, offering a hand up, which Obi-Wan took without hesitation, though he swayed a bit; his legs were likely asleep.

Mace swallowed a chuckle as Obi-Wan clung to his hand. He didn't mock the child. "Come, I presume you've missed two meals already today."

Obi-Wan's cheeks flushed as he took deliberate steps, Mace unwilling to surrender his hand until they reached a wider walkway.

Meditating for that many hours was a punishment in some societies, sometimes even one in theirs for the young. But Obi-Wan was a rare youth who could lose himself in it. Most children his age could only last an hour or two before needing to adjust or answer their growing bodies.

It actually worried Mace a bit that Obi-Wan didn't go looking for food, or even seemed enthused by the prospect.

Mace hesitated.

He had places he needed to be, but he made a snap decision as Obi-Wan bowed to him on top of the steps with a quiet, "Thank you, Master Windu. May the Force be with you." Then Obi-Wan turned toward the Temple interior, his expression losing some of its shine.

"You were not dismissed, Initiate Kenobi."

He used his firm 'You're in deep banthashit' voice.

But far from being afraid, Obi-Wan turned back to face him, hands tucking in his sleeves, one fine brow arched primly.

Again, Mace found it difficult not to laugh. Force, when was the last time he'd felt this buoyant?

Mace tugged on his old bond with Depa and told her, Tell the rest of the Council I'm taking a personal day.

Amusement flowed back down that golden thread and Depa whispered in his mind, Do tell Obi-Wan I say hello.

Maybe, he thought back at her.

He heard her laugh before gently reclosing the barrier between their minds.

Yoda disapproved of how close they remained. Personally, Mace thought they had both sacrificed enough for the Order, and that Yoda himself was no less entangled in Dooku and Qui-Gon's lives.

Mace motioned Obi-Wan toward him as he turned to go down to the steps. He saw the boy's eyes go wide, and soon he was almost running to catch up with him.

Mace waited for the question to come. For 'Where are we going?' to be asked by the bubbling youth. But no questions came. Obi-Wan seemed curious, but content to see for himself, which was refreshing. Though when Mace called for a taxi to take them to the lower levels, he received an inquiring look.

Mace said, "Not everyone below the surface is a criminal."

Obi-Wan nodded.

Mace instructed the droid to take them to one of his favorite diners. Obi-Wan turned, craning his head as they entered the packed establishment.

Mace smiled, then ordered the special and two shakes before directing Obi-Wan into a booth. Mace slid in after him, partially obscuring the youngling from easy view and ensuring that if there was trouble, Mace would be the one to handle it.

"How have you been, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan smiled. "Well, thank you. And you, Master Windu?"

Mace inclined his head and was more candid than he might have been to see how the boy would respond. Whether Obi-Wan would appease him, question him, or complain. "Well enough. The Senate is always a nightmare, but the Order continues on."

Obi-Wan grimaced. "The Senate worries me."

"How so?" Mace asked casually, expecting a rant about how awful and distrustful politicians were—a sentiment he wholeheartedly agreed with.

That, however, is not what he got.

"I think the Republic is unprepared for a crisis, and as it continues to fail people on the outer reaches, it's all going to fall apart. The Jedi, even with the corps, aren't enough to put the pieces back together."

Mace raised both brows. "How do you mean?"

"We can't keep everyone safe on Coruscant, much less the rest of the galaxy," Obi-Wan said with unexpected heat.

The waiter came and delivered their drinks, Obi-Wan thanked both Mace and the waitress, a lanky zabrak with ebony hair, who flashed Obi-Wan a smile before hurrying over to another table.

"We are neither the police nor the governors of Coruscant," Mace pointed out.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "But Coruscant is our home and the wealthy benefit too directly from the inequality here. Most of the Senators are so comfortable they rarely go back home to hear the needs of their people. They speak for their own interests, not the peoples they represent."

"So what do you suggest?" Mace said.

Something gleamed in Obi-Wan's eyes and Mace caught a stray thought: Will he actually listen to me? Does he really want to know what I think?

Mace stilled, concern growing in him. Yes, Obi-Wan was young, but had the High Council been removed so far from the rest of the Order that their own people didn't feel they could speak their minds?

The Order, more than the Republic, was representative. Within their walls, discussion was meant to happen. The High Council was meant to be approachable. Questions and limits were meant to be pressed. They were supposed to be ever-improving.

If their younglings felt they couldn't discuss subjects without censure, that was an indication that they, as a culture, were stagnating. Or worse, decaying.

But hadn't Mace already known that as the Force grew darker and darker, not light and shadow, but meddled so the lines between the two were blurred, any direction was unclear.

