A/N: Hello everyone and welcome to this story!
This idea came into my head after reading multiple time-travel fix-it fics, and I decided to write one myself from a first-person viewpoint. Part one is Obi-Wan's POV, part two is Anakin's and Obi-Wan's with a dash of Mace Windu. From there who knows? :)

Originally I posted this to AO3 under my account Lilac and Roses, but decided to also share it with you all here. I imagine it will be ~ 55 chapters total. Sixteen are written so far.

Hope you enjoy.

/

Chapter 1

(Voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi)

Death. Darth thinks to win by this metric, but he is much mistaken as usual, for I've long been prepared for the inevitable. I am an old man, aged beyond my years by the trials and tribulations of my life, and I know the Force's call when I hear it. Beyond that, I have hope. Hope in the Force, and hope in Luke and Leia. My time is here, but theirs is only just beginning. Few have ever come to the understanding, I suspect, that I now do—but there is the greatest freedom in letting go.

And so I do. Without fear, anger, or hatred, I raise my lightsaber in surrender. I am not afraid, dissolved in the Force as I am, but very faintly I hear a scream—"No!"—before the red blade strikes and pain cleaves me in two. I don't know exactly what I expected—I've suffered saber wounds before—but I suppose a part of me expected it all to happen before I was aware of it. But when the strike comes, it is deathly hot, rending through the very core of my body, sizzling away all thought except the agony—

I remain in the Force, giving everything up, letting go entirely—

Goodbye, Darth…

Then the blessed silence closes over me, and I dissolve into the light.

...~oOo~...

I blink against the ruddy glow, and reach up to rub my eyes to clear them. The first thing that surprises me is that I still have eyes, and hands with which to rub them. The second thing is that this whole setup looks strangely like the spaceship of Queen Amidala's that we got stranded on on Tatooine. Peculiarly so. I sit up, running a hand along the transparisteel edging of the bedroom walls, and in so doing feel the Force come alive under my touch. Life and death, fear and joy, blossom like a piri flower, throwing me even further into bewildered confusion. This is nothing like Qui-Gon described the process to becoming a Force ghost, which I never questioned, given that he is the authority and has been teaching me for nigh on twenty years. Could the experience be individual for everyone? Could this be… some kind of test? Some kind of dream?

"Ah. Obi-Wan. Good to see you up. I was just about to head out to town to see where I could find the proper parts to fix the ship… Padawan. Are you alright?" Qui-Gon—a fully flesh Qui-Gon—peers at me concernedly. No surprise, I guess, given that I've backed up like he's on fire and am breathing hard, bracing myself against the cold wall to try and steady out my breathing, staring at him blankly as I am.

A test, I think. Something to pass through from the Force. It must be this. I'll just… act like it's real and pay mind to Qui-Gon's teachings and it'll all be fine, I vow. "Quite alright," I say, and clear my throat. "But I couldn't have you leaving the Queen now, Master. The better of us should be here to protect her, in case anyone has tracked her here. I'll go to town myself and get the part."

Qui-Gon raises an eyebrow, but he appears to take the merit of my argument, for thereafter he doesn't argue. Myself, I doubt the merit—Maul isn't on world yet, that much I can sense—but it doesn't really matter. I just need to get away from here in order to breathe, then I can come back fresh and ready to… work through this test. Soon, I'm sure, its reason will present itself.

The so-called "Handmaiden" argues hotly to be allowed to come along, the better to fulfill the "Queen's" desire to know more about the planet in question, but I quickly shut it down. "It would be too dangerous, my lady," I reply gently. "If we were to be seen by someone who understands the Nubian culture, they may begin to suspect the Queen's presence here. I know you would not want to do anything to potentially compromise her safety in such a fashion, or the safety of her people, as they desperately need her in this time."

And Padmé, with poorly concealed ill grace, finally relents under the argumentation. Her steps back to the ship beside Panaka do have a distinct flounce to them, though. I can't help my faint smile—the smile of an old, remembering man—as I watch them go. If nothing else, Padmé always possessed spirit. In the end, I suppose that is what got her…

But I won't dwell on that. For one thing, I am hardly in a place to condemn attachment to Anakin Skywalker. For another, I need to focus on my mission: getting the part with no complications. In my mind, that means avoiding Dream Anakin completely and just nicking the part from Watto. It's underhanded, of course, but take it from an old man: On Tatooine, sometimes the ends justify the means.

And it all works out pretty darn well, too, from the distraction I cause to the sneaking into the junkyard. I even have the part we need in hand and am edging out of the yard when, suddenly, a tiny voice yells, "Hey! You can't take that!"

Kark, I think, and determinedly not looking over my shoulder, because I know, I know the bright presence in the Force giving me chase, and I can't bear to look back. It's only a dreamscape, only a test in eternity, I remind myself forcefully (no pun intended). I scamper out of the yard, a little burst of half-mad laughter leaving my throat because stars! It's so good to be able to move deftly again with such young legs and good knees! And while the little tyke puts up a good run—Watto soon joining in yelling, "Oy! You can't be stealin' from my yard, you little punk—" they're no match for my knowledge of Mos Espa's more covert hiding places.

