Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Ben was ready to die.

He was tired. He’d done his duty for the past nineteen years and seen Luke safe. He’d even on occasion seen Leia safe.

Anakin and Padmé’s children were the future; the hope for a new Republic which would rise out of the ashes of the Empire.

The sounds of footsteps approaching the hangar from the other side wrench his attention as Luke calls out to him.

It was time.

As Vader swung his blade, Obi-Wan straightened, his blade in an upright pose to signal the end of the duel and surrendered himself to the Force in the way of the Whills.

He felt the usual moment of floating in the Force and readied himself to shift to the Whills, but then a sudden yank disorientated him.

He materialised on a transparent bridge instead of inside the currents of the Force as he had expected.

He blinked back his surprise as he looked around the vast echoing space. The bridge looped away into the far distance and he could see the shimmer of others stretched out below him and above him.   

He glanced down and frowned at the youthful appearance of his hands. He looked down at the bridge and startled at his reflection staring up at him. His hair was red and styled as he had worn it at the end of the Clone Wars. He had a full beard once more. A brown undertunic peeked out from his white tunic. His leggings were white and tucked into brown boots. He was only missing his brown robe.

“Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan whirled around, his hand automatically going to his missing lightsabre, at the sound of Anakin’s voice.

And it was Anakin who stood further along the bridge. Not Vader.

Anakin’s hair was also styled in the short cut he’d favoured through most of the Clone Wars. He was dressed in the garb he’d worn during that time too in black leggings, tunic, and armour across his shoulders. He noted that Anakin’s lightsabre hung by his hip.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said cautiously. His own voice sounded younger too, Obi-Wan reflected. “Did you bring me here?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Anakin demurred. “It is good to see again, Master.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said dryly, “you’ll forgive me if I don’t return the sentiment since you just killed me.”

“Did I?” asked Anakin, cocking his head to the side. “I rather thought you surrendered yourself to the Force just before I struck.”

Obi-Wan huffed but it was the truth. He folded his arms over his chest. “Did you do the same?”

“No,” Anakin shook his head, sadness creeping over his features. “I died rather painfully from Sith lightning saving Luke from Sidious.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. “You…you came back to the Light.”

Anakin inclined his head. “My son saved me. As you knew he would.”

“I hoped,” Obi-Wan murmured. He’d always hoped deep down that his brother, the bright boy he’d raised, would find his way back from the Dark.

Anakin gestured at the bridges around them. “This is the World Between Worlds. The endless possibilities of what is and what might be.” He gestured behind himself. “This path follows our world beyond our deaths. It is a path of treachery and pain for my children.”

Obi-Wan watched as Anakin waved a hand and images appear around them…

Luke turning his lightsabre onto his grandson. The fall of the New Republic and the rise of another Empire. The descent of his namesake, Leia’s child, into the Dark, tempted by the mental whisperings of another Sith. The discovery of the girl, Rey. Han’s terrible death at the hands of his son. Rey tracking down a broken Luke. The rebellion diminished as Luke sacrificed himself to give them one last chance.

Obi-Wan watched horrified as Leia died to save her son, the horrifying revelation of Palpatine still existing, and Ben sacrificing himself to save Rey in turn.

“Time and again, the Light is diminished just as the Dark,” Anakin said. “It is a never-ending circle because the balance was never achieved as prophesised.”

Obi-Wan looked over at him.

“’A child born of no father will bring balance to the Force,’” Anakin recited. “Unfortunately the translation was wrong.”

Obi-Wan stared at his old padawan. “Anakin,” he sighed heavily, “as fascinating as it is to discuss old prophecies, why am I here?”

“The Force brought you,” Anakin stated firmly, “and it brought me.” His gaze met Obi-Wan’s with a surprising amount of sombreness. “Balance.”

Obi-Wan frowned heavily. “I don’t understand.”

Anakin smiled sadly. “We’re a Force dyad, Obi-Wan. That’s the balance that is needed within the Force.” His smile dropped. “The Sith’s plans diverted our destiny from its path.”

