Many thanks for the review, Maren!
Here's some more. Feedback is still welcome, believe it or not.
Arid heat struck Obi-Wan's face as he exited the transport.
Perfect. Who would look for Luke here, at a moisture farm? It sounded insane, and that was the determining factor once again.
The streets swarmed with various alien species, less than a tenth human, he guessed. He had only ever been on Tatooine once, and that was a little over thirteen years ago…
Already, he thought, then corrected himself. It felt like an eternity. The last time he had been here, Qui-Gon had been alive, Padmé had been queen, and Anakin a boy of nine, picked up out of Mos Espa by the radical Jedi Master. A little over thirteen years.
Patched wounds reopened and his heart grew heavier as he gave Mos Eisley a sweeping look. A dump if there ever was one, he decided.
Automatically, he pushed the lingering memories from his mind and focused on the present, on Luke.
He rented a squat-looking landspeeder from a pushy Jawa, and sped off down the streets. If the directions were true, the Lars homestead would not be far off once he reached the outskirts.
Luke was positioned on his lap and watched delightedly as the speeder accelerated in the open country.
"Oh, wonderful," murmured Obi-Wan. "He's thrill-seeking, too."
Luke giggled as he felt the vibrations, his head resting on Obi-Wan's breastbone.
They began passing odd-looking poles that stuck up out of the landscape, covered with antennae, wiring, and tubes. He eyed them as critically as he could with the speed they were reaching, and thought the poles decidedly took some part in moisture gathering, whatever the farmers called them.
He brought the landspeeder to a slowing halt close to a domed hut, climbed out with Luke, and searched for any signs of life. The desert wind was hot against his bare cheek.
A girl, maybe in her early twenties, looked out of the door, then leaned back in and shouted, "Owen!"
Obi-Wan's spirits lifted slightly. The right farm, if there is more than one. It hardly looks as if more than a few families could scratch out a living, out here.
Owen presently came out and greeted him cautiously. "Owen Lars."
"Obi-Wan Kenobi."
The girl followed him out curiously. "Beru. I'm Owen's wife."
Owen nodded once. "I suppose this is Luke."
The infant gazed back up at him.
The three stood in uncomfortable silence for a minute.
"Shall we go inside?" Beru offered.
Obi-Wan followed her back inside with Owen, to meet Cliegg.
***
The old man was still getting around in his repulsor chair, his stump of a leg finally healed after a few years. Obi-Wan bowed low in greeting, and firmly shook Cliegg's offered hand.
"Maybe you can enlighten us on what's been going on, General," Cliegg grunted, leading them to the table and beckoning Obi-Wan to take a seat, "and why this youngster's here." The Lars family hadn't received much more information than the first name of the child that they had been willing to adopt.
Luke, still in Obi-Wan's arms, was silent as his wide eyes looked up at the patterned ceiling.
"Call me Ben. My commission's been resigned for some time now," said Obi-Wan, removing the now-itching contact lenses and the prosthetic nose bridge, "and not exactly by my own doing. However it may affect you out here, the days of the Republic are over; the Empire is firmly rooted."
"What about Anakin?" asked Owen. "Where is he now?"
Obi-Wan's gaze grew haunted as he shifted it over to the young moisture farmer.
Owen winced. "I'm sorry—"
"No," Obi-Wan sighed, "don't be. Anakin's gone."
"How?" Beru ventured.
The Master closed his eyes for a moment. "He…turned on me. He's Darth Vader, now."
A quiet sense of pained shock filled the air. The Sith lord was already well-known of by everyone who owned a holoproj. He had not been seen yet, but had frequently been mentioned as the new right-hand man of Palpatine.
Obi-Wan swallowed hard, and continued. "Hide that from friends, from family. No one must know who Vader used to be. This is his son, Luke. Anakin never knew of him; that's why I'm bringing him into hiding. He has potential like his father did. If Luke is ever found out by the Empire…" He trailed off, unable to conclude his sentence.
"He won't be," Owen said firmly. "I'll never let that happen."
Obi-Wan turned a pensive look toward him, sensing a different sort of decisiveness behind Owen's words, then turned away to address them all. "I've decided I will also live on Tatooine, out in the wastelands. I'll be far from the heart of the Empire, and ready to assist with Luke, should the need arise."
