Lights twinkled above him when Obi-Wan raised his face from its pillow of snow. Stars – the stars were like gems in the night – sapphires, and rubies, and diamonds and more – a gift from the Force, this which would be his last sight. Entranced, he stared upwards and felt a bit of warmth steal through him. Strange, to die of exposure while being warmed by the stars, he mused idly.

At least it was not an unpleasant way to die. His only regret was leaving Anakin without a master, another loss the young boy would not take well. So many things Anakin didn't yet understand, despite all Obi-Wan's attempts to teach him.

"Death is not the end, Anakin. Death is a return home, to the Force. Death is living, just not in corporeal form."

"Then why do you mourn Qui-Gon?"

He had tried to find an answer, in the midst of grief, on their way to Qui-Gon's funeral, his eyes dropping to Anakin's hand clasped in his before raising them to meet his eyes.

"Because we are corporeal beings, Anakin. While we live, we mourn that which was once living, lost to us, though it is only transformed, not lost. To be human is to mourn, to be Jedi is to accept and let go."

Let go. Maybe it was time to let go. Maybe the Force had beckoned him here so that he would die knowing Anakin's rescuers had arrived; that his padawan was or would be soon safe. Maybe this was a gift to him, before the Force brought him home.

He looked to the sky, tried to smile. "Don't mourn me long, Anakin. Accept my death and let me go."

He knew Anakin didn't handle losses well, but Obi-Wan also knew that Anakin had been none too pleased to discover that Obi-Wan would assume his training. He had consented, that was true, had accepted him as his master willingly, but Obi-Wan suspected it was as much because Obi-Wan was the only Jedi he knew and therefore far more acceptable than a complete stranger. Missing his mother, missing Qui-Gon Jinn, Anakin had yearned for stability, for familiarity. They had grown close, but the affection Anakin had for his master was born as much of proximity as true caring: Obi-Wan had been the only being that had bridged the gulf from Tatooine to Naboo to Coruscant. Anakin had always hesitated to fully open himself to the bond, which his master both regretted and had been learning to accept.

"Remember you must move on, my padawan."

A small light flared within his mind. Obi-Wan puzzled over it before he understood: he could access a tiny portion of the bond with his padawan. Not enough to call him, not enough to tell him he was out here, somewhere, but enough that he could pull just a bit of warmth through the bond – not much – but enough to keep him from freezing, to think, to realize – the stars above were not stars, but lights of the rescue ship! A beacon to the dying, a sign of life to one resigned to the loss of it – it was his guide and his salvation.

Not all that far, and yet all too far. If he stumbled up the snowfield half the night, did not fall or falter, if he avoided crevasses, he might make it before morning's first light.

Or he might fall short, and collapse, only to die, within sight of the ship, even closer and yet way too distant, to be found when the inhabitants arose, a mere speck in the snow.

Do or do not.

With his last breath, with his last step, with his last thought, he would make it, step by slow step. He had promised to hang on, and a Jedi never broke a promise.

He pushed slowly to his feet, first to one knee, then both, then up - up, not bothering to brush the snow from his face and clothing. One step, then another…he was returning to his padawan…one step and another. Tired, he was so tired, but he had to keep going. Another foot in front of the other one, and one more again. Take a deep breath, refocus. Each step was a step closer to help, each step another closer to his padawan. Each step was reinforcing his promise.

His feet felt like blocks of ice, numb. Each step he kicked registered less and less, each time he fell, or even came close, it got harder and harder to get back to his feet. He had nothing left in him but his will. When his body faltered, his will prodded him on.

You're a stubborn man, padawan mine. Qui-Gon had been smiling when he said that, finally conceding to his apprentice's determination not to be bested this time. His master had not just wished him to demonstrate his independence, but encouraged it and Obi-Wan knew it was a sign that his master was preparing to let him go - eventually. They had not spoken of Obi-Wan's readiness for the trials: both knew the time was nearing, but both knew the time was not yet. Fate had forced their hand and prepared the padawan in a way that neither could have foreseen at the time.

