Whoo, finally finished one of the way-too-many story ideas that have been pestering to be written!
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, what a shocker. (Are disclaimers even necessary anymore? I never see them on AO3.)
Time moved differently within the Force. The past was as fluid as the present, as changeable as the future. The dead were supposed to leave the past alone, however, and leave life for the living. The dead were not supposed to meddle with what had been, or attempt to alter what had transpired. But—they had the ability to speak, nonetheless. A whisper into the right mind, and all that had been might be rewritten. A word at the crucial moment, and tragedy might be averted. As he hovered between two times, caught up between the padawan he had failed and the nephew he could no longer protect, Ben Kenobi made a choice. Selfish, perhaps. A gamble, certainly. There was no telling whether he would listen to himself, or whether his meddling might somehow bring about an even worse future than that which he had lived.
Obi-Wan Kenobi had a bad feeling, as he stood on the dock above the Vigilance, saying his goodbyes to Anakin. No, not a feeling. It was a certainty carved deep within, burned into his soul, as it seemed—which was exceedingly peculiar, given that he had just thirty seconds ago been blithely anticipating the end of a long and grueling war. Go to Utapau—catch Grievous, or kill him—Anakin and the Council would deal with the Sith master—and all would be over. Why, then, did it feel like he stood in the shadow of a rising tsunami?
"Obi-Wan? Why are you staring at me? Haven't you got a Sep to go catch? A war to end? Unless you changed your mind and want me to take care of him for you, of course." Something about Anakin's voice sounded off, his customary bravado forced.
Obi-Wan shook his head slowly. His mind felt as if it had turned to honey, slow and sticky.
Tell him.
They were his words, and yet they were not. His voice, yet he did not think the order, but rather heard it.
If you value anything you see around you, any of your brethren, if you love your padawan as I know you do—tell him.
"Obi-Wan?"
I cannot, he thought. Already, I toe the line of attachment—
"Master?"
Attachment be damned, or else you and he and the entire galaxy will be!
Obi-Wan looked closely into his padawan's face, taking in his concern, the shadows under his eyes, the tired set of his shoulders—the fraught, distant hum in the Force, as of a perturbed nest of wasps. Perhaps the certainty was right.
"Master, why are you staring at me? Do I need to call Master Che?"
That snapped Obi-Wan out of his distraction.
"That won't be necessary, thank you, Padawan. I'm sure Vokara has much better things to do with her time. I was merely—thinking."
"Of course you were."
"Well, one of us has to."
"Hey!" Anakin protested.
Obi-Wan smiled fondly at his indignation.
"Just—be careful, won't you?"
Indignation turned to sullenness.
"I'm not a child."
"No. But…" You are my child. My brother. My padawan.
Before he could think better of it, he reached out and pulled his padawan into a snug embrace. Anakin froze—there was a flash of confusion in the Force, followed by a flicker of kriff it, then—and he returned the gesture with an intensity akin to that of one clinging for dear life to some lofty precipice. There was so much tension in him, so much pressure, like a volcano making to erupt, or a bomb about to explode.
"Anakin, what's the matter?"
A muffled, "Nothing," sounded from the vicinity of his shoulder, where Anakin's face was buried.
A lie if ever Obi-Wan had heard one, but he let it pass for now, and ran his hand down his back, as if he could stroke away all the tension.
"I care a great deal for you, young one," he said. "I—I love you, you know."
A sudden warmth flooded Anakin's presence in the Force, and Obi-Wan sensed a spurt of joy amidst the angry-buzzing discord.
"Please be careful," he said again. "The Sith master is still at large, and I would prefer not to find you missing any more limbs when I return."
Anakin laughed, and though the sound was still a bit strained, there was a lightness to it that Obi-Wan had not heard for far too long.
"I'll try, Master."
"Thank you kindly."
He began to pull away. Anakin clung a moment longer before releasing him, then looked at him as if there was something he wanted to say."
