"So just to get this straight—are you telling me that you've evaded capture for fifteen years by changing your name to Ben Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan paused to take a sip of his tea. "I suppose so, yes."

"That's ridiculous," Anakin said.

"Those are strong words coming from the fool who couldn't find me."

Anakin narrowed his eyes. "You could have at least come up with something more original."

"What? Like Darth Vader?"

"First of all, I didn't even come up with the name. Secondly, at least Darth Vader sounds cool."

Obi-Wan scoffed softly. "Ben Kenobi sounds nice."

"Ben Kenobi sounds like the name of a deadbeat droid engineer."

"Droid engineering is a noble occupation, Anakin."

He waved him off. "Sounds like something a droid engineer would say that."

"Didn't you make droids as a child?" Obi-Wan asked.

"That's different," Anakin insisted. "3PO was a side project, not my occupation. Doesn't count."

Obi-Wan leaned back. "Droid engineering isn't only a job, my old friend. It is a state of being. A lifestyle, if you will."

Anakin blinked slowly at his words. "What does that even mean?"

The two continued to bicker as Ahsoka walked into the kitchen, gently setting her cup in the sink before taking a seat at the small dining table beside Rex. She watched his fingers drum against his commlink absently.

"I'm sure he'll pick up soon," she assured. "He's probably just busy."

Rex sighed. "I know. It's just been a while since he's made contact."

Ahsoka put a comforting hand over his. "If something was wrong, Bail would have already reached me. You don't have anything to worry about."

He gave a nod, and they sat in contented silence until Anakin stood from the couch abruptly.

"Say that again, and I will hit you with this pan."

Obi-Wan turned the page on his book without looking up. "I would like to see you try."

Anakin gritted his teeth and swung the skillet with such blazing intensity—clearly not expecting it to shoot right back at him, colliding against his head with a resounding whack. Ahsoka grimaced as Obi-Wan briefly looked up from his book to smirk.

"Are you kidding me?" Anakin stumbled, rubbing the small bruise forming on his forehead with a scowl. "That is a misuse of the Force."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Anakin," Obi-Wan said nonchalantly. "Now, sit down. Your tea is getting cold."

Anakin turned on his heels and marched over to the overhead cabinet with a huff. "You are so full of yourself I can't even look at you."

"What did you say?" Ahsoka asked Obi-Wan, who offered a shrug.

"I didn't say anything."

Ahsoka flinched when the cabinet door behind her slammed shut, whipping her head around to see Anakin with his finger pointed toward Obi-Wan sharply.

"Liar."

"Imp," Obi-Wan shot back, and Anakin scoffed before opening another cabinet.

"Do you have any food in here that isn't dry?"

"Ah, yes, pardon me for not having the supplies to feed three extra people with no notice," Obi-Wan said. "I rarely keep enough food on hand for myself. We can restock soon."

Anakin tipped his head back and sighed. "Not soon enough. My insides demand sustenance."

Ahsoka's face scrunched. "Surely there are better ways to word it than that."

Obi-Wan put his book to the side before grabbing his own mug and heading to the sink. Water weakly gushed from the faucet as he began rinsing a few of the piled dishes.

"Why don't we just pick some up at Mos Eisley when we pick up the parts?" Rex asked, handing his empty mug to Obi-Wan at his prompting.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Too many Imperials. We would be better off purchasing from the local market."

"We could split up," Ahsoka suggested. "Anakin and I go to the market while you two go to Mos Eisley?"

Obi-Wan tapped a dish on the side of the sink before twisting the faucet again. "Are you sure of your way?"

"I think you're forgetting that I once lived here too," Anakin grumbled.

Obi-Wan sighed. "All right, then. We'll meet back here around 1600 to work on the ship. With any luck, we'll get it repaired before the week's end."

»»««

"I imagine it's gonna bruise," Ahsoka commented. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Skywalker narrowed his eyes and suppressed a wince at the tug of his injured skin. "Just fine, Ahsoka, thank you for asking."