You've taught me that stubbornness can win some battles that can't be won any other way, Master.

Stubbornness can be either a virtue, or a vice, Obi-Wan.

Then I shall follow your example, Master, and make it always a virtue.

His mischievous smile had made Qui-Gon laugh and clap him on the back. He remembered that exchange for it had been only a few weeks before they had left to negotiate a treaty between the Naboo and the Trade Federation – only weeks before his entire world had fallen apart and he had been forced to hold himself together, for that was what he had been trained to do: keep a level head during the middle of crisis. He had temporarily lost it, and nearly died for its lack as a result during his battle. He had resolved never to lose his center again; to hold onto that strength he had found when he had surrendered himself to the Force and lived.

He would call on that stubbornness now.

He had to keep going. One step, then another.

A large patch of light appeared, closed – in the door's brief opening he had seen a small figure – his padawan – appear and move off. Close, he was so close now.

"Anakin!" But the call couldn't escape his cold lips; his own ears did not hear it. He was within shouting distance, but he could not shout, could not speak; he could not even whisper.

Relief and fear battled in his heart: Anakin was safe, but why was he out in the dark and the cold? Why was he alone? And why, a moment later, was he shouting, "I – hate – you!"?

No, don't hate, Anakin. Never hate. He needed to get to Anakin; his padawan needed him. If he could only teach Anakin one lesson, it would be never to hate, to let it go, to embrace only the light and renounce the dark.

"No," he croaked through stiff lips, arms outstretched. "Padawan – Anakin, don't hate."

"I hate you."

No, Anakin, please. Listen to your master… I won't let you hate – I won't let you…. He was fading fast, he hadn't the strength to move the last few feet forward – Anakin, it's me…

Unable to take even one more step forward, he stared at his padawan, reached out a trembling arm and stuttered words that would not come. Stared, with eyes that barely focused, spoke with lips that could not form words, and reached with one arm that trembled, only to fall flat on the snow, his strength finally expended. He lay, exhausted and weary – endured Anakin's hands beating at him, denying his very existence until he wondered if perhaps he truly was a ghost – until reality replaced unreality and Anakin's cries of "go 'way" turned into cries of "you came back."

Anakin fell upon him, hugs replacing blows, and Obi-Wan thought he had never been so happy as now when collapsed in the snow with his padawan's arms around him. He would have hugged him back, had his arms allowed.

He shifted off his stomach, wincing as he rolled partially onto his side. He needed to see Anakin's face, not just feel his arms hugging his neck or his tears dampening his cheek – he needed to know that his padawan was truly okay. All Obi-Wan could see was the back of his head; Anakin refused to let go. It was a weakness, a Jedi needed to know how to let go – and when, he then decided. When didn't need to be now; when could wait. When could be later, when he, too, no longer needed the comfort.

One bruised and torn hand slowly crept out, rested on his padawan's shoulder. It was the best he could offer, a poor substitute for the hug he wished to return. Obi-Wan lay shivering and half buried under his padawan. He had kept his promise. He had hung on until now his padawan hugged him close, and Obi-Wan knew his very struggle to live was over – he had come back as he had all but promised.

He would need to address Anakin's emotions later, when he could speak coherently and when he had command of his own, for his close brush with mortality had loosened his control over his own. Relaxing into his padawan's hug and the knowledge that he had survived made him incapable of focusing his attention where it was so clearly needed. Waves of grief and joy washed through and over him as he felt his padawan's slowly dissipating pain and wild elation, mingling with his own intense relief and happiness. He had never thought that Anakin would be affected this strongly by his death or disappearance; they were certainly growing closer all the time but it was hardly the kind of bond that would cause this frenzied desperation.

There would be time to puzzle over that later, discuss when he had his strength back. For now it was enough to know that his padawan was safe and that the two were reunited. He could feel the thin strands of the bond reweaving themselves from the sheer strength of Aakin's unwitting Force broadcast of all his emotions – his relief, his joy, and finally,his affection for the man who hadn't known the depth of them until now.

He buried his face in Anakin's tunic and wept.