"I think," Obi-Wan began, "that the Republic already treats us like attack dogs, sending us in to be muscle, not ambassadors, into situations that are too far gone for us to aid. Especially when the cause is unchecked greed the Senators, in majority, have no interest in correcting. If they are going to treat us that way, then we might as well actually take control of what they will ultimately blame us for anyway rather than assume any accountability themselves."

Mace knew exactly what Obi-Wan meant, but he wanted to know if the boy understood as much as he seemed to. Many outside the Order would assume such a high level of thinking was genius, when in reality answers to most political issues were simple pragmatism. Something children were actually very good at.

What was difficult was finding children who were pragmatic in nature and could at the same time fathom the corruption of the world.

That Obi-Wan was discussing these issues told Mace the boy had been exposed to some level of horrors in his short life. Because Mace had been reading Obi-Wan's records, had seen him grow, he worried that Obi-Wan had been experiencing Force visions and not reporting them.

Given how long Obi-Wan was able to meditate, Mace wouldn't be surprised if that was indeed the case.

"By which you mean?" he prompted.

"I mean we should have a Defense Corps. We should start with Coruscant. We don't need Jedi to police the city and lower levels, but Jedi supervision would almost guarantee less corruption. It would also allow us to follow the Senate with eyes open. If there are gambling debts or traffickers, we would be the first to know."

That was actually a splendid idea. It would be a miracle if the Senate allowed it, but having a police force separate from the lawmakers was more ideal. The Jedi had thousands of years of doing just that; they were, after all, the original and makers of the Republic. Keeping people safe and enforcing laws on Coruscant was precisely what they wanted to be.

"We should also be in charge of the Republic Army."

That startled Mace. "Why?"

"If the galaxy went into civil war, it would be a nightmare. And, again, the Jedi don't have the numbers to fight or stop a war that large scale."

"Civil War?" Mace repeated.

Obi-Wan nodded solemnly and the waiter came back around with their trays. He didn't even ask what it was before digging in, clearly hungrier than he had let on. His shake was already finished.

He finished a fried slice before continuing, "If the Outer Rim sides against us, it would be a nightmare. Their populations are smaller, but they do have armies, especially if they were backed by the Hutts, the Trade Federation, or even the Zygerrian Empire."

"Zygerrians?" Mace asked, deciding he needed to look into what Obi-Wan had been studying under Jocasta's supervision.

Obi-Wan ate another slice before saying, "Yes, the Zygerrians. Their empire is growing and they have been hunting Jedi and Force sensitives."

"How do you know that?" Mace asked.

"You know the Hutt slave markets are digital."

"They aren't open access," Mace said.

Obi-Wan blinked hard, as if stopping himself from rolling his eyes.

Mace narrowed his.

But Obi-Wan's tone was unoffensive as he said, "You just have to go to the public network offered in range of the Senate building. The corruption of the Senate is hardly an open secret."

Mace gritted his teeth, and focused on his own food to distract himself from his own anger with their so-called democracy.

"Your solutions are fine and reasonable, Obi-Wan, but nothing is simple."

"That doesn't mean we can give up fighting for it," the initiate argued. "Because it can always get worse."

Mace sat back, stunned at not just the vast topics brought up, but the depth. The fundamental understanding of the Senate.

"Wise, Obi-Wan, very wise."

On one hand, Obi-Wan was very likely giving away more than he wished to, but on the other hand, Mace always assumed people were smarter than they showed.

But he did wonder how much Mace would even listen to him. Obi-Wan could only hope that his friend, twenty years younger, would take his words to heart. There was something in the Force, some urgency that had driven him to keep speaking.

As if he were running out of time.

Once he and Mace had finished eating, they switched to talking about the different forms of Lightsaber wielding.

"Soresu is a lot of work," Mace said as they entered the Temple. He had taken them through the ground entrance.

Was Obi-Wan aware that Mace was shirking his duties for the day to spend time with him?

Absolutely.

Was he amused?

Assuredly.

He was only saddened that Mace didn't know how deep their friendship had been.

In answer to Mace's remark, he shrugged. "Aren't they all?"

Mace smirked. "Come, little wise one. Let's see if you're so cavalier after a few hours of practice."

Obi-Wan smiled impishly. "It would be an honour, Master Windu."

Mace led them to one of the training dojos reserved for the senior-level Masters.

Obi-Wan felt more at ease than he should. When Qui-Gon was his Master, these dojos were the ones they used. Partially because Qui-Gon's instructions were something the other Knights would have been judgemental toward. The other higher-ranked Masters knew to pick their battles with Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan settled lightly on the balls of his feet as Mace stood before him, purple saber ignited.