He could almost hear the words coming from Owen's mouth: We'll be fine on our own.
Cliegg nodded. "We'll give you a hand with establishing yourself."
Obi-Wan rose, and bowed. "Thank you. If you'll excuse me." He walked away, his hands tucked inside his robe, sensing a growing desire in the room for them to discuss a matter privately. He was sure Owen would have something to say about him sticking around.
***
Without her crutch, Vader's soul grew darker by the day.
He was in turmoil. Memories like these were painful, utter agony. Falling into the pit did not compare. He had to eradicate the recollections if he wanted to live.
But the only way to live was to embrace the way that Sidious had introduced to him. And becoming of the dark side meant using one's pain and converting it to energy.
He would need pain to live.
He would need the very thing that was killing him.
***
Obi-Wan had left Luke with his new guardians, and was now on his own.
The way he had wanted it, what he had promised himself after he had finished training Anakin.
Except he had not anticipated his stay to be so long as how it seemed it would be now. Still, time alone in the Jundland Wastes would give him a lengthy opportunity to extend himself into a deeper level of understanding, of knowing both himself and the Force, a level he'd always wanted to achieve.
During his temporary stay with Cliegg, Owen, and Beru, he studied the structure of their housing and asked Cliegg about some of the finer aspects of mud dwellings. Ridiculous as it felt, he knew he would need to create his home on his own. Hired help could always be traced, and he did not want to be found out, nor have anyone killed because of his own desires and necessities. And a lesser part of it was his own desire to create something that he knew would not fall apart, would not crumble before the wind.
Here he would stay. Leia had Padmé and Bail; Luke would have his aunt and uncle, as well as his father's Master.
The future looked bleak for Obi-Wan. All he had left was the connection with the twins, and the hope of letting Luke know who he really was someday. If Owen would allow it.
That was what worried him. The moisture farmer seemed to be the kind of man who preferred limited horizons, somewhat unlike his father Cliegg. Luke would grow up naïve, to be sure. But if he had half of his father's natural curiosity, Obi-Wan would have no trouble whatsoever convincing him of his worth to the existence of the Order…and the freedom of the galaxy. And that was what mattered, first and last. Obi-Wan would die to ensure that Luke's future was that of a Jedi. Had Leia been in Luke's position, he would have expected the same from her, but now she was growing up far away, half across the galaxy. Even so, her influence would be great in the democratic world. Both the twins would put in considerable effort before this was all over. He wondered, for a moment, how long that would take.
But now, his duty was to protect Luke at all costs while maintaining his invisibility. That was going to be difficult.
He stared at the heap of soil before him that he had excavated near Beggar's Canyon, and beside it some rounded plastoid frames to spray the mud on.
Ah, well. Might as well get to work while the early morning lasted. Only the most tenacious creatures could afford to work at midday on Tatooine, so blistering hot the binary suns became.
***
It had been a week, a long hard week of backbreaking toil, and now it was over. His new life began here and now. The convex top of the house rose out of the landscape, looking like a sandblasted rock.
He smiled grimly. This part of the fringes of the Dune Sea was frequented by the sand people called Tusken Raiders. That would ensure his invisibility, more than anything else. Even Owen had protested his decision. No one was so stupid as to move into Tusken territory. That was Obi-Wan's point exactly.
Owen had just shaken his head and wondered aloud what possessed him to do such a thing. Obi-Wan's reply had been simple. The Force would protect him, but he belonged to the most hunted organization in all the known galaxy and would have to act accordingly. Owen had snorted skeptically.
So then this was it. He strode gravely into the isolated abode, casting a look at his meager furnishings.
The pinging sound of a projectile of some sort distracted him. He turned to cautiously look outside the small window. A few grains of sand from the ground turned to glass, slightly pitting the side of the new structure, and almost his face. He ducked and thought calmly, rapidly.
He smiled. Even if Owen did not prefer his company, the farmer had prepared him well. Or perhaps that was Owen's means of getting rid of him. But he could think about that later.
