Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It starts the moment Anakin Skywalker enters the Naboo cruiser, just after Master Qui-Gon's encounter with the assassin. There is a ringing in Obi-Wan's ears that forewarns him of the upcoming vision, a swelling of energy inside him that makes him feel a little light headed and vaguely like he's coming down with something. His heart is pounding.

This whole mission has been on the cusp of something bad. Ever since the Council had handed Master Qui-Gon their mission, ever since they set on board their ship to get to the trade federation – ever since they entered the blockade – he has had a consistent feeling of things going bad. A sensation of doom seemed to hang over all their actions.

He'd tried, like Master Qui-Gon told him, to keep his attention in the present – but this he can't ignore. He's pushed Force's warning to the tipping point and now it's forcing his hand.

"Master Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan says softly, drawing the Jedi Master's attention away from the boy from Tatooine and his antics with Jar Jar. "I am sorry, but I am not feeling very well. May I be excused?"

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asks, instantly concerned. Once, Obi-Wan might have been able to hide it from him – but they've been together far too long for him to hide the pressure weighing down on his mind. Frowning Qui-Gon reaches out to touch his forehead and then looks down. "You – ah," the Older Jedi says.

Obi-Wan bows his head in shame. Would that he could stave the vision off – he can't. They come as they please and he has never been able to stop them. "I think I need to lay down for a bit, Master."

Qui-Gon looks at him seriously and Obi-Wan can see him weighing it – whether to accompany him or not. Sometimes he insists –sometimes the visions are violent and Obi-Wan needs comfort after them. But he's not quite the youngling who needed someone to hold his hand anymore – these days, it is embarrassing to be laid down by a vision of all things.

"Qui-Gon, look!" Anakin calls, pointing at Jar Jar – who has somehow gotten his long tongue tied up in a knot. The distraction draws Qui-Gon's attention for a moment and in that moment Obi-Wan bows out, slipping from his Master's side and from the commissary where they had been killing time.

He barely makes it into the small cabin given to him and his Master before the vision cuts his legs from under him, collapsing him on his knees by the nearest bed.

After the vision, Obi-Wan is left shaky. He feels drained and cold, as if after a long illness – or a long, bloody struggle. Shivering, he stays on his knees a long while, hugging the bedspreads and trying not to break down.

His visions had been getting increasingly dark of late, but this one was especially grim. Faces of friends he had yet to make, lying dead on the ground. Same face, repeating hundred thousand times – all of them precious and expendable all at once. Men with that same face holding their blasters at him, friendliness once there swept away into mindless and cold obedience. Presences, little pin points of light across the Galaxy, being snuffed out by trusted companions.

Insidious darkness spreading like thick mist over the Galaxy, strangling it.

Obi-Wan swallows and breathes through the nausea left in wake of the void of force he'd felt in the vision. Like thousands of lights that were supposed to be there, weren't – like thousands of com channels, gone dead forever.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen the Fall of the Jedi Order. No matter how ancient and how powerful now, they too were mortals and they had their enemies. And their order didn't stand quite as firm ground as it once had. No one said it, no one spoke of it – most Jedi didn't know it. But Obi-Wan had felt it more and more as he'd grown older. The ill will and deadly intent, aimed at them from so many sides.

There had always been a very minute potential that one day, one enemy...

This time was different though. This hadn't been mere vague potential, this hadn't been some villain's would be dream and destiny. This was vision of the Jedi Order itself. Of it's fall. And it had felt terribly, horribly final.

Obi-Wan breathes slower now, counting seconds between and during inhales and exhales until his heart settles and the threat of bile descends from his throat.

It's a while longer before he manages to get up to his feet again,

Qui-Gon listens to the vision, what little of it Obi-Wan can put into words. As always, Obi-Wan struggles with the retelling. His visions are more feeling and memory remembered backwards than they are actual scenes – he cannot see events, cannot tell the time. Just... an impression of what is to come.

"It was as if... as if thousands of voices I knew as well as my own were being silenced one by one," Obi-Wan stumbles over the explanation. "And the betrayal they felt was so massive I couldn't begin to measure it. Each knew their killer and none of them expected it. It was... so sudden, so terrible."

Qui-Gon frowns at him, his arms folded into the sleeves of his robes. It's not a forbidding expression, but it is certainly not happy either. He's never enjoyed Obi-Wan's visions. "A enemy force that could befriend the entirety of Jedi Order, earn the trust of each and every member... and then turn on them, with none of them ever sensing their duplicity?" he asks. His voice isn't dubious, or judge mental, but when he puts it like that...

"I'm sorry, Master," Obi-Wan says helplessly, smothering the urge to wring his hands. "I – cannot explain it. All I know –"

"Obi-Wan," his Master sighs and Obi-Wan nearly winces – he used the wrong word. "Visions do not give you knowledge. Only a possibility, a remote possibility at that. You know this – what you see is never perfectly factual. Future isn't set in stone. Like all things in life, it is transient and changeable. More so than anything else, really."

Obi-Wan bows his head. "It felt so... certain," he murmurs.

"Dreams feel real when you're in them – and I know," Qui-Gon says quickly before Obi-Wan can argue. "I do not have your experience with visions; I have never had one in my life. But you have had visions that come true, and visions that have not."

Obi-Wan bows his head.

Qui-Gon is quiet for a moment, letting him mull over it. "Is it that zabrak?" he asks then. "Did my battle with him prompt this?"

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "I – I don't know. I don't think so," he says. It was Anakin Skywalker, he thinks, but doesn't dare to say it. "I suppose it might have been a factor – I… have felt it coming for a while."

"He was trained in the use of the Force," Qui-Gon muses, stroking his beard. "It is troubling."

Obi-Wan glances up and then looks down again. He hadn't seen the zabrak in his vision – or, maybe he had. He isn't sure now – there had been so many things, all so vague.

"Well. What you saw is one potential future of the Jedi Order – a grim one perhaps, but still only one potential of... hundreds, of thousands, perhaps of millions," Qui-Gon says gently and reaches out to rest a hand on his shoulder. "And even if it felt real and secure – future is always only what we make of it. It doesn't happen on its own. You can change yours – and that of those around you as well."

Could he really? If it had been any other vision, Obi-Wan would have agreed easily. But this one – it was so big, it reached so far. Across not only the fates of the Jedi Order, but the whole galaxy. All if it impacted, all of it changed – all of it transformed, but actions of... of...

Could one person really change such a fate?

Qui-Gon squeezes his shoulder and Obi-Wan looks up at him helplessly.

He hadn't felt his Master in the vision. Usually his bond with Qui-Gon was always there, echoing from the future into the present, and it was the sturdy rock Obi-Wan anchored himself on. But in the vision... there had only been void where Qui-Gon had once stood, steady and firm.

Qui-Gon would already be gone by the time the vision's time came to pass.

For the first time in a long while, Obi-Wan tries to see, tries to force his own human vision to reach through present and into the future. But, as he had failed in his younger years, he fails now too – Qui-Gon's death, be it day from now or ten years, remains unseen.

And yet he'd felt something there, in void left in Qui-Gon's wake. There'd been someone there, in his place. Would Qui-Gon die before seeing Obi-Wan knighted – would Obi-Wan have another master in his stead?

Obi-Wan searches his Master's face desperately, but it offers no answers to that terrible question.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon says and rests his other hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "You must meditate on what you saw – and then you must let it go. You know what happens if you leave your mind into the future for too long – you loose your grip of the present. And you, at the cusp of becoming a Jedi Knight... know better."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan sighs and bows his head in obedience. A Jedi Knight can't afford to let his mind straying off, especially not in middle of a mission. "I will do my best to let it go."

"Do, or do not," Qui-Gon says, smiling warmly, and then standing up. "Now come – your vision obviously took a lot out of you. Time to get some food and warm tea in you, and then at least hour of meditation."

Obi-Wan nods and then stands up. He still sways a little, his footing on here and now not quite as firm as he'd like... but he had his orders. And since he didn't know what to do, he'd have to trust his Master to know better than he did.

Anakin Skywalker is shrouded in dark mist.

Obi-Wan tries not to stare, keeping his head bowed and his attention on the tray of food he'd gotten for himself under Qui-Gon's severe eye. It's more food than he thinks he could put down on a hungry day, never mind while he's still feeling so nauseous, but he will make the attempt and...

And Anakin Skywalker is shrouded in dark mist.

It flickers at the edge of Obi-Wan's field of view, a miasma of curling shadows around the sunny little boy, as he laughs at something Jar Jar Binks is saying. Queen Amidala is there too, in her handmaiden disguise, smothering laughter daintily against an open palm. She...

The mist of uncertainty is around all of them – but Anakin Skywalker most of all.

Obi-Wan swallows, trying not to grip his fork too hard.

This wasn't the first time they'd brought a youngling with them to the temple. Qui-Gon had always had a keen sense for the Force sensitive, and every so often he would spot a potential candidate during their missions, and they'd see what they could do to bring them to the temple. So far, there had been seven younglings that Qui-Gon had personally brought into the fold – five of whom were now padawans, two who were still in Crèche.

Anakin Skywalker was older than they usually were, but aside from that, there was outwardly little out of the ordinary about him. He was a bright child with strong presence in force, and potential future as a Jedi ahead of him. Except...

Except this dark mist of uncertainty that now wraps around him like a writhing cloak.

Qui-Gon is looking the boy's way, smiling slightly at whatever they are talking about on the other table – Obi-Wan can't make out the words through the rushing of blood in his ears.

He knows. The boy was somehow important to the vision. He wasn't a mere youngling to be handed over to the care of a Crèche. As it was he was too old for easy entrance to the Temple anyway. Something – something about all of this was...

Obi-Wan turns his attention to his food and takes a forkful of it. He can't taste a thing, and the food feels coarse and wet and unpleasant on his tongue. Terribly material against the immaterial rush of energy left in wake of the vision.

Qui-Gon is looking the boy's way, Obi-Wan notices – and he looks fond.

Attached.

Obi-Wan watches him from under his eyebrows. There is contemplation on his Master's face, a deep thought and consideration as if he's weighing options. When Qui-Gon glances his way thoughtfully, Obi-Wan thinks, ah, and bows his head.

Obi-Wan tries to meditate and let go of the vision like his Master ordered. But the harder he tries to let it go, the more it seems to pop into the forefront of his mind. The men with same faces, so dear and so dangerous. Whispers of darkness. Lights – lives – snuffed out all across the galaxy.

It's not just the death of the Jedi Order either – he feels more than that. A permeating terribleness that is slowly seeping into his core, like the darkness of the future somehow reaches back in time and into him. Or maybe it's already here and he's only awakening to the sense of it.

It is here, and now. The starting point, the beginning of the end. From here on out, options would begin to narrow.

From here on out, the wheels would be set in motion to make his vision into a reality.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes and looks at his hands, curled into tight fists in his lap. They'd be arriving at Coruscant in another six hours, and he didn't have the time to get lost in vague impressions of a would-be future. The Queen of Naboo had to be delivered into the hands of the Senate safely. Then there would be reporting to the Jedi Council, where Qui-Gon would present Anakin to the council for evaluation.

Qui-Gon would do drastic things to assure Anakin's admittance to the order. Obi-Wan doesn't need foresight to know that, now.

It's like a meteor being knocked off course by an impact – meteor which is now fated to hit a ship, which is fated to crash land on a planet, which is doomed to die. With each action, with each decision they made now, their choices would narrow. And the dark future becomes surer and surer with each one.

You can change yours, Obi-Wan thinks. And that of those around you.

Quietly he gets up and leaves the room.

He finds Anakin Skywalker sitting in the droid bay, toying with a bit of wood. The boy looks up as he enters, blinking and them putting on a polite, if a little awkward smile. Obi-Wan looks down at him, at the miasma around him, and realizes they've exchanged only handful of words.

Strange. Usually Qui-Gon ended up leaving the youngling's in Obi-Wan's care, if they were found during missions, so that he could attend to the actual mission himself. Obi-Wan often ended up knowing them better than his Master. With Anakin though, a distance had been maintained.

Well, it made sense. Obi-Wan had gotten wildly distracted by his vision.

"Can I do something for you, uh, Obi-Wan?" the boy asks.

Obi-Wan smiles a little at that and then crouches down in front of him. "I was actually wondering about the same thing," he answers. "How are you, Anakin?"

The boy isn't expecting that. He blinks with confusion up at Obi-Wan and then straightens his back a little, putting up a strong front. "I'm good," he says firmly. "I'm not a bit sick, promise."

It's Obi-Wan's turn to be confused. "I'm glad, but," he says, feeling little wrong footed now. Usually when you question of youngling on their well being, they will squirm and shrug their shoulders, awkward and uneasy about being asked at all. The almost obstinate look Anakin gives him is a little strange.

Well, all cultures are different – and they teach their young different habits.

"How do you like the ship?" Obi-Wan asks.

The boy peers up at him a little suspiciously now, like expecting it to be a test or a trap. "It's good," Anakin says, very clearly and carefully. "It's a good ship."

"That's good," Obi-Wan says and then looks at his hands, gripped tightly against the fabric of his trousers. "You're cold," he realizes. "You're shivering."

"I'm fine, I'm not cold at all," Anakin denies quickly, stubbornly. "I'm just fine as I am, Obi-Wan, sir. I don't need anything."

Obi-Wan eyes him with confusion, thinking to offer to get the boy a blanket, or perhaps a coat to wear – ship this size and this well equipped should have enough to spare a bit of clothing for lone child. But the headstrong expression on the boy's face stalls him a little. There is a miscommunication here.

"It's not wrong to ask for help, you know," Obi-Wan says slowly.

Anakin presses his lips tightly together and he's hair's width from glaring now. The dark presence swells around him a little. Emotion barely restrained, obstinate independence and unwillingness to – to show weakness.

Anakin thinks he's trying to find a flaw in him?

It makes sense for the boy to be suspicious of him – Obi-Wan is Qui-Gon's apprentice and a rival for his Master's attention and Anakin is a child from a terrible situation. Qui-Gon and his kindness and the future he promises is all he has, right now. Perhaps, from his view point, it makes perfect sense – is even expected – for Obi-Wan to try and lead him astray.

Obi-Wan leans back a little. He's not sure what he hoped to learn from talking to the boy – his part in the dark future, perhaps – but all he has is more confusion and more uncertainty. And it's obvious – he's doing more harm here than good, talking to the boy. He's making the boy nervous and uneasy, and he doesn't deserve it.

Sighing, Obi-Wan eases his cloak off. The space ship is very cold – kept so to keep potential microbes from spreading, no doubt, Naboo was a very lively planet after all. Just with his cloak removed, Obi-Wan can feel a shiver crawl up his spine.

He ignores it, and swings his cloak around Anakin, wrapping it around the boy's shoulders.

"There," he says and smiles a little awkwardly while the boy stares up at him wide eyed and surprised. "It's alright to ask for help, Anakin," he says then. "That is what we're here for, you know. To help each other."

"Y-you're giving me your cloak?" Anakin asks, his voice very faint and then he shakes his head quickly. "It's just a loan, right?"

Obi-Wan considers that – the shocked surprise of the first sentence, and the quick denial of the second. Then he recalls – Anakin came on board with just one little backpack. And if that backpack had included more clothes, surely he would be wearing them now.

A slave... wouldn't have many clothes, would they?

"No," Obi-Wan decides. "It's yours now."

Anakin's mouth opens and he looks stunned. Then he looks down at the dark brown cloak, it's heavy, thick fabric pooling around him, far too big for his small frame. The hand he lifts to touch the edge of the cloth shakes with wonder.

"B-but," Anakin says and looks up. He shakes his head. "B-but you don't have cloak now?"

"I have another in the Jedi Temple in Coruscant," Obi-Wan says, awkward. There are implications here he doesn't understand – a wealth of meaning laid on a gesture he had only meant to be momentary kindness, made heavy by the culture it's recipient came from. What might it mean for a slave, for another to give them their only cloak?

He hopes he hasn't miss-stepped too badly here. It seemed like the right thing to do – and yet the dark uncertainty is still there, made all the more heavier by the wonder of Anakin's reaction.

"It's... really big," Anakin says quietly. "It's too big for me."

"You'll grow to it quicker than you know," Obi-Wan says and stands up. Anakin is pulling the cloak around himself now, a look of strange awe on his face as he all but drowns in the wealth of thick fabric. He looks like... like a child. Just a child.

A child with wealth of destiny riding on his slim shoulders, now wrapped in Obi-Wan's cloak.

Obi-Wan swallows. "We'll be arriving in Coruscant in five hours," he says. "Try and get some rest, alright?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan," Anakin says, the obstinate tone fully gone from his voice now. His eyes shine and he looks like he might actually cry. "Thank you for the cloak. I'm going to treasure it forever."

Obi-Wan thinks he probably will too, and for a moment he is utterly appalled by how little the boy has, for this one thing to mean so terribly much.

He nods, shaky, and flees the droid bay before he can do anything more.

Obi-Wan meditates for the rest of the trip while his Master sleeps. Qui-Gon's breaths – heavy and rasping in his nose, broken four times too many in past for his sleep to ever be silent again – are a comforting metronome for his meditation, not quite steady and not quite erratic.

The dark future remains in the forefront of his mind, however. Talking to Anakin had not eased it – the boy's reaction had only made him all the more uneasy about everything. Anakin felt... so much. He was obviously a passionate child, with strong emotions and stronger conviction and while Obi-Wan knows for sure he could learn to like the child very much, he cannot... he cannot see him as a Jedi.

Qui-Gon is right; Anakin is very strong in Force. It flexes with is emotions, swells with his indignation and bristles with his obstinate, stronger than any other Force sensitive child they've encountered. He is easily strong enough to be a Jedi.

But could such a bright and passionate child adhere to the strict forms of the Jedi Order?

Obi-Wan had spent enough time apart from the Order to know what it is like, for an outsider looking in. He grew up in the order, as did Qui-Gon, as did most of the other younglings they brought in – but Anakin is eight, and he comes from the background of slavery. He will never forget that, Obi-Wan can tell. Would he be able to let go of it, to be a Jedi, to release his grievances to the Force...?

Obi-Wan reaches out forward – and back into the vision.

He thinks he felt Anakin there – he hadn't known it at the time, because he didn't know Anakin, but he thinks he does now. Anakin was there, in that future, in that vision. And lights around him were cut asunder, burned out of existence by the swing of a lightsabre.

Obi-Wan breathes in and out slowly and opens his eyes. Qui-Gon is snoring now, a terrible rattling noise that seems to shudder right out of his chest. It lasts for a moment and then he snorts in his sleep, turning to lie on his side, subconsciously trying to ease his breathing.

Obi-Wan watches him, and thinks – You mean for Anakin to take my place, don't you, Master? You look on him with such fondness. You already envision him as your apprentice, and you like what you see.

But Anakin wouldn't take his place.

Obi-Wan would take Qui-Gon's, instead. He felt it in that vision – a void of Qui-Gon Jinn in Force and in that void, Anakin Skywalker.

Lowering his eyes, Obi-Wan stares at his hands, once more white knuckled in his lap.

How can I change this? Obi-Wan begs silently. How can I alter this fate? Force, please, show me how do I change this?

Qui-Gon's breathing eases, and no answer comes.

It is a beautiful day when they land in Coruscant. Because of the Queen of Naboo and her retinue, they land by the senate building on a pre-prepared launch pad waiting for them, and a group of officials and guards standing at the ready on it.

Obi-Wan stands at his Master's side, keeping a side eye on Anakin Skywalker and utterly ignoring the actual subject of their mission. While Queen Amidala stands hidden amidst her retinue of handmaidens and bodyguards, Qui-Gon has a hand on Anakin's shoulder – a restraint as much as a reassurance, but there is a bit of possessiveness to it too. Already, part of Qui-Gon sees Anakin as his student and is acting according to it.

Obi-Wan tucks his hands into the sleeves of his tunic, the winds of Coruscant a little chilly without a cloak on, and he says nothing.

They disembark, Qui-Gon at the head and Obi-Wan close at his heel. As per protocol, they first bow their heads before the Senator of Naboo and Chancellor Valorum, and then they step aside, to let the Queen pass, to let them exchange their pleasantries and platitudes. Obi-Wan barely looks at them.

The darkness swells and he still has no answer to it.

"It is a great gift to see you alive, your majesty," a voice speaks – and Obi-Wan's heart stops "With the communications breakdown we've been very concerned. I'm anxious to..."

For a moment Obi-Wan teeters on the edge, his vision growing dark as the Force crashes down on him. Not now, he pleads and then, Oh, please. Please, grant me the knowledge and wisdom to alter their fates.

And then he collapses.

Chapter Text

It's fitting that after his Death, Ben Kenobi finds himself back under the sky of Tatooine, standing on the sun scorched sand just at the edge of the Dune Sea.

He's spent the longest interrupted period of his life there, under those suns, above those sands. Here, in this precise place at the edge of the Dune Sea, he'd come to contemplate when his little hut became too small to hold him, when the constant maintenance on his life support systems wasn't enough to keep him busy. His hut, surrounded by cliffs and rocks and hidden among them, offered small view of the sky, and sometimes it simply wasn't big enough to contain him.

Here, in this wide open space, you could almost see the shining centre of the galaxy. When the sun's set and the moons rose and the sky grew dark and cold, the streak of Core Worlds cut through the darkness like distant mirage, just barely visible. Tatooine is so far away from the Core...

Ben looks up at the streak of light, at the two faint moons that are barely bright enough to offer light in the darkness of Tatooine's cold night, and he's content.

He's not entirely sure he succeeded at his self appointed task, however. Luke... Luke had barely learned anything at all from him, not enough to know the Force, certainly not enough to touch it. The boy is strong and bright in his own way, Ben has every confidence he would figure it out, but... but he thought he had more time to instruct him.

He thought they'd have years, not mere days. He'd spent so long waiting, thinking it best to give Luke chance to grow up, grow older, wiser and now...

Ben closes his eyes for a moment and then turns his attention down. He is standing by a campfire, rocks arranged in circle around it for sitting. Sand people camp here as well as he – they have mutual agreement to ignore the fact though. Or... they had.

In a way, Ben had been happy here. Life on Tatooine was simple. No armies to lead, no battles to take part in, just the day in day out life of an Outer-Rim world where the most important issues was where to get water for the day. It had been, in a strange way, like a spiritual retreat for contemplation and meditation.

But in another way, part of him decries it all as time wasted. To go from the Clone Wars to this isolation, to go from that level of activity to over decade of guard duty – to stand by and do nothing while the Empire rose and established itself...

Sighing, Ben moves around the fire pit. It's lit, pieces of hard, dry wood burning slowly in its centre, embers glowing. Barely enough to offer light.

There was so much more he could've done. The rebellion...

He knows he'd done the right thing in watching over Luke, the boy was their only hope now, but still. He is self aware enough to know his failings. And he'd failed, sometimes more than he succeeded. He succeeded in keeping Luke safe, and out of Vader's hands, out of his knowledge. That was an accomplishment to be proud of.

He'd also succeeded lying to Luke, and now it was too late to ease the boy into reality.

Ben sits down – and then he isn't alone.

He half expects to see Yoda there. He can feel his old Master in the Force, even though he hasn't joined it yet – Yoda was always strongest among Jedi Masters Ben had ever known. If there was anyone who could reach through the veil to him, it would be Yoda.

But it isn't.

There is a young man standing at the edge of Ben's fire, looking confused.

"This is a..." the youth murmurs, looking around, frowning. "Why am I here?"

Ben raises his head a little. The young man wears tunics not so different from the ones Ben wears, though his are more practical and not quite as worn as Ben's are. They look like the under clothes of a...

The young man glows in the darkness with the power of Force – but Ben can't feel where it goes, where it comes from. Whether the young man is a spirit passed onto the Force like Ben is, or a living man reaching beyond that veil, he can't tell. He is Force sensitive, however, that much is obvious.

"Well, whatever reason you're here for, you're here now," Ben says and motions to the rocks. "Come, join me."

The young man looks down at him. "Are you here to guide me through my vision?"

"Perhaps," Ben allows and watches the young man sit down. He looks... terribly familiar. His hair is shorn sort and his face is shaved clean, but Ben can't quite place his face. "Are you prone to visions, young man?"

"Yes," the youth says, tentatively making himself comfortable on the rock and looking down at his palms like he's trying to remember what to do with his hands. "I had a terrible one before, about the future – I thought this would be the same but..." he looks around them. "What is this?"

Ben looks at him and then up at the night sky. "This is where I lived, when I was alive," he says. "I suppose it is an illusion conjured by my mind."

"I... don't understand," the young man says. "This place isn't real?"

"It is as real as the Force," Ben says and looks at him. "Do you know what the Force is?"

The youth gives him a strange look. "Yes," he says slowly. "I... know what the Force is, yes."

Ben smiles delightedly at that – how wonderful. The knowledge still exists then; the Empire hadn't managed to purge it out of public consciousness entirely. "Well, then you perhaps know that Force reacts to us," he says and motions around them. "This is the Force reacting to myself, building me a suitable location for my adjustment to passing on."

"You're... dead," the young man says hesitantly.

"I have passed onto the Force," Ben nods.

That makes the youth frown a little, looking at him, then uneasily anywhere but him. He looks at the fire, at the circle of rocks, he kicks at the sand and finally he looks up at the sky. "I thought this was a vision. Am I dead?"

"I don't know," Ben admits and reaches to pick up a stick from the sandy ground, to adjust the fire. "Search your feelings. Do you think you've passed onto the Force?"

The youth is silent for a moment. "I don't think so," he says quietly, almost plaintively. "I was perfectly healthy, nothing happened. Unless my heart suddenly stopped beating, and I don't think it did. No, I think this is a vision. It's an… odd one."

"Hmm," Ben agrees. "Well, the Force flows strangely these days," he says and sighs. He can still feel the terrible, terrible wound left in wake of Alderaan. Billions of people, and millions of billions of life forms that lived on that wonderful world – extinguished in an instant. Their absence in the Force is a deep scar that Ben feels will forever fester and never fully heal. "And I fear it might only get worse from here on out."

That makes the young man look at him searchingly. "You know what is going to happen?" he asks. "You know the future?"

Ben says nothing for a moment, his mind dwelling at the edges of the abyss Alderaan had became. He frowns a little. He – he hadn't let himself think it before, but...

Senator Organa too is gone, now.

"It would be a terrible privilege, to know the future," Ben says and looks at the young man. "It's one I do not have, I'm afraid. I can only make educated guesses from what I know of the present."

It disappoints the youth, but not terribly. He'd hoped for answers, but hadn't expected it to be so easy. "I can see the future," he says. "In visions. Sometimes it comes true, sometimes it doesn't."

A quiet plea for help, Ben surmises and turns his attention to the fire. "And what did you see, young man?" he asks gently, hoping to ease the youth through whatever quest he was on. There was a reason he's there, after all.

Nothing happens by coincidence.

"I saw..." the youth starts and stops, his eyes searching blindly the middle distance. "I saw the galaxy fall into chaos, I think. I saw darkness. A war, fought by men with same faces. I saw – I felt... the death of my Master. I felt my future student, turn Dark. I don't know..." he trails off and looks down at his hands. "It felt so real."

More Clone Wars? Ben runs a hand over his beard, thinking back. The technology had been banned – but that had been the time of the Republic. The Empire works by a different set of rules.

"I think I could still stop it," the young man says. "But I don't know how. It's so big; I don't know how to affect it."

"Perhaps," Ben says slowly. "It isn't your duty to change the future."

It's the wrong thing to say. The young man all but jumps to his feet, turning to him. "But I have to stop it! I can't let my Master die, I can't let the galaxy fall into darkness. I felt the death of the Jedi – I can't just sit back and do nothing, not when Force gave me this warning, not when  –"

Ben leans back a little, taking him in. The fervour is surprising – but more surprising is the word he used. "The Jedi are already dead," he says quietly.

The youth stops in the act of trying to tear his own hair out. "What?" he asks faintly. "No – no, no, no they aren't, they can be. They're still right there, my Master is still there – I can feel him. We're in Coruscant, I can feel the temple!"

"Coruscant? The... temple?" Ben asks slowly. "Your master is a... Jedi?"

"I am a Jedi!" the youth snaps at him.

For a moment, Ben just stares at him, astonishment so great and so strange within him it feels as if it's not even him feeling it – like he is subject to someone else's emotions. He doesn't think he's felt this surprised in... "You are a Jedi Knight?" he asks.

"Well... not yet," the youth says. "But Master says I am due to be knighted soon."

Ben shakes his head slowly in confusion. Knighted? He makes it sound like the Order of Jedi Knights is still there. "Young man," he says slowly. "What year is it for you?"

The youth's eyes widen and he opens his mouth in astonishment. "Oh," he says and sits back down, all but collapsing back onto the rock. "W-what year is it for you?"

Ben tells him.

The youth's eyes widen even further. "O-oh, that's... that's... that's over thirty years into my future," he murmur, staring at him in wonder – and fear.

Ben eyes the youth with renewed interest. He must be astonishingly powerful seer, if he really is from the past having a vision of his future. "I don't think we introduced each other," Ben says slowly. "My name is Ben Kenobi – Obi-Wan Kenobi. And who might you be?"

He gets a blank faced horror in answer.

"Young one?" Ben prods at him gently and then he sees it – not only the recognition on the youth's face, but the familiarity.

It has been so long since the last time he shaved his face – he'd completely forgotten that under the beard he had dimple in his chin.

"I see," Ben says and reaches out to touch the young man's face. It's so smooth – not only with the lack of facial hair, but with youth. No scars, no age and long years of isolation wearing him down. His skin is still supple and full of vigour. "Well, hello there, then... Obi-Wan."

His younger version opens his mouth, closes it, and then reaches out a hand to touch Ben's own, bearded face. His fingers shake a little as they brush against the bristles, and then he quickly pulls his hand away. "I've never heard of a vision like this," he says. "Can this really be real?"

Ah, Ben thinks and lowers his hand as well as he considers it. That would make sense, wouldn't it? Perhaps this is conjuration of Force, to ease him into his new existence. Perhaps it his own mind behind it all – helping him through the hang-ups of his youth.

Ben searches his feelings and sighs. No. It is nothing so simple. Force never is... something so simple.

"As I said, force flows strangely these days," Ben says. "And what has been happening in my time, I would not surprise me. There have been... great many terrible disturbances of late."

"What do you mean?" young Obi-Wan asks.