“How?” asked Obi-Wan plaintively. “How did they even know?”

“They didn’t,” Anakin allowed, “they just sought to corrupt the power they saw. Palpatine spent years sowing distrust of you and your teaching in my mind. Snoke whispered to Ben of power and created a darkness in him that scared Luke and ruined my son. He and Leia…they were the second attempt by the Force to create the dyad it needs for balance.”

“But why…” Obi-Wan froze. A half-memory of Mortis flickered through his head. “You proved you were the Chosen One. The Father…”

“The Mortis entities were simply the first to use the Force,” Anakin jumped in. “The Father was the most powerful, his children chose to specialise in the different aspects as a game, and he realised that he could not allow either side to win as they would destabilise the whole Force. He imprisoned his Son and Daughter to hold them in check.”

“You succeeded in his test, Anakin,” Obi-Wan pointed out exasperated.

“He sought a successor, someone to take over the prison,” Anakin allowed, “someone who could overwhelm his children. All I proved was that I was most powerful Force user on that planet.” He held up a hand when Obi-Wan went to argue. “When the Force creates a child of immense power to face a rising threat, it also creates an anchor. The Father once was part of a dyad. It was his partner’s death which led him to lose sight of his children and what they were doing until it was almost too late.”

“The Mother,” Obi-Wan realised out loud.

“Who was it on Mortis who gave me the knowledge to overcome the Son and the Daughter?” asked Anakin almost gently.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. A large part of him wanted to deny it was him and to say it was Ahsoka, but he had never been one to sidestep his duty.

“Then I truly did fail you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said regretfully as he reopened his eyes.

“It was my failure, Obi-Wan,” Anakin insisted. “I was the one who chose the Dark side. I knew your teachings, and I knew your intentions were always rooted in duty, even when your decisions hurt me. You rarely made selfish choices.”

A small murmur of pain escaped Obi-Wan. He closed his eyes at the flash of memory that flickered across his consciousness.

Mustafar.

“Do you think I don’t know that you left me there in the lava because you struggled to end my life because you loved me even then?” asked Anakin gently.

“It would have been a mercy to have killed you,” Obi-Wan murmured, shame still coursing through his veins because he had struggled.

He hadn’t been able to make the killing blow and it had created a living hell for Anakin for many years after. Once he’d found out about Vader, he had also grappled with the horror that his selfish decision to walk away had also led to the monster who had terrorised the Empire.

“Perhaps,” Anakin allowed. “I might have hated you for the injuries you gave me, but I hated you more for abandoning me, for walking away.” He paused. “Twice, because you left me again.”

Obi-Wan absorbed the blow with a bowed head.

“For what it’s worth, Obi-Wan, I forgive you,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan looked over at Anakin.

His friend, his brother, looked back at him with nothing but understanding.

“I don’t expect your forgiveness in return,” Anakin said simply. “I destroyed the Jedi when I chose Sidious. I marched on the Temple and killed younglings. Palpatine’s schemes may have helped me down the path, but I was the one who chose it.” He grimaced. “Returning to the Light, saving my son…that single act does not change that I committed atrocities as Vader which can never be forgiven. I must carry this guilt through the rest of my existence and choose every day to do better.”

Obi-Wan’s heart ached at that truth. He was glad Anakin recognised it even as he mourned reality himself. He took a deep breath to centre himself.

“I am glad you found a way back,” Obi-Wan said genuinely. “I missed you, Anakin.”

“I missed you too, Obi-Wan,” Anakin replied with a small smile.

For a beat there was simply the two of them looking at each other with renewed understanding, standing on the bridge in the middle of the ethereal space.

“You know you still haven’t explained why we’re here,” Obi-Wan said dryly.

Anakin smiled mischievously. “I haven’t?”

Obi-Wan shot him a chiding look. “As much as I appreciate the opportunity to stand beside you in the Light, Anakin, I need to return to the Whills.”

“You plan to help Luke as a Force ghost,” Anakin stated. He cocked his head to the side, curiosity stampeding across his face. “Why did you surrender? You could have beaten me on the Death Star. You held me back in the Force with every blow we exchanged.”