Moving near the open door, he filled his lungs with the gritty air. A horrible, menacing sound erupted from the little hut. In a blind panic, the small party of Tusken Raiders scurried from the cliff edge and mounted their nearby banthas. Only suicidal idiots would try to pick off a krayt dragon, even one small enough to fit inside the small dwelling that had come up suddenly. The Tuskens suspected magic was involved, somehow, and after the angry ghost attacking one of the camps a few years ago, they had been more cautious.
Obi-Wan closed the door and stretched out on the cot. He sank down into that deeper awareness inside him, and at the same time rose up outside himself. It was time to discover the real means by which he had failed his Padawan. He did not want to make the same mistakes with Luke. That could mean driving the galaxy into another destructive cycle that would most likely end up with all knowledge of the Order exterminated.
And though he did not want to, he plunged himself into the past two months of his life, in an effort to reap understanding.
***
"Where did he leave to?" Anakin wondered aloud.
Obi-Wan looked up at his apprentice disapprovingly. "You lost him? You were supposed to track him. He could be offworld by now!"
The pair were meeting at a previously set rendezvous somewhere in the lower levels of Coruscant, where Anakin had been assigned to report the movements of Darth Tyranus to his Master.
Instead of turning silently inward at such a scolding as he had normally done in the past, Anakin burst out in anger and tension. "He moved far too quickly! I lost him in a matter of minutes, Master. There were too many obstacles, distractions—"
"That's never stopped you before, Anakin," Obi-Wan cut him off.
Anakin's face flushed dark. "What's that supposed to mean?"
His Master merely kept gazing at him with that steely glare.
The Padawan snorted. "I thought you had assigned me to this because you thought I could do it, that I could make it work."
"We're wasting time," Obi-Wan prompted curtly, and walked off quickly to the way he had come. Anakin followed hesitantly, his anger building.
Relations between Master and apprentice had grown even more tense these past months. Anakin had long had a growing suspicion that Obi-Wan knew about him and Padmé, which in turn made the Padawan even more defensive and frustrated.
Anakin wondered what Obi-Wan and the Council would do if suddenly Padmé was found to be pregnant.
Can't happen, he reassured himself. We've taken all the precautions.
Still, Padmé was growing more and more distant every time they saw each other. Maybe it was the time they spent parted, he wondered? It had been so many months since he had seen her last… More likely my outbursts in her presence. He didn't know what had possessed him to strike her that last time, but she had forgiven him. They still loved each other…or so he thought. She knew the monster in him was rising under some unnatural influence.
Then Anakin recalled his last visit with the Chancellor.
"You're welcome to come with me at any time, young Skywalker. I can see your feelings toward the Council, and your Master. Perhaps some time away from them would help."
And soon after, Palpatine had deemed the time right to unveil himself to Padawan Skywalker.
The offer still stood. Anakin's potential even had a name now.
Darth Vader.
Somehow, he took a perverse pleasure in imagining himself to be a Sith lord. Gone would be the days of blindly following every order his superiors gave him…especially Kenobi's.
He saw Obi-Wan's face flush with the heat rising from the molten pit below them, and felt his own cheeks color. But not just from the heat outside him.
Obi-Wan turned back to face Anakin. "We're nearly at the speeder I left…" He frowned. "Anakin, what's wrong?"
He senses it, a voice in Anakin said. It's too late for you to turn back to the light now. Give in. Kenobi must die.
Anakin smiled coldly. "Nothing's wrong, Master. It's perfect."
Apprehension dawned in Kenobi's eyes. "Anakin—" He took an instinctive step back.
It was all Anakin needed. The trigger in his mind popped, such a small movement and yet so violent. He gathered the new power now available to him…and pushed mightily.
Obi-Wan received the sudden impact mid-torso without warning and was flung backwards to hit the floor gasping.
Vader removed his lightsaber from his belt, ignited it, and swung at Kenobi's legs.
But Obi-Wan, even winded, was still quick enough to evade him and came up with his own lightsaber in hand. "What do you think you're doing?" he breathed, obviously stunned.
"What I should have a long time ago."
Obi-Wan paled, suddenly cold despite the raging temperatures. His worst nightmare was playing out before his eyes. "Anakin…"
He looked malevolently down at his former Master. "Anakin Skywalker is dead." He swung; Kenobi parried. "I am Darth Vader."