Ben contemplates on not telling him – surely it would be dangerous... but no, the young man has to be here for a reason. "A world was killed," he says and leans his head back a little, and looks up at the sky – at the region of the sky, where Alderaan once might have been. "A fully inhabited old planet, with billions and billions of life forms living on it. Can you sense it?"

Young Obi-Wan follows his gaze and then closes his eyes. "I don't..." he says and then frowns with concentration.

Ben can tell the moment he senses it from how still he goes.

"Such things have effect in the Force," Ben says grimly. "You can't snuff out such a source of Force and not have it effect things. It would not surprise me in the slightest if that aided your vision."

The young man swallows, his Adam's apple stuttering, and then he looks down. "H-how?"

"A great and terrible weapon was built – a planet killer," Ben says and shakes his head. "In that your visions of dark future might very well be real. These are... dark times."

Young Obi-Wan shivers for a moment and then hugs himself. "You know the future – you know my future," he says then. "Please tell me what went wrong. Tell me how to stop it."

Ben shakes his head and sighs. He doesn't know where to begin. It's not that he has never thought of it – oh, he has. If there was one key point where a change might've altered the course of his past...

"I could tell you a million things," Ben says. "And thousand terrible stories. And I'm not sure it would be enough."

"There must be something," Obi-Wan says desperately. "Something I can alter."

Ben runs a hand over his beard slowly. Maybe, maybe not, he thinks grimly. "Future is always in flux," he says and looks at the youth. "Sometimes your visions come true, sometimes they do not, you say. You know why – you alter their course. Or perhaps someone else does. If I tell you, change this one thing, and then you change it... what will happen?"

"The future will change," Obi-Wan says in tone of stating the obvious. "Which is exactly what I want, to change the future."

"And how do you know it will be a better future?" Ben asks. "Or that the change is momentous enough to stop the worse one from occurring? Perhaps it will change only one moment in time, the fate of your Master perhaps, or your apprentice – but everything else remains the same and the Jedi still die, the Empire still rises."

He shakes his head before the young man can argue. "The future isn't made or unmade by the actions of just one man, young Obi-Wan. It is the accumulation of everything and everyone in the present and all their interactions. My dark past, your dark future, weren't caused by one person but by thousands, by millions."

He sighs. That was the hardest lesson he learned in his isolation. The Empire rose not merely because of the actions of the Emperor and Vader, though obviously their hand in it was monumentally important. But its successful rise to power was mostly because of the circumstances were simply right for it. The Republic had failed and its fall was only the matter of time. The Clone Wars were a proof of that.

If it hadn't been the Empire, it would have been something else. Perhaps something worse, even if Ben has trouble imagining what even could be worse.

"But I could still change it," Obi-Wan says quietly.

"You could, yes, and in all likelihood you will," Ben agrees. "But will those changes be for better or for worse? Will they make any significant change to the course of events at all? How would you know, once events had been set in new motion, how could you tell the difference? I could teach you the warning signs to keep an eye on, the people and events to try and manipulate and it might never be enough."

Ben shakes his head and looks up, at the night sky of Tatooine. "I spent years regretting thousands of different decisions I've made in my life," he admits. "If only I hadn't done this, if only I had done that instead... But hindsight isn't perfect and no plan survives first contact. I can imagine the perfect world where I did everything right and no one died... but that is all it is. Imagination of a perfect world. And there is no such thing."

It's something he dearly wishes he had known and accepted when he'd been this young man's age. It would have made the Clone Wars so much more bearable, if he had had that much wisdom then.

Obi-Wan stares at him, a little obstinate now. "But I can change it," he says again, plaintively, pleadingly. "I can make it right."

Ben sighs again and knows – he's not getting through here. "Yes, you can change it – you will change it," he says gently. "But you need to accept the knowledge that you will fail. Reality isn't a script we're writing and people aren't characters in our control. Do you understand?"

Obi-Wan frowns and looks down, at the sandy desert ground, at the fire pit. "I might fail," he says slowly. "I know you can't control other people's actions or reactions. But I can't just do nothing."

Ben nods slowly. It's as good as he thinks he will get, from his foolish young self. He'd been so headstrong, when he'd been young, he muses. Well, in some aspect that hasn't changed. "No," he agrees quietly. "I suppose not."

The young man breathes in and out slowly. "You really think I will fail?" he asks.

Ben says nothing for a moment. "I think it will be a terribly difficult task, to change the future," he finally admits and looks at him. "There are so many elements, Obi-Wan, that make it. It would take me years to educate you on all the key factors of the wars you have ahead of you, and I doubt we have the time here."

"Wars," Obi-Wan whispers. "More than one?"

Ben smiles wearily at that. "I'm afraid you have a very tumultuous time ahead of you, young one," he says sadly, full of old regret and hurt.

His younger self swallows at that and looks away, thinking hard. He opens his mouth to ask and then trails off and for a moment he just looks at the fire, searching silently for answers.

Ben leaves him to it, and looks up at the sky. It's beautiful, and it looks so calm, so peaceful. On Tatooine, so far outside looking in, everything looks peaceful. But it isn't. Still, even after all these years, the galaxy is war-torn, and the struggling hadn't stopped. Then the Clone Wars, now the Rebellion. Even if it succeeded somehow, if Luke managed to fulfil the terrible destiny Obi-Wan and Yoda had so selfishly fashioned for him...

It wouldn't be enough. The Empire is too big to fall peacefully and the galaxy too restless to stop fighting now. It would be many, many years before peace could succeed, in these terrible circumstances. And the Old Republic had set these circumstances in motion, in seeding that deep rooted dissent and dissatisfaction that now echoes so far into the future, and set all the stars in to a war.

"You know the future," Obi-Wan murmurs and his tone is strange now.

Ben looks at him and the young man lifts his head to meet his eyes. They're dark and grim with determination. "You know the future," Obi-Wan repeats and straightens his back.

"I know a version of a future," Ben says, cautioning. "And given changes made to the past, it might end up very different."

"But you know the future," Obi-Wan insists again.

Ben frowns a little. It has a tone of terrible realisation. "Obi-Wan," he says warily, but then doesn't know how to continue. The boy has had a revelation and Ben has a bad feeling about it.

"You know how to change it for the better," Obi-Wan says. "Where I'll fail, you have better chance of succeeding. Much, much better. Don't you?"

Ben leans back and away from him, staring at him in astonishment. He opens his mouth to argue and the boy glares at him – in the end Ben closes his mouth, and just stares at him. The youth is serious. Deadly serious. And the thing is...

He isn't wrong.

"Chances are I'd fail too," Ben warns him. "Once a change has been made, no matter how minute..."

"But your knowledge is still better than mine ever would be," Obi-Wan says determinedly. "You know the events, the key players; you know the wars that are coming. You fought in them, didn't you? You know all things I would never have time to learn. Right?"

Ben bows his head and looks away, feeling terribly torn.

"You can change it," Obi-Wan tells him and reaches out to touch his hand. "You need to take my place and change it."

"This... is a terrible sacrifice on your part, young one," Ben says quietly and grips his hand in turn. "I was never so wise in your age."

His younger version swallows and squeezes his hand. "Well. I got some good advice from the future," he says. He's shaking a little, but he's not letting go. "I – I can't do nothing."

"No," Ben agrees quietly and pulls the young man to his side, embracing him and the terrible selfish destiny he brings. "No, you can't."

Chapter Text

Qui-Gon stands behind the observatory glass, watching silently as they place sensors on Obi-Wan's temples. It has been... too long now.

Four hours, and Obi-Wan had still yet to regain consciousness from the vision that knocked his feet from under him on the landing platform near the Senate building. Qui-Gon had expected it to be like his usual visions – quick, violent, confusing – and twice as embarrassing for his young apprentice as normal, seeing that it happened on such and important occasion. It had caused... quite a commotion.

Small part of Qui-Gon had been looking forward to Obi-Wan's embarrassment that would surely follow. Larger part, however...

He did not like Obi-Wan's visions and had never done Obi-Wan the disservice of hiding the fact. Obi-Wan's fluency in the Unifying Force and the ease with which he fell into glimpses of future had always been alien to him and their long years together as Master and Padawan had not changed that. Like most of the Jedi, Qui-Gon could value the foresight of those powerful Jedi that were blessed with it – he too put the right confidence in the Prophesies of old... but Obi-Wan's visions had always been transient. Both a testament to how little of future could ever be known – and yet, how much.

And, being so fluid and changeable, those visions could, and often have, led Obi-Wan astray.

So, Qui-Gon had always cautioned him to be wary of them and not to put his trust in them. To him, actions were what shape the future. To him, nothing is set in stone. It is a borderline heretic disposition for a Jedi Master, perhaps – but even Force Itself cannot know the things that would come to pass with hundred percent accuracy. Nothing, not even the force, is omniscient. Certainly not Obi-Wan.

But this... this isn't merely a passing brush in with would-bes and could-bes.

They finish setting up the monitoring equipment and then turn on a projector. Above Obi-Wan, a holographic representation of his brain appears, enlarged ten fold and coloured with varying hues. As Qui-Gon watches, the hues flicker with the terrible, hectic activity going in Obi-Wan's mind.

Well... at least now he knows his apprentice isn't comatose. Or dead. His presence in the Force is... so very quiet now. It always is when a vision strikes him – like it takes him out of his body and elsewhere, they sweep him away. Another thing Qui-Gon had never quite been able to stomach about the trice damned visions.

"Master Qui-Gon, what is that?" Anakin asks, his voice quiet. The boy is sitting on his knees on a bench under the observatory window, watching same as him.

"That is a life-scan of Obi-Wan's brain," Qui-Gon answers quietly and glances at him. The boy has Obi-Wan's cloak thrown over his shoulders and he's hugging the loose sleeves to himself. He doesn't look precisely nervous – more... resigned. "He has been unconscious for a while now and it is a little unusual; the healers will be monitoring his brain activity from here on out, in case of... problems."

The boy nods slowly, but he doesn't seem to get it. They watch Obi-Wan's brain move and spark and experience things outside his body for a while in silence before Anakin looks up. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Obi-Wan is prone to visions," Qui-Gon answers, noncommittal. "This is a little longer than usual, but nothing truly out of the ordinary."

It isn't even the first time Obi-Wan had been scanned during a vision. Most Jedi prone to such things were monitored during one, at one point or another, if it could be managed. After all – the difference between a dream, a hallucination, and a Force given vision, are very minute.

"What happens if he won't wake up?"

Qui-Gon presses his lips together for a moment. They hadn't yet even tried to wake Obi-Wan up yet – according to the Healers it was always best to let the vision run its course. Interrupted visions were... quite confusing. But there are ways to interrupt them anyway, with Force abilities and with medicine and if all that failed Qui-Gon himself could force Obi-Wan out of the vision.

"Then he will be eventually put into life support," Qui-Gon says. "And we will wait for however long it will take him to come back to us."

He tries not to think of the Jedi Temple's Room of the Sleeping, where rested the Jedi unfortunate enough to suffer such terrible illnesses and injuries that left them in coma for years and years. Tries not to think of Obi-Wan joining them.

"Failed to report you have, Master Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon looks away from Obi-Wan's resting face, his hectic brain, and to the doorway. Yoda walks towards them, every other step leaning into his gimmer stick. "Waiting the council is," the Grand Master says.

"Apologies, Master," Qui-Gon says and bows his head a little. "I'm afraid something came up."

"Hmm," Yoda answers and looks into the observatory. "More and more visions young Obi-Wan has of late."

Another thing Qui-Gon had been trying to not think about too much. Once only a yearly occurrence, Obi-Wan's visions had became a monthly and then a weekly thing. They were largely the reason why Qui-Gon's padawan was still, indeed, a padawan. It's hard to put a Jedi so prone to sudden collapse on the field alone.

Now, it seems, the visions have become a daily distraction. And if they would now start to grow in length as well as frequency.

"Troubling this is," Yoda says and walks closer, turning his eyes to Qui-Gon and then to Anakin. "And who might you be, young one?"

Anakin hesitates, glancing up at Qui-Gon.

"This is Anakin Skywalker, Master. Anakin, this is Grand Master Yoda of the Jedi Council," Qui-Gon says and sighs. He'd meant Anakin to go with the Queen's retinue, like Jar Jar had, and to present his findings to the Council without the boy present yet – but in the chaos caused by Obi-Wan's collapse, he hadn't quite managed to used the boy away. As it was, he doubts Anakin would have left.

Somehow, some-when amidst the hassle of visions, the boy had formed quite the attachment to Qui-Gon's padawan. One which he suspect might be shared, considering that Obi-Wan had without so much as by-your-leave forfeited his cloak to the boy.

"Hrmm," Yoda hums, noncommittal, and gives Qui-Gon a look.

"I meant to present him to the Jedi Council – but as said," Qui-Gon turns to the observatory again. "Something came up."

"Look after their padawan a Master should," Yoda agrees and leans both hands on the gimmer stick. "Hours his vision has lasted now, hm?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon sighs and bows his head a little.

This... might ruin Obi-Wan's chances of being knighted.

"Is that bad?" Anakin asks and then readjusts it to, "How bad is it?"

"Not bad it is – concerning it is," Yoda says and looks at the boy. "Know much of Jedi visions do you, Anakin Skywalker?"

"Nothing at all," the boy says, frowning a little.

"Short they are. Sensations, feelings – brushes past us the future does. Come to stay in our heads it does not," Yoda says. "Confusing a long vision can be."

Qui-Gon glances at the old Grand Master. "What is the longest vision you have had, Master?"

"Tch. Private information that is," Yoda answers, giving him a look. Then he relents. "Twenty hours it was," he admits. "Long time ago."

"Wait, future? You can see the future in visions?" Anakin asks, looking up at Qui-Gon.

"A version of it," Qui-Gon says, perhaps a little more severe than he should. "Future is changeable, and never set in stone. It is our actions that shape it – not some... omniscient foresight."

The whack across the back of his knee comes without warning and Qui-Gon's knee bends automatically, almost sending him collapsing. Yoda gives him severe look. "Without reasons visions are not," he says. "Dismiss them so completely you should not. Warnings they are."

"Warnings of things that might never happen," Qui-Gon says, frowning a little.

"Yes – because heed of the warnings someone takes, and the vision changes," the Grand Master says and then turns his attention to Anakin. "In flux the future always is, but through all things the Force flows. Time only another dimension is – and so to us visions of it the Force may carry. A version of a future it is, yes, but without cause visions never are."

Qui-Gon thinks back to the zabrak assassin in Tatooine and then glances at Anakin. To speak of such things as the Sith in front of the child... "I should give my report," Qui-Gon says and looks at Obi-Wan again. "It may cast light as to where this is coming from."

"Complicated your mission became, hrmm?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon agrees.

But he doesn't move from where he stands.

Yoda peers up at him and then through the glass at Obi-Wan. Then he looks away, just before a door into the observation room is opened, and a togruta healer steps in.

"Master Qui-Gon – ah, Master Yoda," he says and despite the worry on his face he takes a moment to bow. "Pardon me, Master – I need to speak with Master Qui-Gon in private concerning his padawan."

"Right you are, Master Asha," Yoda agrees and glances at Anakin who sends a worried look up at Qui-Gon. "With the young one stay here I will. Go, Master Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon bows and follows Master Asha out of the observatory and to a private office right next to it. "I'm sorry, if this strikes as rude," the healer says. "But, please tell me – your bond with your student, how is it?"

Qui-Gon blinks and then raises his head a little. Normally he'd feel affronted but this is – "My bond with Obi-Wan has had its troubles in the past, but I am happy to say we share a healthy and strong training bond," he says slowly, confusedly – and automatically reaches for it.

It's not there. There is nothing there.

The confusion and shock must show on his face, because the healer nods slowly, worriedly. "Master Qui-Gon," Master Asha says. "You have long experience with your padawan's visions, correct? Has he ever gone through change of mental state afterwards?"

"T-there have been some mood swings and he is often mentally drained by them," Qui-Gon says vaguely, his mind scrambling to find any hint of Obi-Wan. The bond hadn't been cut off as if by death, no, he can still feel Obi-Wan's presence in the force. But the bond itself...

"But his personality has never changed?" the togruta asks seriously

"No, not beyond from what he learned of the vision and how that might've affected his actions," Qui-Gon says slowly. "Why?"

In answer, the healer pulls up two handheld holo projectors, and turns them on. Two scans of a human brain – the same brain, judging by the arrangement of wrinkling. With a push of a button, Master Asha activates the tracking of brain activity.

"Your student's mind is changing," Master Asha says. "Look at his hippocampus, here," he points. "Look at how it glows?"

Qui-Gon looks, his eyes flickering between the two scans. Both are of Obi-Wan's, he thinks – and yet they look like two different people, judging by the activity going on.

"Whatever his vision is about," Master Asha says slowly, gently. "It is starting to affect the real physical structure of Obi-Wan Kenobi's brain."

"What does that mean?" Qui-Gon asks, feeling strangely helpless.

"I'm afraid I can't say for sure. This is... not a common issue, even with Jedi prone to visions," Master Asha says. "But if Obi-Wan has no history of altered states of mind post-vision, then... it is certainly a cause for concern."

"Should... should he be pulled out of the vision?" Qui-Gon asks, frowning.

Master Asha hesitates. "At this point I would recommend against it – it will most certainly cause more harm than good," he says slowly. "We have sent healers to the archives to see if there is history of this happening before, hopefully we will know more soon, but, Master Qui-Gon... there is a very real possibility that if the vision continues as it has started, Obi-Wan Kenobi might emerge from it with a very different personality. Certainly he already has many memories not his own."

"Memories," Qui-Gon repeats.

"The high activity of his hippocampus," Master Asha explains. "Already it is as densely active as that of a man with twice his life experience."

Qui-Gon gives his report to the Jedi Council via Yoda, in the end. While Anakin stays in the observatory and refuses to budge, they claim one of the healer's offices momentarily for Qui-Gon to report the events of Naboo, the failure of the negotiations, the droid Army, their arrival at the capital city of the planet and then the escape.

"During our escape the Nubian cruiser took heavy weapons fire – they were certainly trying to stop us, if not blow us out of the sky," Qui-Gon explains, while Yoda leans to his gimmer stick and frowns worriedly. "Some of the ships systems were damaged, including the hyper drive engine – we were forced to take a detour to try and repair it. There were some options and I settled on Tatooine – seeing as it would be unexpected for the retinue to go to such a place."

"Hrmm," Yoda answers. "In risk the queen that put," he says. "But worked your scheme did?"

"To a point," Qui-Gon answers and frowns. "I managed to unearth suitable parts for the cruiser in Tatooine, but there were complications with funds – the parts dealer refused republic credits. I had to come up with... alternate solution."

"And how much of a Qui-Gon solution was this?" Yoda asks, giving him a knowing look.

Qui-Gon coughs. "Anyway. The parts were procured and delivered to the cruiser – Obi-wan was largely in charge of the repairs. I... had some unfinished business in the city and headed back."

"The boy," Yoda says, casting a look towards the door. "Strong in the Force he is."

"Very," Qui-Gon agrees, thinking of the pod-race, of Anakin's borderline unnatural skill with it. "I thought it best to bring him to be tested. I haven't felt a force presence like his since... yours, actually."

"Tch," Yoda answers. "Old the boy is," he says and shakes his head. "Pity it is that find him sooner we did not. See that tested the boy will be I shall. Later that will be – continue your report you must."

"I was bringing the boy back when we were attacked," Qui-Gon says and frowns a little. "It was an assassin – after the Queen. A male zabrak. Master, he had a lightsaber, a red lightsaber – and extensive training in its use."

Yoda pauses at that, giving him a glance. "A lightsaber, you say," he murmurs.

"And he felt dark," Qui-Gon says. "He was swathed in the Dark Side."

"Hrmm..." Yoda hums, turning away a little. "Battle you did? Part in this Obi-Wan took?"

"No, he didn't take part in the battle, he was at the ship at this time – I was still a little ways off from it," Qui-Gon says. He isn't sure if it would have been for better or worse, if Obi-Wan had been there. The zabrak had been very skilled.

"Think you do that this Obi-Wan's vision caused."

Qui-Gon is quiet for a moment and then nods. "Obi-Wan had another vision before, shortly after we left Tatooine," he admits. "It was a shorter one. He... reported it to me after, as he always does. He saw the fall of the Jedi Order."

Yoda stops at that, and turns to him. "See the fall of Jedi Order Obi-Wan did?" he asks slowly. "Remember what he saw do you?"

Qui-Gon recites what he remembers of Obi-Wan's confused retelling – the war of same faces and the death of Jedi at the hand of their allies and friends. He shakes his head at the end of it while Yoda frowns. "I admit I didn't put much stock to it – even for a vision it was rather fantastical."

"A troubling vision that is," Yoda murmurs and looks away. "And dismiss it you did."

Qui-Gon winces. "Honestly, master, what are the chances that it would actually come to pass?" he asks.

"Laid low by a second vision in as many days Obi-Wan is, and terribly long this one is," Yoda says darkly and looks at him. "Very high I'm afraid the chances might be."

"You..." Qui-Gon starts and then trails off, staring at him. "But that's... not possible."

"Without cause vision never comes," Yoda says grimly. "Change the future does and so true visions do not come. Too much experience of this you have."

"Most of Obi-Wan's visions never come true," Qui-Gon points out.

"And why that is, hrm? Question it you never have," Yoda says somewhat severely. "Accept it you do that visions fail, and easy that acceptance it is. Distain them, you do. Understandable it is – of this whole Order most unfulfilled visions Obi-Wan Kenobi has. But why fail they do? Hrm?"

Qui-Gon stares at him. "I... assumed it is just because.... because that is how future is. Changeable."

"Tch. Understand it you do not," Yoda says and waves the gimmer stick at him. "Sees the future he does. Change the future he does. Malleable it is and a great shaper of it he is becoming – and so false his own visions he makes. Understand this you never have, Master Qui-Gon Jinn."

Qui-Gon opens his mouth and stares. "I..." he says and then just keeps on staring, stunned.

"Good to pair one like him with grounding force it is," Yoda says. "Good master for Obi-Wan you are – restrain him you do and a level ground for him to stand on you offer. But listen him you do not."

Qui-Gon swallows and looks down for a moment, shocked. He'd never thought of it that way. He'd always told Obi-Wan it was actions that shaped future, he'd always believed it, but he hadn't quite put the two and two together concerning what that meant for Obi-Wan, and for his visions.

"The healers tell me this vision is changing the structure of Obi-Wan's brain," he says quietly. "It's giving him memories that aren't his."

Yoda stills for a moment and turns to look at him. "Changing his brain is?" he asks slowly.

"So they tell me. The activity is... like someone else's," Qui-Gon says helplessly.

For a moment Yoda stares at him in silent astonishment. "Check something I must," he then says quickly and turns on his heel, to head for the door. "Continue this later we will. Stay with your student, Master Qui-Gon."

And just like that, he's gone – leaving Qui-Gon teetering on the edge of even greater confusion and worry than before.

Five hours, six hours, seven...

Anakin falls asleep on the bench of the observatory, wrapped in Obi-Wan's cloak. Qui-Gon keeps silent, increasingly nervous vigil, staring at the live view of Obi-Wan's brain.

He can actually see the changes in it now, untrained as he is in such matters. The structure of Obi-Wan's brain is growing more complicated, the shape of it... sharpening. He doesn't know what it means and the healers give him helpless looks when he asks. All they can do is warn him that the young man he knows and loves like a son might not be who he thinks he is once – if – he wakes up.

The door to the observatory slides open and Qui-Gon looks away from the window, in hopes of seeing Yoda.

It isn't Yoda. It is someone entirely different. Several someones, even.

"Your majesty," Qui-Gon says and bows his head. "This is... most unexpected."

Queen Amidala steps in, surrounded by a retinue of handmaidens. She also has with her Senator Palpatine, who follows the rest in with measured steps.

"We heard of the ailment that befell your student," Queen Amidala says with her usual complete lack of emotion and looks to the window. "You did us a great service and it is only right we come to offer our condolences."

"You have my gratitude," Qui-Gon says, a little confused. It is... greatly unexpected. Usually people don't much care about what happens to Jedi, once the mission is over. Through, true enough, theirs might not yet be over – depending on how the Queen's address to the Senate would go, there might be work yet to be done.

The queen – the actual Queen, in her handmaiden's get up, looks to the window – to Anakin Skywalker, sleeping under it.

"But surely you have more important things to do right now, your majesty," Qui-Gon says – because as nice as it is for someone to care, it is a little uneasy too. It's rare for outsiders to be let into the temple, and its rarer still for them to be let this far in.

To be let in here, to an actual observatory with all the neglect of privacy that entailed...

"There is a break in the Senate proceedings," Senator Palpatine says, smiling faintly as he casts a glance at the operation room. "And during this time it is good to clear our heads a little, and remember why we do what we do. You and your apprentice did us a great favour, delivering the queen here, safe and sound. It is only right to honour it."

Qui-Gon nods slowly.

"What illness does your student have, Master Qui-Gon?" the handmaiden serving as the Queen asks.

Qui-Gon hesitates and looks to the window. He'd need to strike a delicate balance between lying and not spoiling Obi-Wan's reputation. Jedi visions isn't something to spread outside the temple – and a Jedi known for weak constitution would be Jedi people would hesitate to trust.

"An injury, your majesty, not yet quite fully healed," he says after a moment – technically not a lie. One vision had sent Obi-Wan careening down a set of stairs and he'd gotten a concussion on top of the whole ordeal of the vision itself – he still has a scar from where he banged his head on the stairs. "The recent excursions to such varying climates were a little too much for him, I'm afraid."

The fake-Queen nods and behind her the actual queen relaxes a little. Palpatine casts a look at him and then turns to the window and at Obi-Wan. "Hmm. Well, we wish for a quick and full recovery for your young student," he says with a thoughtful expression. "Certainly, such bright young Jedi must have much left to offer the galaxy."

"Indeed," the fake-Queen agrees, utterly inflectionless. "Our sympathies are with him."

"Yes," Palpatine nods. "You must inform us when your apprentice recovers, Master Jinn, to set our hearts at ease. But for now, your Majesty," he bows to the rest of the retinue. "We should continue our tour of the temple."

The fake-Queen nods her head and then bows very slightly to Qui-Gon. "We wish your apprentice well," the fake-Queen says.

"Thank you, your majesty, it is appreciated," Qui-Gon bows back and then watches as they turn to go, a stately display of grace and colour that doesn't quite belong in the Jedi Temple. Before the door closes, he glimpses the Jedi who must've been guiding them around the temple – a padawan, judging by their age. Then the door closes and they're gone.

Qui-Gon has never had the gift of foresight, but for some reason he has a terribly bad feeling about this.

Chapter Text

It's dead of the night when Obi-Wan Kenobi wakes up. No one is there at that precise moment – Qui-Gon Jinn has been ushered to bed at last, forced to leave on the account of his young companion, Anakin Skywalker, who cannot possibly keep on sleeping on a bench. The head Mind Healer is off having his rest as well, and so there are only droids and a single Senior Padawan Letha Sanr in the operation room, when the young man's eyes flicker, and finally open.

Letha marks the moment down on his file, alerts her master, and then goes to his side. "Easy there," she says. "You've been out quite a while."

"Hmm," the slightly older padawan agrees, his eyes catching hers for a moment before sliding away as he takes in the place. "Where am I?"

Letha had been very carefully instructed what to do in the event of Padawan Kenobi's awakening, so she doesn't answer. "I have called for my Master, he will be here soon," she says instead. "How are you feeling? Do you need some water?"

Kenobi's eyes flicker back to her, taking in her expression, his eyes switching between her right and left and then right again as he searches for something in them. The expression on his face is soft but aloof – he's not frowning. Mentally, Letha makes a mark of that too, but says nothing, letting him re-orient himself in peace.

"I am well," Kenobi answers then, calm. "May I sit up?"

"Oh course," Letha says. "Do you need assistance?"

"No, I believe I can handle it," Kenobi answers and then, slowly, like a rock coming to life, he moves. For a moment Letha imagines she can hear his bones grind – but of course, it's just her imagination. Kenobi is a young man at peak of health – his bones wouldn't grind.

He moves like man much older though.

Letha steps back and reaches for his file, to make note of it – patient is calm upon awakening, no mood swings to be detected so far. Stiffness of limbs upon first movements. Confusion about his location.

Kenobi watches her tap the message out but doesn't try to peer in to see what she is writing. Instead he lifts a hand to touch his chin, run running his fingers across it – had he perhaps hit it when he collapsed in to the vision? He has no bruising, Letha thinks, and watches him carefully from side eye.

His fingers trail up and find the sensor attached to his temple. "Hmm?" he hums and runs a fingertip around it. "I must have been out for a while."

Letha narrows her eyes a little and then writes that down too – deduces lengthy duration of his consciousnesses by the presence of the neuroimaging sensors – no awareness of the vision length?

"May I take these off?" Kenobi asks politely.

"Best wait until Master Asha arrives," Letha says. "It shouldn't take long."

"Very well," Kenobi agrees and then looks around them, taking in the Halls of Healing operation room, his eyes lingering on the monitoring machinery and then switching over to the window to the observatory, before moving away again. If he really is confused about his location, he isn't showing it – but there is a lack of familiarity.

"I think I would like some water, if I may have some?" Kenobi says.

Letha nods and then goes to get some. She leaves his file on the side table and then keeps a sideways eye on him – the file is within his reach and she has her back to him. He doesn't reach for it. What that means, she isn't sure, but Letha is going to make a note of that too.

Every reaction would be crucial now, Master Asha had said. Kenobi might be a very different person upon wakening, and how he would react to awakening would matter greatly.

Letha takes Kenobi a glass of water and he thanks her with the same level politeness he requested the water with. While she takes up the file to write down his reactions, he takes a first slow sip – and now his expression changes, twitches ever so slightly towards a frown. The taste, Letha surmises, isn't to his liking. Strange – it's only water.

It's five more minutes after that when Master Asha finally arrives and during that time Kenobi has drank half of the water in careful, sparing sips. He hasn't asked more questions – hasn't said much at all. As far as Letha has observed, he isn't in pain and isn't precisely confused – but she's sure, he has no idea where he is.

It's strangely off putting how calm he is about it though. In her time apprenticing under Master Asha, Letha has seen people with varying reactions to finding them unexpectedly at the Halls of Healing, even those with temporary memory loss or altered mind states – and Kenobi's level ease with the whole thing is more fitting to an experienced master, than young Knight-to-be.

Thankfully Asha arrives then, and Letha is relieved of the duty of trying to figure out Kenobi's mental state.