While the local Tatooinian marketplace felt far less exciting than Mos Eisley, it was still busier than he preferred—too many people, too much chatter. The suns beamed down, blistering, miserable, and the hood over his head barely hindered the harsh rays from burning his skin more than it already was.

The bacta that Kix provided him with had restored most of his faded complexion, but when the Jawas ransacked their supplies, they had taken all the medication that they had been sent with. Skywalker guessed he had enough to last him the week—Ahsoka made him stuff some into their shared 'pack before they left the ship the first time—but the supplies were scarce.

Speaking of. Ahsoka fell in step beside him, keeping her eyes low. "What were you talking about that got you so worked up anyway?"

"The weather."

She sighed. "All right. Message received."

They continued to walk through the marketplace, silently scoping out the booths and shops in search of the items on their list. Then, Skywalker suddenly halted, his eyes glued to a figure standing beneath one of the beige canopies.

"What's wrong?" Ahsoka prompted.

A pause. "I know that kid."

She gave a weird look. "You do?"

He nodded, and she followed him as he took a few steps closer.

"That'll be eighteen credits," they overheard the merchant say, watching from a distance as the boy folded his arms.

"Eighteen? Last week they sold for ten."

"Look, buddy, I don't make the rules," he said. "Supply and demand. Parts like this are hard to come by on Tatooine."

"Galvin," the kid grumbled. "Come on, man. You know I don't have that kind of cash on me."

"Not my problem," he returned flatly. "Now, if you're not going to purchase anything, move it. You're holding up the line."

With a sigh, Skywalker's hands moved up to the small compartment on his belt. He shifted through his extra Imperial credits, drawing a select few of them into the sunlight before walking ahead of Ahsoka and plopping the payment down onto the counter.

"What's this?" the merchant asked tiredly.

"Eighteen credits," Skywalker replied, his tone matching the Advozse's. "That's enough to cover it, right?"

"What are you doing?" the kid asked sharply.

"Helping you out. What's it look like I'm doing?"

The merchant looked at the bars for a moment before sliding them into the satchel strung across his waist. He pushed the piece toward the boy. "There you go, kid."

The boy grumbled. "Thanks."

The merchant's gaze flickered between the two of them before eventually landing on Skywalker. "I haven't seen you around here. You two related?"

"That's funny," Skywalker said dryly. He turned to the teen. "Come on, kid, let's go."

"See you next week, Galvin."

When Skywalker turned, however, he realized Ahsoka had somehow managed to disappear again. He let out a long-suffering sigh before taking off, eyes bouncing over the crowd of gathered sentients to search for her. The teen struggled to keep up with his quick strides.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," he said. "I had it under control."

"I'm sure you did."

"I was making good progress. I would have convinced him eventually."

Skywalker nearly laughed. "Not before you got thrown out onto the streets for not offering full price on that thing. He looked about two seconds away from chucking you under a speeder."

The kid rolled his eyes. "It's a—"

"—Binary motivator. Yeah, I saw. What's a kid like you need a motivator for?"

"My uncle and I are fixing up a ship," he explained. "He says being able to travel planetwide will be good for business."

"Business?"

He nodded. "We're moisture farmers."

Skywalker's steps slowed. "I knew a few of those."

"Maybe my uncle knows you then," the kid said. "Are you from around here?"

"I wish I wasn't," he breathed.

The kid gave a weird look but didn't question it further, continuing to follow Skywalker through the marketplace as he weaved his way through the crowd. "Thanks," he said finally. "You know, for paying. I'm sure my uncle would reimburse you if you asked."

Skywalker cast a glance over to him. "Don't worry about it, kid. You needed it more than I did."

"Hey, sorry for running off." Skywalker spun around to see Ahsoka standing with a small crate of food. "I thought I'd make myself useful while you did whatever you needed to over there."

"Did you get everything on the list?"

"Nearly everything. I have two items that I couldn't find, but I'm sure we could do without them." She turned her attention to the kid. "So. Who's this?"

Skywalker suddenly realized he never caught the kid's name. Unfortunately, when he turned to ask him, Skywalker only found a set of wide blue eyes glued to Ahsoka.