Obi-Wan hummed and did not answer.

“You were aged far beyond your years,” Anakin went on speculatively. He suddenly took a deep breath, alarm widening his eyes. “You were dying.”

Obi-Wan inclined his head. “According to the sages who walked the path before me, one is not meant to walk the Whills until death. I spent too long in their eddies. Between that and the hard existence of my life on Tatooine, my body was failing. I only lived to keep Luke safe and I could not do that alive once you were aware of him and of me.” He shrugged. “If I had lived, you would have hunted me relentlessly. Better to take myself off the board.”

Anakin conceded with an exaggerated wince.

“And do not think that I did not notice that you’re deflecting, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said firmly, reaching up to rub his chin.

Anakin grinned. “Walk with me?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

They set off back down the bridge, and beneath their feet scenes played from their past.

Obi-Wan wanted to ask Anakin where they were going but he held his tongue. He had learned the value of patience during his time on Tatooine.

They passed by the scene of their first meeting and continued on. Disjointed scenes crackled below them, sometimes Anakin’s life as a slave in Watto’s shop, sometimes Obi-Wan’s terrible padawan years.

They stopped above the war on Melida/Daan.

Obi-Wan grimaced at the sight of him firing a blaster.

“You never told me how awful your padawanship was,” Anakin murmured.

His tone lacked anger and accusation; it was simply a statement of fact.

“No,” Obi-Wan sighed. “You idolised Qui-Gon and I was grieving his death. I preferred to remember the good rather than the more difficult times between us.”

Anakin nodded. “It was a surprise to come here and discover that your time with him was not one of endless love and support as I had imagined. You say you failed me, I know I failed Ahsoka, and Qui-Gon…in many ways he failed you time and time again during your padawanship.”

Obi-Wan cannot argue with that summation. “We worked through our trials. In the end, we became a good team.”

Anakin looked further down the bridge. “When I follow the path before us, I see a history of failures within the Jedi, and yet I also see the hand of the Sith behind a lot of it.”

“Exactly how long have you been here, Anakin?” asked Obi-Wan frowning.

“Long enough to see that this world is doomed,” Anakin stated bluntly.

Obi-Wan wanted to protest, but instead he considered everything Anakin had said since his arrival. “The Force is destabilising without something to hold the balance at a pivotal moment. That is why it has attempted to create a dyad several times.”

“I knew you would understand the problem,” said Anakin.

“The Force brought you here to determine a solution,” deduced Obi-Wan.

“Us,” Anakin insisted. “Dyad, remember?”

“But you have been here longer,” Obi-Wan pointed out dryly. “You have walked this bridge before. The Force brought you here because you are the one it felt could determine a solution.”

“And I determined I couldn’t do it without you,” Anakin retorted.

Obi-Wan regarded Anakin thoughtfully. “Then, you’d best tell me your plan, Anakin.”

“To stabilise the Force, the dyad must be created in the past,” Anakin said. “Here, between the worlds we can step into the past with the knowledge of our future.”

“The Force’s plan was for you to return and fix things,” Obi-Wan repeated, his heart pounding a touch unevenly in his chest. Was this even possible?

Yes.

He could feel the truth of it in the Force which swirled around him.

“I could make different choices,” Anakin agreed, “yet Palpatine’s plans are vast and many,” he shook his head, “I’m not certain I could go back and change things. Not on my own.”

And that was very clever of the Force to make Anakin come to that conclusion on his own, Obi-Wan thought.

“The other problem is that I think we would need to return before Palpatine becomes Chancellor,” Anakin admitted. “His Master restrains him until that moment. Demask was comfortable to be a Sith puppet master behind the scenes plotting the demise of the Jedi and seeding chaos and destruction. An Empire was not his plan.”

“It was always Palpatine’s,” Obi-Wan noted.

He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. He glanced down and saw himself, Neild, and Cerasi. They were huddled plotting to win their war and they would. Only for victory to be snatched from their hands by Mawat’s act of vengeance.