"Ah, awake at last," Asha says, nodding to Letha and accepting the datapad she's holding. He arches a brow at the notes she'd made and Letha bows her head a little – too overzealous and wordy with observations again, it seems. Asha says nothing however, turning to Kenobi. "How are you feeling, young man?"

"I am well," Kenobi answers, eyeing the togruta master with interest. "I have been out for a while, I take?"

"Hmm," Asha answers, glancing at the notes Letha had made and then looking up again. "And since you have been out for a while, there are some tests I need to perform, just to check you are alright. Lengthy periods of unconsciousness are nothing to scoff at."

"Very well," Kenobi says. "Go right ahead."

"Let's start with your name," Asha says. "Can you tell me your full name?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Kenobi answers and Letha relaxes a little.

Master Asha makes a note. "Good. How old are you?"

Kenobi doesn't answer immediately, frowning a little. "I'm... sorry," he says. "Somewhere in my early twenties, I imagine."

Asha pauses at that, glancing at him. Then he makes a note on the file – doesn't recall his age. "Do you remember what happened, Obi-Wan?"

Kenobi looks at him, running a hand over his chin. He stops in mid motion and then lowers his hand again. "I collapsed and spent some time unconscious because of it," he says after a while. "Ah, I had a vision," he then adds – as if remembering a key point of information.

"Alright. Can you tell me about your vision?"

Kenobi says nothing to that, shaking his head.

"Very well," Asha says, making a note. "Do you know where you are?"

Kenobi shakes his head and smiles wryly. "At this point I think you know that I don't," he comments.

"Don't I?" Asha asks.

Their patient says nothing, just gives him a look that is half amusement and half wry admonishment. "It is not kind to toy with your patients," he says and then touches the sensor at his temple. "Your monitored my brain," he notes. "I was unconscious for hours, but that alone isn't reason for a neuroimaging. You were following the course of the vision? Tell me, are these still active? Can I see the scans?"

Asha pauses at that and then lowers the file he's holding.

"Do I not have the right to the information concerning my health?" Obi-Wan Kenobi asks, arching a brow. "Or am I a prisoner here?"

"Kenobi!" Letha says, horrified.

Asha frowns a little. Then he turns and reactivates the hologram projectors, lifting the room with the glowing image of Kenobi's brain. They all look up. "Hm," Asha says, folding his arms. "This is live-feed from your sensors – the current state of your brain."

"Hm," Kenobi answers, looking up. If he can understand it, it doesn't show on his face. "And do you have earlier scans?"

Asha brings that forward too, activating the scan beside the first one. The change is obvious probably even to untrained eye – Obi-Wan Kenobi's brain had developed a new complexity during his unconsciousness. His hippocampus isn't as active anymore as it was during the vision itself, but his brain activity is subtly altered. He's using different regions of his brain more – and judging by the data feed floating beside the two scans, his hormonal production has been altered as well.

"I suppose for a medic that means more than it does to me," Kenobi says finally. "Thank you."

Master Asha turns the two scans off and then looks at Kenobi. "The very physiology of your brain changed during your nearly ten hour vision, Obi-Wan Kenobi," he says seriously. "You understand it is a cause for concern."

"Yes, yes, of course," Kenobi agrees and folds his arms, tugging them into the sleeves of his hospital tunic. He frowns a little. "So what do you suspect, then?"

"It is obvious your memories at least have been affected," Master Asha comments. "Your personality too?"

"No doubt," Kenobi agrees with a calm nod.

"But you still think yourself as Obi-Wan Kenobi."

That makes Kenobi look at Master Asha with new interest. "I am Obi-Wan Kenobi," he says.

Asha nods slowly. "And who, precisely, is Obi-Wan Kenobi?" he asks.

Kenobi frowns a little now. "Is this a philosophical question? A moral one?" he asks. "Or you want me to explain on my motivations and allegiances, my formative experiences?"

"Allegiances?" Master Asha asks slowly. "Your allegiances are important to you?"

"Aren't everyone's?" Kenobi asks in turn, looking confused. "Aren't yours to you?"

Letha stares at him in confusion and then looks at Master Asha, who looks just as confused as she feels. Asha certainly doesn't seem to have any idea how to answer the question. After a while, he turns to her instead.

"Padawan, go wake up Master Jinn," Master Asha says. "I do believe we will need a more experienced mind here."

Letha nods and glances uneasily at Kenobi, still sitting so calm there, if now confused. He doesn't react to the name of his master in the slightest, she notes, and then hurries off, feeling strange uneasy about all of it.

Qui-Gon Jinn isn't sleeping – he is having tea with Grand Master Yoda.

"Old story it is, no more than a myth it is," Yoda says while peering at the smooth porcelain cup. "Remember it from my own youth, I did – back then taught in the temple it was. Stories of the Jedi returned."

"It sounds... impossible," Qui-Gon murmurs.

"Alter the brain a vision always does," Yoda says seriously. "Memory an alteration of it brain is – synapses change and form as memory forms. Vision like a memory is, affects the brain same it does. And the bigger the memory is, the longer the vision, the greater the change that follows."

Qui-Gon shakes his head. He's learned more about the actual anatomy of Force Vision this last half a day than he's sure he'd ever wanted to know – and this is... this is just impossible.

"Still, rare it was," Yoda says. "Myth even back then it was; a story to tell younglings to entertain. Science of it interesting is, though study it I never did. But visions – of them much I know."

"Yes, I suppose you do," Qui-Gon says and swallows. "But this..."

There is knock on the door and Qui-Gon looks up, almost grateful for the interruption. He waves a hand, activating the door panel with a slight push of the Force, and the door to the guest quarters – the closest to the Halls of Healing he had managed to book – slides open.

A healer padawan stands there, a young human female. "Master Jinn," she says and then bows. "Grandmaster Yoda. Obi-Wan Kenobi is awake."

Qui-Gon stands so fast he sends the tea cup he's holding splashing tea everywhere. Yoda gives him a look and sets his own cup down before taking the gimmer stick and standing up as well. "Go we must," he says.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon says, hesitating.

"Sleep the boy does, and sleep he will for hours yet," Yoda says, glancing at door to the bedroom, where Qui-Gon had set Anakin down to sleep in a proper bed. "Feel it I will if wake he does."

Qui-Gon nods and they go, following the healer padawan from the guest rooms and quickly towards the halls of healing – and there, the operation room where Obi-Wan had been monitored.

Qui-Gon's breath stutters at the sight of him. He still can't feel a bond between them – it is just gone from his mind and he's reaching for nothing. If he couldn't see Obi-Wan there, sitting with his arms folded, head turned to Master Asha, he would've thought Obi-Wan was still unconscious.

Obi-Wan turns to look at them – and Qui-Gon stops. "Obi-Wan," he says – even as Obi-Wan's eyes slide off him and to Yoda.

"Master," he says, surprised.

"Glad to see you awake I am," Yoda says slowly, glancing up at Qui-Gon who stares at his padawan in incomprehension. "Worried we have been."

Obi-Wan frowns at him, then glances at Qui-Gon, and then away, and at Asha. He looks confused.

"Obi-Wan," Master Asha says gently and motions at Qui-Gon. "Do you know this man?"

Obi-Wan blinks and then turns to look at Qui-Gon again. He doesn't, Qui-Gon realizes as his heart plummets. The look on Obi-Wan's face is calm with polite inquiry, but there's no familiarity, no warmth – no recognition what so ever. "Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon says again, confused, stunned, helpless.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan offers with a fleeting, polite smile. "I'm afraid I do not know you, no."

It is like blow straight to his solar plexus – it knocks the breath out of Qui-Gon's lungs and leaves him with a ball of pain in his gut.

"Know me, you do?" Yoda says then, tapping his gimmer stick on the floor, calling for attention.

"Yes, I know you," Obi-Wan agrees, turning his eyes to him – and now there is warm familiarity there, a smile he's only ever given to Qui-Gon. "You are Jedi Master Yoda."

"Hrm," Yoda answers and glances at Qui-Gon. "Peculiar this is. Know your own Master you do not?"

"My... master?" Obi-Wan asks slowly while looking at Qui-Gon again, a little uneasy this time. He shakes his head slowly.

"Your teacher, Qui-Gon Jinn is. Your teacher he has been for more than twelve years now," Yoda says and frowns.

Obi-Wan blinks and shakes his head. "No, that's..." He frowns and looks away. "That's not right at all. I'm sorry – how old am I?" he asks, turning to Master Asha.

"Why don't you tell me?" Master Asha said. Obi-Wan arches his eyebrows and the look on his face is utterly alien to Qui-Gon – wry amusement and reprimand. Asha tsks at him and relents. "You are twenty five years of age."

"I see," Obi-Wan answers – though he obviously doesn't. "And where am I?" he asks and glances away. "Or will we continue to pretend that I am supposed to know this when it is obvious I do not?"

"Hrm," Yoda says, patting Qui-Gon's slightly shaking knee as he walks past him and towards Obi-Wan. "Tell us first who you are you must."

"I am Obi-Wan Kenobi," Obi-Wan answers, turning to him. "And that is all I will confirm until I know more."

"And yet know Obi-Wan's life you do not?" Yoda says and leans onto the gimmer stick with a frown. "Know what happened to you, do you?"

Obi-Wan frowns. "Do you?" he asks in return.

"An impasse we are at, unless you tell us," Yoda tells him. "Among friends you are, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Trust us you must."

Obi-Wan considers that for a moment, staring searchingly at Yoda while Qui-Gon wavers where he stands, confused, terribly, horribly confused. This isn't right, Obi-Wan is right about that. None of this is right. How can Obi-Wan not know him? How can Obi-Wan not remember? Even if what Yoda had theorized was true, he should still know his master, surely he would remember?

"I must," Obi-Wan mutters and shakes his head. "Well, you're Yoda alright." With that said he hops down from the gurney he'd been sitting on – and then he goes down to sit on the floor, at eyelevel with Yoda. "Oof," he mutters, rubbing at his folded knees under him. "Oh, I missed this."

"Hrm?" Yoda enquirers.

"My knees haven't bend like this in years," Obi-Wan explains and then rests his hands in his lap, his back straight. "I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi Knight and General. I am sixty three years of age – and not quite where I expected to end up in."

Qui-Gon's knees give away and he, like Obi-Wan, goes down to his knees on the floor.

"Hrm," Yoda answers, considering the young man on his knees worriedly. "Tell us what happened you must."

"You need to tell me where I am, first," Obi-Wan answers. "Because this doesn't look like any place I was in when I was twenty five."

"And where at twenty five you were?"

"Yoda," Obi-Wan says, pointed.

"Hrmph," Yoda scoffs. "At the Jedi Temple you are, in Coruscant."

Obi-Wan eyes him. "And?" he asks.

"Hrm?"

"What is a Jedi temple?" Obi-Wan asks with some exasperation.

The silence that ensues after that is marked with it's incomprehension as everyone in the room stares at him in blank faced confusion.

"Claim to be a Jedi Knight you do, but know the Jedi temple you do not?" Yoda asks slowly.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth and then closes it and sighs. "Oh dear," he murmurs and rubs at his forehead. "Oh young one, I do believe we made some mistakes here."

"Explain you must," Yoda says with a frown.

Obi-Wan is quiet for a long, thoughtful moment, as they all stare at him expectant. "Well," he says finally. "When your young Obi-Wan came to me in his vision, we... assumed we were each other. That he was my younger self and that I was his elder one," he explains and looks away. "But this isn't my past at all, is it?"

"You're not Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon whispers.

The young man looks up at him. "No, I don't imagine I am," he says and looks around them. "I do not know this place at all. Where I come from there is no such thing as a Jedi Temple. And you," he turns to Yoda. "I do not believe you've set a foot in Coruscant in your life."

Yoda straightens at that a little, frowning. Then he shakes his head. "Tell us what happened you must," he says seriously.

Obi-Wan nods slowly. "Well, to begin with, I joined the Force."

"You died?" Qui-Gon asks, trying desperately to scramble for some understanding.

Obi-Wan glances at him and doesn't answer. "I met your young Obi-Wan in his vision shortly after my own passing," he says instead. "It was a case of meeting visions, I suspect – mine mingling with his. I didn't recognize him at first – and now that I think about it that is telling, perhaps... At this age I already had a beard. And longer hair too."

"And the vision?" Yoda prods at him.

"He told me about the future he'd seen in another vision," Obi-Wan says, turning back to him. "Which sounded to me like my own past. There were some... inconsistencies which I should've made note of, but it was all so confusing. He spoke of his Master dying, of needing to prevent it – but mine died only very recently in my experience, not when I was so young."

He trails off for a moment and shakes his head. "We spoke of future, and how it is formed, what shapes it. He begged knowledge to alter his, but..." he shakes his head. "There are so many factors that shape what happens. It would have taken so long to educate him in all of it. More time than we had."

"So your places you decided to change," Yoda says, gripping the gimmer stick tighter. "His place here you took."

Obi-Wan is quiet for a moment. "I didn't realize we had lived different lives," he murmurs. "There were enough familiarities in what he told me. Jedi Knights, the upcoming wars, it all sounded like my own life. And of course, he was myself..."

"Upcoming wars?" Master Asha whispers in horror.

Obi-Wan bows his head a little for a moment, frowning. Then he looks at Yoda. "Who is Obi-Wan Kenobi here?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi a padawan learner of Qui-Gon Jinn is," Yoda says and motions at Qui-Gon, who feels as if the world is tilting under him in strange ways, and gravity has gotten ten times stronger. Nothing makes sense, everything moves so fast, and Obi-Wan is looking at him like at a stranger.

"And what is a padawan?" Obi-Wan asks, eyeing Qui-Gon strangely.

"A young Jedi apprenticing under a Jedi Master, to become a Jedi Knight one day," Qui-Gon whispers.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "I learned under Jedi Master Yoda – I was knighted when I was twenty one," he says. "By the House of Organa in Alderaan."

"I don't know what that means," Qui-Gon shakes his head.

"And I don't understand an apprenticeship that lasts for twelve years," Obi-Wan answers, shaking his head in confusion. "I would have had to been thirteen at the start. That's a little young in my experience."

Qui-Gon stares at him in flat incomprehension. Obi-Wan had been old for a padawan. Considering it, it's a testament to his stubborn dedication that at twenty give he is now ready to become a Jedi Knight.

"Hrm," Yoda says, stroking at his chin thoughtfully as he stares at Obi-Wan. "Peculiar this is."

Obi-Wan turns to him. "I should have questioned the young one more," he sighs and shakes his head. "An alternate version of history. I quite honestly wasn't expecting that."

Qui-Gon draws a breath. His mind feels sluggish with all of this, but – this isn't his Obi-Wan. This isn't his padawan. "What happened to Obi-Wan?" he asks and looks at the stranger in his student's body. "Where is my padawan?"

The stranger hesitates and then looks at him – and his eyes are sad, sympathetic. "I'm so sorry," he says gently. "The young one took my place when I took his. He has joined the Force."

Chapter Text

Ben sits still for the few tests Master Asha wishes to perform on him, to check that he's alright – but seeing as they'd kept eye on the transformation while it had happened, there isn't much left to do and despite his obvious unease and confusion about the happenings, the medic is forced to deem him perfectly healthy. Ben is released begrudgingly and obviously against the medic's better instincts – something he can't help but sympathise with. As confusing as it is for him, it must be doubly so for the medic, who must see him as something of an identity disorder at this point.

"Come with you must. Talk we will," Yoda says. "Then to the council present you I will."

"As you wish, Yoda," Ben says and stands up. The sensors have been removed from his temples and he doesn't bother restrain the urge to rub at them – the skin there is a little tender now, no doubt reddened.

He glances towards the door, where Qui-Gon Jinn had been and then looks away. The other Jedi Master had left, all but staggering out in his confusion, and Ben feels a terrible guilt over it. He'd thought the master young Obi-Wan had been so worried about was someone else – but a teacher of twelve years, obviously close, perhaps as close as a father to the young one...

There is little he can do at this point, but he feels personally responsible for the hurt here. No, he is personally responsible. And he isn't sure what to do about it, if he even can do anything about it.

In the end, he simply follows Yoda out of the infirmary.

Everything is very strange, now. Everything is in question. Yoda in Coruscant of all places is a notion as alien to Ben as – well, a Skywalker who'd rather stay on Tatooine and do his chores, really. Destiny had forced Luke's hand, perhaps it had forced Yoda's too – but this doesn't seem like the swamp dwelling mad creature Ben had once learned under – this version of his old teacher is a more refined, more posed being. He talks the same, but he's so.... so stationary, even in Force itself.

And Jedi Temple. There had been temples and churches of the Force, of course, Ben had even made an annual pilgrimage to one during his youth, when he could afford such luxuries, but a temple specifically for Jedi.... No. And what he has seen of it so far marks it a temple of some prosperity. It would have to be, to be stationed in Coruscant of all places.

"How long has this temple been here?" Ben asks cautiously as they walk across a darkened corridor, towards a better lit one. Windows, he realises, and then he sees outside.

It really is Coruscant. Of course, the feel of the Force alone identified it as a world of billions, but the visual is still a somewhat shocking. The endless ocean of ancient buildings, the thousands upon thousands of speeders in the air...

The noxious concoction of pollutants, Ben thinks wryly.

"Thousands of years, the temple here has been," Yoda says, peering up at him over his shoulder. "Here before Coruscant a city wide planet has been."

Ben nods slowly and looks up, at the ceiling above them. It's gracefully arched, white and blue stone artfully touched by silver shaded accents. Every flat surface as a mirror shine, so smooth and well polished they are.

Never would have he thought opulent when thinking of Jedi, but that's what comes to his mind and it is an uneasy feeling. It only grows worse as they move from this corridor to a much grander, taller hallway, with even higher ceiling and beautifully carved pillars holding it up. Everything gleams, clean and perfect. Opulent, he thinks again and looks away.

He'd thought himself indulgent with his hut and all the worldly possessions he'd accumulated over the years in that hut – all necessary for his survival and yet still... more than he'd ever owned before. This place with all of its gleam and polish unnerves him.

"Uneasy you are," Yoda comments. "Not used to temples, hrm?"

"No, I cannot say I am," Ben admits, wondering what had happened to those few temples he had ever visited. The one is Jedha is gone, he knows that much – Alderaan probably had been forced to either destroy or re-use its Force churches or face the Empire's wrath. The many varying religions of Force had all been brought low by the Empire's dominance, in the need to be the only ones with that power. What of the temples of Naboo?

"Lead different lives the Jedi in your experience do," Yoda muses. "Their Order not in temples resides. Peculiar this is. Peculiar you find that here they do."

"Hmm," Ben answers, non-committal. "I do not know how your Jedi Order functions, and I do believe its best I try not to make any more assumptions," the few he'd made had already been so damning. "But yes. Peculiar."

"Tell me you must how Jedi in your experience live," Yoda says and the taps of his stick echo across the vast hallways. "Not bound to a location, hrm?"

"There are those who choose to be, in service of others," Ben says slowly. It's hard to say what information is dangerous and what isn't, here. What to him seems so normal might offer insult, and right now that is the last thing he can afford. "But in my experience most Jedi were something of wanderers, roaming the galaxy every which way they thought they were needed the most."

Yoda hums thoughtfully. "They own judgement they used in this? Not in service of the republic they were?"

Ben frowns a little and looks down at him. "Some were," he says slowly. "But that was according to their personal, independent judgement too. Here it is different, then?"

Yoda glances at the windows, at Coruscant outside. It's been a long, long time since Ben has seen the city – and never has he spend enough time there to grow fully familiar. But he vaguely recalls that the highest buildings were the more important ones. Somewhere in there, the Senate met.

"Serve the Republic the Jedi Order does," Yoda says, his tone neutral, the way he speaks when he has opinions he isn't about to share. "Go where the Republic needs us we do."

Ben nods slowly, a sense of unease creeping up his spine. "I see," he says, just as neutral.

Yoda leads him through the temple and to what Ben can instantly tell are his personal rooms by the moisture in the air. It's not quite the swampy atmosphere of Dagobah, but for a swamp dwelling being it would be more comfortable than the otherwise dry, filtered air of the corridors.

"Here, sit you will – tea for us I will make," Yoda says motioning at the low table at the centre of the room, the two cushions at each side of it.

Ben nods and sits down on his knees, taking in the room.

It's stark and lifeless – every surface is clean of possessions, the walls smooth and blank. He's not sure how he likes it. Yoda's mode of living in Ben's experience had been humble even for a Jedi Master, but he'd lived close to the earth, in hut build of hardened mud, surrounded by the lush greenery of Dagobah. This artificial cleanliness seems... utterly alien.

But who would build a hut of dirt on Coruscant?

Ben looks down, at his young hands, not yet so crooked or scarred or weathered as they had become. Obi-Wan Kenobi is twenty five and at peak health – and yet, not a Jedi Knight. Another stark difference.

"How are Jedi knighted here?" Ben asks, spreading out his fingers and then closing them to a fist.

"Trials there are," Yoda says, carrying a metal tray with polished – mass produced – porcelain cups to the low table. "Sometimes in service these trials come – sometimes the Jedi Council them must arrange. Become a Knight you wish?"

Ben glances up at him. "And what do Jedi Knights do, here?"

"Serve the Republic, they do. Go to missions. Help in disputes, solve problems – aid," Yoda says and sits down. "On a mission young Obi-Wan was when his place you took. Solving a trade dispute you were, a wrongly placed blockade there is. Still Qui-Gon's report I have to hear, how it went I do not know."

Ben nods slowly, frowning a little. Some Jedi Masters had worked in cases like that, he knows – helping settle disputes and disagreements. Not him, though. Not the Jedi Knights he'd known.

"It's a very different galaxy," Ben muses and takes the tea cup Yoda offers him. "Thank you."

"Hrm," Yoda answers. "Have to be it would for a Jedi a General to become. Very strange that is."

Ben shakes his head. "Not so strange to me," he muses. "There were wars – many Jedi Knights served in them."

Yoda shakes his head. "Strange," he says, somewhat disapproving, and takes his own cup. "These wars ahead of us are you think?"

"I honestly couldn't say," Ben admits. "This galaxy is different. There were reasons for those wars, and I don't know if the reasons are in place here. I'd need to learn more about the current political situation of the galaxy to know."

"Then learn you shall," Yoda says and lifts a small hand. Ben smiles a little at the familiar feel of his Force, as he summons something from another room – a data pad. "Begin here you will – then if need be the Library we shall visit."

"Thank you," Ben nods and accepts the datapad from midair. It's a strange model, much smaller and fancier than he's used to after years of Tatooine where only the hardiest – oldest – gadgets survived. But thankfully the controls are the same. "This might take some time, you understand," he says.

"Time we have – mid noon the Council gathers," Yoda says. "To receive Qui-Gon's report. Then meet them you will."

Ben nods, and activates the datapad, to begin his hasty crash course to an alternate history.

"Master Qui-Gon?" Anakin asks carefully, watching the Jedi from the doorway. The man's head is bowed low and his shoulders are low – he's sitting on his knees by a window and he looks a little... off. "Master Qui-Gon, is something wrong?"

He'd woken up to a strange feeling, like that sensation they got before a sand storm in Tatooine, when the air got weirdly tight and charged. Air pressure and electricity in the air, Anakin's mother used to explain. This feels a bit like that, except somehow reverse – like there should be something there that isn't, or what is doesn't belong? He isn't sure what it is, but it feels a bit like pain.

Qui-Gon lifts his head a little and inhales slowly. "Anakin," he says and looks at him over his shoulder. The smile on his face is forced. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

Anakin stares at him for a moment, nodding slowly. Something is wrong. Something is really really wrong. "Is Obi-Way okay?" he asks and automatically reaches to touch the cloak – but he doesn't have it on. He left it by the door, Qui-Gon told him to, because here people don't wear everything they have all the time, they leave their outer cloaks by the door.

He almost turns to check just to make sure it's still there – his cloak, his gift cloak – but before he can he catches a glimpse of something horrible on Qui-Gon's face, just before he quickly turns away, to face the window again, hiding his expression from Anakin. But he saw it.

Loss.

"No," Anakin says, his heart skipping a painful beat.

Qui-Gon breathes in slowly and only speaks after an awkward, too long break. "Obi-Wan is fine, Anakin," he says, but it sounds like a lie. "He woke up during the night."

"Something's wrong with him," Anakin says, because Qui-Gon is lying to him and he's lying badly. "Master Qui-Gon, what's wrong with Obi-Wan?"

Qui-Gon bows his head and his hair slips over his shoulder to hang over his face. "It's complicated, Anakin, but... Obi-Wan woke up a different person," he says quietly and his shoulders slump a little. "The vision he had changed him. He's... not the Obi-Wan we knew."

Anakin thinks of the proper, stiff man who smiled awkwardly at him even as he wrapped Anakin in his own cloak, which he then gave to Anakin, without even hinting at wanting something in return – just like that – and – "I want to see him," Anakin says and then catches himself. "Can I – may I – see him?"

Qui-Gon doesn't say anything for a moment and his breathing rattles – like he's maybe crying, or not to. After a moment he lets out his breath in slow, steadying sigh and lifts his head. "Chances are he won't know you, Anakin," he admits with a terrible tone in his voice. "He didn't know me, and we've been together over a decade."

Anakin scowls at his back and then aims his glare at the floor. He'd only met Obi-Wan couple days ago, an only liked him half of that, but – Obi-Wan had given him his cloak. "Can – can they fix him?" he asks then. "The healers in the Halls of Healing, can they heal him?"

"He isn't injured, Anakin. Just... different."

It sits terribly with Anakin, how resigned Qui-Gon sounds. "Are you just giving up?" he demands. "You're just giving up on him, after all that stuff? Isn't he your friend?"

"Anakin," Qui-Gon says, slightly sharper. He takes another calming breath and then speaks again. "You shouldn't think about it, Anakin. You're meeting with the Jedi Council today, about your admittance into the Order – you need to be calm."

Anakin stares at him for a moment, and he's not dumb – he can tell when people are trying to talk to themselves through other people; his mom did it all the time. But it still sounds so dumb. "No," he says. "No way. If you're not going to do anything for Obi-Wan, then I'm gonna do something."

"Anakin," Qui-Gon says, but Anakin has already turned out. When Qui-Gon calls after him again, Anakin goes a little faster, hurrying to the door and snatching his cloak from the hook. He can hear Qui-Gon getting up just as he slaps his hand on the door panel, and the door slides open for him – and then he's out.

They'd only walked the distance between the Halls of Healing and the place where they'd spent the night once – but Anakin isn't dumb, he memorized the way. Shrugging on Obi-Wan's cloak, he hurries down the hall with its hem flapping behind him, and moment later he's actually running.

Qui-Gon catches him just as he rushes into the observatory room – and finds that Obi-Wan isn't there. "Anakin," the Jedi Master sighs. "Obi-Wan must have been released already. He isn't here anymore."

"Well, where is he then?" Anakin asks stubbornly.

"He is with – with master Yoda, I expect," Qui-Gon says and runs a hand over his face. Now that Anakin can see his face he looks tired. Has he slept at all? It doesn't look like it. "And I don't think he'd like to be disturbed by now."

"Friends can't disturb you," Anakin says. "And besides I want to tell him I'm happy he's awake again, can't I do that at least?"

Qui-Gon looks at him and he looks like he's about to argue, so Anakin scowls up at him and folds his arms, doing best impression of his mother when she's being all stern. How well it works, he's not sure, but Qui-Gon expressions shifts a little – from the weary resignation to even more weary resignation – a forfeit even.

"I suppose we might as well get it over with," he murmurs. "Come on, Anakin. Let's see if we can find where he is."

According to the healers, Obi-Wan had left with Yoda, so that's where they head. It's a long way through the temple. The first time they'd walked through the place – when getting Obi-Wan's unconscious body to the Halls of Healing – it had felt huge, but it fells even bigger now, as Anakin strives to keep up with Qui-Gon's long strides. Everyplace here is so big, all high ceilings and long, mirror smooth corridors. He actually notices people this time too – other Jedi, coming from all sorts of races. There's a lot of them.

But he doesn't care right now.

He follows Qui-Gon as the Jedi Master leads him through the temple, up a lift and then through few more corridors, and to a door. This place is a little fancier than the other places they'd walked past, the corridor has all sorts of vaulted designs and stuff, the windows are painted glass. It's pretty, Anakin thinks, and then Qui-Gon knocks the door.

It opens with a little gust of something that Anakin a moment to identify as moisture. The air in the room is actually wet, he thinks and then he sees inside – a room full of vibrant green things, plants, like the ones in Mom's datapad –

Jedi Master Yoda is there – and so is Obi-Wan, who is sitting on a cushion in the floor on his knees, with a datapad in hand.

"Master Qui-Gon?" Yoda asks, leaning onto his little stick. "Need something do you?"

"Apologies for coming unannounced. The youngling wanted to say something to – Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon says with a weird little pause and looks down at Anakin. Anakin glances up at him and then looks at Obi-Wan who – who...

He doesn't look different, except he does. He's smiling a little as he lowers the datapad, a polite and warm expression, nothing like the awkward one he'd given to Anakin before – but it's weird. It looks nice; it feels nice, except for the fact that Anakin is pretty dang sure he doesn't recognize Anakin at all.

"I –" Anakin starts and then steels himself – he's a freedman now, he doesn't need to hesitate, no one is going to punish him if he makes mistakes, probably – "I'm happy you're awake again," he says.

"And I am happy to be awake, young one. Thank you for your consideration," Obi-Wan says, bowing his head a little – and it's nice too, really nice, he sounds nice but he doesn't sound right. And sure, Anakin doesn't know much about Obi-Wan, but he was all stiff and awkward not – not this.

"You don't know me," Anakin says with disappointment while Qui-Gon looks away

Obi-Wan smiles sadly. "No, I'm afraid I don't," he admits, glancing up at Qui-Gon and then away. "I am very sorry, young one. I don't mean to hurt you by it."

Anakin's lip quivers. "Obi-Wan gave me his cloak," he says and it comes out a little plaintive even to his ears.

The stranger in Obi-Wan's place pauses at that and then takes Anakin in with interest. Anakin smothers the urge to shift nervously from one foot to another – he's still wearing the too-big cloak. And under it, slave clothes, still dirty and dusty with Tatooine sand.

For some reason, the not-Obi-wan stares at Anakin's feet. At his shoes.

"Sand boots," the not-Obi-Wan mutters and runs a hand over his chin thoughtfully, looking up at Anakin's face again. "You come from a desert, don't you young one?"

"Tatooine," Anakin mutters glumly and eyes his boots. They're dusty.