"You're the prettiest sentient I've ever seen," the kid suddenly blurted out.

Both of Ahsoka's eyebrows raised. She opened her mouth to reply, but Skywalker beat her to it. "She's way too old for you, sleemo."

The kid scoffed indignantly before putting on a smile. "I'm Luke," he said, looking between the two of them. "What are your names?"

Skywalker swallowed dryly at the question. Word traveled far too fast on Tatooine for him to offer his real name, but unfortunately, they hadn't discussed cover names yet. "My name is..." His gaze drifted over to Ahsoka, who raised her brows expectantly. "Bail."

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes but nodded slowly, turning back to Luke. "And I'm Leia."

Then the kid made a face. Skywalker could only assume he was trying to smirk. "I've always liked the name Leia."

Skywalker resisted the urge to gag.

"Luke is a nice name too," Ahsoka offered kindly, albeit uncomfortably, and Luke beamed at her words.

"You think so?"

She nodded, bumping Skywalker's shoulder with hers. "Go on, Bail, tell him."

"It's a name all right," he said, but Ahsoka looked at him as though she expected something more. He narrowed his eyes. "It's a good name?"

Luke looked down at the motivator with a sigh. "I should probably get going. My uncle is expecting me back at the homestead."

Skywalker folded his arms again. "Well, best not to keep him waiting."

Luke looked to Ahsoka with a smirk. "Until next time," he said politely. He turned, gracefully striding down the sandstone path until he stumbled over his left foot.

"Nice," Skywalker called.

The kid cupped his hands on the sides of his mouth, his voice cracking unceremoniously as he yelled, "Kriff you, old man!"

Skywalker snickered to himself. "Come on, Snips. Let's head back."

The two of them took turns carrying the crate on their way to Obi-Wan's, wordlessly treading through the coarse sand as they followed the same path they took earlier. Around the halfway point, however, the hairs on the back of Skywalker's neck stood tall, noticing the several sets of eyes watching them.

"Do you sense that?" Ahsoka asked.

He gave a sharp nod. "Tuskens," he said tensely. "They're waiting for us to get into a low visibility area."

She looked over to him, eyes slightly more widened than usual. "What do we do?"

He grabbed onto the lightsaber on his belt, catching sight of the few hidden within the natural dips of the terrain. "We draw them out."

"Anakin," she said lowly, warningly, the crate held steadily in her hands. He gritted his teeth.

"I'll go quick. They won't feel a thing."

"Surely there's another way," she insisted. "We scared them off in the gorge."

"Only temporarily," he reminded her, his blood beginning to boil beneath his skin. "They're animals, Ahsoka. Even if we don't kill them, someone else will eventually."

"I don't like the feeling of blood on my hands, Anakin," she said firmly. "I won't kill them unless it's our last option."

The heavy, predatory stares that the Tuskens fixed on them made him uneasy. "Now is not the time to be sentimental. They're not worth your sympathy."

"They're living beings just as we are."

He finally paused, reeling in a shallow breath and pressing his lips into a line as he came back to his senses.

Stop for a moment, he reminded himself. Think.

His anger had gotten him nowhere. After reflecting on all of the misery and the turmoil that his actions had brought, he had finally come to terms with that.

The yearning for justice remained within him—one that wanted to slice through them just as he did when his mother died, killing them for the sins of their ancestors—but he knew, begrudgingly, it wouldn't bring him the satisfaction he so desperately sought after. Killing them would do nothing. It wouldn't bring his mother back. It wouldn't fill the void in his chest. It would only hold him in place.

"All right."

His hand slowly dropped to his side.

"We don't have to kill," he continued, "but what else can we do? Without our weapons, we're outnumbered."

Ahsoka pondered for a moment, the crate tapping against her legs with every step she took. "Put them under. It will give us enough time to get out of here without having to harm them."

Skywalker sifted through her words before responding, "I sense seven of them. Three on the left, two on the right, one front, one back."