Cowering in one such locale, getting my breath back, I must shut my eyes against the protrusion of tears which threatens to overflow. It's just a dream, old man. It's just a test. It isn't real. None of it is real. You can't really see Anakin again, and you most certainly can't really help him. Why, I have to wonder, is the Force choosing to be so cruel to me even now? Then I must let go of the thought, for the Force never inflicts cruelty on us; it is our own choices and the fallen nature of the galaxy which does.

The words ring hollow in light of the little voice and supernovic, innocent presence in the Force from which I must make myself close off from.

...~oOo~...

I keep waiting for the test to present itself more clearly, and think that maybe it finally has when the ship technician thanks me for the part but says sadly that, apparently, there is a whole other part that is needed. In my haste, I got the wrong one. I feel myself flush in shame and confusion, because I could've sworn it was the exact same part as before, but I can admit that I wasn't exactly long on time. So I opt to throw the seller under the bus, saying I went to a shop on the other side of Mos Espa from where Watto's is, and that said nonexistent seller must have misled me. Everyone seems to buy this except Qui-Gon, who is regarding me curiously but says nothing. Frankly I wish he would, since his penetrating stare is more uncomfortable than any reprimand. To Watto's we go the next day, together this time, I with dread in my heart and lead in my lungs. This must be the test, then: face Anakin and… and what? Forgive him? I already have, long ago. Not feel attached? I really don't know how I might accomplish that, but if that's what is required to move on I will do my utmost…

It's pretty hard to remain still and silent when Qui-Gon goes round the back with Watto and the little boy scampers in, though. When he raises his face, my heart knows a judder, not the least of which because I momentarily worry he might recognize me, sans stolen cloak or no. But instantly the worry is gone from my mind as I look into beautiful, innocent sky eyes which glance at me furtively—

And see the sickening purplish bruises formed around one of them.

"Annie." The hoarse cry rends from my throat before I can stop it, and his head snaps up, his eyes going wide.

"You know me?" he whispers.

"No," I choke. "I mean—yes. I mean…"

"You're beautiful," he says, fingers never ceasing to fiddle with the droid he fixes. No doubt he is afraid to stop now, for knowledge of what will come again if he doesn't—what I caused to happen to him, because there's no doubt in my mind about the train of events… "Are you an angel?"

"No, Annie," I say sadly. Just a tired, foolish, dead old man who never did figure out how to stop you getting hurt… And I've forgotten all about dreamscapes or tests now, because this feels real and a part of me so desperately needs for it to be real when I take his cheek in my hand so, so softly to avoid hurting the yellowish skin, and finish, "But I am going to free you, I promise."

The raw hope in his eyes hurts. Everything about this situation hurts. Because suddenly, I'm quite certain that this is real and not a dream or a test at all, or if it was a test then it was not to hurt Anakin and I failed once again.

"What about mom?" he whispers back, for we're both kind of whispering now for some reason. "Will you free her, too?"

"Yes," I say, though I have no idea how to keep my promises. It doesn't matter. "Yes, I will."

"I believe you." And his face is alive with wonder and hope, as though I am the answer to every one of his prayers.

I believe you. That hurts, too. Maybe he shouldn't.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice startles both of us out of our reverie, and I whip back round to find him staring inquisitively at us.

"Is that your name?" Anakin jumps in eagerly.

I hunt for an explanation for my behavior, and mouth, I think he's Force-sensitive. It seems almost blasphemous to say "I think" when he shines so brightly, but from Qui-Gon's thoughtful expression maybe such is only clear to me.

"Well, come on," Qui-Gon ushers me.

But of course, the sand storm soon dawns on us, and Anakin eagerly invites us into his home. I brace myself to see Shmi Skywalker bruised as well, but she is just as I remember her, only taught-lipped when it comes to looking at her poor little boy. Her boy, who doesn't seem to notice, since he's so preoccupied with talking to me, as I try to ignore my guilt in order to figure out, Why? Why me, why this? Why now? Of all the people to be given second chances, I am certainly not the finest choice.

"Come on, Obi-Wan!" Anakin hops up after dinner, grabs hold of my sleeve, and starts dragging with enthusiasm. "I'll show you the droid I'm building! You'll love 3PO!"

Oh, I'm not sure love would be the right word for Anakin's quirky creation. Last I knew, the fussy thing was fretting about how much he hated space travel… and cowering on the tech mech that was the Planet Killer.

Anakin appears to notice my somber mood. "You don't like him? I'm not finished just yet, but once I get some plating on…"

I set my hand on his, which quiets him. "He's wonderful, Annie."

"But… you seem sad."

Sad. It's a pale descriptor for the arid landscape of my self in this moment, but I suppose it does well enough. I manage a smile. It's going to be better this time, I vow. Qui-Gon will be the one to teach him, not me. He always wanted him as a teacher, not me, and he was right. I'll stay away, the better to avoid any possible poisoning of this good, kind little boy. I can be… a distant old Padawan of Qui-Gon's, kind when called upon, but never seeking out. It's best. I look into his sweet eyes—blue eyes—, and remind myself that that is enough right there.

"Not sad, Annie. Just thinking." Making my vows. My new vows.

/

A/N: If you enjoyed reading, please leave a review, because it's very encouraging to get the feedback. Even a little one just saying 'hi' is wonderful! xD

See you at the next chapter.

~ Lilac