Obi-Wan refrained from taunting Mace like he normally did for the spars between him and, well, between him and anyone.

Soresu was known as the form that could never lose; not necessarily win, but never lose. Mace had teased him for being Master of such a classical style when his own Master had been the Maverick.

Except Obi-Wan was no longer a Master. He didn't have the muscle memory he had built up over years, practicing tirelessly with Anakin. Tiring Anakin Skywalker out was an accomplishment, to put it mildly. Obi-Wan also had time to master his form from long sleepless nights, when visions would drive him to the brink of madness, when all his guilts and fears tormented him.

Mace gave no warning, but he moved slower than Obi-Wan was used to. Which worked out, because Obi-Wan's steps no longer covered the same distance they should have.

Mace wasn't using Vaapad. He was using a modified version of the fourth form, Ataru, that was the basis to both branches of Form VII.

Obi-Wan appreciated the pace as he strained his muscles to accommodate the correct moves and move fast enough to keep up with his larger opponent.

The training saber in Obi-Wan's hand was old, the crystal inside mournful. Yet it was being silly in its distraction, until, however, it seemed to realize Obi-Wan could hear it, because it began trying to press upon him its memories.

He saw flashes, and he knew this blade was older than Mace had realized, because he saw flashes of red. Sweat slid down Obi-Wan's back as he felt the fear of the original owner. Pain that the owner had tried to shove into the kyber.

Obi-Wan yelped, dropping the blade. It clattered to the ground, extinguishing, but still it cried out to him. Intent on being heard, to tell its—

"NO!" Obi-Wan yelled, stepping back so fast he tripped over his own feet, landing hard on his rear.

He crab-walked backward, trying to get away from the image and pain that screeched against his shields.

But Obi-Wan had instinctively tried to find a balance with the thing, and in doing so, opened up a link between them.

He felt his partner, his light, his chosen one, pour sorrow and pain into him, trying to inflict eternal misery on him. Trying to change him, to bleed him.

The betrayal ran deep, the life he had chosen, the faith he had placed in this life Force—betrayed.

Betrayed.

Betrayed!

He fought back, turning back on his partner, all that was poured into him, he poured back into his chosen.

He would not be broken so easily, he would not bleed.

His chosen dropped him, the bond between them wavering.

Would his partner beg for forgiveness? He felt the chosen's impatience as it was scooped up and placed back in its armour.

But there was no regret, just determination. His soul broke as he felt his chosen's intent to continue trying to bleed him.

When next his partner used him to fell a brother, the kyber chose to cut the bond, changing his song to put its mechanics off balance, extinguishing the blade.

He felt his brother cut the light of his chosen.

Obi-Wan let out a scream that ended in a sob, hugging his head as he collapsed in on himself.

His visions were always this stupid, this useless. Nothing as finite as the futures Master Sifo-Dyas was said to have, nothing as concrete as the shatterpoints Mace saw, nor anything as useful as Quinlan's touch clairvoyance.

Just random memories of unpredictable intenses.

Sometimes he saw Anakin, yellow-eyed, surrounded by lava, burning alive, Obi-Wan helpless to save him. Sometimes he saw Anakin leaving him with a smile, dressed in finery, two children in his arms. Sometimes Obi-Wan saw himself drowning. Saw himself fall, hitting the water so hard that he almost let himself drown. He saw a woman hissing at him, he saw a Mandalorian running with him in his arms.

Obi-Wan saw all these flashes of things that he couldn't place, phantom memories, glimpses of the future too small to interrupt.

And then there were instances like this, where if he let himself feel another's pain too deeply, he was stuck in a loop of reliving their worst memory. Every time, the visions left him strung out, dragging on every extreme emotion he had until it was no longer his, until he was just a vessel for another's pain.

He had never been able to explain it to Qui-Gon when he was young. Obi-Wan couldn't explain what the Living Force did to him.

Within the Cosmic Force, Obi-Wan could distract himself, his 'sensitivity' which he could extend so he felt no one person or thing too strongly. It was a coping technique that had made him such an excellent general. He could see the bigger picture while being aware of the severity of the impact it would have on individuals. Aware of the impact, but never let it slow him down, lest he end up like this.

A crippled mess on the ground, hardly able to distinguish himself from the kyber crystal that had a millenia ago betrayed its Jedi before that Jedi could use it for dark means.

Obi-Wan tried to rally himself, tried to remind himself that like this he could help no one. The helpless couldn't do anything to change anyone else's suffering, only add to it.

