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Chapter Text

Ahsoka held up a silent hand to halt her troops. Holding up her index and middle fingers, she flicked her hands out to either side, indicating that they were to split up and surround the crashed ship, they had been sent out to scout. The planet Moran was rich in natural resources and along critical space routes, but the Morans largely kept themselves to a few major metropolitan areas and small mining outposts. Though loyal enough to the Republic, they were not able to prevent the theft of their land and resources by separatist colonies, utilizing the planet’s wealth of resources for droid production and seizing the space routes connected to it. It was the current strategic focal point of the Republic’s offensive strategies, but the droid armies were deeply ensconced in nearly every continent, with factories and internal supply line. Three days ago, Master Anakin had prevailed in securing the orbit and solar space of the planet and taken Ahsoka to the surface to aid the other Jedi generals in a brutal ground campaign. Three days ago, the planet’s space was put under republic lock-down, no ships permitted in or out without the Grand Republic Army’s knowledge. Six hours ago, an unknown and unregistered ship somehow slipped past the barricade and made an aggressive descent not too far from General Skywalker’s front.

Ahsoka was a gifted scout, she loved the opportunity to slip seamlessly into the natural landscape and move through unsecured and hostile territories. She’d sent her men on a wide circle around the target site and crept closer in a direct path. There was a gouge of fallen trees where the craft had made it’s hurried landing; there was no clearing for a landing strip for hundreds of miles. Either the vessel was deliberately directed toward Skyguy’s position or it was sufficiently out of control to not direct itself towards the open plains that existed further north of these equatorial rain forests. No longer leading her troopers, Ahsoka took to the trees and lightly jumped from branch to branch until she caught eyes on the space craft. It was a piece of junk.

It looked like a small freight craft, a model she’d never seen before, with its bulwark blackened from years of carbon scoring and rough edges dulled from ionic solar winds literally blowing off its rusted corners. It was smoking and looked entirely burned out from reentry. This was either a very clever rouse, or the ship was genuinely never going to lift off the ground again. There was a little camp made beside the wreckage—a fire burning heartily, and a lean too to chase off the heat of the sun. Supplies, blankets and tools were neatly laid out, and there—

Under the craft’s left propulsor engine was a man, pulling out wires like he was weeding a garden and cutting them away with the multi-tool he kept clenched in his teeth. He wore a simple tunic and soft leather boots, knee high, and had long, slightly graying hair tied back. After a few minutes, he pulled himself out from under the engine and slowly stood up, propping his hands on his stiff back. Ahsoka caught her breath when she spotted a light saber on his hip. He looked the part of a Jedi, but Ahsoka had never seen him before—and she’d met most of the jedi involved with the war by now. And anyways—anyways he was looking at her with his eyebrows raised expectantly. Ahsoka mumbled a huttese curse she’d picked up from Anakin when he was too distracted to recall her pretense and censor himself and hopped down. If it was a trap, she’d learned from the best on how to spring it, and anyways, her men were keeping their distance, and would have kept their cover. They could always back her up at the first moment of trouble.

“Well met Padawan.” The man says as he wipes engine grease on his breeches. “Where’s your master? Also, what planet are we on?”

“You don’t know where you are?” Ahsoka asked suspiciously. If he was pretending to be a jedi, he was doing it strangely. She could feel the force humming happily around him, though, and was confident at least that he was not another apprentice of Dooku’s.

“I am where the force has led me.” He said simply. “But do not evade my questions, young one. What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere without your master?”
Ahsoka rankled at the apparent lack of confidence in her abilities. She was following orders and where she was supposed to be. This man had crash landed on a planet he didn’t even know without so much as contacting the very obvious republic fleet in orbit with an SOS or hail. She decided to simply comm Skyguy instead of answering his questions. His grainy holo popped up on her wrist comm and he barked out an order for a report. Ahsoka gave the maybe jedi a sidewise glance as she replied, “Old transport freighter of some kind; I don’t recognize the make, but looks like it’ll never fly again—No don’t give me that, Master, this one really is a lost cause. There’s a guy with a lightsaber I’m talking to now. Says he doesn’t know where he is, and I can’t tell if he’s Jedi or not.” At the last sentence both Anakin and the stranger opened their mouths in protest—Anakin no doubt because she gave up her explicit instructions to use stealth and return unseen and is now conversing with a stranger with a lightsaber, and the stranger in protest that of course he is a Jedi.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes and was preparing a sarcastic comeback when the hatch of the space craft suddenly screeched open with the tortured sound of rusty hydraulics and a loud clang as the hatch fell to the ground with the dismount steps. Ahsoka leaped back and drew her lightsaber at the unexpected entrance of an unknown element, and instantly her troopers stepped out of their cover, surrounding the ship and shouting for hands up and quick surrender. In a blink, the strange man claiming to be a Jedi had drawn his own green saber and yanked Ahsoka behind him with the force like a cat grabbing a kitten by the scruff. Ahsoka squeaked in surprise and indignation but landed in a crouch with her knee to the ground and sabers at a ready. She had to get her bearings and regain control of the situation now. Shots were already fired in response to his manhandling of their commander and deflected—by two sabers. The newcomer was a small human boy. A padawan by his looks. Ahsoka was a poor judge of human ages, but the beads on his braid and lightsaber form he was using suggested he was about her age. Why had she never seen him or his master before?