"Master, I—"
"What is it, young one?"
He shook his head. "—nothing. I love you, too, that's all."
Obi-Wan smiled, but he was more certain than ever that there was trouble brewing. At a time when the pressure should have been easing, Anakin was more tightly coiled than ever. Something was very wrong, and with the war almost over and Ahsoka soon returning to Coruscant, it could only have to do with Padmé Amidala. Which meant if Obi-Wan asked what was wrong, Anakin would deny that anything was wrong, or indeed that there was anything to be wrong in the first place. If he wanted that conversation to go anywhere, he needed Anakin to come clean of his own accord. Of course, he could at least give him a little push in the right direction.
"May the Force be with you, Anakin." He started down the ramp to the Vigilance, but halfway down called back over his shoulder, "I expect Ahsoka and Rex will be back soon. Perhaps you and Padmé might have the three of us in for dinner some night to celebrate, once this is all over."
One step. Two. He was almost to the ship before Anakin's strangled voice sounded behind him, an octave above its customary pitch.
"Master?"
Obi-Wan turned back.
"Yes?"
"Master, I—I need to talk to you."
"I know." Obi-Wan tried to keep the snark out of the comment.
"Before you go. Please."
"Very well. Go to my cabin; I'll let Cody know that our departure for Utapau will be a little delayed."
Inside Obi-Wan's small cabin, Anakin paced like an entrapped animal. His wary defensiveness had returned with a vengeance. Obi-Wan kept out of the way, seated on the edge of his bunk, and allowed him to work off the nervous energy.
"What did you need to talk to me about?" he pressed gently.
"It—" Anakin shook his head. "I can't tell you."
Obi-Wan reined in an exasperated huff.
"Anakin. As we have established, I know you are involved with Senator Amidala."
In response, he received an accusatory, "You can't tell the Council!"
"I haven't told them these three years."
"What?"
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow in reply.
"What!" Anakin repeated, decidedly aggravated this time.
"Subtlety has never been your greatest strength, padawan mine, and while I would have expected better of Senator Amidala, in her field, that is neither here nor there. Now, what did you need to talk to me about?"
Protracted silence. More pacing. Another suspicious glare.
"How long has it been since you've slept?" Obi-Wan asked, eventually.
"I don't know."
"You should rest, Anakin."
"I can't! If I do, then the nightmares will come, and I can't stand it!"
"Nightmares?"
Anakin's glare deepened, and he faced away from Obi-Wan, who was hard-pressed to keep from rebuking him for acting like a child. Honestly, how is it that you are twenty-three years old and we cannot discuss personal matters in a mature and civil manner?
But part of the blame for that must lie on him, if he had raised Anakin for thirteen years and the boy felt he could not trust him as a confidant.
At length, he sighed.
"Anakin, we cannot sit here all day. If you are not ready to confide in me, whatever it is you have to say, then perhaps we ought to wait until I return."
He disliked the idea of leaving Anakin alone on Coruscant, but the Council would hardly sanction whisking him off to Utapau on nothing more than an apprehension.
"No!" Anakin protested, panic rising. "I need—Master, the restricted holocrons in the Archive, can you...?"
"Restricted holocrons? So that's why you kicked up such a fuss over being denied the title of master at the ripe old age of twenty-three."
"That, and Ahsoka."
"What do you want a restricted holocron for, anyway? Those are mostly Sith artifacts, you know."
"... I know. There's..."
A lot more to the story, evidently. Obi-Wan curbed his exasperation.
"Anakin," he asked, patiently, "why do you want to access a Sith holocron?"
In response, he received an expression that would not have looked at all out of place on a stubborn bantha. He waited it out.
"It's the dreams," Anakin admitted at length.
"The nightmares, you mean?"
"Yeah." He paused. "Like the ones when—when my mom—"
Something fragile peered out from behind his belligerence, and Obi-Wan was struck by a pang of guilt.