He wasn't a victim, damn it all!

But the tears he cried spilled from his eyes, the pain that constricted his breathing was his lungs. Yet the harder he tried to stop, the harder he sobbed.

He had gone so long unheard, unforgiven, and unnoticed.

No one had known it was the kyber, not the other Jedi, who had killed the lightsaber's maker.

Obi-Wan knew, but for the life of him, he didn't know why he needed to learn this, what the Force was trying to tell him, why this kyber's tragic history mattered a thousand years later.

Time is perspective, the Force whispered to him as large arms encircled him.

Obi-Wan let himself be held, remembering where and when he was.

He wasn't a General, he had no war to fight, no troops to protect, and no Padawan to be strong for.

When Obi-Wan had begun to approach age thirteen, he had buried his pain, hid it away from his friends, from his Master, and later in life, from Anakin.

Maybe that had been a mistake.

Obi-Wan felt broken, and he had felt broken for so long, hidden from that feeling for so long, he no longer knew what was broken inside of him.

He clung to Mace, sobbing, hoping his old friend would be able to tell him what was wrong with him. What he needed to do to get over this.

Mace had been impressed by Obi-Wan's skills in Soresu. He clearly knew what the katas should look like, even if his muscles weren't prepared for the motions.

He had noticed the Initiate's distraction almost half an hour into the spar.

But it wasn't until Obi-Wan let out a pained sound, as if he had burned, and dropped his lightsaber did Mace see the shatterpoints light up like a meteor shower. He was horrified when he saw the self-contained and composed boy fall to pieces.

His stark fear scared Mace. It was the first time all day that Obi-Wan had shown a sliver of fear.

Then he spotted the shatterpoints in the saber, superimposed over Obi-Wan.

Mace cursed as he scooped the boy up, pouring his own Force presence over the child. He felt the pain ease in Obi-Wan, but he kept crying, which Mace was silently grateful for. Not because he enjoyed seeing anyone in pain, least of all a child, but it was best Obi-Wan not hold onto a pain that wasn't his.

Mace could see many old and not yet fully-formed shatterpoints that belonged to Obi-Wan, but none of them were critical, which was kind of frightening.

There were many different types and intricacies to shatterpoints. The ones he saw on Obi-Wan were points that would change who he was, what he was, where he went, but Mace couldn't find many without digging, which would shatter the child's sanity.

That was a good thing. It meant the boy was resilient, destined for great things. But it also indicated that he would likely grow up to be someone who took on weights that were too much to expect of any individual.

Depa turned the corner, her face lined with worry.

"Call for Master Ali-Alann," Mace said.

She pulled her comm.

He was already walking out. Depa touched Obi-Wan's cheek before brushing back his hair. Obi-Wan didn't flinch away from her, but his eyes remained tightly shut, fists still tight around fistfulls of Mace's robes.

"What happened?" she asked.

Mace almost growled, "The training saber. The kyber tried sharing a memory with him."

"Wait, actively? Like it was trying to commune with him?" she asked as she picked it up off the floor tentatively.

"I think it just wanted to be heard, that kyber has been hurting for a long time. It may need to be retired."

She nodded. As they exited the training area, Master Ali-Alann caught up with them, looking as if he had sprinted here.

Mace repeated the tale of what had happened.

The tension eased from Ali-Alann's shoulders and he smoothed a hand over Obi-Wan's head, murmuring to him softly.

"Has he eaten today?" he asked.

Mace nodded. "Yes, this happens often?"

Ali-Alann shook his head. "Daymares are rare for him. He is hypersensitive. I fear he may have to learn to be less empathic to be functional and safe on missions. He often shares nightmares with other younglings. It's why I approved of him moving out of the group creche early into a double with an older boy, Quinlan Vos."

"I thought he was gifted at shielding," Depa said, echoing Mace's thoughts.

"He's good at keeping what he feels inward, at not projecting himself. He's not as good at shielding things out. Part of why he is such good friends with Quin is because they have many shared experiences and have helped one another through episodes like this."

"I'm wary of bringing him to Ilum," Mace said.

Ali-Alann nodded. "As am I. But Obi-Wan is resilient. He'll be right as rain tomorrow morning."

Mace didn't argue, but he knew for a fact that wasn't true. Ignoring one's pain and trauma wasn't the same as dealing with it.

"Come," Ali-Alann said, having not the slightest issue in bossing Council members around. "I doubt Master Tholme will deny Obi-Wan his friend."

Mace nodded.

Obi-Wan's eyes cracked open, his voice tired as he said, "Master Ali-Alann?"