Obi-Wan looked over their lightsaber lock to a face he had once known, but now was lost to him. As realization grew in him, he pulled away and composed himself into a ready stance, mentally as well as physically.
Vader snarled at him as he reached up and yanked his Padawan braid out of his head, carelessly tossing it into the pit of molten metal. A tiny trail of blood meandered from behind his ear.
Obi-Wan's expression did not waver as he waited for the attack.
It came violently. He knew his apprentice had mastered his swordsmanship with relative ease, but he had not been prepared for this. Vader came at him with an intricate, mind-boggling combination that he could only hope to deflect.
But somehow he did, and held himself up for the next.
And the next.
And the next.
Darth Vader became agitated. No matter what he threw at the general, nothing really worked like he had planned. He knew Kenobi's weaknesses intimately; why did they now all of a sudden disappear?
Obi-Wan now began to shift into a half-defensive, half-offensive mode. Vader knew that he had accepted the turn of events, for now at least, and would work methodically to make sure his traitorous apprentice would never do any harm again, one way or another. But Vader had no intention of turning back, or dying.
They wove together, back and forth, in an eerie synchronization that held a certain dangerous beauty in the light of the situation. Thrusts were parried, turned aside. Old training techniques were combined with new movements in a fight that looked almost deliberate, but was anything else to the pair involved. It could not last.
Obi-Wan then felt the odds rise against him and chanced a flash of his concentration to the doorway behind him.
Dooku. Count Dooku was approaching. He fought against overwhelming waves of despair as another dark presence, more distant, revealed itself: Palpatine. The waves of desperation were joined by nausea at so much evil directed against him.
Then Vader stepped back, waiting.
Obi-Wan felt his neck hairs prickle as he rotated halfway, his back to the wall, and saw Count Dooku walking toward him from the corner of his eye.
Then he realized Vader wanted him to kill Tyranus, to remove the old man so he could take his place. And Obi-Wan had no choice but to do so if he wanted to go on living.
He had to live. He had to help keep the Order alive. While even one Jedi lived, there was still hope. It was fortunate that he had trained excessively with lightsaber technique after his defeat on Geonosis, driving himself with the thought that he might once again face Dooku.
Tyranus raised his saber, and came in with a whirling attack.
Obi-Wan suddenly found new strength, and remembered what had gone wrong with their encounter on Geonosis. He hadn't moved there quickly enough, had brought up too lazily, had been there when he needed to be here…
Vader stared at the duel as it stretched into fifteen minutes.
Tyranus watched in shock as Obi-Wan roundly deflected every attack he put out; his shock turned to fear and rage as Kenobi found the room to put the tip of his blade up into the Count's heart.
Vader looked on in a mixture of fear and evil delight as Tyranus collapsed on the floor, and as the Jedi swordmaster turned back to face him.
"We can end this together, Anakin," Kenobi prompted almost passively, readying himself as he saw the attack coming.
Vader came in a whirlwind. Kenobi was forced to spin around and he barely deflected a swipe that would have taken off his leg.
If Vader didn't finish this now…he couldn't see beyond that, and the void frightened him. The void in Kenobi's eyes frightened him. He hated being frightened, and turned his fear into fuel.
And then their next lock revealed something to him. Shoulders pressed against each other's, their faces were brought close enough for him to see the tiny darker flecks of blue in Kenobi's irises, and to see the void was actually filled with something this time, though the void would have hurt the Jedi less.
Please. The word burned into his mind from Obi-Wan. You're still there, Anakin. There's still a chance for you to come back.
"NEVER!!!" Vader roared, swiping upward viciously.
Then he realized his mistake.
Obi-Wan dropped to the floor and spun his legs around in a rapid scissor kick at Vader's exposed ankles.
The new Sith tripped, stumbled…and tottered at the edge, waving his arms wildly, vainly.
Obi-Wan jumped up, sweat burning in his eyes, blindly snatched for his tunic…and missed.
"Where were you?" Vader snarled, his eyes burning hatred, as he fell.
Obi-Wan collapsed at the edge, looking down in horror as the molten metal claimed what had once been the closest thing he'd ever had to a son.