"Eight," she added, giving a nod to the side. "Look over there."

He glanced over to where a Tusken hid on top of a sandstone wedge, his gaderffii drawn. "Eight," he breathed in agreement. "We'll have to go fast."

"You up for it, Skyguy?"

"Don't call me that," he replied mildly, eyes flickering between the Tuskens. "Get ready."

Ahsoka tossed the crate of food into the air, extending a hand to keep it hovering beside them. She pressed her back against his and narrowed her eyes.

"Anakin?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm starting to think we should have asked for the speeder."

Then the Tuskens charged, with loud snarls and raised gaderffiis, speeding through the sand to get to the two of them.

Skywalker outstretched his arm once one of them got close enough, willing wisps of kinetic energy into its mind. After the link was secure, he twisted his hand, and the Tusken dropped to the ground—alive but unconscious, per Ahsoka's request.

Ahsoka did the same to the two rushing her. "Catch," she called, flicking her wrist to launch the crate into the air for him to grab. He used the Force to keep the food inside upright, and it floated above them as Ahsoka gently took the cognizance away from another Tusken.

Skywalker whirled around when two more came toward him, extending a hand and inching into their minds until they slumped.

One left. Ahsoka's brows furrowed as she reached for the Tusken on the ledge, directing a beam of energy toward the creature. She let out a startled noise when the Tusken fell forward instead of back—before it could touch the ground, however, Skywalker shot a hand out, bending the Force around it to break its fall. Once the unconscious Tusken landed in the sand safely, he tossed her a look.

"I thought we weren't trying to kill them?"

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, and Skywalker smirked slightly as he brought the crate down from the sky, letting it land in front of her.

"You're carrying it the rest of the way there."

Her face scrunched and she opened her mouth to reply before her eyes drifted to the horizon. "Looks like I won't have to," she said smugly.

Skywalker followed her gaze as a red landspeeder came into view. He grumbled under his breath when Obi-Wan and Rex pulled up beside them, bearing a net full of ship parts on top of the vehicle.

"Seems like you two had your fun," Obi-Wan said, his arm casually sprawled over the side of the speeder.

Skywalker narrowed his eyes. "You're a little late to the party."

"Pity. I'll aim to be more punctual next time."

Ahsoka smiled. "Mind if we catch a ride?"

After she received a nod of approval, she strapped the crate down and climbed into an open spot in the speeder, conscious to leave enough room for Skywalker beside the pieces. Obi-Wan killed the engine once the speeder halted in front of the damaged ship. They headed to the back of the vehicle and pulled the webbed material into the sand.

As they sorted through the pieces, Rex's commlink suddenly chirped to life:

"Rex, it's Kix. Do you copy?"

Rex lifted his wrist and held a button on the comm. "I copy. Good to hear from you, brother."

"You too. Sorry it took so long to get back to ya. Skywalker's old droids accidentally annihilated the communication tower yesterday, and we finally got the lines encrypted again."

"My what?" Skywalker asked, but Ahsoka shushed him before he could get an answer.

"I got your message about the ship. Any progress?"

"Kenobi and I picked up the parts earlier, but not many updates other than that. We're hoping to get it repaired by next week."

"Been a minute since this line has been active," a voice suddenly joined them in the comms. "You two took your sweet time."

Rex sighed. "Hello to you too, Wolffe."

"What are you ladies talking about?"

"Our ship got ransacked."

A sharp exhale. "Tough luck."

"Thanks," he replied mildly. "Gregor there too?"

"Yeah, he's right—Gregor, get over here—right here."

Rex smiled. "How is Seelos treating you?"

"Never better," Gregor said. "I got ahold of a Joopa nest for lunch yesterday."

"How are things with you, Kix?" Wolffe asked.

"Can't complain. Lewis and I played sabacc during the outage."

Gregor gave a crazed laugh. "Did ya win?"

"Unimportant."

Ahsoka followed Skywalker when he stood and walked over to the ship again. "We should get started," he said. "Tell Rex to meet me in the flight deck once he's done."

"What should I do?"