"I see. Anakin, I am sorry—"
"Then kriffing do something about it this time, Obi-Wan! Help me—I need to get to the holocrons, because if I don't Padmé's going to die, and the baby—"
"The what." Obi-Wan thought he felt several thousand hairs begin turning grey at once. I must have misheard. I could have sworn he said the word baby.
Any question of having misheard, however, was summarily dismissed by the vivid color flaming across his padawan's countenance. Another few thousand hairs joined the first batch.
"In the middle of a galactic war. Really, Anakin?"
"I—we didn't—" Anakin sputtered.
"You certainly didn't."
"That's not what I—"
Obi-Wan held up his hand.
"We will discuss your impending parenthood at a later time."
Later. Once Obi-Wan had grappled with the fact that his padawan, who was really little more than a teenling himself in the grand scheme of things, and Senator Amidala were to have a child. And they were going to have to figure out how to present that bit of information to the Council. And Anakin's child—Anakin's child, no, his brain didn't want to accept that turn of phrase—would be his… his what? Niece? Nephew? Grandchild? Oh, Force—no, he was far too young for that. [A distant part of his brain suggested that the most felicitous solution would be the child being Force-sensitive so he might claim them as his future padawan and thereby avoid the terminology question altogether.]
Yes. All in all, most definitely a discussion for later.
"A later time?"
"Yes. For now—these dream, how do you know they're the same as—as when your mother died?"
"I just do, that's all!" Back on the defensive. "I can feel it, they're real, and she's going to die, they might both die, if I don't stop it! And you telling me off for wanting to look for a holocron isn't helping!"
"Anakin, please, sit down."
Anakin looked as if he would argue, but he surprised Obi-Wan by dropping down next to him on the bunk. Too tired to continue his pacing tirade, perhaps.
"I do intend to help you," Obi-Wan said, "but I think we can do better than Sith holocrons. Do you know whether there's any evidence—physical evidence—that Padmé's life might be in danger?"
"No, but—"
"Then I think the first step would be to see to that. And let's not rule out the possibility of meddling by the Sith. Padmé has been a strong voice for peace, which I doubt Sidious has appreciated. I'd like to call Bant Eerin and ask her to see her, if Padmé would be willing."
"You can't do that!"
"She's a very old friend, and she will be discreet."
Anakin made no remark on how if Bant was a very old friend, that made Obi-Wan practically ancient, old man. Two days ago, Obi-Wan would have welcomed the lack of snark, or would at least have professed to. Now, it only worried him the more.
"Anakin, please. Bant is first and foremost a healer. She is not on the Council. I trust her not to report to the Council. She will be able to tell Padmé, and you, whether there is any reason to fear that your vision may come to pass. And, if there is, Bant's aid will be a much safer and more useful intervention than Sith holocrons."
Anakin remained silent.
"I want to keep Padmé safe. She is a dear friend. But, Anakin, I also want to protect you. I have no wish to see my brother, my son—whatever you are, Padawan mine—corrupted by the dark side. Speaking of which, where did you get the idea to go looking in Sith holocrons, anyway?"
Avoiding Obi-Wan's gaze, Anakin said, "Palpatine told me he knows of a power that could save her."
"He did?" Obi-Wan asked, sharply.
"Yes. The way he talked… it sounded… it sounded like he might—I mean, that's not possible, it's not like Palpatine could really… I've known him for years! Padmé doesn't like his politics, but he's a good person—"
"Who took an interest in a very powerful child." A sickly suspicion oozed in the pit of Obi-Wan's stomach. "Blast—we needed Dooku's information."
Anakin scowled.
"I am not censuring you. If you could not disable him without prolonging the fight and endangering the Chancellor—"
"That's not—"
"It's not what?"
Anakin's eyes remained glued on the floor, but, after a few minutes that seemed an hour, he muttered, "Not what happened. I didn't kill Dooku, not at first."
"What do you mean, not at first? Did he try to escape?"