"Indeed?" the not-Obi-Wan asks, arching his eyebrows. "Well it was a kind gift indeed, for young Obi-Wan to bestow his cloak to you," he comments then. "Perhaps his last gift to give," he adds, glancing up at Qui-Gon.

"As far as I know, yes," Qui-Gon agrees with a confused little frown.

The not-Obi-Wan nods slowly and looks at Anakin. "A kind gift indeed," he repeats, looking Anakin over again. He looks thoughtful and understanding but he doesn't say anything else, and Anakin isn't sure what else to say, because this man isn't Obi-Wan at all and... And the silence just stretches and gets awkward.

Eventually Qui-Gon sighs and then bows is head apologetically to Yoda. "My apologies again for the intrusion, Master Yoda," he says. "We'll be on our way, now. Come on Anakin –"

"Anakin?" the not-Obi-Wan asks sharply.

"Yeah?" Anakin asks sullenly, while Qui-Gon pauses and he and Yoda look at not-Obi-Wan.

"Anakin... of Tatooine," the not-Obi-Wan says slowly, strangely. "Anakin Skywalker?"

"Yeah?" Anakin asks again, making a face at him.

The not-Obi-Wan opens his mouth but doesn't make a sound and there is something about his face that Anakin doesn't like, he doesn't understand it but it looks bad, it looks horrible – it looks dangerous.

"You're a terribly young to be joining the Jedi Order," not-Obi-Wan comments, his tone weird, almost vacant and Anakin knows the look in his face – it's like the look old Jira sometimes gave him, when she got lost into her own head and couldn't really see him anymore.

Qui-Gon's hand comes to Anakin's shoulder and squeezes slightly – Anakin glances up and sees uneasy, almost alarmed look on his face.

"Young training begins," Yoda says thoughtfully, stroking at his chin. "Young students need be, to avoid bad habits forming. In older students great danger lies, in anger they harbour. Too young you say? Anakin Skywalker too old might be."

Anakin looks at him, feeling strangely betrayed. "What?" he asks and looks up at Qui-Gon. "I'm too old? I – but – you said I'd be trained."

"You will be, Anakin," Qui-Gon says and grips his shoulder tighter. "You will be a Jedi Knight, I will see to it. Nine is not too old."

"I'm... sorry?" not-Obi-Wan asks and turns to look at Yoda, confusion written all over his face. "Surely nine is too young?"

"Think it too old most Jedi would. Such an old initiate Acquisition Division never accept would. Not so in your experience is it then, hrm?" Yoda asks and pokes at his knee with his stick. "Trained many Jedi have you?"

"Yes – I have," not-Obi-Wan says slowly. "Nearly a dozen in my time. You – you mean to say you take children younger than – than Anakin, here?"

Yoda frowns a little, glancing at Qui-Gon and then back at not-Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon clears his throat. "Generally, Jedi initiates are brought to the temple as infants and toddlers," Qui-Gon says slowly. "No older than two or three."

Anakin looks up at him with worry – that young? "So I really am too old?" he asks worriedly.

His worry has nothing on the sheer horror on not-Obi-Wan's face. "I'm sorry," he says, slightly more insistent now. "Infants and toddlers? You mean to say – you –" he struggles to say something for a moment and then shakes his head. "No, I must be – misunderstanding something."

"Rest assured, we don't give them so much as a training saber until they're old enough to hold them properly," Qui-Gon says wryly.

Judging by not-Obi-Wan's face he is not really assured by that at all.

"Early Jedi training begins here," Yoda muses. "Necessity it is. Hard life it is. Trained many you have, so you say. None so young, hrm?"

"No," Not-Obi-Wan says and he looks at Anakin with something like concern. "I am proud to say not a single one of them younger than sixteen. My latest was nineteen." His voice shakes a little. "I have never, I would never train a child to be a soldier."

The silence that follows is surprised and tense.

"Jedi aren't soldiers," Qui-Gon says sharply, looking almost outraged now. "We don't train our younglings to be –"

"A soldier you think Jedi are?" Yoda asks with a frown at not-Obi-Wan.

Not-Obi-Wan hesitates, glancing away from Anakin uneasily. Then he relaxes a little, some of the terrible coiled tension easing off his frame. "Right, right, of course – I am mistaken, it must be very different here," he says and sighs, shaking his head ruefully. "Apologies – I did misunderstand."

"Hrmm," Yoda says, eyes a little narrowed. "Very different indeed your Jedi Order must be," he says and it sounds a little judgemental now.

"Yes, it must be," not-Obi-Wan agrees and bows his head to Yoda and then to Qui-Gon. "Apologies, again. I meant no insult."

There's a moment of tense silence, while Anakin looks at the not-Obi-Wan uneasily and then peers up at Qui-Gon, who is tense and uneasy for a moment but who, like not-Obi-Wan, forces himself to relax again.

"I don't understand," Anakin says and looks up at Qui-Gon. "How can there be two Jedi Orders?"

"... it's rather complicated, young one," Qui-Gon says with an uneasy shake of his head while not-Obi-Wan lets out a wry chuckle and looks away.

"Still, interesting it is, that know Anakin Skywalker you do," Yoda comments, confusing Anakin even more. "As we did not, until yesterday."

"Well," not-Obi-Wan says and smiles a little painfully. "That's rather complicated too, I'm afraid."

Chapter Text

Mace runs a hand over his scalp, rereading the healer's report for a third time, just to make absolutely certain he hasn't missed anything. It seems more and more fantastical with each read through – if it wasn't for Yoda's serious conviction, he isn't sure he'd believe a word of it. Even if he can't imagine a situation with a young knight-to-be like Kenobi would go through such an ordeal as to pretend a completely personality shift, it is just... too implausible.

But then, when Qui-Gon Jinn is involved...

"The morning with Ben Kenobi I spent," Yoda says to the council, eyeing the open space of the empty floor between them. "Interesting man is he, and strong in Force... but different he is."

"Is there any chance that this is... somehow a misunderstanding?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asks uneasily. "Master Yoda, I have only the highest respect for your judgement, but this..." he motions at the datapad he's holding, the report he, like Mace, is rereading.

"Proof plenty we have," Yoda says and sighs, looking up. "Observed the process was – another mind in control of young Kenobi's body is, an older mind it is. More experienced. When see him you will, know it for yourself you will."

Mace presses his lips tight together. Kenobi had always been a strangely delicate issue. Strong even as young a boy and then so prone to visions. His path had never been the easiest one – because of his visions it had only been at the very last stretch of his time as initiate that Qui-Gon had taken him as padawan that only, Mace thinks, at Yoda's constant prodding. Everyone else had seen the boy for what he was.

Entirely too much trouble, and best left in the shelter of the temple – or, alternatively, the AgriCorps. A youth likely to collapse with a vision at any time was hardly suitable for a knight.

But he had become a padawan and a good one at that. Though Mace had – issues – with Qui-Gon Jinn's method of handling his missions more often that not, handle them he did, and well. Jinn and Kenobi had highest success rate on their missions in the entire Order and that, Mace knows, is in part thanks to Kenobi's visions.

And now this.

He'd always known it would come to head somehow – but he'd been expecting to fin Jinn returning alone, with the report of his padawan's death because a badly timed vision. Not something as monumental, as strange, as this.

"Well," Mace says finally and shakes his head. "We'll need to hear Qui-Gon's report first. After that, we will meet with Kenobi and see for ourselves."

"Hrm," Yoda agrees and looks up. "Master Jinn enter may."

The sense of loss comes ahead of Jinn like a cloud. A master in mourning, Mace's senses scream at him, and he lowers the datapad with a frown. "Masters," Qui-Gon says and bows his head low – and he looks lonesome standing there, without Kenobi's steady shadow at his side.

Well... the man had lost his padawan in the end, hadn't he, and to a vision too.

"Master Jinn," Ki-Adi-Mundi says sympathetically. "Welcome back home. You've had some... interesting time of it, we hear."

"Yes," Qui-Gon answers simply and there is something more than Kenobi missing. Some shade of his usual, borderline cocky confidence, that is just not there anymore. Qui-Gon draws a breath. "You'll be wanting my report," he says.

"Take your time you must," Yoda says. "In hurry we are not."

"I appreciate that," Qui-Gon says with a sigh and then he launches straight away to his mission report.

Mace leans back, watching him. The report starts much like many other from the Jinn and Kenobi pair. With a complete mess. Negotiations that they were supposed to have ended up with them escaping the Trade Federation station on board of a battle droid launch ship of all things. Unsurprisingly, the Trade Federation had gone for the coward's way out of the negotiations.

"Obi-Wan did complain that he had bad feeling about the whole thing," Qui-Gon says with slightly dull tone and shakes his head. "We made our way through the planet to Theed with the aid of a local, where we found Queen Amidala and aided her escape from the planet. The blockade slowed us some, and the Queen's ship sustained some damage to its hyper drive, forcing us find replacements on the way. We settled on stopping by the planet of Tatooine, it being less likely place for a Queen's retinue to stop at."

He stops there for a while, staring at mid distance almost blindly, looking back rather than ahead. Then with a deep breath, he continues. "Obi-Wan stayed behind for the repairs while I ventured out to find the replacements – I found and procured with the aid of a local child, Anakin Skywalker, whom I have brought with me to Coruscant. Before our departure from Tatooine, we were attacked."

"By locals?" Saesee Tiin asks.

"An assassin, Master, after Queen Amidala I believe," Qui-Gon shakes his head. "A black-clad zabrak male with... with a red-bladed lightsaber. He was very skilled with it too – trained in use of the dark side of the Force, I believe. I was forced to meet lightsabers with him."

There's a moment of silence as the Council members exchange surprised looks. This they hadn't heard about – Obi-Wan Kenobi's change had taken highest priority of the whole thing. Some of the council members are now going for their datapads, to bring forth Qui-Gon's written report, to check the battle report.

Mace does same, looking through it quickly. Qui-Gon had escaped, mostly thanks to the proximity of the Naboo cruiser – and according to him the Zabrak had been using what he suspected was the Eight Form. Interesting.

"Dark side of the Force, you say," Plo Koon says softly. "What is your opinion?"

"My opinion is that it was a Sith Lord," Qui-Gon says without hesitation, with some hint of his usual cockiness there – but... it doesn't reach beyond surface level.

Still, his words are followed by a moment of silence. Normally, such an outlandish claim would've been disputed instantly. Normally, however, they didn't have future and visions and strange visitors from alternate realities to consider.

"You think the Sith could have returned without us knowing about it?" Mace asks.

Qui-Gon just looks at him – what energy he has left, it's not enough to argue with. The man really has been brought low, hasn't he?

"Proceed with your report you will," Yoda says after a long, awkward moment.

 Qui-Gon nods. "The battle was broken with no injuries and we escaped the planet's gravity shortly after. Obi-Wan had his first vision when we had just left Tatooine behind."

"First vision?" Depa Billaba asks. "He had another during the mission?"

Qui-Gon nods again. "It was about war and the fall of Jedi Order – I have included it in my written report in as much detail as I can recall of his retelling. I... dismissed its importance when he had it."

Mace frowns a little and turns to his datapad, searching out that section of Qui-Gon's report The retelling of the vision was there – and it was sparse in detail. War with men that all had same faces, Jedi killed by their trusted allies... it does sound like nonsense.

"And then?" Yarael Poof asks.

"We made our way to Coruscant," Qui-Gon says. "We were met by the Senator of Naboo and Chancellor Valorum at a landing pad near the Senate building – and Obi-Wan collapsed with his second vision. The rest I think you know."

The silence that follows is heavy with thought and concern. Mace ignores the implications to search Qui-Gon's face. He looks weary, hasn't been sleeping. And he perceives the change in his student as his student's death.

"How is your training bond with Obi-Wan Kenobi?" Mace asks.

Qui-Gon looks at him. "Gone," is all he says.

Mace nods and then turns his datapad off. He would need to read Qui-Gon's report in full, but not now while he has the actual man in front of him to question. "What do you think prompted the change in your student?" he asks. "Visions never come without cause, and you have more experience than most."

For some reason, that statement makes Qui-Gon look ashamed. "Not as much as I thought, Master Windu," he says and looks down at the floor. He hesitates for a moment. "Before he collapsed, I could hear Obi-Wan's thoughts calling out. I don't think he meant to call out to me, he was rather calling out to Force itself. He asked for a way to change fate."

"So, despite your dismissal of it, he believed his earlier vision about the fall of Jedi Order to be a true one?" Mace asks.

"I think so, yes," Qui-Gon admits.

"Open himself to a wider universe Obi-Wan did, in reaching for solutions," Yoda murmurs and looks at his datapad. "And answer he got, though not the one he thinks he did."

"Qui-Gon, does... I am sorry but I have to ask this. Do you think anything of your student remains?" Depa asks.

Qui-Gon swallows and then lifts his head. "The man who has taken his place is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I believe his claims on that score," he admits. "But no. Nothing of my Padawan but his body remains."

And Qui-Gon can't even give it funeral rites, because it's in control of another person and still alive, Mace muses. If that really is what is going on here...

"The local child of Tatooine you mentioned," Yarael says thoughtfully. "Why did you bring him to Coruscant?"

"Not to Coruscant – to the Jedi Temple," Qui-Gon corrects. "He is... very strong in the Force. I believe he is the centre of a convergence – it was my hoping he'd be tested."

"It was?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asks. "And isn't anymore?"

"It still is, Master, but I understand there are other more pressing concerns now," Qui-Gon says, glancing towards the door. Door behind which Obi-Wan Kenobi waits.

Mace lowers his chin a little and glances at Yoda, who nods in agreement.

"Test the boy myself I shall later," Yoda says. "If council busy is. But for now, another we must hear. Thank, Master Qui-Gon. Please wait outside while speak with Kenobi we will."

Qui-Gon bows his head and leaves without another word – testament to how shaken he is. Usually he can't quite leave without having the last word.

"That man needs a mourning period," Depa comments. "He needs to be taken off active duty until he has centred himself. His loss has left him vulnerable, and if the assassin really uses the dark side of the Force..."

Mace hums in agreement. "Unfortunately, I don't think we can allow it right now," he mutters, thinking of the demands coming from the Senate and scowling.

"Do you think Master Jinn's claims about the Sith are true?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asks worriedly.

"At this point I wouldn't be terribly surprised if they were," Mace answers.

"Moving strangely Force is," Yoda agrees grimly. "New currents there are, dark whispers. Hard to see the dark side is. And now that changed Obi-Wan Kenobi is..."

Mace looks up and hums. "I think I would like to see these changes for myself," he says and looks at the others. There are some uneasy expressions, but everyone seems to be in agreement.

"Send Obi-Wan Kenobi in."

The confidence so noticeably vacant in Qui-Gon is fully present in Kenobi. He enters the council chambers with little hesitation, looking around him with open interest, taking in the many faces there. He looks the same as the last Mace had seen, during another report from another mission... but his posture is different. The submissive dip of his head is utterly gone and his eyes meet those of his onlookers without hesitation.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Mace says.

"Yes?" the young man answers, calm – without reverence or familiarity.

"Anyone here know do you?" Yoda asks.

"I know you," Kenobi answers and then looks around from face to face, eyes sliding past them without recognition. "I've come to realize this galaxy's Jedi Order is very different type of organisation than the one I know. I only ever knew few dozen Jedi personally myself – most of them my own students."

"There is no Jedi High Council where you come from?" Mace asks, eyes narrowed. How a Jedi Order could function without a council?

"There are barely any Jedi at all where I come from," Kenobi admits thoughtfully. "Two now, with any luck."

"... with any luck?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asks, shocked.

"I was training my last student when I joined the Force, I'd only just begun and I wouldn't quite call him a Jedi yet. But with any hope he will learn to master the Force," Kenobi muses.

Mace stares at him, and he's not the only one. Such terrible things, said so easily.

"Why are you here?" Ki-Adi-Mundi finally manages to ask.

Kenobi looks at him and then smiles wryly. "Misunderstanding," he says and looks past them, at the window – at Coruscant below them. "The similarities between the young one and myself fooled us – we thought we were each other. There were things he wanted to prevent – and there are great many things about my past I would change, if only I could. So... we thought it was quite simple."

"But this isn't your past," Plo Koon comments. "And not only this this not your past, but your Jedi Order and ours are different, you say. Can you tell us how are they different?"

Kenobi hesitates and for a moment he actually looks uneasy. "I'm not yet sure of all the dissimilarities," he admits slowly, glancing at Yoda and then away. "I would have to know a little more of your Order of the Jedi to know for sure."

"You won't make the attempt of explaining?" Yarael asks with a slight frown.

"My assumptions have led me astray a couple of times now," Kenobi says wryly. "I'd rather avoid them for now."

"Understandable," Ki-Adi-Mundi murmurs. "But we would still want to hear of your Jedi Order."

Kenobi smiles faintly. "You're trying to figure out if I am what you would consider a Jedi?" he asks and looks between them. No one answers him, but it is rather obvious and when Kenobi's eyes meet Mace's, the young man smiles, knowing.

"What would you consider a Jedi, then?" Mace prods at him. "What is a distinction of a Jedi in your... reality?"

Kenobi considers him thoughtfully and then turns to face him fully. "Where I come from, a Jedi is a being who communes and wields the Force, and who has rejected the temptation of the Dark Side," he explains. "A Jedi Master is a Jedi of a greater level, who has risen above urges and desires and found peace with Force alone. Jedi Knight is a warrior and often a soldier who wields the Force, a sworn protector of justice and peace – and their chosen calling. What I refer to as my Jedi Order is the Order of Jedi Knights in particular. The code of the Jedi Knight is as much organisation as any Jedi had."

"The Code?" Mace asks and leans forward a little. "What is your Code, then?"

Kenobi arches an eyebrow. "It's... not really a set of words, or an oath, not something written down. It's a belief," he says thoughtfully. "Set of beliefs, really. Self control, righteousness, benevolence, compassion, respect for all life, integrity and honour, duty, loyalty... Idealistic heroic courage. What a Knight swears themselves by, that's up to them but that's the general idea."

Mace frowns. "That's... very vague," he says, a little displeased. Nothing quite as clear cut as their own Jedi Code. "What do you swear yourself by?"

"All of it," Kenobi says simply.

The Jedi Masters exchange uneasy glances and Plo Koon hums. "So you have sworn oaths, as a Jedi Knight?"

Kenobi hesitates, glancing at him. "When I was Knighted, yes," he says a little hesitantly. "I... swore oaths, yes."

"And what oaths did you swear?"

The young man presses his lips together momentarily and says nothing for a while. "That is a little private, I'm afraid," he says after a while. "And not entirely relevant, these days."

Mace gives him a look and then leans back in his seat. "Kenobi," he says slowly, even as he releases his irritation to the force. "We are trying to affirm whether you are rightfully part of this order or not. You're not making it easy."

Kenobi arches his eyebrows. "Well, I assumed the answer was already obvious?" he says and looks around. "I am not part of your Order. I am a Jedi Knight of the Order I have been part of most of my life – and I have no interest in switching allegiances now."

No one knows what to say to that. Even Yoda is silent and merely staring at him in something of a surprise, as the young – old? – man stands in the middle of the council chamber, calm and unaffected by the mingled shock and disapproval aimed at him from all sides.

"Kenobi," Mace says slowly. "If you're not part of this Order, then you are not a Jedi."

Kenobi gives him an amused look. "I have been a Jedi for almost fifty years now," he says. "You're little late trying to make that distinction for me, I'm afraid."

"Jedi is a title specific to the members of this Order," Ki-Adi-Mundi says uncertainly.

"Then call me a Jedha instead, call me a Jidai, call me a Je-daii, or Jeddak. Call me whatever other old title you can stomach," Kenobi says with increasing amusement. "I'm afraid it won't change my nature in the slightest, but if it makes you feel better you can call me whatever you wish."

It's a bit much for the entirety of Jedi High Council to be treated like children by a young man who looks like a padawan yet to perform his Knight trials, Mace thinks while he stares at the audacious... person in front of them. Even Qui-Gon at his worst isn't this outrageous.

Mace glances at the others to gauge their expressions. Some are outraged or insulted, others are staring at Kenobi like they don't quite know what to think about him – which is just well; he doesn't either. Plo Koon's expression is as inscrutable as ever, and Ki-Adi-Mundi is stroking hand over his chin, possibly to hide his expression.

And then Yoda starts to laugh.

"Outrageous you are, Obi-Wan," the old troll cackles.

"I learned from the very best," Kenobi says with a smile and bows his head.

"Grandmaster," Mace says sharply, frowning at Yoda.

"Apparently a student of mine he was, and see it now I do," Yoda says and stands up, leaning to his stick. "And an old man he is, no need to treat him like child there is. Obi-Wan, a reason for these questions there is."

"I did suspect that," Kenobi agrees wryly. "Why is my status in this Order so important? You seem to have plenty of other members."

"Requested your services have been, yours and Master Qui-Gon's," Yoda says as he taps his way towards Kenobi. "By the subjects of your last mission. The Queen and her retinue requests that the Master and padawan who started the mission it finish as well."

"The mission where the young one had his visions?" Kenobi asks, becoming serious at once.

"Indeed," Yoda agrees and peers up at him. Then he turns to the door and taps at the floor. "Join us, Master Qui-Gon should. Hear this both of you should, so that decision you can make."

Kenobi glances at the door as it is opened to admit Qui-Gon back in. Mace sighs and smothers the urge to rub at his forehead. He can feel a pressure there, the first signs of a head ache. When he looks up, he sees Qui-Gon avoiding looking at Kenobi while Kenobi sends a guilty glance his way. This is not going to be pleasant, Mace thinks and then stands up as well.

The quiet murmur of the Jedi High Council quiets down and they look at him.

"The Naboo request your presence," Mace tells Jinn and Kenobi, and notes with interest how quickly Kenobi's head turns, how alert his eyes become. Naboo is a familiar name, then. "The Queen is going back and she asked specifically for you two to accompany her and her retinue. Seems like you made an impression," he says dryly and casts a look at Qui-Gon. "Ordinarily this would hardly be a problem, your particular team did start the mission. However..."

He turns to Kenobi meaningfully. Kenobi answers the look with thoughtful expression, running his fingers over his chin. "Queen of Naboo?" Kenobi asks slowly.

"Queen Amidala," Yoda says and Kenobi's eyes twitch. "Know her you do?"

"A version of her," Kenobi says noncommittally, but with slight unease on his face. "A mission, hm? And this request, I suppose it's not something you can easily reject?"

"Jedi don't do missions where you come from?" Mace asks, making Qui-Gon glance at Kenobi.

"Some did," Kenobi says slowly, noncommittally.

"Via Chancellor Valorum this request came," Yoda admits. "Important it is indeed, when the Chancellor of the whole Republic requests makes. And serve the Republic the Jedi Order does."

Qui-Gon's expression is strange and unreadable as he eyes Kenobi and then finally tears his gaze away from him. "I can't speak for – anyone else other than myself, but of course I accept the mission," he says and bows his head.

Kenobi frowns a little his way and then looks down, guilt and shame racing across his face for a split of a moment before he sighs and looks up. "I would accept in the young one's place..." he says slowly, thoughtfully, "but I haven't the right to make his choices for him."

There is an uneasy silence that follows and Mace presses his lips together tightly for a moment to stop the displeased expression from breaking through. Beside Kenobi Qui-Gon draws a sharp breath and then holds it in tight and tense.

"Here padawan Kenobi is not," Yoda says regretfully. "In his place you are now. Ask him we cannot. Ask you we must. Important this is."

"Yes, it probably is," Kenobi agrees quietly and then he bows his head. "Very well. I accept this mission."

Chapter Text

Despite his attempts to the contrary, Qui-Gon hasn't quite managed to centre himself by the time they are meant to go. What has hastened the Queen's return to Naboo he can't say, but it seems like she's more urgent to return to her planet than she had been to leave it, and it has given him no time at all to prepare. Everything seems to be moving so fast now, and he feels every year of his age, he feels slow and sluggish.

He hadn't even gotten the chance to present Anakin to the council for more than cursory greeting. He hadn't been tested at all – there had been no time. Later, Yoda had said. Once the mission was completed.

"I don't understand," Anakin murmurs at his side. "I though we were here to stay?"

"It's complicated, Anakin," Qui-Gon sighs, rubbing at his forehead. Jar Jar is there, more getting into the way of the launch preparations than helping, and the few members of the royal guard are securing the launch pad for the Queen's arrival. She's all that's missing, now.

She, and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Qui-Gon hasn't seen him since the council meeting – Kenobi had headed off with Yoda and the last he'd seen him Kenobi had been asking about the situation in Naboo. All Qui-Gon can hope now is that he'd be able to catch up with the mission on time and hopefully wouldn't... wouldn't be a hindrance.

He still doesn't know how to react to his changed former-Padawan.

"The Naboo are at a conflict," Qui-Gon says when Anakin – with Obi-Wan's cloak thrown over him – keeps looking at him uncertainly. "Their planet is under a siege and there's an organisation, the Trade Federation, who have started landing troops on their planet. Naboo has little in ways of defences – the Queen came here to plead for aid."

"Plead which fell on deaf ears," a cool female voice speaks and Qui-Gon looks up to see the queen's retinue, entering the platform from the lift. Surrounded by the orange clad handmaidens, the Queen of Naboo strives over. "The Senate did not listen."

"I am very sorry to hear that, your Majesty," Qui-Gon offers with a bow of his head. He... hadn't paid any attention to the proceedings at all.

"So am I," the Queen says without an expression and looks away and towards Captain Panaka, who nods at her silent enquiry. "Where is your padawan, Master Jinn?"

"On his way," Qui-Gon promises. "I hope," he adds under his breath.

"We will leave as soon as he is on board," the Queen says, and then strides over to the Nubian cruiser, her handmaidens close around her. Moment later, she's vanished within the ship.

"I take the hearing with the Senate didn't go well at all," Qui-Gon says, glancing at Panaka.

"They accused her of lying and all but laughed her out of the parliament – which then turned into members of the senate accusing each other of lying," Panaka scoffs. "If Senator Palpatine hadn't been there, I think there might've been trouble. It was going nowhere fast anyway."

"Hm," Qui-Gon agrees – and then he senses a tremor in the Force.

He doesn't need to look to fee Obi-Wan Kenobi, joining them on the platform.

Nor does he need to look to hear the way Obi-Wan Kenobi stops sharply, the soles of his boots scraping against the metal of the platform. "Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon closes his eyes. Such an alien mode of address, coming from Obi-Wan Kenobi, he thinks, and turns.

Obi-Wan – Kenobi – has found himself a brand new cloak... and he has cut his hair. Gone is the padawan's tail, gone is the braid – his hair is now uniformly short. The lack of the adornments makes something inside Qui-Gon wither – some lingering hope, perhaps, that there might still be a chance that this could be reversed. But no, Kenobi has rid himself of the marks of a padawan learner – and not under the circumstances Qui-Gon had hoped.

Qui-Gon can feel the muscles of his jaw tightening, can feel his teeth grinding, but strives to keep his reaction to himself. "Yes?" he asks with as much grace as he can muster.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is not even looking at him – he is instead staring at Anakin. "You... I was under the impression that Naboo is besieged," he says slowly and glances up at Qui-Gon. "And on verge of a conflict, if not a war. Why is Anakin Skywalker here?"

Qui-Gon straightens his back a little. "Anakin is under my protection and, until the Council tests and makes their decision concerning him, he is also under my guardianship," he says very slowly and carefully. "And I will look after him."

"... you are bringing a nine year old child to a potential war zone," Kenobi says slowly.

"It is my hoping it will not come to that," Qui-Gon says with a slight frown.

"I can handle myself," Anakin says sharply, hugging Obi-Wan's cloak close to himself.

Kenobi opens his mouth to argue and then looks at the youngling. Then he sighs. "Very well," he says, in tones of lingering disapproval. "You will do as you feel right."

Qui-Gon feels Panaka looking between them strangely, and ignores it, turning away. "The Queen is already on board," he says, and places a hand on Anakin's shoulder, ushering him towards the ship – and away from Kenobi. "We should board as well."

With that said, he heads inside, pushing Anakin ahead of him. Moment later, he can sense Kenobi's steps follow them.

Hopefully they wouldn't have to interact much on the way to Naboo, he thinks. He would steer clear of Kenobi in any case, he decides, hoping that when time came Kenobi could act in way befitting of a Jedi, and that he wouldn't have to concern himself with keeping up with him. For now, he would concentrate on Anakin, and on making peace with himself and his... loss.

Of course then it turns out that he and Kenobi have been put into the same cabin, again.

Ben settles himself on his bunk with a sigh, folding his arms.

He doesn't have the right to object or argue to how things happen here, or how people conduct their business, but something – quite number of things – don't quite sit right with him about any of this.

He doesn't like the concept that he is expected to follow the orders of someone he hasn't given his loyalty to. He doesn't like how the Jedi Order here seems to function – he doesn't like the feeling he gets from them. They all feel... peculiarly cold to him. He doesn't like the mingled hurt and wilful. The fact that Jedi are apparently taken to the Jedi Temple as infants and toddlers still makes his stomach turn. And now, without a second thought, Qui-Gon Jinn has decided to bring Anakin Skywalker to a war zone, at the tender age of nine.

Running a hand over his face, Ben eyes the other bed across from his. He has a feeling he won't be seeing Qui-Gon there much during this trip, if at all. The man is avoiding him, which is perfectly understandable. It makes everything damn awkward, though.

And on top of everything else, they were being sent into a conflict with nary preparation. Apparently, Jedi, even ones claiming the title and the function of Knights, don't wear armour here.

For a moment Ben contemplates going for his datapad, to do little more research on the situation, try and put a finger on the differences so that he might adjust, but... though he has learned quite bit of the politics and history of the current situation of the galaxy, it hasn't been that helpful so far. Most it has managed to do is confuse him further.

The Jedi Order isn't the only thing that's different here. The Galaxy itself is too – the Republic is vastly different from the system Ben could recall. Its authority here is much greater, its powers much wider. And Jedi Order serves as its peace keeping force – something Ben can't quite make his peace with.

The Jedi Order here is so much bigger than the Order of Jedi Knights Ben had known. Thousands of Force sensitives, it seems like a miracle. The feel of them in the Force makes his head spin. And...

And from what he's seen, they're all trained at very early age to serve the Republic.

Ben closes his eyes, and though he's been trying not to think about it, the word indoctrination keeps popping into his head. It's probably not right, he must be misunderstanding the whole of it – it's obvious not all of them are actually serving as a Jedi Knight of his home might, and yet, and yet...