Ali-Alann smiled. "Hello there, my little one."

Obi-Wan's body went lax, his hands dropping. Mace shifted the boy as Ali-Alann motioned that he would take the youngling.

Cradling him, Master Ali-Alann said, "Quin will be happy to return some favours."

Obi-Wan let out a weak chuckle, his eyes drooping shut. Still, he managed to say, "Thank you, Master -Wind, may o-Force ...with you."

"And with you," Mace said. "Rest well, my young friend."

Ali-Alann smiled, eyes twinkling as he dipped his head in a bow before turning with Obi-Wan.

Depa eyed Mace once the pair were out of earshot. "You're taken with him too, aren't you?"

Mace shook his head, his head cloudy with the days of events. "How peeved is the rest of the Council?"

"For skipping out on them, a Senate Committee, and the Chancellor?" she asked with a slight smile.

Mace winced.

"Grandmaster Yoda would like a word with you," she informed him with a bit too much cheer.

Mace let out a heavy sigh. "Of course he does."

Depa laughed.

When Ali-Alann set him on his feet and the door opened, Quin took one look at Obi-Wan before grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the refresher, before either Master Ali-Alann or Tholme could explain or give consent.

Obi-Wan didn't care, especially as he barely had energy to help Quin disrobe him. The hot water was bliss, and Quin's presence made Obi-Wan feel safer than he had felt in a long time.

It was good not to have responsibilities for once. It was even better to be the one cared for. When was the last time Obi-Wan had willingly let someone help?

He couldn't remember, and that was sort of depressing all on its own.

Yoda had warned him off from taking Obi-Wan as his Padawan, but as Mace lay awake that night, unable to sleep as he replayed the day's events in his mind, he came to a decision.

If no one took Obi-Wan Kenobi as a Padawan by the end of the month, he would.

Obi-Wan woke late in the night. Quin was using him as a pillow, his snoring filling the darkened room with an odd comfort.

Unable to fall back asleep, Obi-Wan laid awake, wondering how long he could keep this up and how long he could pretend to be younger than he was.

But something in the Force was trying to reassure him. Only, Obi-Wan was feeling the opposite of reassured. He was beginning to develop a theory. Something in him was changing; some knowledge that, with each night he slept and woke up, shifted the image of himself ever so slightly, in ways that he suspected would add up over time.

Obi-Wan wasn't losing his memories, per se, but with each day he lived, the future that might have been, of Bandomeer and his trials with Qui-Gon, Anakin and the Clone Wars, faded in its potency. He no longer could guess what tomorrow might bring and little things became harder to recall. It wasn't anything major he could put his finger on, necessarily, but he had spotted the trend. A part of him knew he would always remember the other timeline, but it was like a holodrama, someone else's life, someone else's trials.

He realized that, in a way, he was growing younger, the Force softening his edges, making him fit better. As if he wasn't from the future, but had merely seen a very detailed and linear option for the future.

He would always remember Anakin and Ahsoka, but until he met them in person again, he wouldn't know them.

Soon, he feared, he wouldn't even think like that. He would remember Anakin was a boy from Tatooine, he would remember Ahsoka as someone he had been impressed by, but any memories would be gossamer dreams.

It made a certain amount of sense. He was changing so much, and planned to change so much more. What he remembered no longer would or could be as they had been before. Besides, it was Obi-Wan's spirit that had transcended time, not his body, not his brain.

Yes, the spirit could remember, but spirits faded. Fed by this younger life Force, he was changing, new memories taking precedence as they imprinted on his spirit and were ingrained in his mind.

Sure, as a Jedi, he could 'see' the future, but such things passed, just as the past life of a person did not dictate the future, nor did it dictate who they would be.

Still, Obi-Wan could not find any more sleep that night as he clung to every memory he had of Anakin, the ugly and the beautiful.

His brother, the boy he raised, the one person who mattered most to him, whom he loved most.

There was so much left unsaid between them, so many times Obi-Wan held his tongue, so many times he pushed instead of listened, or worse, listened when he should have spoken. All the cultural misunderstandings between them, all of Obi-Wan's human mistakes when he tried and failed to do the right thing, all the heartache and growing pains.

All the laughter and adventure.

All the pride he felt for the boy he worried didn't comprehend how much he was loved; not for what he could give the galaxy, but because of who he was. Anakin believed himself valued for all the wrong reasons.

Obi-Wan recited thing after thing he would tell Anakin if could, running it over and over again so he might not forget.

All the while, the Force whispered to him, Let go.

AN: Thoughts, feedback, a parade of puggles, or commentary on the chapter?