Skywalker gestured around the ship grimly, vaguely, and she gave a nod.

"Got it."

Over the next few rotations, nearly every waking moment was spent on the ship. They took shifts working on repairs, and with all the time spent together, Skywalker struggled to keep his distance from Obi-Wan. He tried to avoid working beside him the best he could, but Ahsoka seemed determined to get them to talk.

It had been subtle at first—she insisted on making a schedule so that could stay on track, then altered it so that the two of them always seemed to operate on the same section at the same time—and the only thing he could do was hope that it would end there.

Of course, nothing was ever that simple for Skywalker. Her attempts only grew more and more irritating, and he tried to school the childish betrayal he felt toward Rex once he was inevitably dragged in on it as well.

But it was fine. He could stay silent and do his job, and pretend Obi-Wan was anyone else as they worked on the ship. It was only temporary. The sooner the ship was fixed, the sooner they could leave.

So he tried his best to ignore it, supposing that she was bound to take the hint eventually. The longer it dragged on, however, the more he began to question that. It seemed that the attempts had finally reached their peak when he and Obi-Wan were repairing the navicomputer.

Skywalker stood in front of the blast door that had suddenly sealed behind them a few moments before. "Snips," he started with a strained smile, "open the door."

"Not until you mend your differences."

Skywalker curled his fingers into his palms. "Ahsoka, I swear to Force, if you don't open this door right now I will tie you to a speeder, set the kriffing auto-pilot, and drive you off a cliff."

"We'll be back at sundown," she said. "Try not to kill each other while we're gone."

"Ahsoka, don't you dare—" The footsteps faded. He slammed a fist against the metal door. "That kriffing womp rat."

Obi-Wan watched as he shook the sting out of his hand. "Hm, not hard enough. Perhaps you should try again."

Skywalker scowled and cradled his fingers. "I bet you're having a blast with this."

"It's certainly not unpleasant."

"Am I to assume this was your idea?" he asked.

"Well, of course. It's right beside me conspiring with the Jawas and playing dress-up with the Sandpeople."

Skywalker bit the inside of his cheek before angrily ramming a shoulder into the door to unfix it. The room rang at the impact.

"Oh, bravo, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "You've truly outdone yourself this time—putting a dent in the durasteel. Perhaps the door will open now that you've broken it."

"I could do without the commentary," he hissed through his teeth as his fingers skidded over the trim. It was no use, he soon realized, as the door was jammed from the outside—but the idea of being stuck in a room with Obi-Wan made him feel far too uneasy to sit still, so he tried again anyway.

Skywalker let out a sharp breath when a pain suddenly shot through his chest, a rather harsh reminder that he was still recovering from surgery, and Obi-Wan's smug expression suddenly fell.

"Are you all right?"

Skywalker screwed his eyes shut in discomfort. "Perfect."

"Sit down."

"Don't tell me what to—"

"Sit," Obi-Wan repeated. "That door isn't going to open until they open it for us. It's best not to waste your energy."

He begrudgingly sat across from Obi-Wan, tipping his head back into the worn pilot's seat and closing his eyes. They remained in uncomfortable silence for a solid two minutes before Obi-Wan finally broke it.

"Will you stop that?"

Skywalker cracked his eyes open with an uninterested look. "Stop what?"

"Gritting your teeth. It's not good for you."

He rolled his eyes and tried to get comfortable again. After a while of useless shifting, he let out an annoyed huff. "Why are you so relaxed?"

"Because, Anakin, I have learned how to adapt to circumstances that I cannot control. You have never been able to understand that."

Skywalker scoffed, raking a hand over his head. "Your condescension never ceases to amaze me, Master."

"Not everything is to be taken as an attack. I'm only being honest."

"You just think you're so above everyone, don't you?" Skywalker straightened. "I bet we all look rather small from that high horse of knowledge you like to sit on."

"Do you truly want to do this now?"

"Well, they're not going to let us out until we do."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Very well," he said. "The floor is yours, Anakin. If you have something to say, now is the time to do it."