Yet here it is, Qui-Gon Jinn bringing Anakin Skywalker of all people into a war zone. And not the Anakin Ben had met, sixteen and cocky and brilliant and already a man of his own making... but rather, a child. A confused, lost child from what Ben had seen, one who had little notion about what was even going on, never mind what might be ahead...

Letting out a slightly frustrated sigh, Ben gives up and levers himself up to his feet again. No, as much as he tries to, he can't settle with mind with that one.

The cruiser they are on is – quite new, Ben muses as he heads out in search of some sort of answers. Nothing like the junks one might see on Tatooine – certainly not much the Millennium Falcon. Every surface here gleams with polish. Fitting, for the ship of a Queen of Naboo, however. If there was ever a planet of opulent expressions of wealth, it was Naboo.

Another thing to be concerned over, Naboo. So many things begun with Naboo. So many troubling things.

Ben finds Anakin Skywalker in the commissary of the ship – Qui-Gon Jinn nowhere in sight. The boy is sitting alone by one of the tables his legs pulled up to the edge of the chair he's sitting on, wrapped up in the cloak young Obi-Wan had given him, apparently. He looks tense.

"Hello Anakin," Ben says, approaching him, and the boy frowns. "Where is Master Jinn?"

"With the Queen," Anakin says, giving him an uneasy look. "Talking about the battle, I think.

Ben smothers the hint of irritation – apparently he wasn't included in such discussions. Wonderful, he thinks and then motions to the chair across from the boy. "Do you mind if I join you?"

The boy makes a face and then shrugs his shoulder. "Whatever," he says.

Apparently Anakin Skywalker makes for a belligerent child. Ben smiles wryly and sits down across from the boy, watching him with interest. His hair is light – sun bleached, Ben thinks. How charming – by the time he'd met Anakin for the first time, space travel had already made it dark.

"How do you feel?" Ben asks.

"I'm fine," the boy says and tucks the labels of the cloak tighter over him, all but hiding under the cloth.  "I got my cloak."

Ben smiles a little at that. "And a fine cloak it is," he agrees. It is too – on Tatooine, it would've been worth a month's rations. And judging by the clothes Anakin wears under them... he doesn't have much in way of clothing.

Ben leans back on his chair, considering the boy. That is actually little strange, now that he thinks about it. Surely the Lars family could afford better clothes. Why had they let Anakin go at this age anyway? Most peculiar.

"So, what made you decide to be a Jedi?" Ben asks, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

Anakin gives him a strange look. "Anything's better than being a slave," he says.

It takes a moment for the words to actually register. "I – beg your pardon?" Ben says slowly.

Anakin shrugs and folds his arms over his knees, leaning his chin on them. "I guess I wanted to be one anyway. I mean, who wouldn't?" he mutters and looks away. "I just didn't think I could, before Master Qui-Gon freed me."

For a moment Ben just stares at him, utterly uncomprehending. Freed him. Slave? Anakin has been a –

Ben looks away before his expression can give away the sheer shock he feels.

Sure enough, Tatooine is plagued with the terrible practice of slavery. Less so since Empire rose to power – after they'd initially subjugated the black market and smuggling rings of the outer-rim worlds, slavery had fallen more and more out of practice, being no longer seen worth the price of risking Empire's interest. Only the Hutts dared to practice it anymore, in Ben's time.

But Anakin Skywalker, a slave? Had he been in Ben's time? Surely he would know about it? Or... or would he?

"You didn't know?" Anakin asks, looking up at him with eyes all too wise for a nine year old.

"No, I'm sorry young one, I didn't know," Ben admits softly. "I'm very sorry."

Anakin shrugs and looks down at the table between them for a moment. "My mom's still a slave," he says then. "Master Qui-Gon couldn't free her, it was too expensive."

Ben nods slowly, eyeing him with terribly mixed feelings. He'd met Anakin's mother a number of times; she'd been a quiet, private woman who'd loved her children very much, from his experience. Had she really been a slave too?

He leans back on his chair, thinking back to things he hasn't considered in many, many years. Anakin was the only member of that family named Skywalker. Ben had assumed it was simply because Shmi had married again – in Tatooine life was hard and easily cut short, after all, and to find companionship again after such a loss was a gift.  And one didn't simply ask about these things...

He didn't really know anything about who Anakin's father might have been though. It had never come up. Nor had anything to do with any time before Anakin and his mother had joined the Lars family, had it? It could have been that Shmi and Anakin had, indeed, been slaves. And who would wish to talk about such things, after they were over? Who would wish to dig up such old wounds?

Ben thinks about what came after, the decisions and mistakes and – had such history made Anakin more susceptible? Had he known, could he have stopped it?

"Hey, um," Anakin says and Ben snaps his eyes to him, drawing them away form the sands of Tatooine – and away from the fires of Mustafar. "You're not Obi-Wan, so... what should I call you?"

"Ah, you may call me Ben, if you like," Ben says and offers a smile. "It's what I have been going by for many years."

"Ben," Anakin says and makes a slight face. "You know about Tatooine?"

"Yes, I do," Ben agrees and smiles wryly. "I lived there for nearly twenty years. Longer than that, if you count together the times I visited."

"But – you're a Jedi," Anakin says. "Right? Why would you ever want to go Tatooine, when you're a Jedi?"

Ben smiles and leans forward a little. "My family was there," he says simply. "So, I visited them often and then, eventually, stayed for them."

"So you're really older than Obi-Wan, huh?"

"By great many years, yes," Ben agrees and gives him a conspiratorial smile. "I like to think I'm young for my age."

Anakin looks at him like he's not sure if he's supposed to find that funny or not. "I thought Jedi aren't allowed to have families?"

Ben smothers the urge to frown at that. What now? "Well, I don't know about being allowed," he says slowly. "Mine happened entirely without my input, as families tend to do, most of the time."

Anakin frowns a little, watching him suspiciously. "Huh," he says finally and tucks the cloak tighter around him. "Are you really a Jedi? You don't act much like the other Jedi do."

"How so?"

"I don't know. You're... warmer, somehow," Anakin says and looks at something that's not quite Ben's face – like he's peering inside him. "And it's not just that you come from desert world. You feel more."

Ben considers him and the words. Already so sensitive? "Hmm," he answers. "How do the other Jedi feel to you, then?"

Anakin shrugs. "Like they don't feel anything. Or if they do, they put it away fast," he admits. "Qui-Gon does though. He hurts, a lot. He tries not to, but he does."

"I suppose he does," Ben agreed guiltily and then shakes his head. "I don't know what to tell you, young one. The Jedi here are... strange to me as well. I don't think I'm much like them, no."

"So you're different kind of Jedi?" Anakin asks. "So, which kind of Jedi is better?"

Ben looks at him and then chuckles. "I'm afraid you're asking a very biased source," he answers with a wry smile. "And it's not my place to criticize the Jedi Order here. Their way is different from mine and mine from theirs – neither is necessarily better nor worse than the other."

"That doesn't really tell me anything," Anakin complains.

"Well that's because I am very carefully trying to say nothing," Ben agrees in amusement.

"Hmph," Anakin answers, giving him a pout. "I liked the other Obi-Wan better," he says.

Ben smiles sadly at that. "I think most people here did," he agrees and looks away.

"What happened to him?"

"He joined the Force," Ben answers.

"You mean he's dead," Anakin accuses him.

Ben doesn't answer immediately, wondering how to put it into terms that a child unfamiliar with the Force might understand. Luminous beings are we, Yoda had said so poetically, but it wouldn't make much sense to Anakin, would it?

"Death isn't the end for a Jedi," Ben says finally. "The Force is with us. When one trained in it passes, they can become part of it. Before young Obi-Wan came to me, I was part of the Force and he took my place. He is still there and he will always be there. It's not a death as you know it."

Anakin stares at him silence. "That sounds like lie you tell little kids to make them feel better," he says mutinously.

"I promise you it's not," Ben says with a sad smile. "If you're to become a Jedi and learn the ways of the Force, one day, you will feel him too."

"Do you feel him now?" Anakin demands.

"Yes," Ben agrees.

"Is he here?"

Ben chuckles. "He is part of the Force, young one. He is everywhere now," he says gently.

Anakin makes a face at that, eyeing him searchingly and then scowling. "You are lying – that's not even possible," he says. "You're just trying to make me feel better."

"Yes, but I am also telling the truth," Ben says and leans forward a little. "You sense the Force, don't you?"

"I don't know," the boy admits. "Maybe? Master Qui-Gon says I use the Force when I podrace, that it enhances my senses, but I don't know if it does."

Podracing? Good grief. "You can sense people's emotions, can't you?" Ben asks. "You sense mine right now. What am I feeling?"

"Kind of... amused and warm?" Anakin says uncertainly.

Ben smiles a little wider. "That's good. I can sense your emotions too – you feel confused and curious."

"Anyone can tell that," Anakin mutters.

"You're also lonely and a little scared," Ben says. "And nervous and you're not sure what's going to happen to you. You miss home, even though you think you shouldn't."

Anakin presses his lips together and lowers his chin to rest on his knee. "Yeah," he admits.

"It's alright," Ben assures him gently. "You're young and things are happening that are beyond your control – it's normal to feel concerned. And it's alright to miss home, too, everyone does. But that – the ability to sense emotions of others – that's the Force. That's our emotions, flowing in the Force, carried over by its currents. They, like the Force itself, are energy."

Anakin frowns a little, his forehead scrunching up in concentration. "Huh," he says.

"As you learn more and grow more sensitive, you will feel more," Ben says. "The currents of emotions coming from others are merely a start, just the surface of it all. Beneath it, the galaxy is in constant flux of energy." He closes his eyes. "Sending out my feelings, I can still feel the life of Coruscant, the Jedi there – so strong in the Force. I can feel a star we're passing by, some fourteen light years left of us – two planets with life on them. The lives of all the people on this ship as they move around. And, when I concentrate... yes, I can feel young Obi-Wan too."

When he opens his eyes, Anakin has closed his and is frowning at whatever he's sensing, if he's sensing anything at all. Ben watches him with a smile, fondly thinking back to the hot shot pilot he'd once met, how suspicious he'd been of the Force in the beginning – and how dreadfully talented in it he'd become. Anakin Skywalker had always been strong in the Force – it flowed like a river through the whole family.

"Huh," Anakin says again and opens his eyes. "I think Master Qui-Gon is coming?"

Together they look to the door way, just as it hisses open to admit Qui-Gon Jinn into the commissary.

Anakin turns to look at him interestedly. "You do it on purpose, don't you?" he asks. "The warm thing, you're... kind of putting it out there? That's how you feel things. With actual feelings."

"Your own feelings serve you well," Ben says with an agreeing nod. "But don't let them run amok, Anakin, or they end up only confusing you. Cultivate the ones you like, the soft kinder feelings – and let go of the ones that hinder and pain you. And beware of anger and hate and other dark feelings, they'll only lead you to astray."

"What are you doing?" Qui-Gon asks, walking over to them.

"We're talking about feelings," Anakin answers. "And the other Obi-Wan."

The look of disturbed disapproval on Qui-Gon's face is almost amusing. Ben tilts his head and sends his feelings out – and gets nothing but a blank wall of hurt nothingness back.

The Jedi of this galaxy really worry him, Ben muses. "I was actually hoping to catch you, Master Jinn," he says and takes out something from under his tunic. "Here – I believe these are yours."

It takes a moment of Qui-Gon to accept the small bundle of carefully wrapped cloth. The pain that comes from him when he realizes what it is, is like a shock wave – there and gone in an instant, as the Jedi strangles out his own reaction.

"Why did you cut your hair?" Qui-Gon asks, even as he clutches onto cloth wrap. "That's not how you're supposed to do it."

"Those symbols, whatever they mean, weren't mine to keep – and I thought to spare you the pain of severing them yourself," Ben admits and runs a hand over his short hair, now free of adornments. "I am sorry if I did it wrong – but in good consciousness I couldn't keep them."

Qui-Gon breathes in and out and then looks down. He unwraps the cloth slowly to reveal the severed braid and tail. Then he re-wraps them shakily. "In time I will appreciate this," he says, all but forcing the words out. "Right now, I do not."

Ben nods slowly. "I am so sorry I can't offer you more."

The Jedi master nods shakily and then looks at Anakin. "I'm sorry," he then says and turns to leave.

Ben and Anakin look after him sadly. "He hurts so much," Anakin murmurs. "Is he ever going to be alright?"

"He has lost a son," Ben says and sighs. "It's not something one simply recovers from, I'm afraid."

Chapter Text

Joining forces with the Gungans to fight the droid armies is an inspired idea, Qui-Gon thinks, if not quite something he would put his full confidence to. Queen Amidala's gambit to bring the Gungans to her side is well done, and in truth probably the best thing she can do at this juncture, and yet... Gungans.

Their technology is a mismatch of what they've taken and adapted from the Naboo and the way they've adapted it is somewhat archaic. They use mounted combat, they sport spears – there isn't as much as a blaster in sight. Qui-Gon has seen enough many conflicts to see how badly outmatched they are against the specially designed battle droids.

The Gungans, even if everything went precisely according to plan, wouldn't last longer than few minutes at most, he fears.

"What is the situation at the city," the Queen, now revealed in her previously anonymous position as her own handmaiden, asks Panaka, just recently returned from Theed.

"The city has almost been cleared out entirely," Panaka says. "Everyone is in camps. Some people escaped the rounding up – few hundred police, some guards. They've formed underground movement... I've brought as many of the leaders as I could find. But I fear this isn't a battle we can win."

The federation army is much bigger than any of them thought, and it has been making a quick sweep of the planet, rounding up the almost pacifistic citizens of Naboo with next to no opposition. The few launch ships Qui-Gon had seen were only that – small sum of a much larger whole.

"The battle here will be a diversion," the Queen says. "The Gungans will draw the droid army away from the cities, and when they do we can enter Theed undetected. Once there we will need another diversion..."

They plan it a little more, pointing out their entrance, where to place the distraction, how they get into the palace and, hopefully, at Viceroy Nute Gunray. Qui-Gon looks on and says nothing, feeling no small amount of unease about the whole proceedings.

He has never liked war and though the one of Naboo looks to be a short one, it leaves an ashen taste in his mouth.

Especially so because of how keenly Kenobi is listening in on the battle plans.

The Queen looks up at Qui-Gon. "What do you think, Master Jedi?"

Qui-Gon sighs. "We can't use our powers to help you," he says. "And the Viceroy will be well guarded. It will be no easy task. But we will stay at your side, your Majesty. And do whatever we can to protect you."

Kenobi lifts his eyes from the maps and frowns at him. Qui-Gon meets his eyes across the maps and silently dares the man to object.

And, to his shock, Kenobi does. "I mean no insult and pardon me for speaking out of turn," he says slowly and his eyes slide from the maps to Boss Nass of the Gungans. "But – this plan is – suicidal."

Qui-Gon's eyebrows lift slightly and the Queen's expression grows stiff.

"Mind your tongue," Panaka snaps. "You are speaking to her Highness of – "

"I don't speak of the plan to enter Theed – I am speaking of the battle plan," Kenobi says.

"Yousa no approve dis?" Nass asks, jowls wobbling as he scowls.

"I'm sorry – but you have home field advantage and the opening move. You are the instigators of this battle," Kenobi says slowly. "And therefore the field of engagement is of your choice. And – you're planning a front to front battle on a flat plain, and not only that, but in a valley? You're out numbered and from what I can tell your weapons have much shorter range than that of the droid weapons – out on an open valley, surrounded by hills... you will get summarily surrounded and defeated."

"Wesa have da shields," Nass answers, his scowl growing deeper.

"So your battle strategy is defensive from the start?" Kenobi asks, uncertain. "Then surely you should find a high ground and fortify at the very least – not... not a valley."

"The idea is for the Gungans to divert the armies," Panaka says, frowning. "A weaker, stationary target will be more tempting. And while the droid armies are distracted, our pilots will hopefully take out the droid control ship."

"That is all well and good, and best of luck to them – but what if they can't?" Kenobi asks plainly.

If they can't, then the gungans would lose the battle inside thirty minutes, quite possibly less.

Qui-Gon strokes a hand over his beard, eyeing the man who looks like his padawan but isn't. This… is a side of the man he hadn't expected.

"Master Jinn?" the Queen asks, her expression still frozen at the face of Kenobi's criticisms, but there is a hint of uncertainty there too. She is only fourteen, after all – and Kenobi's comments are, so far… entirely valid.

"What would you propose as an alternative battle tactic, then?" Qui-Gon asks, looking at the other, strange, Jedi.

Kenobi glances his way and then turns to Boss Nass. "You have advantage on timing, ground and mobility, and not much else," he says. "You're out manned and out gunned, not the most favourable position to begin with. So I suggest you use these advantage you have. Instead of fighting where the droids will have no trouble engaging your armies, draw them into the forests or better yet, to the swamps where they will be greatly hindered."

"Hrmmm," Boss Nass hums, eyeballing him thoughtfully.

"You know these lands better than anyone, I'm sure. You will know the best places to engage where the terrain is to your advantage," Kenobi continues. "Droid armies of these types are slow – and this army from what we've seen doesn't seem to have air support aside from the droid launch vessels themselves, and those are slower still. Also, your deflector shields are mobile," he points out rather helplessly. "Which means you can very easily move your staging grounds as needed. That, if well utilized, might be your best advantage. Keeping it stationary out in the open is a terrible waste."

"We are trying to draw the droid armies out," Panaka says again, though he too is frowning.

"Not at the expense of the gungans, surely," Kenobi objects.

"Hrm," Nass says again. "Yousa thinking wesa unmatched, wesa be beat by dese mekaniks?"

"I am sorry, I mean no insult – but these kinds of droids are easy and cheap to mass produce, and in transport they fold away to very small space," Kenobi says with a shake of his head. "A single launch ship can easily carry hundreds of droids. Numbers, I'm afraid, aren't on your side here. And they will be, each and every one of them, armed with blasters, possibly even with greater weapons. Grenades, artillery, we don't know what yet. Even with your shields… it's hardly a fair fight."

Somewhat helplessly Kenobi looks to the side of the camp, were there are some of the gungan artillery on display. Qui-Gon follows his gaze and frowns a little. The shield projectors are impressive, but as far as their offensive weaponry went… it was limited to grenade like boomas to be thrown, slung, or catapulted. Qui-Gon never studied military arts beyond lightsaber combat and what he needed to know to do his duties – army actions weren't his field of experience. But even he can tell the sheer disparity of technology here.

A catabult, even one firing bombs, wasn't match for a single plasma blaster, accurate to six hundred meters and more. The rate of fire alone…

Qui-Gon frowns and glances at Kenobi, who eyes the catapults with a sort of apprehension that tells more than the man's words manage to convey.

"It sounds like you expect this fight to be a immediate loss," Panaka says after a while and scoffs.

"If the droid army is as simple in it's formation as their launch ships suggests – limited to foot soldier droids armed with mainly or maybe even only by blasters  – then I do believe there is a way to win," Kenobi says slowly. "But it won't be easy. This valley battle plan…" he trails off and shakes his head, "is not the way to do it."

"You think this battle could be won?" Queen Amidala asks with hint of honest surprise – and so gives away what she had been thinking the odds of the gungans really were.

Kenobi hesitates, glancing at Qui-Gon and then away – towards, of all things, Anakin Skywalker, who is hanging back with the R2 unit from the Queens ship. "Yes," he then says. "With proper strategy and planning… yes."

"Hmm," Boss Nass says, stroking hand over his chin again. "Yousa Jeday be telling us mekaniks be coming nosa longo go."

"I – was?" Kenobi asks with surprise.

"He was, yes," Qui-Gon says quickly, giving Kenobi a look. The other Jedi catches it and then nods quickly.

"Hrm, and yousa right. Mekaniks come," Boss Nass humms and is thoughtfully quiet for a moment. "So, Yousa thinking swamp combat," he hums after a period of thought and casts a look at the young queen of Naboo – who had been the one to suggest meeting the droids on the open fields instead. She looks down, her face like carved marble. "Hrm..." Nass says, stroking his chin and turning back to Kenobi. "Yousa tells u-sa more."

"I –" Kenobi hesitates, glancing at Qui-Gon's way. "I – can help you plan the battle if..."

Qui-Gon frowns, watching Kenobi with an odd feeling growning in the pit of his stomach. Kenobi... is wearing the same Jedi robes as him and even with the padawan braid and tail gone he is still very young. Inexperienced, all of Qui-Gon's instincts and memories tell him, and judging by Panaka's expression he's not the only one thinking that.

But Kenobi isn't young and for the first time Qui-Gon thinks back to Kenobi's claim to the title of Jedi Knight and a General and what it actually might mean. There is an sense of age about Kenobi now that wasn't there before – and hint of experience which is now, in it's element, shining through.

And for a moment… Qui-Gon regrets not taking the moment to talk with him more and getting to know him better.

He clears his throat. "The more trouble the droid army is given here, the better distracted they – and the Trade Federation – will be," Qui-Gon says after a while and turns to the Queen.

"Master Jinn," the Queen says through slightly clenched teeth. "Do you vouch for your padawan's plans?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi isn't my padawan anymore," Qui-Gon admits and looks at the visibly – but only visibly – younger foreign Jedi. "And he does seem to have experience with warfare. If he thinks he will be of more use here..."

He can't quite keep the disapproval out of his voice, and Kenobi's lips tighten a little at the sound of it. He lifts his chin at the face of the quiet rebuke and folds his arms. "I don't know about that," Kenobi admits and looks to Captain Panaka. "Will capturing the Viceroy put stop to the droid army?"

"If it doesn't, then taking out the control ship will," Panaka says determinedly. "We have some pilots here and more are kept in Theed. If we can release them and get them back to their ships..."

Kenobi nods slowly and the turns to the Queen. "I apologise but I can't claim to be confident of your odds, your Majesty," he admits apologetically. "Your plan relies on too many ifs. But it's ultimately your decision, Majesties," he nods to the Queen and to Boss Nass. "I can only offer advice."

Queen Amidala and Boss Nass exchange looks, the Queen looking still a little tight around the lips while Boss Nass looks thoughtful.

"Mesa say wesa splitting up," Nass says and motions at Kenobi. "Wesa bringen des Jeday with us. Mesa thinking hesa maken a Bombad General for den Grand Army. Desa go with yousa," he motions at Qui-Gon. "And taken den Theed."

Qui-Gon looks at Kenobi who considers it and then tucks his hands into the sleeves of his cloak. "I have no objections," Kenobi says calmly.

Qui-Gon looks down. Already, he'd be going to the field with no Obi-Wan Kenobi at his side. And true enough, he hadn't really expected he would, not really – he doesn't think he can trust this man to have his back the way his Padawan did, with all the surety of long experience. In actual combat, that might've proven disastrous. And still...

"Master Jinn?" Queen Amidala asks.

"Whatever you think is best, your Majesty," Qui-Gon says like through water. "Our mission is to aid you in whatever way we may. If you think Obi-Wan Kenobi will do better here..."

She presses her paintless lips tight together for a moment and then nods decisively. "Then it is decided," the Queen of Naboo says and lifts her head. "I will leave planning of the battle to you, Boss Nass, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Master Jinn, join us."

"I will be right there, your Majesty," Qui-Gon says and hesitates as the Naboo turn to head away, to plan their own assault on Theed.

"Mesa bringen our generals," Boss Nass says. "Wesa plannin attack."

As he heads off with new confidence in his strife, Kenobi looks up to Qui-Gon, his face inscrutable. "What about Anakin, then?" he asks after a moment, glancing to where the boy is hesitating over the Naboo company, and the two jedi, uncertain whether to follow the Naboo or wait. "Which battlefield will that child be at, hm?"

Qui-Gon draws a breath and then releases it slowly. "You care a lot about Anakin Skywalker's fate," he comments uneasily. He thinks he knows why, too, Kenobi's reaction to the boy had been marked when he'd realised who it was. "Why is he so important to you? You seem to have more… pressing matters to concern yourself with, right now."

Kenobi arches an eyebrow. "Anakin Skywalker is family," he says.

"I – what?" Qui-Gon asks with surprise. That certainly wasn't what he'd expected.

"Where I come from, his step sister married my brother," Kenobi shrugs. "That's how I met him, through them. And I trained him in the use of the Force for a number of years," he adds almost off hand. "So no, I don't really have anything more important to concern myself with than that boy's well being, I'm afraid."

Qui-Gon stares at him for a moment. "That's attachment," he says.

Kenobi eyes him silently for a moment. "Yes?" he then asks, confused.

"Jedi aren't –" Qui-Gon starts and then stops to consider him, as Kenobi stares at him with polite confusion. "This isn't the time for this," he then says, more to himself than Kenobi, and makes his decision. "Anakin will come with us to Theed – he will be safe with me. I will keep him safe," He adds. "Not for you, but for the boy himself. He will be a great Jedi, one day."

Kenobi considers him silently for a moment, his face inscrutable. "Greater than you can imagine," he agrees and bows his head deeply. "May the Force be with you, Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon hesitates for a moment and bows back just as deeply – like to a respected stranger. "And may the Force be with you... Obi-Wan Kenobi," he says and then watches Kenobi turn and walk away, to join the army he is now, by all appearances, leading.

He looks perfectly at home there, Qui-Gon thinks with quiet unease, and then he too turns away, to follow the Naboo instead.

Whatever the gungans do, whatever actions Kenobi leads them to… it works. The droid armies are already drawing away from Theed by the time the assault force approaches the city, and from the shadows of the secret passages they can watch the launch ships go. Watching them through a set of binoculars, Qui-Gon realizes that they might have more than underestimated the Trade Federation forces.

"We will wait until the last ship is out of sight," Panaka says. "Stand by."

They stand by, Qui-Gon keeping a hand on Anakin's shoulder, keeping him close. He feels ever increasing unease about the whole situation.

He isn't used to thinking in terms of battle and neither are the Naboo. In some part they all had looked to this conflict as something... cleaner and neater than it really is or ever will be. Droid armies are easy to dehumanize – they aren't alive. So in some part the conflict hadn't seemed quite real. More like a game, than true life or death situation.

But on the streets of Theed, there is blood. There are bodies.

There is death.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon says while the boy looks at a mound of corpses from the shadows of their hiding place. "Don't look there – look at me."

"I've seen dead people before," Anakin says, his tone strangely flat, but he does obediently look away.

Qui-Gon sighs. He couldn't have left Anakin behind, not at Coruscant and not with Kenobi, who was likely to see and do worse things with the gungans… but he shouldn't have brought boy here either. Kenobi had been right about that.

"Once we get into the palace, you keep out of the action, find a place to hide and stay down, alright?" he says seriously. "You stay down, stay safe."

Anakin looks at him and nods. "Alright," he says.

They wait. Qui-Gon takes the opportunity to centre himself as best he can, calming the unease of his mind and letting go of his anxieties. Obi-Wan's absence is like a void next to him, one he is not yet used to, but he tries to work around it. He would have to work around it.

"I think that's as good as we're going to get," Panaka says finally at the Queen's side. "The rest don't seem to be intending to go anywhere."

"How many are there still?" The Queen asks.

"Too many," Panaka admits. "But this is out best chance. Let's go."

Thanks to the many secret water ways of Theed, they get close to the palace unhindered by droid opposition – but it's not an easy way, not physically nor emotionally. The streets aren't the only place with bodies – in the secret passages there are refugees, lot of them injured, some of them dying. Qui-Gon stands between them and Anakin as much as he can – but the abject human misery is hard to hide here.

It has been few days since the attack on Naboo had begun, and since it had became an invasion instead. In that time… many things had happened.

Anakin's face grows more and more expressionless the more they see of it – and the Queen is obviously torn between staying and helping her people – and pushing forward to take back her capital city.

"We must carry on," Captain Panaka whispers to her, while she looks on a wounded woman who is cradling a crying child. "The best thing we can do for our people is take back our planet."

"Yes," she agrees, her voice faint, and they continue on, Qui-Gon keeping Anakin close to his side.

Thankfully it isn't until palace that they're forced into combat. The palace grounds are much heavier guarded, a droid launch ship and several turrets having been placed around the entrances with several droids standing in guard. Qui-Gon and Panaka assess the situation and for a moment Qui-Gon wonders if Kenobi would've had tactic for this – but it's too late now.

They take the droids head on – and there are losses. The burn of flesh under blaster bolt is quick and acrid in  the air – and it is impossible to dismiss.

Qui-Gon does his best to keep Anakin and the Queen close so that he can protect them both with his lightsaber blade, and he misses Obi-Wan's presence at his side desperately. Neither of his two charges is hit, he can do that much alone at least – but he keeps half expecting to see his padawan pushing forward to take out the droids while he stands in guard and… and it doesn't happen.

The brief engagement lasts for mere seconds as the palace guards take out the droids with blasters of their own – but it feels longer. And after it, there is no time for second guesses or hesitation.

"Come on," Queen Amidala calls and motions to the few pilots with them. "Go, get your men and get to your ships. Our planet's hope rides with you."

"Take out that control ship," Panaka orders – and the two groups split. The Queen's retinue head for the palace proper, to find their target, while the pilots head for the palace hangar bays.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon says. "Take cover until we've cleared the area. Go, hide."

"Right," the boy says, glancing around quickly and then hurrying off. Qui-Gon looks after him for a moment to make sure he gets out of the way properly – and then he feels it, a slithering disturbance seeping into the Force.

Turning, he sees the zabrak Sith standing front of them at the doors of the hangar bay, clad from head to toe in black and glaring with hate filled yellow eyes.

Qui-Gon glances at the Queen and then where Anakin had hidden and then looks at the Sith, lightsaber in hand. He's torn between his duties – but he's a Jedi above all, and Sith are an ancient, terrible enemy. His duty is clear.

"I'll handle this," he says to Amidala. "Go."

"We'll take the long way," the Queen says, and as the Sith drops his hood to reveal a crown of horns, she and her retinue hurry off. The Sith glances after them and then looks at Qui-Gon, his hate filled eyes narrowed.

And then the Sith speaks, his voice soft. "Where is your... padawan?"

Qui-Gon grips his lightsaber. "I am your opponent," he says. "And I promise you I will be opponent enough for you."

"Not here, is he?" the Sith says, ignoring him, and narrowing his eyes further. "Is he in the palace at all? The city? No," he says and looks away, the way the retinue had came from. "… at the battle?"