The clones hesitated upon recognizing the familiar traits of a Jedi/padawan pair, and Ahsoka took the opportunity to regain control, ordering her men and the Jedi to stand down. “Fives and Trucker! Continue to scout the perimeter. Shooter and Pips, search the ship and cargo. The rest of you, we’re escorting our guests back to camp. Move out!” The older Jedi frowned thoughtfully as the clones hurried to their tasks. The padawan, who looks disheveled as if he’d just been sleeping when he stepped out cluelessly into a firefight looked at her and her men with a skeptical look that made her instinctively squirm, even if he was the one who was clearly clueless.

“Who are these people?” he asks his master at last, deciding to ignore her and her troops for now.

“I was hoping you would recognize your age mate padawan. I’ve not been around the temple enough to recognize everyone and the young padawan here is not forthcoming.”

“How could I have met her before? I told you—” he said anxiously before glancing at Ahsoka and shutting his mouth. Interesting.

“Okay well, you have your theories.” The master said as he strolled along after Ahsoka with a casual, relaxed air. “Why don’t you put them to the test?” He challenged.

The boy’s lips thinned and he walked in silence for a few moments. Something about his demeanor was truly uncanny, but Ahsoka couldn’t place a finger on it. Master Skywalker would tell her to meditate on it as if he ever found answers that way. At last the boy asked carefully, “What’s the date?” Ahsoka wasn’t sure what to say to that, but her right hand man answered promptly—bless the clones, they had no sense for what was weird.

“It is 7957, sir.” At which point the master started coughing, and the padawan had a distinct look of vindication cross his eyes before carefully affecting a stoic, if mildly interested expression.

Ahsoka turned around and started marching backwards as she faced the pair with her arms crossed on her chest. “Okay, what’s your guys’ deal?” She put just enough teeth into the demand to emphasis she wasn’t going to take any more evasions or vagaries.

“You must forgive us, young one. I entered a force anomaly that appeared during a series of rather extenuating circumstances. It appears to have warped our location in spacetime, but I trust the force has a reason for us to be here.”

“We’re almost twenty years into the future.” The padawan explained, still maintaining his carefully neutral tone. “So that’s why we haven’t seen each other in our classes, obviously.”

Ahsoka couldn’t believe this. Not because it was so improbable that such time skipping were possible—that she believed. But that such a massive proportion of the universe’s strangest happenstances should always happen to her and her master? Impossible. She looked at the pair carefully. The master had settled back into a relaxed stance, nothing belaboring the constant tension and stress that dogged the postures of all the Jedi generals she had ever met. If it weren’t for his keenly aware eyes canvasing the surrounding foliage, alert to the slightest flit of a bird or beast in the forest, she would have guessed that he’d managed to slip into a mediation while walking. The padawan was struggling to keep his mask up. The corners of his mouth twitched unhappily—any joy at being proven right in the wildest of theories had obviously faded in light of his fears being confirmed. He kept glancing discretely at the clone troopers, and Ahsoka could feel the distrust and trepidation seeping through the force. Such a strange pair—the master who seemed entirely open and guileless was in truth deeply guarded and carefully controlled while the apprentice who clearly strives for a guarded and contained demeanor was an open book.
“My Name’s Ahsoka Tano,” she said at last, introducing herself to both but specifically addressing the padawan, hoping to put him at ease.

He smiled faintly, familiarly, and stuck out his hand. “Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He said. Ahsoka lost focus and promptly tripped on a branch in her backwards march, tumbling down the incline of a little ravine several times as she struggled to get a grip on the force to stop her fall. Covered in mud and leaves and wincing at the crashing noise she made on her way down, Ahsoka had just a few seconds to gape at the baby-faced boy in mortification before the droid army’s ambush was sprung and all hell broke loose.