"No… I disarmed him. I wanted to kill him, but I didn't. But he told me to—Palpatine."
The oozing suspicion in Obi-Wan's stomach solidified into a rock of dread certainty as Anakin at last met his eyes.
"He should have wanted Dooku as a prisoner, shouldn't he? For information—but—if Dooku was the apprentice—"
He watched Obi-Wan's face closely, silently pleading for his master to tell him he was wrong. But they both knew better.
"If Dooku was the apprentice, then perhaps the master was removing his current apprentice to make way for a replacement," Obi-Wan finished. It needed to be said and acknowledged. "Anakin. I need your honesty, complete and brutal. If someone—anyone—offered you the power to save Padmé from whatever harm befalls her in your dreams, would you turn to the dark side to attain it?"
Anakin looked away again. It was several minutes before he whispered, "Maybe."
Obi-Wan let out a shuddering breath. If he had gone blithely off to Utapau without discovering this landmine that was his padawan—well, suffice it to say, Force only knew how close they had come to disaster. He pulled Anakin closer.
"Don't, young one. Please, don't ever do that."
I couldn't bear to lose you that way.
"But—he's my friend—he can't—"
"Sometimes friends betray us."
As you might have betrayed me.
The thought was a knife in his chest, but he let it go. No point in dwelling on the dreadful thing that might have been, when his padawan was here beside him, safe and out of the Sith's reach.
"But if he's the Sith and he wants me to be his apprentice, them why would he want the council to send me to Utapau?"
"Did he?" Obi-Wan asked. "Or did he anticipate how the Council would respond to being pushed around by the Senate? If he wants you as his apprentice, then he wants me as far from you as possible. And Ahsoka... Force, the Senate taking over her trial... he's trying to isolate you."
And the Rako Hardeen incident…. He was hardly about to bring up that particularly sore point, but there could be little doubt that Palpatine had been involved. And the Council, in all their wisdom, had helped him right along.
Blast.
"Well, the Council ought to approve of isolation," Anakin said bitterly. "No attachments, after all."
"Anchors, more like," Obi-Wan said grimly. "Anakin, I don't want you on Coruscant without me until this whole mess is sorted.
"You don't trust me?" Half question, half accusation.
"Should I? Do you trust yourself?"
"... no."
And then, because he was Anakin and always on the move, he asked, "What are we going to do?"
We. Obi-Wan had never known until now how sweet the word could sound. We. Because they were together; because though they had played with fire unbeknownst, they had come away only a little singed, and they were still together.
"We are going to Utapau. I will to tell Mace that I need you with me. I may still be feeling the effects of being thrown into a wall on the Invisible Hand, and it would be wiser not to assume I can take Grievous in my present weakened state. And I'll tell him to work with our trusted senators to procure proof of Palpatine's double-dealing in the war. A trip to Serenno ought to prove quite informative, I should think."
"Double—" Anakin's eyes widened. "Obi-Wan, the clones! Fives thought Tup's chip went bad, and that's why he turned on Tiplar. If a chip can make one of the vod'e kill a Jedi—and if Sifo-Dyas was involved—and Dooku—"
"It's an intentional mechanism. Yes, how convenient that an entire army of them was all ready to go when war broke out. The good news, I suppose, is that it indicates Sidious intends to control them through physical means, rather than arcane."
"Tup kept saying 'good soldiers follow orders.' Maybe it was some kind of activating phrase. Or maybe there's some order that is. The GAR needs to cut off contact."
"We must call Ahsoka and as many of the other generals and commanders as we can. I'll speak with Mace first, and he can—"
The mention of Master Windu was enough to send Anakin back to wariness.
"You're not telling him about me, and Padmé, and—"
"No. That's all going to have to come to light eventually, but we will be prudent about its framing. Now, go clean up—you can borrow a set of my clothes while yours are sent for washing—and I'll make the calls, and then you will rest."