But he was given no time for his grief. Ranks of clonetroopers entered and began firing on him. He was just barely able to swing his lightsaber up in time, his hands slick with perspiration, and beat a hasty retreat, knowing Sidious lurked behind the doors.
Once outside, he gulped in the cool night air, running as far as his feet would carry him. Finally exhausted, he slumped down in an alley and was suddenly violently sick. The awful look that had been in his Padawan's eyes echoed through his mind, burning through him, eating away at him.
He stood shakily, one hand against the wall. He knew they would not chase after him; they had no need to. He was trapped, stranded on this planet. They knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up with him.
Obi-Wan wasn't sure if it was his sheer determination, or just the worst sense of dogged desperation that drove the spark of tenacity into existence, but he knew he would lead them to hell and back before they ever finally killed him.
He noticed the ventilation of this particular alley was lacking just before he passed out.
***
"Wake up," a voice whistled in his ear. He grimaced but made no move to open his eyes, though chances are he wouldn't have been able to sleep, propped up against a wall.
Whoever it was beside him was set to revive him. The strongest liquor he'd tasted in years splashed into his mouth. His eyes popped open and he sat up, spitting the vile stuff out onto the floor.
The Bith sitting next to him whistled in amusement, tapping his foot in time to the complicated rhythm of the jizz music coming from somewhere behind the wall.
He coughed, gasping for air, and shot a piercing glance at the alien. "What am I doing here?"
"You were lying out in the alley. Seemed to me you needed something in the way of aid."
"Thank you," he said, "but I can't stay here long."
The Bith seemed puzzled. "Why not? The team wanted to meet you. My brother said you reminded him of someone."
Obi-Wan flicked his gaze back over. "Reminded him, you say? Yes, that's exactly why I must leave."
"On the run?" The Bith frowned, the corners of his small mouth turning down. "All the more reason for you to get some rest. Or are you too wound up to accept a little hospitality? I'm Uael Kore."
Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm sorry, but I won't offer you my name. I have no wish to endanger you or your team."
The Bith peered at him curiously. "Endanger us how?"
"Possibly your lives." Obi-Wan pushed himself up, and wiped a small droplet of the liquor off his cheek. Focusing, he built himself up under shields. "You have no memory of me being here. Neither does your team. And you don't like that brand of liquor." He left Kore, who had a glazed look over his large black eyes.
***
Weeks had stretched on, seeming like years. He had barely come off Coruscant alive. It had been a few days shy of three months being pursued by the Empire while surviving on meager rations of food and water from quiet friends who were hardly better off than he was.
But at last he had taken a ride on the pirates' undercover ship, posing as a poverty-stricken refugee wishing to ride to Alderaan to see family, which wasn't incredibly far from the truth, giving the corsairs the credits he had accumulated from small donations. Shena Hinn and his gang of pirates had been sympathetic, for pirates, and he had been thankful for that. Young Kadeq had been a good friend, for the brief time they knew each other. Obi-Wan hoped the youngster had taken his advice to heart.
Where were you?
***
The question lingered in his mind, painful as a burning brand. Obi-Wan had given his apprentice all he had needed, save what he had needed most of all. His trust, and love.
And now there was no one for Obi-Wan to give these things to. He would likely not see Luke for years, until the boy was a teenager at least.
He wondered how he could forgive himself for creating the grip that was slowly strangling the Order, the only hope left for the galaxy.
Obi-Wan thought of his last night spent on Alderaan. Vader had contacted him, briefly, seemingly by accident. He had severed the Master-Padawan bond that they had carried between them for many years. Though their relationship had often been tight with friction, especially in the last few years, the bond had been a difficult one to break. But through the bond, Vader could find him. It had been his only choice.
And now here he was, bellowing like a krayt dragon to keep away Tuskens while the known galaxy tumbled to its doom. Never could he have predicted something like this to happen. But then, things didn't always turn out the way one imagined them to.
***
Five years passed by. Old Cliegg Lars died during an extreme heat wave that had threatened to take Luke, as well. But the boy pressed on with a hidden strength, much to Owen and Beru's surprise and relief.
Luke was a quick learner, eager to help out his uncle on the farm in any way he possibly could. After he turned five, he often accompanied Owen to Mos Eisley for the odd errands Owen had to carry out, and in the middle of such trips would watch in fascination and attempt to help as Owen strove to repair their landspeeder, as it had a tendency to break down every now and then.