What gives Qui-Gon way he isn't sure, his expression perhaps, but it's enough for the Sith who bares sharp teeth at him. But it isn't out of delight at perceived weakness at finding his prey alone. No, it's annoyance – and belatedly Qui-Gon realizes the Sith has never even seen Obi-Wan, has he? How would he even know about him? Why would he care about him?

And then Sith turns as if to simply leave – and without second thought Qui-Gon attacks.

"I am your opponent," Qui-Gon says again sharply as his lightsaber meets a glowing red blade. The Sith is strong – one handed, he is strong enough to easily hold his blade against Qui-Gon's, even with all the force Qui-Gon brings to bear against it.

The Sith scoffs at him. "But you are not my target," the Sith answers and grabs his long hilted lightsaber in two handed grip. The pressure that puts against Qui-Gon's blade is greater than before, and he can feel his own strength giving away under the Sith's greater physical prowess – and just when he moves to switch to parry and then attack, the Sith pulls his blade sharply back, sending him off balance.

Qui-Gon nearly gets an elbow to the face and while he hurriedly ducks under it, the Sith turns – and flees.

For a moment Qui-Gon stares after him in incomprehension – and then it catches up with him. The Sith isn't fleeing.

He's going to go after Obi-Wan. After Kenobi. What – why? Obi-Wan Kenobi is just a padawan as far as anyone knows. He's only...

...from the future, a voice murmurs and it sounds a lot like Qui-Gon's padawan.

Qui-Gon takes a step to go after the Sith – and then he stops. The Sith is after Kenobi – it's unexpected but... that means he isn't after the Queen, now. Qui-Gon's mission is protecting and helping the Queen of Naboo, not hunting down the Sith. If he goes after the Sith when the Sith is no longer a threat to the Queen...

"Damn it," Qui-Gon mutters and rummages through his robes. He finds his comm unit at the bottom of his inside pocket and quickly hits it. "Kenobi, come in. Kenobi?" He waits for a moment. "Obi-Wan?" he calls again, pressing the activator again. "It's Qui-Gon Jinn, come in. Obi-Wan Kenobi, come in, please."

No answer. Kenobi must've not brought his comm unit with him – or there is so much interference in his location that signal isn't going through. For a moment Qui-Gon hesitates over the comm, but... he has mission to do and Kenobi, whatever he is, is also a Jedi. An experienced war veteran, even.

Muttering curses, Qui-Gon turns. "Anakin?"

Little sandy blond head pops up from behind a crate. "Yes Qui-Gon, sir?"

"Come, this way, quickly," Qui-Gon calls, waving the boy over. Anakin hurries forward from his hiding spot and together they head after the Queen.

Hopefully Kenobi would know how to handle a Sith as well as he seems to know how to handle a droid army.

Chapter Text

It is a little strange to be both at the peak of physical fitness and ability – and at the same time, completely out of practice.

Young Obi-Wan's body is strong and healthy in a way Ben had almost forgotten human being could be, with all of his old aches and difficulties simply swept away. No aching joints or old scars, no decades old injuries making his life difficult here – and certainly no slow, weary degradation that Tatooine had put his body under. It feels almost unnatural, how fit he is now.

But at the same time everything is just slightly off. Obi-Wan Kenobi is… limber and agile in a way Ben keeps just flat out forgetting. He goes to reach for something, to bend just so, to turn this way, and his body moves to it smoother than he's used to it, reaches farther easier and faster. It is also missing all of his old wear and tear – and the toughness developed over decades from old sores and calluses.

When he went to mount a kaadu, one of the gungan war mounts, he could feel how unadjusted his body was to riding. Definitely didn't help that a kaadu was just slightly wider than eopie, something he is far more familiar with.

And when he drew a lightsaber, it felt alien in his hand.

"General," one of the gungans calls him. "Wesa getting notha wave – notha square coming disa way."

"You know your positions," Ben says and hovers a hand over the lightsaber handle. He doesn't draw it, however. He hasn't needed to so far, and so as long as he can avoid it… "Everyone get ready."

The gungans have turned out to be relatively good soldiers, with little bit of direction. Their discipline is so and so and it takes a little explaining to get them to understand what he wants from them, but once they get it, they do their work without complaint. They'd even found some excitement in the tasks, once they'd gotten the hang of them.

The Droid Army had been lured to the fields like Queen Amidala had originally suggested by a small contingent of the Grand Army – and by quite bit of noise they'd been making. With spacing, one catapult for show and plenty of war drums, they'd managed to make their small group look much bigger than it actually was, and to Ben's relief – and slight amusement – the enemy had taken the bait. Taking the high ground of the valley, they'd begun unloading their droids.

You could fit a lot of droid combatants into their troop carriers – easily a hundreds per each. They were, however, slow to unload ands though the droids came with shield generators of their own, theirs suffered the same weaknesses as the gungan shields – and yet lacked its strengths. The shield generators deployed by the droids couldn't be moved while the shield was active.

So, they dug in – deployed their shields, deployed their troops and then were easily left in dust when Ben's bait turned tail and ran for the forest. And then the droids followed – without second thought leaving what meagre fortifications they had made behind.

Ben has some suspicions about the experience of the commander of his enemy's troops, but so as long as it serves to his advantage…

Ben hops down from the kaadu and hands the reigns over to a gungan – Nerra, her name is – who has become something of assistant to him during the conflict. He casts a look at their little bottle neck – path through some cliffs, surrounded by ancient, thick trees. He has gungans with throwing boomas up in the trees and behind the cliffs there is a catapult, just in case.

So far, the catapults have proved largely useless, however. Slow to move, slow to load and with area of impact that didn't really justify the time and effort spend managing the things, they were best left aside in Ben's opinion – or better yet, behind. The gungans hadn't been too happy about it, though, so for now he was dragging the damn things with them.

… But if a droid happened to throw a grenade at them, Ben would happen to be too busy to deflect it.

The sounds of kaadu and gungans hollering at the top of their lungs, comes through the forest. Moment later madly shouting and wailing gungans ride right through the narrow path of the cliffs, waving their arms madly. "Theysa coming, theysa coming!" they shout. "Wesa doomed!"

Ben smiles a little at that and holds up a hand in the air, signal to get ready. Nerra takes out an atlatl to throw and waits while Ben's right hand strays to the lightsaber handle once more – and unclasp it from his belt.

He hasn't lit the thing once so far, and how light it is makes him a little uneasy.

The shriek of blaster fire start to sound a moment later and then the distant, awkward clatter and clanking of the droids as they struggle to make their way through the foliage. Moment after that, the first blasts hit the dust left behind by the wake of Ben's bait, already safely behind the shelter of the cliffs.

And then the droids walk right into the bottle neck, clattering against each other as they shuffle their ranks to fit into the tight space – effectively trapping themselves right underneath the gungan forces.

The droid army is… not the smartest. There's a reason why their usage in Ben's time had been very brief and quickly set to the wayside in favour of clones instead. No machine could match a sentient being when it came to battle awareness or to making adjustments on the fly. Especially not droids of these type – with limited AI, the whole mass of them controlled at a distance from a main control unit, like the ship in orbit.

In theory it was brilliant, of course. Hundreds of foot soldiers all working in perfect harmony without hesitation or a shot wasted, controlled from safety at a distance by smarter minds who would never have to risk entering the field themselves. An army in a state of hivemind that never hesitated, never stopped and never objected – it was a dream come true for any general worth their rank.

But there are set backs.

Ben narrows his eyes as the bottleneck fills. The droids come at a steady pace from the forest to stall at the cliffs, shooting at where they'd last spotted the retreating gungans – hitting nothing in particular. There is no chatter between them, no verbal communication what so ever - they simply walk forward and shoot, walk forward and shoot.

The bottleneck fills, and after Ben is sure most of the droids drawn into the trap are well within it – and no more than handful more are coming from the forest – he waves his hand and then lowers it.

Nerra throws the first booma weapon with a quiet "Whoopsieday" and a slightly manic grin as it splashes over two droids, sending them rattling in electric convulsions and then to the ground. The other gungans follow, and Ben is happy to see them aiming before throwing, taking out droids by twos and threes rather than just one at the time. And the droids…

They don't really react like a group of soldiers should – in fact, they hardly react at all. After all – who would program a battle droid with fear? Instead of looking for cover or even stopping to consider, they aim their blasters upwards and try and hit the gungans – who quickly take shelter behind the ancient tree trunks, thick and damp enough to take the blaster fire.

From the shelter of the trees the gungans continue their assault, one by one picking out the droids with their boomas, which though simple have proven surprisingly effective. Non lethal stunning weapons when deployed against organic beings, they have just enough charge to completely fry battle droids of these types. Even a glancing blow is enough.

The last droid goes down, still jerking with electric shocks and the gungans holler out in victory – but only for a moment. Ben's managed to instil enough discipline in them to keep them from giving up their position.

"Wesa go again," the bait gungans call as they ride back and over the sum of fried battle droid. "Wesa bring more, yousa wait!"

Ben waves them off and then waves the awaiting gungans to get the fried droids out of the way. They have the little bottleneck cleared out in few minutes – the dozen or so droids quickly joining the pile of their previous victims.

And that is how their battle has been going so far – because the droids don't learn.

However is controlling them is doing shoddy job at it – and the droids themselves don't have enough intelligence for independent thought.

A massive army controlled by one, or even by a handful of controllers, is in theory the fastest army there is – but depending on it's deployment and operation settings, it can be the slowest army change it's tactics – and it's battle awareness is… nonexistent, really. They are sluggish in reacting anything that doesn't follow their programming or pre-planned battle tactics and isn't clearly defined hostile target to take shots at. So when something unusual happened… like a handful of gungans riding past, making enough racket to alert everyone within a click or ten, they didn't really have the capacity of reacting to it sensibly.

So the droids kept falling back to their programming, breaking off carefully measured sums of droids from the main forces to chase after the bait, with mechanical precision and confidence and all expectations of making quick work of the few gungans – all the way to their doom.  

And because the whole incident is far too small a loss in the general terms of the droid army – handful of droids is hardly worthy of notice when the whole mass numbers in tens of thousands… well, the report doesn't seem to be going back to the control ship. Because the droids aren't changing their tactics.

There is already a small mountain of scrap metal at this particular location, and they're only one of fourteen different similar bottleneck locations Ben had arranged around the forest, where other sections of the gungan army were deploying similar tactics.

It's slow and already feels a bit like bullying a much slower, if not weaker, opponent, but it is effective. As far as he knows, they've lost barely any of the gungan warriors to it.

"Dis be slow," Nerra comments.

"But safe, which is the main thing right now," Ben says, putting the lightsaber back to his utility belt. "Can you please to check on everyone, see how they are doing?"

"Okieday," she nods and heads off, towards their small, awkward communications centre.

It was about time for the droids to start registering their losses, though. It's a little strange that they haven't yet – unless the reports coming from the other sections of the Grand Army were complete banthashit, they'd already taken a sizable chunk out of the droid army. Was it incompetence, over confidence or just callousness, that no one seemed to care about the droid losses, and they were still mindlessly throwing themselves to their destruction?

Ben hums, mentally plotting out the battlefield. They've managed to keep the main mass of the droid army more or less together, safely chipping away at the edges instead of engaging the full force. So as long as the droids kept at their current tactics – or lack there off – they would have the army dwindled down to more manageable numbers before evening…

But if the droids decided to actually deploy some sense in the field, and spread out in the forest…

Ben frowns as he feels something vibrating in the Force. A tremor – a Force sensitive? Qui-Gon? Closing his eyes Ben concentrates and then looks up. No, this is a much darker presence than Qui-Gon Jinn's cool, hurtful aura. Another Jedi, then.

As far as he knows, he and Qui-Gon Jinn are the only Jedi sent to Naboo by the Jedi High Council – but then he hasn't exactly been privy to their plans or to Qui-Gon Jinn's planning with the Naboo themselves. And he's still not entirely confident he knows how the Jedi as a whole function here.

So he prepares as he would to any strange Jedi approaching on the battlefield. With a lightsaber in hand.

"Bombad General," Nerra calls, coming to his side again. "Reporting from Foosa Regiim. Dem mekaniks send out dem launch ships and deysa taken uno out – leetenant Bomar's sectiony, dey boomed it and it gos kablooey – all gone!"

"Did they indeed?" Ben asks and runs a hand over his chin. "The whole thing blew?"

"Well, desa fried. Dem mekaniks no come out, and desa smoken."

"Hm. They used a catapult, I imagine," Ben hums. It's good to know that the boomas have effect on the vessels – but it would probably take the larger mega booma to work, the handheld ones wouldn't have enough charge to penetrate a space capable hull…

"Yessirrey," Nerra nods. "Fried dem ded."

Ben nods slowly with a slight smile at the way she smacks her fist on her palm. Still, it's worrisome. Sending droid launch ships to the forest itself, instead of keeping them to the plains. It's the change of tactics he's been waiting for, and yet alone it seems senseless. The launch ships are slow and awkward, and they'll be worse hindered by the ancient trees here than the droids on foot are. Now that the mega booma has proven effective against them… Surely…

Surely they wouldn't be sending them into the forest unguarded.

Ben runs fingers over his chin. "There will be tanks," he says. By any reason there should be tanks, anyway, and if there aren't then all the better for the Gungan Grand Army – but for now, he'd act as if tanks were expected. "Tell everyone to prepare to retreat," he says decisively and turns to Nerra. "If they mean to surround us, we might have to leave in a hurry. How are they coming along with the traps? We might need them now,"

"Soso, desa goen ready ina itsybitsy time," Nerra says with a nod and heads off, calling, "Mesa tell them," over her shoulder.

Ben looks after her and sighs. Sadly, Gungans didn't have concept of land mines, but with any luck, a booma trap triggered with a wire would do the same trick. Droids, thankfully, don't generally look at their feet.

"I wonder we could make a landmine out of a mega booma…" Ben hums to himself and looks up. If they were enough to take out a launch ship, it would definitely be worth it to try. Of course they might be triggered by foot soldier droids instead, a terrible waste, but regardless… much easier than hauling, setting up and aiming the damn catapults.

There is a shrill scream of a speeder coming from above. After getting used to the sounds of this particular combat – the hollering of gungans and the disturbed, tense atmosphere of the forest, occasionally dispersed by blaster fire and clanking of droids – the sound is unusual enough to make even the gungans take note. But it is just the one – merely one small speeder, not first herald of the feared air support.

If the droids had air support, they could've bombed the forest long ago and been done with the whole ordeal.

"Never mind it," Ben calls to the gungans, even as he grips the lightsaber handle tighter and looks watchfully upwards. "Back to preparations."

Force recoils and Ben lights and lifts the lightsaber just in time to catch the red blade coming at him with all the speed of the descending Jedi can put to it as he falls straight down from his still hovering speeder bike. Ben quickly directs the forceful blow away from his centre mass, aiming the red blade to the rock beneath him as he parries aside. The other Jedi crashes down, artfully landing his feet and radiating annoyance at him.

Ben straightens his back, carefully keeping young Obi-Wan's lightsaber, its blade lit with familiar and yet somehow strange blue glow, between him and his attacker. "Well, that's certainly a way to greet somebody," he comments faintly, even as he searches for a sturdier footing on the rough rock.

 The strange Jedi, a heavily tattooed zabrak narrows his eyes at him and hesitates only a moment before wrenches his red lightsaber blade up and free from the rock it had gotten imbedded in. It leaves behind a scorching red smear where it had melted the rock and Ben glances at it curiously as the zabrak watches him, eyes gleaming with anger.

User of the dark side of the Force, definitely, Ben muses and holds his – young Obi-Wan's – blade at a low guard. "Hello there," he says conversationally even as he lets Force flow freely through him, preparing for the battle. "Bit much for you to be crashing right in middle of our forces, don't you think? You're rather surrounded now."

Given value of surrounded of course. The gungans are half in a panic around them, flailing and waving their arms about, but at least they know better than to get close now that there's another, hostile Jedi about.

The other Jedi glances at them and then dismisses them, turning to Ben instead. "You're Kenobi," the zabrak Jedi growls.

"That's me," Ben agrees amiably and shifts his grip on the lightsaber. "And you are?"

For a moment his opponent look is like he might keep his peace – looks like he might forego pleasantries entirely and simply attack. He's certainly gripping his long lightsaber handle like he's tempted to. "Darth Maul," he says then.

Ben narrows his eyes. "Darth? I see," he says and grasps his blade in two handed grip. Not a Jedi, then.

For a moment they stare at each other, Maul narrowing his eyes and searching his face, looking over his posture, searching for weakness. Ben waits, as ready as he's going to get, enamoured as he is and holding a strange lightsaber.

"Desa another Jeday!" a gungan voice wails – and Maul attacks.

Ben blocks the first blow and the second, two quick clashes of lightsabers rattling together. There's a strange hum to it that he can't out a finger on, just a feeling of strangeness. The lightness of Obi-Wan's blade is throwing him off, making his moves easier than he's used to, his swings wilder, and his body – the way is it moves is strange too.

He's faster than he's used to being. Stronger, too. If he can't adjust to it fast enough -

Maul swings at him and Ben blocks quickly – too quickly, almost overshooting it. Maul doesn't miss it, glancing down at his hands, at the slightly awkward way Ben is gripping the saber in search of a weight that isn't there – and then the zabrak smiles, flashing an array of sharp teeth at Ben. Ben prepares but he's too fast and too slow all at once, his reflexes are off and before he can adjust to it, Maul is switching his footing and his attacks. It's only thanks to Force that Ben catches it on time, aiming his too-light blade sharply down, barely keeping Maul from cutting his leg off – and then there is another blade.

On the other end of Maul's lightsaber's strangely long handle, there is another red blade. It flashes past Ben and he falters, thrown off balance.

It's… the strangest thing.

It doesn't even hurt at first. There's a sense of impact and something tugging at him, sensation of heat and burn, but it's there and gone in a flash and it… doesn't really hurt. Ben blinks with confusion, disengaging automatically while Maul stops to watch, almost gleeful look on his tattooed face as Ben's hand slips from the handle of young Obi-Wan's lightsaber – and falls.

Then, as Ben looks down at his own severed left hand, it hurts. The pain radiates up his arm, it pulses at the hand that isn't there and it burns.

Oh, right, he thinks for a moment. He's not wearing any armour. From what he's seen of this place, Jedi here don't wear armour.

Funny. Sixty three years he'd managed to keep all his limbs attached, not a small feat for active Jedi Knight – and there it is. His severed hand, lying there, on the ground.

"You're weak!" Maul says gleefully. "And lord Sidious was so worried about you – but you're nothing but a weak child, aren't you?"

Ben's throat works as he tries to swallow around the sudden pain coursing through his body. He thinks he's shaking a little. No, he's definitely shaking. He looks at the stump of his severed arm, the scorched edge of his sleeve, the – the stump, cut off near the elbow. It's burned. Thank Force for lightsabers – they automatically cauterise all the wounds they make and he isn't about to bleed to death.

It's almost fascinating. It doesn't even feel real.

"What did you see, Jedi?" Maul asks, spinning the lightstaff in his hand, the twin blades scorching the air and filling it with scent of burnt ozone. "What did you see in your vision?"

Ben looks up at him with surprise – and then reality crashes back down onto him. He's in pain, almost in shock, and he is in middle of a battlefield facing, for the second time in not long enough time, a follower of the Emperor. This is not the place to go into shock, no place to stop.

Ben breathes in and out, and let's Force soothe out the pain, the confusion, everything. This is a war, and he is a general. There is no time to stop and feel. "Now how did Palpatine learn about that?" he asks and then watched with detached interest as Maul's eyes widen with alarm

Darth Maul comes at him, lightstaff spinning madly and reaching for Ben. Using as much Force as he can bring to bear, Ben meets the staff as close to the hilt of young Obi-Wan's blade as he dares, where he will have better leverage, and pushes it back. Maul's other blade comes at him immediately after from the other side, his wounded side, and Ben can't block it – so he doesn't.

Maul leers at him as the lightsaber imbeds near Ben's elbow, but Ben doesn't react – the arm is a loss already and if one blade is stuck at his shoulder, the other isn't anywhere near close enough to touch him, so Ben moves into the blade, doing what he can to keep it where it is – and then he swings at Maul.

The agony of the blade being wrenched off his shoulder is barely bearable, and Force can only soothe away some of it. Ben hisses through clenched teeth and swings at Maul again, sending him back a few steps. He doesn't back away fully, though, sticking easily close enough to re-engage.

"What was your vision?" Maul demands to know, spinning his two bladed weapon again. "Tell me, what did you see!?"

Ben blinks at him. Does really think Ben would give away such information, that anyone would? "I didn't see you, I'm afraid," he says and breathes in and out and quietly, calmly, centring himself afresh. "I did see your replacement, however. And he was better than you."

Maul blinks at him and then snarls in rage – and for some reason, perhaps out of over confidence or rage or just for show, he pulls his saber back for a swing. Ben watches him move and then lashes out, as fast as he can which, in this body, is considerably fast. They move into each other and Ben feels another burning twinge of pain, Maul's blow hit something, but he doesn't care – because his attack got through.

Maul lets out a voiceless gasp and then looks down to the lightsaber hilt Ben has buried in his stomach. The zabrak stumbles and then waves madly at him with his lightstaff – Ben almost loses another hand to the damn thing before he can get away. The red blade cuts through the hilt of young Obi-Wan's lightsaber and the blue glow of its strangely light blade disappears, the two severed pieces of the handle falling.

Maul follows them, falling down to his knees on the rock below them while grasping at his stomach. Sidious' dark apprentice looks up at Ben, disbelieving and hateful and stunned – and then he falls down and doesn't get up.

Ben wavers where he stands for a moment and then looks down.

"Oh," he says and lowers his hand – his lone remaining hand – to his waist. There is a hole at the side of his tunic, half of his cloak burned off. "Oh, this is what I get for not wearing armour…" he sighs shakily and lifts his hand. His fingers are dry – they smell like burnt flesh.

Time crashes back down on Ben, speeding up to a mad cacophony of shouting gungans and wailing blaster fire, the thrum of distant engines and clank of droids. Maul lies still at his feet, beside Ben's own severed hand, beside young Obi-Wan's broken lightsaber, and Ben's fingers are covered in burnt something and he is shaking.

Ben breathes in and out.

He's alive.

He's in shock and pain and injured, but he's alive. He's also in middle of battle. In middle of his shocked and confused soldiers, who are falling out of discipline. There's a war. Not the Clone Wars, but there's a war. He's in charge of it – and the enemy is coming.

His men need him.

Ben inhales and holds it in and then the bends down to pick up the broken pieces of young Obi-Wan's lightsaber. The agony of moving is almost enough to rob him of his consciousness, but he can't pass out, not now, not yet. After taking a moment to exhale with the pain and re-centre, he turns away from Maul and from his own severed limb and from his hard won victory.

Later, he thinks. There'd be time for pain and loss and recovery later.

Then he goes back to work. "Everyone, prepare for retreat!"

Chapter Text

It isn't until much later that Qui-Gon hears anything from the fields. They're busy for a long while after Nute Gunray and his people have been captured, their surrender has been secured and Queen Amidala has done a planet wide announcement that she's back in charge – there's been a lot of damage. The planet hadn't been taken quite as peacefully as Qui-Gon assumes the Trade Federation had been expecting.

The naboo are a peaceful, borderline pacifistic people – but even ahead of that, they are proud one. They have some right to be – Naboo is a beautiful world, to a point of excess even. It has next to no industry, there haven't been hostilities in centuries and the planet boasts, with cause, one of the cleanest, healthiest atmospheres in the galaxy. Naboo is where sick and elderly travel to get better.

It's a type of status even a pacifist would go out their way defend – and even die for. Though the death toll of the invasion wasn't as catastrophic as the queen's advisor, Sio Bibble, had claimed… it is high for the planet, in the thousands.  That, the prisoner camps, the corpses on the streets – the tampering with Naboo security systems and the complete mess the Trade Federation had made of the Queen's palace, take away peoples attention for a while and so it isn't until several hours later they hear of the battle of the Gungan Grand Army.

Later still that they hear the full story.

"I must go and see," the Queen decides, once she's sure Captain Panaka and Sio Bibble have everything under control at the capital. "I was the one to tempt them into battle, it is my responsibility to personally witness the outcome – and bring aid."

Qui-Gon nods. "As you will, your Majesty," he agrees and wonders. The droid armies had been shut down after Nute Gunray had been captured – but it had taken a while. Kenobi and the Gungan forces would have been in combat for hours by that point.

And there is the Sith to be concerned with. Surely he should've heard something by now.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon calls to the boy, who is sitting by the R2 droid, idly poking at a blaster mark the droid had taken to the side. "Stay in the palace, alright? R2, watch him."

"But where are you going?" the boy asks with alarm.

"I'm going with the Queen," Qui-Gon says simply. Chances are the Gungans would've had a worse time of it – there will be far more battlefield wounded. Better not to subject Anakin to that, on top of everything else he's experienced so far. "Please stay here, alright? Can someone watch him?" he asks, glancing at the Queen's handmaidens.

"Sabe," the Queen says and her flat, serious tone relaxes into a tired smile. "You have certainly earned a rest, my friend. Can you please stay with Anakin Skywalker for a while?"

Her body double, now in a handmaiden's robe, sighs and bows her head. "Yes, thank you, your Majesty."

With that decided and with a small number of the Naboo Royal Guards to escort them, Qui-Gon heads out with the Queen. He's not worried, he decides. If something had happened, they would've surely heard by now. And as it was – the droid army had shut down so whatever had happened… it's surely over now.

The Queen of Naboo is welcomed back by Boss Nass in jovial tones of victory. "Dem mekaniks relentless, but Bombad General beaten them," he says as he claps Padme Amidala heavily over the shoulders, almost sending her off balance. "Disa great day for da gungans!"

The gungans have returned to their Sacred Place, and, Qui-Gon is surprised to find, they've properly settled there too. Circular tents have been erected around the grounds and number of hydrospheres have been conjured from somewhere for the gungans to use – and they're partaking in them in surprisingly orderly lines.

There is a strange atmosphere about the campsite. Victorious, yes, Qui-Gon can see that. There is laughter and uproarious celebrations are going on here and there – but there is also a strange undercurrent of new tension, that isn't worry or concern or nervousness, but something else, something… little more elusive. The gungans are a subtly changed people and the longer Qui-Gon looks at them, the more it shows. They carry themselves differently.

They're still clumsy, loose limbed creatures, but they're proud now.

"That is – great to hear," Amidala says, struggling to find balance. "Please tell me, how did the battle go?"

"Wesa draw dem mekaniks into da forest first," Boss Nass says, ushering her over to the tables, to the maps. "Bottlenekking dem in cracks and deaddings, taken dem out with da boomba…"

Qui-Gon watches them go, watches the Royal Guards carefully trail after Amidala and then he looks away. He can't see Obi-Wan Kenobi anywhere. "Pardon me," he says to a near by gungan soldier. "I'm looking for Obi-Wan Kenobi – the Jedi who stayed with you to help with the battle. Where is he?"

It's interesting, watching the expressions race across the gungan's face. Surprise first, then pride and finally, reverence. "De Bombad General is being in da medikkis tent," the gungan tells him in hushed tones.

"He – was injured?" Qui-Gon asks, dismay crawling up his spine.

"Yesa – hesa got done in good," the Gungan says and frowns a little. "Don't yousa be botherings da Bombad General, Jeday. Hesa hero to da gungans."

Qui-Gon pauses at that, letting the knowledge settle, and then he nods his head briskly. "I will show him utmost care – but I must see him. Where are the medical tents, then?"

The medical tent is surprisingly small, considering the size of the battle, and from what Qui-Gon sees most of the gungans have already been treated with patches of bacta and sent their way. There are few lying on gurneys on the floor, being treated by gungan doctors, but overall it seem as though they had very few in way of injured combatants. And even the ones still laid low in good spirits.

The battle really had gone well for them – better than he'd thought, considering the drama of the planning stages.

And then there Obi-Wan Kenobi, sitting cross-legged on a gurney beside a gungan who has a bacta patch over their eyes. Someone has thrown a blanket over Kenobi's shoulders and under it Qui-Gon can see he's stripped down to the waist – and there is a patch of bacta on his side, a wide one.

"Master Jinn," Kenobi says, looking up from the gungan he'd been talking to.

Qui-Gon hesitates, glancing at the bakta patch. "I hear the battle went well here," he says, trying to not make his concern obvious.

Kenobi smiles a little and pats the gungan soldier on the shoulder. "Rest up, Digges," he says to the gungan and then, with a hand on one knee, levers himself up with a sigh.

It catches the eye of the medics about, instantly. "No, no, no! Yousa no getting up, Bombad General!" a gungan medic hurriedly says. "Yousa injureds, yousa staying down!"

"I've already been treated, I'll be fine," Kenobi sighs and tugs at the blanket over his shoulders. "We're just going over there to talk."

"No, no, no, yousa sitting down now – yousa liein down," the medic insists.

"How about I lay down over there?" Kenobi says placatingly and points at gurney on the far end of the tent.

The medic peers at him suspiciously. "Yousa no leaving the tent," she says and waves him off. "Mesa watchining."

"Yes, yes, I am quite at your mercy, Dokkot," Kenobi chuckles and then heads over, slowly, to the other gurney, motioning Qui-Gon to follow. The way he sits down is as laborious as the way he stood was, and he sighs with audible relief when he does finally lie down.

Qui-Gon sits on his knees beside the gurney on the ground, watching him. Something is off. Something is…

"There was a strange Force user out in the field," Kenobi says with a sigh and pushes the blanket down. "And I'm afraid going into battle unprepared, in strange body and with a weapon I'm not used to and no armour… wasn't to my benefit."

The bacta patch on his waist is bigger than Qui-Gon had realised, reaching around the dip of his waist and covering most of the area between ribs and hip bone. And there is another patch of bacta on him, a thick one on his left shoulder, where around it the skin is badly swollen and vividly red. And his left arm itself…

Kenobi lifts the stump and sighs. "He was more skilled than I am, I'm afraid," he admits ruefully. "I got quite rusty in my old age."

For a long moment Qui-Gon stares silently, his mind almost refusing to comprehend what he is seeing – and he's still, somewhere, thinking of this man as if of his Padawan because the first thing he feels is guilt and failure. His hand… Obi-Wan's hand…

They should have never split up.

"Apologies," Kenobi says and rests the stumpy arm to the side, grimacing with guilt. "I'm afraid I am not wearing this body well."

Qui-Gon swallows, searches for something to say, and fails. There's a period of strange silence, not quite tense or awkward, but weary. Kenobi must be in great pain but he barely shows it, just weariness and tiredness, and he doesn't feel like… and yet, and yet. "I'm sorry," Qui-Gon says finally, his voice choked.