But Anakin shook his head. "I told you—I can't sleep, I'll just see her—dying—"
"I didn't say you have to sleep. Just rest. How are you going to save my hide for the tenth time if you're falling over from exhaustion?"
"Eleventh."
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
"As I've said before, Cato Nemoidia doesn't—oh, get on with you."
While Anakin was in the 'fresher, Obi-Wan made his call to Master Windu.
"Mace, there's been a change of plans. Anakin will be accompanying me to Utapau."
"We need him here, gathering information on Sidious," Windu countered.
"He is in no fit state for such an assignment. Plus—we are reasonably sure we know Sidious' identity. You'll need to find proof that the Senate will accept-but we believe Sidious is the Chancellor himself."
"What? And Skywalker didn't see fit to tell us this earlier?"
"He and I pieced the information together just now. And Mace—spread the word in the GAR. Tell them to cut contact with the Senate and answer no calls that do not come either from their own unit or from the Jedi. There's something programmed into their chips that could cause them to turn on us, perhaps at no more than a word from the Chancellor."
Windu massaged his forehead. "All right. Keep your walking shatterpoint out of trouble, and we'll handle the Chancellor."
"Before you do, the Council should talk with Senator Amidala and her coalition. If we want to keep public opinion from souring even more on the Jedi, we need to tread carefully. This mustn't look like the Order overstepping its authority. The public won't care whether he's a Sith, even if we can prove it. It's proof of political corruption we'll need."
Anakin had not returned by the time the call with Mace was ended. Obi-Wan picked up his datapad, started reading an overview on Utapau, and within three sentences found himself reading words without having any idea what they were really saying. There was too much going on, too much in limbo and too much at stake, to allow him to concentrate on such trivialities as background information for an upcoming assignment. He stared at his comm. Ahsoka was alone—well, not alone, not with Rex and the 501st—but still. She was overseeing her first campaign in a year, and sooner or later…. She hadn't sparred, hadn't even held lightsabers for an entire year, and she was going to face a Sith. She was going to face Maul. And perhaps that was his fault. If he had fought for her as Anakin had, instead of trying not to rock the boat—if he had trusted her, if he had doubted the Council—
Ifs would get him nowhere. He couldn't fix the past, but perhaps he could help to ensure the future. At the very least, he could check in with his grandpadawan.
He typed in a code, and waited.
"Master Kenobi." Ahsoka wasn't hostile, but neither did her greeting contain anything one would be likely to term warmth. Careful neutrality, more like.
"Pad—Ahsoka. I'm glad to see you."
Once, she might have rolled her eyes. I'm not that rusty, Master. Now, she merely said, "We've got Almec, and we're holding Sundari Palace. We lost Maul, though, in the tunnels under the city."
"And the rest of the city and Death Watch?"
"There are a small number of firefights still happening in sector eleven," Bo-Katan said. "But for the most part, your clones have been as effective as promised. Still, without Maul in custody, this could all fall apart quickly. We must capture him before he escapes."
"He mentioned a name," Ahsoka added, "Darth Sidious."
"Did he, indeed."
Ahsoka looked taken a little aback at the acidity of Obi-Wan's tone, which bordered on the vitriolic.
"He did. Who—"
"Darth Sidious, young one—"
Realizing how he almost spat the Sith's name, Obi-Wan drew a breath, tucked his hands into his sleeves, and began again. "Darth Sidious is the Sith master. This entire war has been of his devising. That conniving—" He cut off, struck afresh by a rush of anger quite unbecoming of a Jedi master.
Calm. The truth is out. The Republic will be safe. Anakin will be safe. Still, he found himself hoping that when the time came to take on Sidious, he might be the one to strike the fatal blow.
"Maybe if we capture Maul, we can get out of him who this Sidious is," Ahsoka was saying.
"We don't need to. We already know."
"… oh. And is that why you seem so… I don't know… weird? Like you're about ten years older and five years younger, all at the same time. Is everything okay? Uh—Sith aside, I mean?"