The market opened early each morning at dawn in one of Mos Eisley's districts. Obi-Wan would occasionally make the trip to buy supplies and wander among the crowd. After five years of shaving, he had begun to let his beard grow again, and noticed that strands of gray were showing in his hair. He marveled that they hadn't made their appearance five years earlier. But he was in his early forties, now, and could only accept the newest onset of age.
He enjoyed losing himself in the bustling morning crowd from time to time, even though he never relaxed his alert mind.
An Ithorian was selling fresh produce by a street corner. He walked up.
"Have you had any narao melons lately?"
The Ithorian buzzed a negative. [But I do have a lovely selection from a different family over here.]
Obi-Wan inspected. "Yes, these will do, thank you."
***
Owen led Luke around in the bustling square. Normally he didn't take Luke out at such an early hour, but he preferred to get his buying done in the cooler hours of the day.
Luke trailed along behind him, trying to absorb everything at once.
Owen felt a tug at his tunic. "What is it?"
"Who's that, Uncle Owen?" Luke pointed across the square while still hanging on to his uncle's tunic, his insatiable curiousity rising up.
"Don't point, Luke. That's Ben Kenobi, a crazy old wizard that lives in the Jundland Wastes. I don't want to see you talking to him."
"Why not?"
"He'll put bad ideas into your head."
"He looks nice."
"Looks can fool you, sometimes."
Luke fell silent in thought, then piped up again: "Uncle Owen?"
"Yes?"
"Why does he live by himself?"
"Because he wants to."
"Why?"
Owen snorted in exasperation, not wanting to tell Luke, at least not for another ten years. "I don't know. It's just the way he is."
The boy looked as if he was going to ask why again, then thought better of it and tagged along, sneaking one more glance at the mysterious man.
To his surprise, Ben turned and looked at him, and winked.
Luke's eyes grew round, and he waved.
The man smiled back, then was swallowed up by the growing crowd.
***
Obi-Wan stared after Luke long after he had gone. How much the boyish face resembled Anakin's when they had first met. How widely innocent and curious his round blue eyes were, the mind behind them absorbing everything like a sponge. It was painful to see how stubbornly resistant Owen was, as if he could protect his charge against the whole Empire at once.
Still, Obi-Wan was glad that he had made a good first impression. That could go a long way, if only opportunity presented itself to him.
Would that be too much to ask? he thought.
***
Gaunt and ragged, the two Jedi ran down the levels of Nar Shaddaa, the Smugglers' Moon. Though the lower levels were among the least desirable places to visit in the galaxy, they provided a likely place to hide.
Likely, that is, from anyone but Darth Vader.
The Sith lord had dispatched an entire legion of stormtroopers, and went down with them to track down the Jedi.
They leaned against the dingy wall of a building, panting and exhausted, looking no better themselves. They had both lost their apprentices to the still-growing Empire and had finally been cornered as well.
"This is it," gasped Sharra, a slender female Togorian.
Her companion, Garchi, a human male, nodded. "How many do you think we could take with us?"
"Don't know—let's find out."
"If he lets us." Garchi tipped his chin upwards. The silhouette of the Sith lord could be seen moving down towards them.
"We outnumber him."
"If he ever came alone. But he seems to favor overkill."
Sharra opened up to him and he to her, the pair forming a small battle meld. The Togorian female closed her eyes, remembering her young offspring still on her homeplanet. Let my line prosper undiscovered.
The two stood together as one, in the last stand of the Jedi for many years to come.
***
He felt another disturbance, the first one in what seemed to be a long time. Though sickened, he congratulated his dead colleagues on leading Vader around for so long. It had been a month since the last killing. Now, as far as Obi-Wan knew, all that was left of the Order was him and Master Yoda, alone on Dagobah.
His private message receiver, his one-way means of communication with the galaxy, let out a short tone before translating and playing out the encoded message.
It was in Bail Organa's voice, pained more than his usual diplomat's front would allow.