"I'm fairly sure it's not your fault," Kenobi says, casting him a wry smile. "You weren't the one holding the lightsaber. Speaking of which," he murmurs with even greater guilt and reaches out with his lone good hand and Force thrums with his using it. Two pieces of metal float to them from pile of Kenobi's discarded – burned – clothes and Qui-Gon picks them up from the air. Two pieces of a ruined lightsaber.

His padawan's lightsaber. Qui-Gon had watches Obi-Wan construct it and now, like Obi-Wan himself, it was broken.

Qui-Gon thinks he should be angry now. He thinks he might be. The shock of it all covers all of it, though, he can't quite think, it's as though there is a thick grey veil over his mind. Obi-Wan's, his Padawan's body, his lightsaber, his life…

Kenobi looks at him and there is sort of resignation in his expression – resignation, guilt, and yet, resolution too. He expects the anger, has braced himself for it as he lies there, disabled and wounded and… and yes, not wearing Obi-Wan's body very well at all.

Qui-Gon breathes in and out and whatever emotion he feels, he releases it into the Force before he can examine it too closely. "You'll – the Jedi temple will provide treatment," he says, his tone strange even to his own ears. "Prosthetics – we can –"

"Thank you," Kenobi says and closes his eyes. "It would be appreciated. I'll think about it."

Qui-Gon lifts his eyes. "I'm – sorry?"

Kenobi smiles a little, not opening his eyes. "I'm not entirely sure I want a replacement via your Order," he admits and lifts the bacta covered stump a little. "It seems like a debt I'm not entirely sure I am free to owe."

"A – debt? What in Force's name are you talking about?" Qui-Gon asks and Kenobi's eyes open. "You were injured in line of – of duty. There will be no debt."

"Won't there?" Kenobi asks, his eyes opening slightly.

"The Jedi Order provides for it's members," Qui-Gon says severely. "Especially so in case of injury."

"And I am not part of your Order," Kenobi reminds him, smiling.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi is and you were acting in his stead," Qui-Gon says and shakes his head. "Loss of a limp is a terrible disadvantage, especially for one using hand to hand combat – and you're a warrior, aren't you? Are you really going to refuse proper care?"

Kenobi looks at him thoughtfully, searchingly. "No, I'm not. I'm sorry, I… Thank you, I'll be grateful for whatever is offered, of course," he then says, carefully, before looking away. "How did things go in Theed?" he asks then and frowns. "Is Anakin here? I can't feel him."

"He's still in Theed – I thought it better to not bring him here, not knowing how the battle went. We captured Nute Gunray and took the city – and following that the planet, back," Qui-Gon says, still eying him with a frown. "Surely you know – the droids were deactivated."

Kenobi waves his hand – his lone hand, now. "They were stuck in a swamp by the time they did," he says. "So we weren't sure if the droid launch ships had short circuited or if it was something else. We led them on a merry chase around the swamp land for a while there, I'm afraid they weren't quite equipped to handle it." Somehow, despite everything, the recollection is enough to make him chuckle with honest amusement.

"… I see," Qui-Gon says slowly, his eyes straying to his arm, the missing arm, again. "And the Sith?"

Kenobi pauses at that. "I'm sorry?" he then asks.

"The Sith you fought," Qui-Gon prods. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know that word – I'm assuming you mean the zabrak?" Kenobi asks. "I ran him through with the young one's lightsaber before it broke – and then we had to retreat for a while. I'm afraid there wasn't time to collect the body – if he indeed died."

Qui-Gon frowns. "You didn't confirm his death?"

"He fell, but I've thought I'd killed Jedi before only to have them pop up later, itching for a rematch," Kenobi snorts. "I try not to make assumptions about Jedi survivability, especially in case of those who don't claim the title or have lost their rights to it. We Force sensitives have terrible tendency to not die when we're supposed to, you know."

As hard has Qui-Gon tries to make sense of that statement – he can't. "You've – killed Jedi?" the Jedi Master asks, his voice faint.

Kenobi hums in agreement and closes his eyes. "I told you – we weren't all of same Order like you, not the same way," he says. "Even if we followed the same code of honour, it doesn't mean we were unified under it. There were wars and Jedi took sides. Sometimes those were opposing sides."

Qui-Gon eyes him dubiously for a long while and then looks away. Well, if the battle here wasn't proof enough of how different Kenobi and his version of the Jedi Order were…. "The Sith are an order of users of the dark side of the Force," he says then. "You really don't know them? There have been… many great ancient wars between the Jedi and the Sith."

Kenobi hums. "Never heard of them, I'm afraid," he says. "We simply stripped the dark side users of their Jedi title, when they got seduced by the dark side. Or in case of Emperor, never gave it to them in the first place."

Qui-Gon coughs. "I'm sorry – what?" he asks. "The… Emperor?"

Kenobi sighs. "The unfortunate result of all the wars we fought. The Empire and it's leader, both firmly on the dark side. Emperor Sidious – or Palpatine, or whatever name he is going by right now," he says and shakes his head. "The dark side user I fought, the Sith, claimed to be called Darth Maul, and that's a moniker the Emperor gave to his apprentice in the future too – the version of the future I come from, anyway."

Qui-Gon's mouth opens and closes and then opens again. "Palpatine," he says faintly. "Did you just say Palpatine? You don't mean Sheev Palpatine?"

"Hm, I haven't heard the full name in decades," Kenobi muses and closes his eyes with a yawn. "Excuse me, it's been a long day. Sheev Palpatine, yes, that was his name before he became the Emperor and changed it to Sidious."

For a moment Qui-Gon just stares at him. "Are – are you certain about that one? You mean to say Palpatine is a Sith Lord?"

Kenobi opens his eyes. "I don't know the implication of that title, really, but I lost my best apprentice and greatest friend to the Emperor," he says wearily. "So yes, I'm pretty certain he's of the dark side of the Force."

Qui-Gon stumbles to his feet. "Excuse me for a moment, I need to – check something."

Before Kenobi can do more than blink at him, Qui-Gon hurries out of the medical tent, past the injured gungans and then the celebrating gungans outside. The Queen of Naboo is still talking with Boss Nass, though she looks up when Qui-Gon approaches.

"Master Jinn," she says. "I heard Obi-Wan Kenobi was injured – how is he?"

"He's in no immediate danger, I hope," Qui-Gon answers. He is also a harbinger of doom, he thinks withy some desperation and then asks, "Your Majesty, is there yet news from the Senate? I'm afraid I haven't been following – I understand Chancellor Valorum was brought up in a vote of no confidence?"

Padme Amidala blinks with surprise and then smiles. "He was," she agrees. "And I'm happy to say that our very own Senator Palpatine is slated to be elected in his place."

Chapter Text

Despite the insistence of the Gungans and the Naboo, they don't stay for the victory celebrations. For one, Nute Gunray and his people need to be delivered to the senate for judgement and hopefully trial and for two… well. That's the more complicated matter, isn't it?

"I'm sure our medics can tend to your injuries," the Queen offers, after they've returned to the palace, and Qui-Gon has begun drawing plans to leave. She looks over Ben's listing form with guilt all over her young face, and he winces for her a little – she's only fourteen, and much too young for this.

"That's quite alright," Ben says, sitting down with a sigh. "Qui-Gon has important information to relay to the Jedi Council about our attackers – I fear we can't stall there. Hello Anakin," he then says, spotting the boy heading over.

"You're hurt!" Anakin cries. "I can feel it – you got hurt."

"Yes, and I'll live," Ben says and tucks the robe over his left side to hide the severity of the injury. "I have been seen to by the Gungan healers – and the Jedi healers will do the rest. I'm fine."

Anakin hesitates, looking him over. "No, you're not," he decides, glancing at the Queen and bowing his head, biting his lip. "I can feel it – you're in pain. You're not fine."

"Well. No, but I will be," Ben says with smile and reaches over to ruffle his hair. "How about you – how were things here? Were you hurt?"

"No, I hid – Qui-Gon told me to hide and I did," Anakin says. "We saw the Zabrak again, the one from Tatooine – not that," he says then, making a face. "Not that you, uh, remember. Probably."

Ben shakes his head. "I don't – but I'd be happy to hear about it, later," he says and lifts the boy's chin. "Are you certain you're alright?"

"I'm fine," Anakin says, biting his lip.

"Were you scared?" Ben asks gently.

Anakin hesitates, glancing towards Qui-Gon who's heading towards them now. "A little?" he admits, under his breath.

"That's okay," Ben assures him and pats his shoulder. "It must've been very scary. I'm glad you're alright."

They turn to look at Qui-Gon, who meets Ben's eyes and then turns to the Queen. "There is a freighter departing soon for Coruscant, correct – we will be boarding with the prisoners. They will face justice in front of the Republic Senate."

"I'm glad to hear it," the Queen says firmly and looks between them. "And I am glad to have met you all – for the service you've done for our planet, thank you."

"It was only our duty, your Majesty," Qui-Gon says, while Ben nods his head in half-bow and Anakin mimics him quickly. "But we're certainly glad the situation was resolved without further issues."

The queen lets out a rather uncharacteristic laugh, mirthless. "Oh, there will be issues," she says, with all the confidence of a fourteen year old. "But we will be able to deal with them from here on out."

"We're glad to hear it," Qui-Gon says, bowing again. The Queen heads off to attend to other duties, and Qui-Gon turns to Ben. "You're certain you're fit to travel?" he asks.

Ben stands up with a groan. "So as long as we don't run into any trouble, I should be fit enough."

"Don't jinx it now," Qui-Gon sighs and looks away. "There's been trouble enough, don't you think?"

Ben chuckles ruefully and shakes his head. "True, that," he murmurs. "True, that."

The trip back to Coruscant is a welcome respite, except for the way that it isn't, not really. The situation is and remains tense, and the forced closeness of having to share quarters doesn't help. Their current ship is no diplomatic yacht, unfortunately – and they had to sacrifice some of the cabins for prisoners. Space was rather limited and so Ben, Qui-Gon and Anakin were sharing a cabin. Or rather, avoiding it as much as they could – with Anakin wandering the ship more often than not to get away from Ben's and Qui-Gon's tension, and Qui-Gon spending most of the time watching the prisoners. And Ben…

Ben did his best to recover.

Things had gotten quite complicated, hadn't they – not that they hadn't been complicated from the very start. And they would only grow more so from here on out, Ben feared.

His arm would need treatment – as would likely his side. Bacta could work wonders, but it didn't repair disconnected sinews or nerve endings, nor could it regenerate lost limbs. He could do without – the Gungan healers had been apt enough in their work and the stump would heal without issues from here on, but… Qui-Gon was right. He is a warrior, and a warrior with a great deal of training to do. He would need both arms to be functional.

Along with his healing was the issue of his station and what was to happen to him from here on out. Ben had learned enough that he doesn't think the Jedi Order would try and restrain him should he seek to leave, Force sensitive or not, but… he isn't sure that would be the right avenue to pursue anyway. Jedi order was what the Young One wished to preserve with his sacrifice, and who is Ben to decline now, that he's already made such a mess of things? no, better wait and see and hope for the best… and prepare for the worse.

Then there was the issue of young Anakin Skywalker – and all the things he could be. The Force moves strangely about him, and strange are the ways with which he'd been treated so far – Ben can't shake the unease he feels for it all. He still can't make his peace with the fact that at nine years of age the boy is considered too old for Jedi training – but not too young to be brought into an active war zone. And yet, if the boy was a slave, if there really was no other, better option…

And finally Chancellor Palpatine – risen to power in the wake of the Naboo attack, riding on the wave of sympathy roused by his planet's blight. Quite the clever stratagem all things considered, if it was intentional. Who knows if the man is of the Dark Side here – so many things are different. He might not be. But if he is…

"You said he became the Emperor of a Dark Empire," Qui-Gon says, pacing their shared cabin while Anakin was away.

"An Empire, yes – they did not exactly advertise the darkness of their intentions," Ben murmurs. "Though everyone knew, nonetheless."

"How did it happen – how did the Empire rise?"

Ben sighs. "A complicated situation of many warring systems, and the mess of the Clone Wars and their end creating instability and power vacuums that were easily exploited," he says, shaking his head and glances at Qui-Gon. "It's not as easy as saying this one thing caused it all, I'm afraid. Such things are rarely so simple."

Qui-Gon paces back and forth, blowing a frustrated breath. "No, of course not. I just hope – you're here because Obi-Wan hoped you could prevent a terrible future. Something you know…"

"What I know might never be applicable here," Ben says and lifts his lone hand when the Jedi turns to him. "Not that I am refusing to help – if what I know is of any use, I am glad to share. But by this time in my youth, the Republic was already at a breaking point. Yours isn't." Not yet anyway.

"No?" Qui-Gon asks, surprised. "There's a difference between the political situations of your reality and ours?"

"Oh yes," Ben agrees and leans back a little, trying to ease the ache in his side. "Our Senate was ineffectual before I was even born, much more so than yours is right now – they could affect almost nothing in the galaxy, and it's power wasn't even symbolic. Systems reigned over themselves and barely gave lip service to Republic laws. Oh, there were some who tried to affect real change through the Senate, some who even succeeded but… not many. In the end, only the Core Worlds benefited at all from the existence of the Republic – Mid Rim, Outer Rim… they were the first to begin breaking away."

"And the Republic allowed it?" Qui-Gon asks, frowning, looking thoughtful.

"What could they do to stop it?" Ben asks, smiling. "Their power lied in a shared piece of fiction, same as any truly democratic body of governance – people only ever obeyed Republic laws because they decided they should, and because it was advantageous. Once it stopped being an advantage, once it became a hindrance, and they decided they didn't need to obey laws that didn't benefit them…" he shrugs. "Well, we all knew the Republic's weakness."

"… which is?" Qui-Gon asks, casting him a somewhat concerned look.

Ben gives him a look. "Coruscant, of course. Trillion sentient beings stuck on a single planet with no agriculture or food production of its own," he says. "You can starve the whole planet very easily and quickly – all you have to do is cut off the trade, stop the thousands of daily incoming shipments. It never even got to that – but everyone knew. It made Coruscant vulnerable and, because of that vulnerability… ultimately powerless."

For a moment Qui-Gon just stares at him silently, and with a shake of his head Ben looks down, rubbing at his shoulder. Finally the other Jedi sits down on the other bunk, facing him. "The trade blockade of naboo, do you think it was…" he trails away, looking down at his hands.

Ben arches a brow. "What a test run?" he asks. Honestly, he hadn't even considered. "I don't know – it would certainly take a great power to arrange something like that, even this far in the outer rim."

"Power like that of a Sith Lord," Qui-Gon murmurs. "Coruscant wasn't ever besieged in your reality, though, was it?"

"It didn't need to be," Ben says plainly. "Just the threat of it was enough."

"Hmm. Your Republic didn't have the Jedi Order, though," Qui-Gon says, running a hand over his mouth, still thoughtful, trying to draw conclusions, make sense of things. "We act as the Republic's peacekeepers and as its diplomatic arm. It's made our Republic more robust than yours."

"It seems likely, yes," Ben muses. It might very well explain the majority of the differences between their realities – that, and hundreds of years of history.

"None of what you speak of might come to pass," Qui-Gon says, though somewhat grimly.

"And yet the Young One still dreamed of the Clone Wars," Ben says and tilts his head. "And droid armies such as the one on Naboo were used in our wars too – and I am sorry to say, but no one begins producing such things without a buyer in mind – or without a war in the horizon."

Qui-Gon shakes his head at that, leaning his elbows on his knees and his thoughts churning so hard that Ben can almost feel them, despite the man's formidable mental shielding. It's a moment before Qui-Gon speaks again. "I have… noticed an unrest building in the Outer Rim and Mid Rim systems," he admits, sounding troubled. "I wouldn't call it rebellion, not yet, but there's dissatisfaction taking root on many worlds."

Ben says nothing to that – his research hadn't been yet in depth enough for him to tell. It does sound like something that might lead to terrible things. First steps of war are usually only apparently after the fact, though.

Qui-Gon looks up at him. "You never answered me, not really – how did the Empire rise?"

Shaking his head, Ben hums. "Again, it's complicated," he muses. "Everyone wore themselves to the bone in the Clone Wars – many systems bankrupted themselves. When the warring systems struck an accord and banned cloning entirely… The Naboo system gained an advantage. They used natural born armies, not cloned ones, and they'd done well enough in the battles. It was a very slight advantage, but… it told."

"And the Emperor – Palpatine?" Qui-Gon asks. "How did he come to power?"

Ben is quiet for a moment, looking away. "Riding on the wake of public unrest caused by the wars, he usurped the Queen, took control of the armies, placed his own people in positions of officers… It wasn't one thing – rather, several years worth of careful campaigning and amassing power and manipulating people until he had everyone where he needed them. Eventually, once he announced himself as the Emperor, there was few left to argue it. What remained of the Republic turned itself over willingly to the Empire, rather than risk another, longer, period of war."

Qui-Gon blows out a breath, his shoulders slumping a little. "This doesn't help me," he mutters and runs both hands over his face.

"I'm sorry that the rise of empires can't be as simple as push of a button," Ben says with an apologetic smile. "A thousand decisions lead to the Empire in my reality. A thousand decisions might lead to the same here – or maybe, just the one. I'm sorry I can't offer you better answers."

"What you offer is worrying enough," Qui-Gon mutters, letting his hands drop. "This whole mission has thrown me off the loop – I'm – I don't mean to take it out on you. Especially while you're injured. I apologise."

"I understand – it's alright, Qui-Gon," Ben says, shaking his head. "It's a difficult situation for you."

"No, it's –" Qui-Gon draws a breath and then sighs. "It's no less difficult for you – you're lost in a strange reality and injured and handling it much better. I should be better prepared than this. I shouldn't…"

"No one is prepared to lose a son, Qui-Gon – except cruel madmen, which you aren't," Ben says plainly, giving him a look. And by now the reality has begun to settle in, he figures – Qui-Gon is beginning to accept the new state of things. Ben's injury is bringing it home, more and more.

Qui-Gon draws a breath and looks away – Anakin is coming back. "I ask that you speak of this to the Jedi High Council, tell them what you know," he says before the door opens. "Warn them about what Palpatine may be like. Along with what you learned of the Sith you fought."

And in so doing make the Young Obi-Wan's sacrifice worth it.

"I will," Ben promises quietly and then looks up as the automatic door opens. Ben smiles – Anakin has a streak of oil on his cheek. "How were the engines?"

"Fine I guess," the boy answers, glancing between them, and then moving to sit on Qui-Gon's bed. "How long until we reach Coruscant?"

Qui-Gon glances at the clock. "It will be another few hours," he says. "Are you hungry, Ani?"

"A little, but it's fine, I can wait," Anakin says and looks between them, fiddling with his oil stained fingers. "So, uh… what is going to happen to me now?"

Ben rests his lone hand on his knee and then looks at Qui-Gon, who hesitates.

"I will speak with the Council again," Qui-Gon says. "Whatever they decide, you will be fine, Anakin, I promise. I'll see to it personally."

Ben looks between them and then away and bites his tongue on all the things he wants to say.

They're welcomed back to Coruscant by a Senate delegation, and armed guard for the prisoners. High Chancellor Palpatine is there too, but though Ben tries to get a feel of the man as subtly as he ever may, there is no hint of darkness about him – the man only seems elated, relieved, to know that his home world is in better state, and that the issue of the Trade Federation blockade had been resolved with minimal casualties.

How strange it is, to see the man with his face bared and healthy, without the twisted reflection of the Dark Side radiating from every wrinkle.

"The alacrity with which the situation was resolved certainly deserves recommendation," the High Chancellor says, right there, on the landing pad, and looks at Ben, who abruptly wishes that Anakin wasn't there. "And, ah, you must be the one who helped win the true battle – young Knight Kenobi, is that right?"

"I did what I could, Chancellor," Ben says mildly, keeping his gaze level, while Qui-Gon watches them closely.

"No need to be humble– the Queen has told me all about it. You led the Gungan forces into a great victory on the marshes – a great feat for anyone, certainly," the High Chancellor says, stepping forward to shake his hand. "There will be much ado about this, I'm afraid – there will be trials, hearings, and your part in resolving the situation cannot be understated."

Ben hums, and carefully looks nowhere near Anakin, who is standing at Qui-Gon's heels, watching them all with wide eyes. "You honour me, Chancellor – but truly, I was only doing my duty."

"Ah, brave and humble, the very best qualities in a Jedi," the Chancellor says, smiling brightly and looks towards Qui-Gon. "You must be proud of your apprentice, Master Jinn – he's certainly proved his mettle."

"Yes – but he was also injured in the process and should be seen by the healers at the temple," Qui-Gon says, slowly, glancing between them. "Congratulations again, Chancellor, on your own victory – I wish you a most peaceful reign as the head of the Republic Senate."

"So do I, Master Jedi, so do I," the High Chancellor says and, finally, lets them excuse themselves.

Ben moves back, waiting until Qui-Gon manoeuvres Anakin to walk between them, and they head for the awaiting speeder. "Did you feel anything from him?" Ben asks Qui-Gon under his breath, as the boy clambers on board.

"No, nothing," Qui-Gon says quietly and shakes his head. "Perhaps he is different?"

"He was never the High Chancellor in my reality. So I suppose there's hope," Ben says and glances backwards, wondering. Palpatine felt like nothing at all, there was not a shred of ill intention aimed at any of them – and yet… why did it feel like the man had been trying to get a raise out of him – like an opponent on a field, trying to egg him to make the reckless first move?

They make their way to the Jedi Temple without further incidents, and are expected there by Masters Yoda and Windu. It's hard to say what they think or feel about their arrival, or whatever news they might've heard – unlike Qui-Gon who has been letting his emotions loose lately, the other Jedi seem to still hold tight reigns on theirs. Even their expressions belie nothing.

Ben doesn't have the energy to be unsettled by it – his arm has begun to dully throb in pain again, and his side is little better.

"Welcome back," Windu says, meeting them. "You've had quite the time of it, from what we've heard."

"It has certainly been an eventful mission, Masters, from start to end," Qui-Gon admits, resting a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "And I fear it might not even be over yet."

"No, over yet it will not be, until a report you have given. Halls of healing first, I think, we shall head," Yoda decides, eying Ben. "And once your recovery seen to has been, then speak of what occurred we may."

"Sounds like a plan," Ben agrees with a sigh and rubs at his shoulder with a wince.

"With me you will come – with Master Windu Qui-Gon and young Skywalker may go," Yoda says, waving them away with his stick, and then moving to lead Ben to the temple. And who's Ben to say no to that kind of invitation?

"Worrying, Master Qui-Gon's initial report was. Worrying the lack of mention about you in it also was," Yoda comments. "Your injury only he mentioned."

"We separated when we reached Naboo – I stayed with some local warriors to help with their war effort, while Qui-Gon went ahead with the Queen's retinue and Anakin," Ben says. "While Qui-Gon was securing the leaders of the trade federation at the capital, I was leading Gungans in a battle against the droids. Qui-Gon wasn't there, so… it wasn't his report to write."

"So we surmised. More suited to war you are, hm, than to making peace?" Yoda asks, giving him a rather pointed look.

"Nice, very underhanded, Master Yoda," Ben says, giving him a look. "I already lost an arm, can you maybe not beat me over the head with it until after I recover from the loss?"

"Hrhm," Yoda answers. "To the healers I will deliver you – prefer it I would if events of the Naboo to yourself you would keep, until your report in full you can give."

"Agreed," Ben accepts. Not that he was about to go around claiming that the new high chancellor was a Dark Lord – that would not go well for anyone, he thinks.

Yoda nods and then sighs, giving him a look. "How feel do you?" he asks. "Pain aside – different you feel."

"Do I?"

"More unsettled, you are. Before steady as a rock you were – now wavering your spirit feels. Worried, you are."

Ben shakes his head ruefully. "I came face to face with all the differences between our two realities," he says. "And my own inadequacies. The fight I joined, I did in arrogant belief I was best suited for it, and it cost me," he says, lifting the stump of a left arm and wincing. "The Young One sacrificed himself for this, and I wear is body poorly, I fear."

"Then better in future you must be," Yoda says firmly.

Ben nods slowly. "Yes, I must," he says and then draws a breath, holds it, and then releases. "I need to begin training again," he murmurs fatalistically. "And I expect I need to forge an armour. I don't suppose there's a way to do that here, though, is there…?"

"An armour you wore?" Yoda asks, his ears perking up a little with interest. "Forges we do not have, but arrange something might be, if truly important it is. Depend it does on how things develop. Missing a lightsaber you also are, hrm?"

"Oh yes, there's that too," Ben admits and sighs, rubbing at his shoulder as they finally, thankfully, arrive at the Halls of Healing. "A new arm, Kyber and Beskar and I haven't the money for either. Not a very auspicious start for my career in this new reality, is it?"

Chapter Text

Beyond the troubling implications of the Sith and what Ben Kenobi brings to the table, the report concerning their mission to Naboo was almost a normal one. They'd escorted the Queen, they met with the Gungans, they split up to attend to tasks more suited to their needs, Qui-Gon had aided the Queen in recapturing her city, and taking down the Trade Federation leadership. Overall, he has had stranger missions – but for the Sith and the Time Traveller in their midst.

"I know something of how Kenobi's side of things turned out," Qui-Gon says, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. "And he was right, in assuming the role of a military tactician, as opposed to serving as the queen's bodyguard. I don't know how bad the losses for the Gungans would've been without him – but I know it was only with him they could claim victory. The man is… a military commander, and I feel very good at his job."

"And yet he lost an arm," Master Windu commends. "Arm of a body that isn't even his."

Qui-Gon nods slowly. "When facing the Sith I met in Theed, yes – and who left to engage with Kenobi, instead of going after the Queen," he says slowly. "Ben Kenobi was the Sith's target this time – which is beyond worrying."

"It is very troubling," Ki-Adi Mundi murmurs, running a hand idly over his beard. "For such an dangerous assassin, a user of the Dark Side, to target a man who should by all counts be nothing but a regular senior Padawan. It implies the Sith knew something of Ben Kenobi."

Mace Windu hums. "If they truly are a Force user –"

"They were," Qui-Gon says firmly.

The Councillor gives him a look. "Then they too might've had a vision. Ben Kenobi is a walking shatter point and the Force twists strangely around him just on the count of how differently he interacts with it," he says and shakes his head. "Perhaps the Dark Side sees Kenobi as a threat now to whatever this… user of it was plotting."

Qui-Gon frowns. They don't believe him. "Ben Kenobi said the Sith named themselves – calling themselves Darth Maul," he says firmly. "I have no doubt they are a Sith."

That makes the council hesitate, exchange looks, recalculate. "We should hear Ben Kenobi's testimony and then draw out conclusions," Adi Gallia says and Qui-Gon glances at her sharply. "Your suspicion will certainly be taken to account," the Jedi Master says, smiling a little. "But we haven't got the full picture yet."

"We should not hasten to resurrect old enemies. There have been users of the Dark Side before and there will be again," Yarael Poof says, waving a long fingered hand. "The Dark Side can exhibit itself in many ways and anyone can claim themselves a Sith. It doesn't necessarily make it true."

Qui-Gon sighs. "Yes, certainly," he says, patiently he thinks, and yet the Councillors send frowns his way. "But the attacker still knew something of Kenobi that made him a target. Maybe it was a warning they got from the force – or maybe the knowledge of Kenobi's nature leaked. Either way, Kenobi might be attacked again."

There's a moment of silence, and Mace Windu nods. "We will take it to account," he says slowly. "What is to happen with Ben Kenobi is still yet to be decided."

Which is practically an open admission that they have no idea what to do with the man. "I believe you will do as you feel is right," Qui-Gon says, with little hope of it. "Now what of Anakin Skywalker – have you made any decisions concerning the boy?"

From one subject the Council hardly wants to face to another. "The boy is still too old," Mace says, leaning back with a sigh. "Old, and full of fear and anxiety."

"According to Kenobi he is too old," Qui-Gon says flatly. "The man never took apprentices under the age of sixteen – or older. And from what I understand, it was the norm in his reality."

"Yes, so the Grandmaster told us. The nature of the Jedi in his reality is very different," Ki Adi Mundi says, shaking his head. "As are the nature of the tasks they commit themselves to. Tell us – what else have you learned of the kind of Jedi Ben Kenobi is?"

"I'm sure Ben Kenobi himself will be able to tell you better," Qui-Gon says, a little irritated by the attempted deflection. "If Anakin isn't taken in by this order, what do you suppose will happen to him? Shall we sent him back to Tatooine, to slavery?"

"Of course not," Mace sighs and runs a hand over his chin. "The boy is strong in the Force, and likely to grow more so, training or not. But to take such an emotional child into this order…" he trails away, troubled. "I sense danger in it. He is too old to master the spirit of the Jedi Order."

"The longer you dither, the older the boy will grow," Qui-Gon says, not particularly impressed.

"Perhaps we should see what Ben Kenobi would do in the boy's case," Plo Koon comments, thoughtful and a little amused. "Since he is familiar with older students in a way we are clearly not."

"You don't mean to suggest we allow him to train the boy?" Yarael Poof demands, turning his head slowly on top of his long neck.

"If what Master Yoda said is true then Ben Kenobi likely wouldn't train a boy so young at all," the Kel Dor answers calmly. "But there must be Force sensitive children in his reality who must be handled with some care, whether through training not. Perhaps there is a method of safely rearing Force sensitive children, that we aren't familiar with."

Though a somewhat controversial opinion to voice in the very heart of the Jedi Order, it nonetheless makes the Councillors consider, which is certainly something. Qui-Gon has a feeling Kenobi's method of safely rearing force sensitive children involves growing up with loving guardians in a secure environment, something which isn't actually open to Anakin. But he bows his head in agreement – Kenobi probably would have opinions on the matter, if nothing else.

"For now, Qui-Gon, you may keep the boy with you," Mace Windu decides. "Care for him as your ward, until this council has had time to deliberate, and hear Kenobi's testimony."

"Very well," Qui-Gon says, and very pointedly doesn't ask what he's allowed or forbidden to share with Anakin. "I will wait eagerly for your decision. Masters."

He bows and when no one objects, heads out of the council chambers, to meet with Anakin waiting on a bench outside. The boy looks up, and the nervousness radiating off him is palpable in the air.

"Qui-Gon, sir. What – what did they say?" Anakin asks, hopping to his feet.