"For the first time in a very long while, I truly believe it will be," Obi-Wan told her. "But, Ahsoka, you must tell the 501st not to answer any incoming calls from offworld. We believe Sidious has a way to control the clones."
She shivered. "I'll tell them. May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi."
"Ahsoka, wait!" Obi-Wan ordered, before she had time to end the call. There was something he needed to say—something he should have said long ago, something he should never have even needed to say in the first place. "I would like a word with you, please. Alone."
She dismissed Rex and Bo-Katan and waited, head cocked expectantly.
"Ahsoka—I'm sorry. I should have done more—I should have defended you before the Council."
"You should," she agreed, frankly. But there was nothing of spite in the words, and that was enough. A moment later, she offered, "Maybe—I was a little unreasonable, about Mandalore. I know how the army works. I know you can't just disobey orders and run off to go fight for someone who isn't even an ally. So I—I'm sorry, too, if I acted like a brat."
"A brat? No. I think you acted like a seventeen-year-old, thinking with her heart, who resents the system that wronged her."
"Is this the start of a Master Kenobi lecture on letting go of your feelings?"
"No. Merely an observation. I pass no judgement."
"Well, that's a first."
"Mind your tongue, young one. I can't think where you learned such appalling cheek."
The corner of her mouth pulled into a little smirk. "Really? That's funny."
"What's funny?" Anakin asked, coming back into the cabin. His eyes were a trifle red, and he looked out-of-place in Obi-Wan's pale tunics, but he seemed calmer than before and had a smile for his former apprentice.
"I believe your padawan was having a joke at my expense," Obi-Wan complained lightheartedly. "You really ought to teach her better, you know."
"Funny," said Anakin, "I thought I taught her just fine. She sure seems to have taken the lesson to heart, anyway."
He and Ahsoka shared a grin, and Obi-Wan sighed.
"Impossible, the both of you."
Anakin leaned his head against Obi-Wan's.
"But you love us anyway, don't you, Master?"
"Yes—yes—of course I do." Obi-Wan brushed his padawan's damp hair out of his eyes. "But I am not a drying rack, and would appreciate if you would kindly refrain from using me as one."
Ahsoka laughed, but her mirth was cut short as Rex's voice sounded in the background.
"Commander! There's been an attack—"
"Got it, with you in a minute." She turned back toward Obi-Wan and Anakin, resolve evident in every line of her face. "I have to go, but I'll see you soon. And Master—Anakin—I want to talk, when we get back. About the future."
"Of course, Snips. Good luck."
"May the Force be with you, Ahsoka," Obi-Wan added.
Her holo cut out, and Anakin's buoyant expression turned anxious.
"I could still go to Mandalore," he suggested.
"She will be fine. You taught her well, and she has Rex and half the 501st with her."
"But you don't really need me to face Grievous."
"I don't," Obi-Wan said, "but I do need you safe, and right now that means by my side, where Sidious can't separate us. And when we get back—"
"We'll take him together."
"Yes, Padawan. Together."
*insert Palpatine death of choice here*
(My personal favorite would probably be him getting simultaneously skewered by both Anakin and Obi-Wan, just as a nice little karmic payback for him trying to break them apart.)
Writing this, I realised how very little I've actually written TCW-era Anakin. I'm so accustomed to writing Vader, and yet Anakin? Have not written him very much at all. Kinda strange, really, since I love reading stories about the Disaster Trio.
Oh, and apparently there's this fanon thing going on where Bant Eerin is portrayed as a healer in lots of fics, but it turns out that Canon doesn't say she was a healer, while according to Legends she was definitely not a healer, but rather a general in the clone wars? (If anybody has any idea where the heck the healer Bant thing came from, I'd love to know!) Anyway, I'm going along with the apparent fanon, because I now have the idea of Bant as a healer stuck in my head due to much reading of fics.