As the invisible spotlight suddenly beamed down on him, he paused, sifting through the thoughts in his mind that always hovered but never breached the surface. The complacency, the lies, the hypocrisy. All of the things he was scorned after mentioning as a Padawan.

But now—now, he was able to speak freely in front of Obi-Wan. His former Master, the very embodiment of the Jedi Council, the living and unrelenting reminder of the depravity it wore so proudly.

One hour didn't seem like enough time.

"You never knew how to think for yourself," he decided to start with, unsure of how to fully articulate the anger he felt toward the man sitting in front of him so casually.

"Is that so?"

"You stood with the Council despite the obvious corruption within the system." Skywalker scowled. "The Order was rotting from the inside out, and I was the only one that noticed it."

"Those are rather bold words," Obi-Wan commented.

"It seems only fitting," he bit back. "Did you ever ask yourself how they never sensed the evil in the Chancellor? The most corrupt Sith Lord we had ever seen and even the most Force-Sensitive members of our Council couldn't tell who he really was."

Obi-Wan stayed silent, so he took the opportunity to continue, "It's because they were no better than he was," he said. "They couldn't sense the darkness because they reveled in it long before the Chancellor ever did. If they hadn't, the war would have never taken place."

Obi-Wan leaned back and stroked his beard, and Skywalker watched him carefully.

The silence shouldn't have worried him. He only spoke the truth. Besides, he didn't care what Obi-Wan thought of him anymore. He could view him as lost or ignorant, and it wouldn't change anything. Skywalker already made his choice.

So he let his hands shake and ignored the bothersome shiver that seemed to attach itself to his spine to keep from acknowledging that deep down, suppressed to the very depths of his soul, he did care. Whether it was drilled into him as a Jedi or something of a true instinct, he cared because the man that sat before him, his hair greyed and his eyes weary, was once his closest friend. Through the years of war and hardship that dragged on for what felt like lifetimes, he was there.

Yet, though he was present, he still felt out of reach.

The perfect Jedi. The one Master on the Council that seldomly compromised his values, the one that kept the Code held closer than anyone. Skywalker knew he would never compare to his preceptor—not in this life, nor any other. He understood that no matter what he did, what choices he made, Obi-Wan would always be a better Jedi than him.

Obi-Wan never allowed his attachments to influence him too deeply. He could compartmentalize and channel his affections—a skill that Skywalker had still yet to hone. If he didn't allow his feelings for Satine to make him call the Code into question, what chance did Skywalker have, convincing him to allow his relationship with Padmé? His Master's devotion to the Council forced him to rid himself of all that made him human—yet, when doubt was cast, somehow Skywalker became the one that was lost.

He watched as Obi-Wan finally sat up again to meet his expectant gaze. A beat of heavy silence passed, and Skywalker held eye contact to give the illusion of composure, forcing himself to remain still under the irritatingly nonchalant stare directed toward him.

"You're right," Obi-Wan said, and with just two simple words, Skywalker's mind completely stalled. He blinked a few times.

"Come again?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "You're right, Anakin," he said again, but even after he repeated himself, Skywalker had to wonder if he heard him correctly. "The Council was corrupted. I'm ashamed to say that I only noticed after it was too late."

Skywalker all but sputtered. "I'm—I'm sorry. I need a minute to process this."

Another sigh. "It would be wise to pick your jaw up from the floor before a bug flies down your throat."

Not for the first time, Skywalker ignored his comment. "You agree with me?" he said instead, hesitantly, his eyes narrowed.

"On this matter, I suppose I do." Obi-Wan looked increasingly annoyed at his questioning. "However, that does not mean I condone the course of action you took. You still have much to answer for."

Skywalker nodded absently, still trying to wrap his head around everything being thrown at him.

"While I don't feel I owe you an explanation, I will offer it to you anyway, as I believe it is the only way either of us will ever truly move on," Obi-Wan said. "I have had more than enough time to think since the war has ended. At first, it was all far too upsetting—but as time has passed, the pain has dulled, and I have found peace within myself."

