AN: Thank you for all the reviews! I don't have time to answer you individually, but know that I read and am thankful for each one! I honestly didn't think this fic would go this far, but knowing how well it has been recieved, I must continue :) (that, and the muse wouldn't leave me alone)

I apologise in advance for the tone of this chapter, much different than the last one. As a rule, I want this to be a light fic, but events of ROTS have to be dealt with and all that. Maybe two chapters from now it will lighten a bit, I promise!

Chapter Four

Obi-Wan Kenobi had always considered himself to be a tolerant man. It was a part of the training – Jedi are expected to be able to handle all sorts of situations. One never knows when they will find themselves across a negotiation table with beings whose hygienic practices conflict with your own, or whose force auras radiate a 'bad smell' that causes you to want to cringe in disgust. Always you must remain placid. A Jedi is always calm.

Obi-Wan had been in several such situations throughout his years as a Jedi. He liked to think that he was good at tolerating almost anything he may find even vaguely offensive.

Anakin's cooking, on the other hand…

"Anakin," he moaned, when at last he could stand his polite pretense no longer. "This food is…" he stopped, seeing his friend's hopeful gaze leveled at him. Damn. "Not bad for a first attempt," he finished diplomatically. Anakin broke into a light, tension-banishing laugh.

"It's crap," he admitted, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. Obi-Wan saw Padmé gratefully push away her plate. Anakin glanced lovingly at her. "Even my wife and unborn child detest my cooking," he chuckled.

"Now Annie," she chided, "detest is such a strong word."

"Dislike?" Obi-Wan offered. At Anakin's chuckle, the others felt free to do so also. "You know, I was invited for dinner," he hinted, but Anakin had his hands up in defense.

"Don't worry," he said, "I ordered in." Obi-Wan chuckled and pointed his fork at his former student.

"You'll pay for this," he warned.
"Hey, just testing your finely honed diplomacy skills, my friend!"

While waiting on the servers to bring the dessert course, there was an almost uncomfortable silence. All three knew what the others were thinking, but that no one wanted to be the one to bring it up. Finally, Anakin couldn't stand it anymore.

"Obi-Wan," he began with a seriousness that gave the Jedi pause, "you never told me your opinion on my decision." The older man dropped his napkin to his lap and sighed. Padmé glanced nervously between them, sensing tension as thick as the fog on Naboo.

"I..." the Jedi began, and Anakin knew he was twisting his napkin below the table. "I am very proud of you," he continued carefully. "Not many would have the courage to stand up to a room full of Masters like you did." Anakin frowned in disapproval.

"Obi-Wan," he insisted. "What do you really think?" Another uneasy sigh escaped the older man's lips.

"Perhaps, Padmé, you should give us some tim-"

"I don't keep secrets from my wife, Obi-Wan," Anakin's voice was bordering on hostile. "I want to hear what you have to say, and I want to hear it now." Obi-Wan, realizing he had no other choice, dropped his napkin – quite crumpled from nervousness – on his plate and leaned forward.

"Alright, here it is," he said. Anakin sat back, prepared for whatever his mentor would say. He fully expected him to blast him with anger and outrage at being abandoned. He was not disappointed. "I am angry, Anakin. Angry and hurt.

"You came into the Order at a young age; granted not as young as most, but young nonetheless. You pledged yourself to service, even fought for your right to be trained, and yet now you abandon it for," he glanced at Padmé as if unsure if she would be hurt by his words "for a woman," he finished. "For your own pleasure, not caring about whatever destiny you may be set aside for. For Force sake, Anakin, you are supposed to be The Chosen One!"

Anakin sat and listened to all of it. He felt through the Force the hurt and confusion of his former master, and grieved that he had to injure him so. He felt tears prickle his eyes, but would not allow them to grow. He had asked for this. He wanted nothing but truth between them. Everything out in the open. And here it was.

"I am sorry I have hurt you," he said quietly. "I am very sorry. But Obi-Wan," he paused to lean over the table and look directly into the other man's eyes. "Master," he amended, "even Master Yoda admitted that the Council does not know what the Prophecy means. How do we know my leaving the Order was not 'predestined' for me? How do we even know I am supposed to be a Jedi?" Obi-Wan shook his head at this, but Anakin wasn't finished. "I know you are disappointed in me," he said, "but I also know you are happy for me – for us." He paused for a second, and then his voice changed to one of righteous indignation. "This is right," he finished, pounding his durasteel fist on the table, causing the silverware to clatter. Obi-Wan sighed again, bowing his head, unable to meet the steady blue gaze across from him.

"You are right, of course," he said softly, "but it's…it's not easy to accept that someone you've trained and worked and fought with for so many years has given up."

"But I haven't given up, Master," Anakin, no longer keeping up the pretense of being something other than his student. Even after he was knighted, he still felt like a Padewan, always learning, always…

"Anakin," Obi-Wan interjected, "you've left in the middle of a war. If that isn't giving up…"

"But you don't understand," Anakin defended, "I feel it, I feel somewhere within me that if I don't leave now, terrible things could result. This is the best choice, Obi-Wan, for all of us." Obi-Wan caught Anakin's eyes flicker to his wife's distended abdomen with the words. Suddenly, remembering something he thought he'd forgotten, he jumped up from the table.

"Which brings me to another reason for my visit," he explained as he went to retrieve the curious box he had arrived with, eager to change the subject. He handed it to Anakin with all the pride of a father seeing off his only son to school for the first day. "For the baby," he said. Anakin looked at the gift with a smile, wondering at the fact that he would even give him something. A Jedi, who was supposed to have no possessions of his own, giving one to another.

He couldn't help it – he shook it.

"Just open it, Annie!" Padmé insisted with barely reigned in excitement. With a low chuckle, he unhooked the closure on the wooden box and lifted the lid. Inside, the box was lined with a soft material that cradled the smooth silver ball nestled within. Anakin knew what it was immediately, but Padmé had no idea.

"It's a Training Sphere," he exclaimed. Obi-Wan crossed his arms before him proudly. Anakin looked up to his wife and explained. "It is a toy given to young children to train them to use the Force. I was given one, but I figured it out within an hour," he chuckled, almost embarrassed.

"This tool is usually given to toddlers," Obi-Wan explained, "the fact that you beat it so quickly only means you were too advanced." Anakin looked up at his mentor.

"Does this mean our baby…" he trailed off, weighing the sphere in his hands.

"There is a ninety percent chance that your offspring will be strong in the Force," Obi-Wan confirmed. "Seventy percent that the child will have a connection almost as strong as yours." Padmé and Anakin exclaimed looks of both joy and fear.

"Obi-Wan," he asked, genuine fear in his voice, "will the council attempt to take our child and train him?" Obi-Wan sighed, truly feeling for the new parents. Pressing his lips into a grim line, he looked hard, first at Padmé, then at Anakin.

"Not if I can help it."