"I will cut this message short for you, friend, due to your situation. I have some bad news. She was killed recently in mid-transit to her home planet to see family, but she left the young one here. I'm sorry; I know you were close acquaintances. Take care, my friend." He signed off with a gesture the Jedi had created out of necessity to replace the phrase "may the Force be with you".
The cryptic message cut out as Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands and closed his eyes. He couldn't help but wonder why a private yacht would be dragged out of hyperspace and attacked in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps Ana—no, Vader—was struggling with the separation. Perhaps Palpatine had dispatched someone to take care of the problem…
He let out a long, shuddering sigh, and thought of Leia, who had fortunately been left at home. He didn't have any doubts as to Organa's ability to raise her, but he wondered how she would turn out to be without her mother's influence, as both a diplomat and an adult, and if he'd ever see her again, to tell her who she really was.
But he had to focus his efforts on Luke at the time. It was physically impossible to train Leia, and any contact would present great danger to them both. He'd have to wait out the years.
He sighed and gazed out the window, to see a roiling mass of windblown sand approaching over the horizon.
Looks like a mother, he thought fuzzily, his mind blurred with the sudden onslaught of heavy sleepiness and sorrow combined. I'd better batten down.
Curling up on his cot, he remembered the last time he had seen her.
***
It was the dawn of his last day on Naboo. He found her waiting in the sitting room with the twins asleep in her arms, staring out the window at the sunrise.
Shafts of light came into the room as the sun came over the mountains. He deliberately scuffed his feet on the floor a bit so she could hear him approaching. But she didn't smile warmly at him, as she once would have. Instead a hollow expression confronted him, disguised but not dispelled by the smile that only held recognition. But he knew she didn't mean any offense by it. Padmé didn't smile at anyone anymore the way she had. Sometimes Obi-Wan wondered what was the worse; failing your student and friend of ten years, or losing your only love. Of everyone in the galaxy, they were the two that had been struck the worst through Anakin.
And in that they found comfort together. In moments like these, they were not distinguished senators or prestigious generals, just two people remembering.
He sat down on the couch and met her eyes.
Padmé's faint smile faded. "Are you going to tell me it's going to be all right?"
He shook his head slowly. "You're too smart for that. But I wish I could."
They silently turned back to the rising sun. Anakin had loved this planet like none other, Obi-Wan remembered. There was a peace to be found here, a wild and beautiful solace. Padmé had illustrated those traits so often in her personality. Was that what Anakin had found in her? Had loved in her?
As if reading his mind, she sighed and closed her eyes. "He told me how much different it was here from Tatooine, how he thought everything was so soft instead of the sand."
"When was it?" he said quietly. "When did you realize it?"
Her eyes, open again, held a faraway look. "Remember the arena on Geonosis? We decided to fall in love then, when we were about to be brought in. You were already there, and the way you looked at us, I thought you had seen all of it."
"I had sensed something," he admitted, "but I didn't suspect so much, even though he had been blocking me."
"We got married when he escorted me back after the battle. I was sad for him, that his entire arm was gone, but he didn't seem to mind that much. He called it his invincible limb." A ghost of a smile flitted across her face at the memory, then faded. "How could someone so kind forgo all their hopes and dreams?" she whispered. "How could he leave everything he loved? I never saw it in him."
Obi-Wan looked down as he sensed Luke begin to wake up. "It was good that he had you, I know now…I wasn't there for him as much as I should have been. I left him to just follow along during the war; I listened to him less and less. He needed you, Padmé. Someone to talk to and give him the respect he needed."
"I didn't give him enough."
"I didn't give you enough time with him for that. You didn't even have enough time for a honeymoon, did you?"
"Well, we couldn't very well ask for a few months. Not in the middle of the war." She looked down at Luke, his blue eyes opening to gaze up at her. "And now, when I have all the time in the world to myself, we can't."
The chronometer hanging on the wall behind her caught his attention. "It's time for me to go."
Luke held her attention for another suspended moment, then she stood and let Obi-Wan take him. "He's just been fed; he'll be all right for another while."
Obi-Wan carefully held Luke up in front of him and looked into his eyes. "Perhaps someday I'll be able to tell you about your mother, how kind and beautiful she was, and maybe you'll be able to imagine her, or even remember."
A solitary tear trailed down Padmé's cheek.