"They have yet to make a decision – they want to hear what Kenobi has to say, first, and that might take while depending on what the healers feel is necessary for his recovery," Qui-Gon says and kneels down to face the child at his level. "For now you will stay with me, and I will look after you – and no matter what the council will ultimately decide, you will be alright, I will make sure of it."

Anakin bits his lip but nods, and his spirit quivers in the uncertainty of it. That's the worst of this, Qui-Gon thinks – that the weight of the Council's indecisiveness has to lay on the shoulders of such a young boy, so ill equipped to carry it. As much as he understands the Council's dilemma, it shouldn't be Anakin's burden to bear – he should already have the comfort of knowing his own fate… and he doesn't.

Qui-Gon thinks, briefly, of another young boy, nearly thirteen years of age and just as uncertain, and closes his eyes briefly. Then he stands. "Now," he says. "It seems we have some free time at our disposal – would you like to take a look around the temple?"

"I, uh. Yeah, but – what about Ben?" Anakin asks. "Can we go see him first, Qui-Gon, sir?"

Qui-Gon folds his hands into his sleeves and smiles. "He will be with the healers – chances are we won't be able to, just yet," he says. "But let's go and see, shall we?"

It turns out it's easier to see Kenobi this time than not – the man is sitting outside the Halls of Healing near a window, dressed into a patient's white robe with a datapad in hand. He looks up as they approach and quickly balances the datapad on his knee in order to wave his lone hand.

"Hey there," he says. "Yoda just left to inform the Council – I suppose you're fresh of a meeting with them?"

"Indeed," Qui-Gon says, a little uncertain. The white robes make Kenobi look strange – vulnerable. Is he slated for surgery, then – already?

Anakin hurries head a few steps, and then hesitates over sitting beside Kenobi. "Are you okay?" the boy asks nervously. "You look – you feel – um."

"Feel like what?" Kenobi asks gently. "Search your feelings, take your time."

"You feel like you're – prepared. For something bad." Anakin says, fiddling with his hands. "Is it the arm?"

"Yes," Kenobi agrees easily. "I'm going to have to go through some reconstructive surgery to have a cybernetic socket installed – it's not dangerous, but I am not overly fond of surgeries in general," he says and ruffles the boy's hair. "I'm just going through the potential options for my new arm – would you like to give your opinions, as an engineer?"

"Really?" the boy asks, surprised. "You want to hear what I think?"

"I've never been very good with things like machinery, electronics, never mind cybernetics," Kenobi admits and offers him the datapad. "Half of what is in here goes entirely over my head, I'm afraid."

Qui-Gon looks between them as Anakin accepts the datapad and then gets completely distracted from his worries and anxiousness. It's a small thing, so easily done, but – it was purposeful. Whether Kenobi has any intention of taking Anakin's opinion or not – and Qui-Gon suspects he might very well be serious about it – he has successfully derailed Anakin's anxiety by giving him that small task. Reminder of something the Anakin knows and a little bit of control over something, and suddenly the boy no longer feels like fear.

Kenobi meets his eyes, arching his brows. "How did it go with the Council, then?"

"About how I expected. I didn't… share your knowledge. Coming second hand it has the chance of only muddling the reception," Qui-Gon admits. "It will have a better, stronger impact coming straight from the source."

Kenobi arches his brows. "Well, you are probably not wrong," he says, dubiously. "But I thought you felt the risk too great to wait."

"I don't know what I felt, anymore," Qui-Gon admits with a sigh. Palpatine is the High Chancellor now either way – to openly claim him a user of the Dark Side of the force might smack of treason now… or just pettiness. The previous High Chancellor was Qui-Gon's personal friend, and if he spoke against Palpatine now it would be taken badly either way.

Even if Palpatine is a Sith Lord, he can't make any broad stroke difference yet anyway, not before the changeover of power was properly finished – and with the Republic Senate such things take time. It would be almost a half a year before the man would have any true power in the Senate as the High Chancellor. He could make a difference in influence, maybe, in building connections within the Senate and using his new position for leverage, but… not in legislation.

Better that the implied accusation, the threat, and the terrible revelation all came from Ben Kenobi – who was protected by his removed point of view.

"Hmm," Kenobi hums at him, and then shakes his head. "Well, I will try and make my report a most thorough one, once I actually get to it. I'm afraid it might take a day or two," he admits and then looks at Anakin. "What's the verdict, young one?"

"Well, it depends on what you want it to be able to do," Anakin says, flicking through the offered arms. "Like this has the compressive force to bend durasteel, but not much in way of dexterity – this one is really dexterous, but it won't be as strong. And this one has a built-in tool kit, which is pretty wizard."

"Not something I need, however," Kenobi says, amused. "How about something with the same strength and dexterity as your usual humanoid arm, hm? I'm not looking to upgrade – I just want my previous mobility back."

"Then I guess this one – it's the human standard," Anakin says and flicks through to an image of a prosthetic with black covering. "But it doesn't have touch sensitivity – just pressure and temperature. No synthetic skin – but you can pick your colour, here…"

Qui-Gon looks away as they consider the cybernetics, and wonders what his Padawan would feel over it, what he would like. Most likely the same thing as Ben Kenobi does – restoration of full mobility with as few setbacks as possible. Would he care for the aesthetics? Qui-Gon isn't sure.

He's tired and by stars, he wants to meditate, long and hard, on the loss of his padawan. He isn't sure he can ever make his peace with it, not with this replacement in Obi-Wan's place, but maybe… maybe he could achieve some kind of equilibrium. It had been Obi-Wan's will and he can see why, he can – no matter how it hurts… he should honour his Padawan's sacrifice, however mistakenly it was made.

"I suppose that is the one, then," Kenobi murmurs, accepting the datapad back. "Thank you, Anakin, that clarified things quite a bit."

"You're welcome," Anakin says, kicking his feet and then sighing. "Is it going to be very hard, the surgery?"

"No, not at all – I don't even need to be fully anesthetised for it," Kenobi says and Anakin's confused hum, amends, "I won't need to be knocked out. They'll immobilise and numb my arm, and I'll get to watch the whole thing."

"Ugh, I bet it's going to be gross," Anakin says, with a disgusted sort of wonder.

Kenobi grins at that. "Yes, it will no doubt be entirely gruesome," he agrees cheerfully and then looks up at Qui-Gon. "What about you – what will you two be doing now, that the mission is over?"

"Well, Anakin will be staying with me in our quarters for now, while the council makes their decision about him," Qui-Gon says and smiles at Anakin. "I'll be showing him around the temple, to start with, which will likely take several days. It is a big place."

"Days," Anakin mouths. "Wow, really, the Jedi Temple is that big?"

"It's over a thousand meters tall, and five hundred in with. You can imagine how many levels there are, how many rooms," Qui-Gon says and smiles. "We have a Room with Thousand Fountains – that alone would take weeks to explore in full."

Kenobi's brows arch a little higher at that and Anakin's eyes widen. "Fountains – like, water fountains? Oh wow," he says. "Thousand, really? What do you need a thousand water fountains for?"

"You know, I'm not sure anyone knows," Qui-Gon admits with a chuckle. "But they are nice to have. Would you like to see it?"

"Yes!" the boy says, hopping to his feet. "Yes, I want to see, Qui-Gon, sir, please!"

Qui-Gon chuckles while Ben Kenobi hums, his brows descending into a slight frown as he looks between them. Whatever he is seeing and whatever it makes him think, Qui-Gon decides he doesn't have the energy for it now. "Well," he says and steps back. "Guess we shall leave you to it, then. I wish you a swift recovery."

"Thank you," Kenobi says thoughtfully and then tucks the datapad under his arm and rises to his feet. "And thank you, Anakin, for your invaluable advice."

"You're welcome, Ben," the boy nods, moving to Qui-Gon's side, and with a slight bow of his head, Qui-Gon leaves him away – feeling Kenobi's thoughtful eyes on his back until they turn a corner, and move out of his view.

It turns out it's easy to distract Anakin from his anxieties, now that Qui-Gon has realised how much better the boy feels when he is. The Room of Thousand Fountains keeps him preoccupied for a good hour, and the rest of the temple offers similar distractions behind every corner, from the archives to the training salles to the crèches with their younger initiates. By the end of the tour and the day, Anakin is more full of curiosity than nervous fear and he feels much better, much more hopeful.

It might be a worse thing, should those hopes be dashed – but for now, Qui-Gon would take it over causing more unease. Certainly, Anakin falls asleep much easier and in much better spirits than he had before, sliding into dreams full of excitement and wonder.

Qui-Gon doesn't sleep – he sits down to meditate on loss, instead. On all the many forms of loss a man can feel… and on Obi-Wan.

Death is a natural part of life, Qui-Gon thinks Yoda said once, but it's not enough, it's not enough at all.

Ben Kenobi keeps calling Obi-Wan Qui-Gon's son – and though part of Qui-Gon shies away from that definition, another finds some odd comfort in it. There are few languages out there with a word for it – one calls a child who has lost their parents orphan, a spouse who lost their love a widower, but what do you call a parent who has lost a child? Even Mando'a, language of one of the more family centric cultures out there, lacks a word for it.

There is no word for it, because it's a loss that cannot be named – a loss that should not in the natural order of things happen. It is unimaginable. Parents should not outlive their children.

But they do anyway, and they move on from it, because they must – for themselves, for their duties whatever those may be, for their other children. Once Qui-Gon faces the loss head on… no, there is no name for it and no he doubts he will ever recover from it. But he faces it anyway, because he is Jedi, and he must, and it is what Obi-Wan would want him to do. He hopes it is, anyway. Because what else can he do?

With a sigh, Qui-Gon looks down and then takes out a small cloth wrap from inside his tunics, laying it out on his knee. Inside it is Obi-Wan's nerf tail and Padawan braid. Ben Kenobi had been careful in removing them – he'd wound the start of the braid and bound it with yarn to keep it from unravelling, and the tail has been tightly wrapped with the tie that once held it together. They are small things, two bundles of hair – odd for them to be all that was left of Qui-Gon's student and all the years spent together.

Anakin is sleeping in Obi-Wan's bed now. Ben Kenobi would likely not return to these quarters and Qui-Gon isn't sure at all how he would even take it if he would – he's managed to but a distance between the young man that was and the person that's taken his place, but that only applies outside. Here' in their home, a place he should have no attachment to but does anyway… it would probably hit too close to home.

Should he ask for a change of quarters… maybe, possibly. For now, Qui-Gon doesn't have the strength of will for it. Even if the rooms feel and smell like Obi-Wan and everything reminds him of moments now forever lost… he can't bring himself to imagine leaving them, even if it might be for his own good.

He would need to see a mind healer, he supposes. Or at least, find a partner to meditate over the loss with, someone to support him through the trial of letting go. He would need to let go, in order to attend to Anakin the way he deserved, no matter what the Council decided. And to Ben Kenobi himself. And to the very real danger of the Sith. There is so much work to be done and he would need to rise above his pain to face it all.

But not yet.

Running his fingers over the braid, over the beads, Qui-Gon breathes in and out, and lets himself remember – lets himself mourn.

Chapter Text

"How is that," Healer Su asks while Ben cycles through the motions of stretching out his fingers, together, then one by one, then touching the forefinger, middle finger, ring finger and little finger to his thumb back and forth.

"It moves perfectly and the sensory input is more than clear," Ben says. He can't feel touch on his new hand, not the way he can with his original flesh one, but the pressure sensitivity is more than enough to fool his senses. Already the arm feels like part of him. "You do incredible work, Healer Su, thank you. I don't think I will have any issues."

"If you do, you will comm me straight away," the healer says and puts away her tools. "You have a list of the exercises you're to do – and I want you to do them often and consistently. They're essential for full mental integration."

"I will do as told, of course," Ben agrees mildly. Mental integration – trying to avoid his mind ending up rejecting the limb, and causing him psychosomatic side effects. Benefit of such responsive cybernetics is that the chance of that is lesser, but it still happens. The more he uses the hand, the more like his it will feel – and the sooner he gets to the level where he no longer has to even think about it, the better.

"Do I have any restrictions as to what I can't do yet? I wouldn't want to strain myself, when you've done so good a job at patching me up," Ben says, looking up to the healer.

"Take it easy for a couple of days and if the skin near the socket becomes irritated, wash it more thoroughly and apply a bacta spray. And obviously if it hurts, stop doing whatever it is you're doing," the healer says, already moving away. "Aside from that, you seem to be healing adequately and within the week there should be no issues."

Ben nods, marvelling the sheer expertise and competency of it. "Thank you again," he says, running his flesh fingers over the palm of his artificial hand. Back in tatooine such an operation inevitably would lead to weeks of pain and a month or two of battling infection. He hasn't had such a level of care since Alderaan. "And it's – I owe the Jedi Order nothing for this?"

"You are part of this order, Kenobi," the healer says sharply. "And as long as you are here, your medical needs are covered. What has Master Jinn been putting into your head?"

"Nothing, nothing of the sort, I'm only…" used to having these things cost him. There are no free meals on Tatooine. "I'm sorry, I mean no offence."

The healer gives him a narrow eyed look. "If you have issues, I'm sure a mind healer would be delighted to make room for you in their schedule," she offers. "Force knows, you likely need it."

"That's quite alright, thank you," Ben says and quickly stands up. "I will bother you no more, Healer Su – and thank you again."

"You're welcome and may the Force be with you," she answers with a sigh and shake of her head, and Ben smoothly slides out of the room.

He is a little surprised to find no escort waiting for him outside – neither Yoda, nor any of the other Councillors, nor Qui-Gon or Anakin. It is rather early in the morning, so it makes sense, but… he'd been under the impression that he was to be escorted around. He'd almost preferred it, even, not knowing anything at all of the Jedi Temple – and considering it's size…

He doesn't suppose Qui-Gon Jinn would be interested in giving him a tour as well, hm…?

Folding his hands into his sleeves, Ben runs his flesh fingers over the artificial ones, trying to get used to the feel of it, and wonders what to do. To poke around and explore and likely risk disapproval from the Council, or to stay put and wait for someone to come and direct him… Well. He knows which one of those sounds more interesting.

Humming to himself, Ben sets forward to explore.

The Jedi Temple is easily the biggest thing he's set his foot upon, after the Death Star. The halls are vast, and the chambers they lead to seem even bigger. The ones without open windows to give natural light are instead lit by UV lights over head, which imitate the effect to an extent that he feels almost as though he is outside. In places, there's even something of a breeze, with powerful air-conditioning units circulating the millions of cubic meters of air around the boundless, enormous halls.

The place is incredible.

It's also incredibly empty. It not only looks it, but it feels it. A space that could house hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions only houses a few thousand, if even that. The space in between individuals is almost as great as the temple around them, and it's soaked into the stone – it's a home of the lonely, and the self isolated, it feels like.

Ben soaks up the atmosphere, and tries to be understanding. But he doesn't understand it at all.

The Jedi Knights he knew only numbered in thousands as well at their height, in his lifetime. There were more of them once, during the time of ancient, long forgotten wars… but things had been restless even when he'd been young, and Jedi Knights had been in high demand – and their jobs had been full of risk. There are more Jedi in this temple currently than he'd ever known to be alive any one time – and he knows in total the Jedi Order of this reality trumps his Order in numbers five fold. And still the feel of it is the same.

Like his Order of Jedi Knights, the Jedi Order here is a system in decline. His Order had been undone by their scarcity and how removed they were from each other, scattered around the galaxy – it made them easy pickings, because few were the Jedi Knights that worked in groups. Here, it's not that, it's not the same, but… it feels as though something that has worn the Order thin here too.

"Obi-Wan!"

Ben startles out of his musings and turns to look at the caller – a young Mon Calamari in Jedi's robes, hurrying through the hall. "I've been trying to comm you, to see if you were in the temple," she says excitedly. "We came back while you were away and I heard just yesterday that your and Master Jinn's mission was over, but – "

Oh – she must be one of the Young One's friends. "Ah," Ben says, a little awkward. "I left my comm with Master Jinn, he must've turned it off."

"I figured it was something like that – were you in the Halls of Healing? What happened this time?" the Mon Calamari asks, giving him an expectant look and then blinks. "Where – Obi-Wan, your braid! Your hair!"

Ben hesitates, unsure. In the end, no one had said he couldn't tell the truth to those who asked – only that he should keep the events of Naboo to himself. Still, he is not blind to the risks of spreading information, especially considering what he might know of the new High Chancellor…

But this is Young Obi-Wan's friend – it would be wrong to keep her in the dark. "I'm sorry," Ben says slowly. "We didn't even think of what to do in this situation. I'm… not the Obi-Wan Kenobi you know."

The Mon Calamari blinks, confused. "… What? What do you mean?"

"Some days back Obi-Wan Kenobi went through a massive, brain altering vision," Ben admits as kindly and gently as he can, though there is no way to really put this kindly. "All of his memories were replaced by different ones. I'm the result – you may call me Ben, if you wish."

For a moment she only gapes at him, her mouth moving silently. "But – what?" she says and then, "No, no, whatever this is – where is Master Jinn? Let's go see Master Jinn, he can set this straight – "

"… sure, if you'd like," Ben agrees mildly. "But don't get your hopes up, young one – the healers have already deemed the change irreversible. Obi-Wan Kenobi you know has joined the Force."

"No," the Mon Calamari says, shaking her head. "No, this is nonsense, you're just – confused. Come on, we're going to see Master Jinn right now."

Ben sighs, but as she grabs a hold of his arm, he lets her lead away. At least she seems to know where she's going. "I don't suppose I could ask for your name?" he asks carefully.

The other Jedi lets out a breath. "You know my name."

"I'm sorry, I do not."

She says nothing, leading him through the table, down stairs and down an elevator, and through many corridors he doesn't know – but at least now he knows where he might find the elevators. "Fair warning to you," he says while trying to keep track of the turns they take. "Qui-Gon Jinn is in mourning – he might not be happy to see us."

That makes the Mon Calamari hesitate, but she presses on, determined, until they come in front a door, behind which Ben can feel both Qui-Gon Jinn and Anakin Skywalker. They feel amiable, if not quite calm – the sadness permeates Qui-Gon's presence the same way uncertainty permeates Anakin's, and neither feel quite at ease. Ben smothers a sigh, and quietly regrets the intrusion upon whatever little peace the pair had managed to find between themselves.

The Mon Calamari woman knocks on the door, still gripping Ben's wrist in her hand, her back straight, her presence resolute. Qui-Gon Jinn is the one to answer the door – and the silence with which he greets them speaks volumes.

"Master Jinn," the Mon Calamari says, urgent. "Obi-Wan is speaking nonsense."

"Bant," Qui-Gon says with a sigh and straightens his back. He looks at Ben. "You are out of the halls of healing legitimately, I hope?"

Ben offers him an apologetic smile. "Oh yes. The surgery went without a hitch – I will be back to hundred percent inside a week," he assures the man. "They released me about half an hour ago."

"That's good," Qui-Gon says and between them the young Mon Calamari woman's posture goes from determined to defensive. Ben clears his throat awkwardly and gives Qui-Gon a hopeful look and thankfully the man understands it without words. "Anakin," the Jedi Master calls inside. "Ben is here – do you remember the way to the Room of Thousand Fountains? Do you think you could show him there?"

Anakin comes forward, and, smart kid that he is, he only needs to take a glance at the situation to realise what Qui-Gon wants. "Yeah, sure, I think I can make it there – hello," he says, bowing quickly to Bant and then bouncing over to Ben eagerly. "Did you get you arm yet – can I see? Aw man, you went with orange? Why orange?"

"I like orange," Ben says, offering Qui-Gon and the by now stricken looking Mon Calamari woman a slight bow before drawing away with Anakin. "I will happily show you – so as long as you show me these famous fountains."

"Oh, man, yeah, it's so wizard," Anakin says eagerly, even while reaching for his new hand. "There's really thousand of them, and they're like, all shapes and sizes and they have biomes from all over the galaxy attached to them and one of them was like floating –"

Ben draws Anakin away from Qui-Gon's door, giving the man and Young Obi-Wan's friend one last look – the reality is dawning to her now, her eyes wide as she looks after them. Qui-Gon draws her into his rooms, murmuring something quietly, and Ben feels vaguely guilty – that Qui-Gon will have to explain the situation to Obi-Wan's friends when the man himself has only begun dealing with it himself…

Ben would be happy enough to do it himself, but could he really say? He doesn't know her – they have no connection what so ever. He has no idea what she needs to hear now. Qui-Gon does, probably better than anyone.

"Was she Obi-Wan's friend?" Anakin asks quietly.

"You felt that?" Ben asks, looking down at the boy.

"She felt like – like you betrayed her, sort of."

Ben sighs. A rather cruel way to put it, but not entirely inaccurate. She had gotten a shock, certainly. "It is unfortunate," he murmurs, shaking his head. "And I am very sorry for her. But there is nothing I can do for her – I am not the Obi-Wan she knew."

Anakin looks down. He's not wearing the too large robe, but he looks like he wants to be. "I miss him," the boy murmurs.

Ben smiles sadly. "And I thank you for that, as would he, I imagine," he says, and ruffles the boy's hair. "It seems like Young Obi-Wan touched many lives and many will miss him – I am sorry his departure was so abrupt. He would've said goodbye, I think, if he could have."

Anakin says nothing for a moment, staring at the floor as they walk. Then he takes a deep breath and lets it out in a heavy sigh. "There was an oasis in the Room of a Thousand Fountains – like… sandy oasis. Do you want to see it?"

"I'd be delighted," Ben says, and follows the boy through the temple.

He and Anakin have been exchanging stories about the mythic waters of Tatooine for about an hour, when Qui-Gon finds them by the oasis fountain. The man feels subdued and morose in the Force, but also like he'd faced something of a catharsis in talking to the young Mon Calamari woman. He feels – steadier.

"Qui-Gon, sir," Anakin says, spotting him. "We were just talking about Tatooine – did you know it used to have oceans?"

"I – didn't, but I'm not surprised," Qui-Gon says, offering Anakin a smile and then glancing at Ben. "The Council will see you at your earliest convenience – there's a padawan waiting by the entrance to take you there."

"Ah, good, thank you," Ben says and stands up with a stretch. "I hope the young lady from before is fine."

"Bant is a resilient young Jedi, she will overcome the loss, eventually," Qui-Gon says and sighs, accepting Anakin to his side with a pat over the boy's shoulder. "She and Obi-Wan were friends since they were… well, always, I suppose. They grew up together."

Ben says nothing to that – there's nothing he can say, really, that would make things better. "I wish her the best," he offers and brushes the sand off his clothes. "Now, I'm afraid you will have to lead the way to the exit – I doubt I could find my way out of here on my own."

Qui-Gon smiles a little at that, bows his head, and then leads them past the many fountains, the clusters of plants, the paths, the clearings – there's a plethora of forests and gardens in the Room of Thousand Fountains, and they're like a maze one would be happy to get lost in.

Ben tries very hard to not see it as excessive. It is but it isn't at the same time – the Temple is permeated not only by Force and loneliness but also time. What is there has been there for hundreds, if not thousands, of years – the Jedi that inhabit the place now aren't the ones who created the Temple or who initially embraced it's incredible wealth. They just live there now. There have been generations of Jedi here since whoever built the place – and Ben can feel the comfort, security, solace they found in the Room of Thousand Fountains. There's no arrogance here, only peace.

… and yet, he can't help but think that yearly upkeep of the Room of Thousand Fountains alone would feed every woman man and child in Tatooine for probably much longer than a year. It's a little much, for a place of meditation – and it makes him miss the raw, wild swamps of Dagobah dearly. 

A more treacherous thought occurs, too, a more painful one. If his Jedi Order had had resources like these, if they were united and had this kind of wealth, this kind of home...

Ben sets the thought aside as they step out of the vast room, and into an almost as equally vast hall. There's a young rodian in sand hued robes waiting for them – she bows at the sight of them and then looks at Ben. "I'm Padawan Eylo Azuk," she says with a slight bow. "I'm to take you to the High Council Chambers."

"I submit myself to your guidance," Ben says and nods to Anakin and Qui-Gon. "And I wish a good day to you both."

Qui-Gon bows back, quiet, and Anakin looks between them uncertainly. "Can we see you again?" he asks worriedly.

"I doubt I will be kicked out of the temple just yet," Ben says with a mild smile. He wouldn't leave either way, not before he learned what would happen to the boy. "So I should hope so."

"I'm sure there will be opportunities," Qui-Gon says thoughtfully and then almost visibly braces himself and says, "Our rooms are situated in the Masters' level of the Residential Wing. Any Jedi should be able to point you the right way. You are… welcome to visit, of course."

"Ah, thank you. I might take you up on that," Ben says with a slow nod and then turns to follow the young rodian.

After having seen the Room of Thousand Fountains and glimpsed some of the Jedi Temple's vastness, returning to the High Council Chambers seems almost a relief – as rooms in the Jedi Temple go, it's a small and almost simple one… except for the view, which might very well be the richest in the entire planet. In a planet of hundreds of thousands incredibly tall buildings, the Council Chamber towers over them all.

"Well did your surgery go?" Yoda asks, once the Padawan leading Ben has bowed her way out.

"Yes – I'll make a full recovery in a week or two," Ben says and bows his head. "I would like to express my thanks to this Order for covering the cost of it. You have my gratitude."

"Not used to receiving support, you are," Yoda comments.

Ben hums in agreement. "I doubt you want to hear about my poor financial situation over the past few decades, though," he muses with a wry smile, looking around. Are they more withdrawn, more warm, more closed off, more open? He can't tell – mostly they seem impassive and shielded. It's hard to tell what they think of Qui-Gon's report, or what conclusions they might've drawn from it. Hmm.

"We've heard Master Qui-Gon Jinn's report on what happened on Naboo – now we would like to hear yours," a Cerean Jedi says, steepling his fingers and giving Ben a level look. "In as much detail as you can, if you would."

"Certainly," Ben says, clasping his flesh fingers around the wrist of his artificial hand. "I'll skip over the trip to Naboo, as nothing much happened during it. As the situation on the planet was already dire by that point, Queen Amidala decided her best course of action was to request aid from the Gungans, and so we landed near a Gungan Sacred Place, where met with the Gungan leadership…"

It's easy to get into the swing of reporting, despite the fact that it has been almost twenty years since he'd last given an after-action report. The Jedi Councillors listen quietly and attentively as he details the action over the swamp, the way he led the Gungans, the numbers they lost, the numbers they took out… Having been so severely outnumbered and outgunned, the fact that they came out on top at all might've made the whole thing one of Ben's proudest victories, if he hadn't gone into the battle so unprepared and with so little information.

"It was near the later half of the battle, when the Zabrak Qui-Gon called a Sith attacked me," Ben continues.

"The one Qui-Gon called a Sith?" One of the Councillors, a tolothian woman, asks interestedly.

"The term Sith is a new one to me," Ben admits. "The Zabrak introduced himself as Darth Maul and according to Qui-Gon that is the title of the Dark Lords of the Sith, but I only know it as the title Emperor Sidious gave to his apprentices. It might very well have carried the same meaning, but I can't say I am intimately familiar with the traditions the Emperor – or the Sith here – follow, so I don't know for sure."

The statement is taken with more impact than anything he's said before. "The – Emperor?" someone repeats. "Can you elaborate?"

Master Windu lifts his hand. "We will finish hearing Ben Kenobi's report on the events that occurred on Naboo first. There will be time for questions after," he says and nods to Ben. "Please proceed."

Ben looks between them and then draws a breath. "Darth Maul attacked me immediately with a lightsaber, and I answered in kind as well as I could," he continues. "Unfortunately he was both more skilled and in better practice – I'm sorry to say my own abilities have rather gotten rather rusty and young Obi-Wan's body is in much better shape than my own was, before my death. Darth Maul got the, ah… upper hand, briefly. I managed to incapacitate him by putting Young Obi-Wan's lightsaber through his stomach, but I don't know if he survived, there was no time to attend to the body – our position was over run and we had to retreat immediately after."

Ben runs his fingers over his artificial wrist, reflecting on the loss there and then meets Master Windu's eyes. "There is another thing. Maul knew of Young Obi-Wan's vision – his master, Lord Sidious, sent him to assassinate me, or who he thought I was. Which means his master not only knows something of what happened to Young Obi-Wan, but he also considers it a threat to himself."

Windu frowns, leaning forward a little. "Lord Sidious – you know this Sith from your reality?"

Ben nods slowly. "The Emperor," he says. "Where I come from, the galaxy is – or rather before my death it was for two terrible decades ruled by a dark and cruel Galactic Empire, and at its helm was Emperor Sidious. He was an user of the Dark Side of the Force, and trained apprentices in the same, all of them bearing the title Darth," he agrees. "His real name was Sheev Palpatine."

It's certainly not what the High Council expects, and the words land like a smoke bomb in their midst – they nearly all in one body lean back in alarm, staring at him with incredulous disbelief.

"Your reality is… much more volatile," one of the Jedi says, rather hopefully, desperately. "It cannot be the same."

"One can only hope," Ben says quietly and looks out of the many windows of the Council chamber – and over the expanse of Coruscant to the Senate district. "We met the man briefly upon landing in Coruscant, when we delivered the prisoners to the Senate – he didn't feel dark, so perhaps it's different here. But if it is the same man, then I wouldn't put it past him to have engineered the entire incident on Naboo just in order to get himself elected. It's just the sort of thing the Emperor would do."

"Those are some heavy accusations," Windu says quietly, while the other High Councillors share disturbed looks, or watch Ben wearily, like expecting him to bring out a bomb any moment.

Ben shakes his head at all of them. "I'm only telling you what I know," he answers simply and looks around. "I haven't told you much of my reality in hopes of keeping a certain distance between the two – my reality is a dark one, and the galaxy has gone through many dark things. Yours seems in much better state, or so I thought to preserve you from… inadvertently making any assumptions or accusations. I have fallen into those pitfalls before. So I have tried to keep quiet, and merely observe until I understand. I still don't."

"But now?" another Jedi asks.

"But now I think now there might be a very good chance this is why I am here – to tell you what happened in my galaxy, how the Old Republic… and the Order of Jedi Knights… died," Ben says grimly. "It's not a short or simple tale, though."

The Jedi Councillors are quiet for a moment, sharing disturbed glances. Then Yoda sighs and leans back, clasping his clawed hands together. "Time we have," he says, his ears drooping. "Listen we will – learn this I feel we must."

Ben nods and draws a breath. "First," he says. "You need to understand that by the time I was born, the Old Republic was already breaking apart – and a crumbling system has a lot of cracks for its people to fall through."