“I see why you’ve brought me to this place,” Obi-Wan said. “You believe we cannot operate within the Jedi Order to do what we must.”

“I don’t,” Anakin said. “Can you honestly tell me that the Council would approve of a Force dyad? They barely approved of how close we were without that kind of bond forming.”

“You’re not yet born,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

“No, but fixing Melida/Daan is where you could begin to heal, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said with a gentleness that stole Obi-Wan’s breath.

Obi-Wan knew why Anakin believed that. Melida/Daan was where Qui-Gon had walked away, had abandoned Obi-Wan. It was the same hurt that Obi-Wan had inflicted on Anakin when he’d walked away from him on Mustafar even if the circumstances were very different.

Theoretically, Melida/Daan wasn’t a bad place to begin to fix things, Obi-Wan mused. He had more knowledge of warfare and he was confident that he could avoid the mistakes that he’d made which had led him to call Qui-Gon and beg him to return.

Moreover, the Jedi had abandoned him.

He’d learned after Qui-Gon’s death that his Master had been less than truthful with the Council about Obi-Wan’s situation on Melida/Daan. Qui-Gon had told the truth from a certain point of view, and that truth had coloured the Council’s reaction. They had considered Obi-Wan to be nothing more than a troubled teen questioning his place because of a crush on a girl. Qui-Gon had also downplayed the extent of the violence, although Obi-Wan had questioned why none of the Council had been concerned that he had been left on a planet known to be in a civil war and where Tahl had been gravely injured.

Yoda had been properly horrified to learn the full truth, years after Qui-Gon’s death, and many years after Obi-Wan had hoped that help would still come from the Jedi on Melida/Daan.

Obi-Wan turned back to Anakin. “You want me to come for you when you are born.”

Anakin nodded. “My mother served Gardulla the Hutt for ten years before my birth. She’ll be on Tatooine in the palace.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think you can free her before I’m conceived. There’s…she has to be on Tatooine when she has me.”

“There is a Force vergence in the desert,” Obi-Wan informed him. “Your mother may have run into it.” He walked away for a few paces and returned, stopping in front of his friend. “If I rescue you, you won’t be on Tatooine to help Padmé.”

“I’m hoping we can find other ways to circumvent Palpatine’s plans before then,” Anakin said grimly. “But if not, we can find a way to help her and Naboo, can’t we?”

They could.

They could find a way to help with all the terrible situations they knew about that probably had come about because the Sith had planned it that way.

Ventress.

The clones, even Fett himself.

Mandalore and Satine.

Anakin’s mother.

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “Melida/Daan, it is then.” He looked sharply over at Anakin who simply looked relieved at Obi-Wan’s pronouncement. “What about you?”

“I will stay here until I am old enough to join with my younger self,” Anakin said.

“And you’d prefer not to be a baby,” Obi-Wan teased.

Anakin rolled his eyes. “And I’d prefer not to be a baby. Perhaps the Force will help shield my mind from the worst memories until I can cope with them as an adult.”

“That seems imminently sensible,” Obi-Wan said.

There was another beat of silence between them.

They both move at the same time, stepping forward to hug each other tightly.

Obi-Wan revelled in the solid feel of Anakin. “You’re my brother, Anakin. I love you. Always remember that.”

“I will,” Anakin murmured thickly. “I love you too, Master.”

They separated, both with eyes glossy and shiny with emotion.

Obi-Wan collected himself. “How do I…”

“When you’re ready,” Anakin said, stepping back and folding his arms over his chest, “leap from the bridge to the moment you wish to return.”

Obi-Wan stepped forward to the edge of the bridge. He pictured a moment in his mind. The first meditation after Qui-Gon had gone. He’d found a corner in the sewer and Cerasi had chased the other children away. He’d sat cross-legged in a nook and tried to find peace in the Force…

He glanced back and nodded at Anakin. “I’ll see you soon, Anakin. May the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan,” Anakin smiled.

And Obi-Wan leaped.

fin.

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