Skywalker slumped back into his seat, keeping his eyes fixed on Obi-Wan intently as he continued, "I did not always agree with the Council. Many times, I had found myself questioning their methods—even so, I never questioned their intentions behind them." He finally met Skywalker's eyes again. "I suppose that is where we differ, Anakin. You had too little faith in them, and I had too much."

"I suppose so," Skywalker agreed quietly.

A moment of silence passed.

"I must ask," Obi-Wan started, an overwhelming air of hesitation around him as he furrowed his brows. "After everything that's happened, all that you've done—how can you still sleep at night?"

His voice did not hold the same haughtiness that it had before. Instead, it was low and soft, a silent plea for closure. Skywalker found himself unable to see the words directed toward him as a threat.

"I haven't had a peaceful night since the war," he admitted, despite knowing that he was more than likely to regret it later. For just a moment, he allowed himself to express what was in his mind. "I tried to convince myself it was because of her death, but it was much more than that."

Obi-Wan watched him. "Do you regret it?"

"Not all of it," he replied, "but I wouldn't say I'm proud either. I suppose I don't really know where I stand yet."

They remained in the silence for a little while longer. Obi-Wan's eyes dimmed and his expression turned heavy.

"I'm sorry, Anakin."

Skywalker looked over at him tiredly. "I wasn't asking for an apology."

"I am offering one anyway," Obi-Wan paused. "I wasn't there when it mattered most. I've come to realize that despite my best intentions, I never offered a safe place for you to confide in. I'm sorry for making you feel as though you couldn't trust me."

Skywalker's harsh gaze wavered.

A single apology wouldn't make up for all that he had endured because of him.

Whether or not he knew it, Obi-Wan played a pivotal role in why he turned to the Chancellor in the first place. Skywalker sought the approval, desperately, albeit recklessly, of anyone that offered it—because, he supposed, if Obi-Wan couldn't take pride in him,he would find someone that could.

Even still, something about the tone Obi-Wan used felt so deeply genuine that it made him question, even if it was only for a moment, whether or not his anger was founded. What he saw before him varied drastically from what he remembered of his old Master.

So, he stopped.

Perhaps, he allowed himself to think, his perception of Obi-Wan had been mistaken.

"I still don't like you," Skywalker said eventually, though his voice was void of any real malice. It was all he could offer at the moment.

Obi-Wan gave a small, lighthearted laugh. It looked like he wanted to say something else—but he stayed silent, content with the progress made.

They sat in the ship until the suns finally set.

»»««

"What is the report?"

"Skywalker is not in the Elrood nor the Bajic Sector. That is all I have to report."

The Emperor shifted in the holo, his fingers tapping against his armrest impatiently. "I thought you would be able to find him swiftly."

"I'm going as swiftly as I can," the apprentice said, his voice struggling to remain impassive under the daunting stare of the Emperor. "Forgive me if my searching has taken longer than expected. I am trying to find a single criminal in a galaxy of millions of planets, after all."

The Emperor scowled. "Perhaps I overestimated your abilities."

The man faltered slightly. "No," he said, "I will double my search. You will not be disappointed."

The Emperor eyed him. "If I find that you are incompetent, I will not hesitate to take over the project myself."

"That won't be necessary," he insisted, then paused, looking at the Emperor earnestly. "Worry not. I will make you proud."

"Find him!"

His voice echoed through the palace's corridor, and the holo flickered once before dying. The man let out a breath through his teeth, tugging the dark hood off of his head and letting it fall to the ground.

"Is everything all right?"

At the soft voice, he turned to face the woman standing in the doorway. "Of course, my love," he replied. "Why are you awake at such a late hour?"

She hesitated for a moment. Moonlight seeped through the cracks of the drawn curtains, lighting the room just enough to see the long brown hair that laid loosely over her shoulders.

"It's nothing," she said finally, forcing her hands to her sides to keep them from fidgeting with her nightgown. "I just couldn't sleep."

His expression softened. "Well, let's get you to your room. We have a big day tomorrow."

She smiled. "We always do."