Chapter Text

Obi Wan had figured that he was in a war zone, since the other padawan had come to investigate their transport crash with soldiers in tow. He’d kept his mind carefully attuned to the forest, on the lookout for any minds with hostile intent; he hadn’t anticipated droids. The other padawan and the soldiers accompanying her obviously had, however, for despite the droids having the element of surprise and a clear numbers advantage, they had fallen into formation and quickly engaged in efficient combat. Obi-wan took a defensive position at his master’s back, as he watched the girl—Ahsoka—Spring up from the ravine she had fallen into with a force assisted jump, deflect blaster bolts with her dual sabers into several droids at the front before landing at the head of the troops—her troops, Obi-wan realized distantly for the first time. He had thought they were an escort on loan from the local authorities; it was common enough for governments who invited the aid of the Jedi to provide them with such resources if needed, but seeing them fight together, he saw that these soldiers had come with the Jedi. He wasn’t sure he liked that prospect and could feel Qui-gon’s displeasure at his paralleled observations ringing through their bond.
Obi-wan had had a bad feeling about this whole ordeal from the start. The feeling that time was off had slowly built into a migraine after landing on this planet, and only now with the rush of fighting for your life did he settle into the here and now enough to forget the change in time. He wondered absently if he and Master Jinn would be stuck here forever. If the clear shock that had registered on Ahsoka’s face an instant before falling out of sight had been because she’d recognized him as the padawan who had vanished into thin air with his master twenty years ago and never heard of again. Twenty years wasn’t as bad as it could be, all things considered. His friends would still be around, though probably established knights more interested in finding a padawan of their own than hanging out with one as a friend.

A blaster bolt slipped through his defense and passed inches away from his head, and Qui-gon growled out an admonition to focus on the present.

“I am thinking of the present, Master.” He retorted back with a little wry smile he hoped the man couldn’t detect in his voice. “Thanks to you’re splendid grasp of force anomalies.”

Before his Master could respond—undoubtably with extra exercises and homework—the young Torguta slipped back next to the pair and pointed to a ridge on the horizon. “We need to fall back to our line. There will be more waves coming after this.”

Master Jinn nodded. “Lead the way, padawan. I will defend the rear.”

Obi-Wan stood by his master’s side as Ahsoka gave her troopers orders and prepared to defend the back of the retreat with him, but Ahsoka clipped her sabers at her waist and grabbed his wrist pulling him with her to the front as she set a fast paced march. “You can’t be Obi-Wan. That’s not possible.” She grit out as she scanned the forest in front of her with narrowed eyes.

“Well. If you insist.” He replied with eyes raised and a wry smile. She looked aghast, but recognition sparked in her eyes at the sarcasm.

“You are Master Kenobi.”

“Have you met me, then? Future me? I thought maybe we weren’t going to get back to our right time, but if there’s two of me around, then I suppose we will.”

“How is this possible--? You—you’re so young!” Obi-wan felt a spark of annoyance.

“We’re the same age! Or close enough. But I don’t know how it happened. My master will tell you ‘all things are possible in the force, young one’ if you ask him.” He said with his best Qui-Gon impression. The other padawan laughed before clapping a hand to her mouth. Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“You make fun of your master. Obi-Wan Kenobi makes fun of his master. Oh, this is perfect.”

What an odd thing for her to say, Obi-Wan thought as he marched beside her, lapsing into silence as he let the moment of common levity drop in order to think over his situation yet again. She wasn’t just aware of him in the future, she knew him. Could recognize his way of talking even if the difference in age was a barrier to her recognizing him. He obviously had a reputation for being serious and formal, which—wasn’t so surprising. The way she reacted to him made him think that maybe he taught some of her classes in the temple at some point. It wasn’t uncommon for knights with some experience under their belts to do so before taking on a padawan of their own.

“So—what’s going on with these droids?”

Ahsoka winced. “I’m not sure how much you’re supposed to find out about the future.”

“Okay.” Obi-Wan said simply as he pulled his lightsaber to cut a path through some particularly dense bushes. The remaining droids from their earlier engagement were still actively following their small band, so covering tracks was pointless.

“Okay? Just like that--You’re not going to push for more information?”

“Am I supposed to?”

“I would. My Master would. I mean, you’re thrust into an active combat situation without knowing any relevant strategic objectives. I would hate that.”

Obi-Wan looked up at the forest above him, at the dappled motley rays of light seeping through several strata of foliage from the tall, dense trees. “I have visions. Premonitions.” He said quietly. “Sometimes it’s as small as hearing my friend’s joke the night before he tells it. Sometimes it’s—more than I know. And they’re not--they aren’t always good. So I had to learn that you can’t know the future—even when you see it.”

Ahsoka stopped marching suddenly, the whole little group following suit. She looked at him with an expression Obi-wan couldn’t quite decipher. She seemed a little dumbfounded, but then her face softened into a gentle smile so openly affectionate that Obi-wan in turn became the astonished one. Her emotions and attachments were fierce and open, and Obi-wan had never seen a padawan dare to be so blasé and bold.

“You know master, I’d always wondered how you got to be so wise, but I guess you were just born with it, huh?”

Obi-wan had never heard such a ridiculous idea in his life.
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Sitting atop the ridge of one of the hills along the Praxel Fault, this the 501st camp was still being set up as an entrenched defensive line. Troopers were clearing trees and setting up palisade walls. Defensive gun bunkers were being drilled into the cliffside. Ahsoka hoped they wouldn’t be here long, but what was built here would be used by a smaller occupation contingency sent out from the republic once the planet was sufficiently cleared. But for now it was home, and Ahsoka was glad to see it. The troops were happy to be under a planetary sun for a few days, and after their initial landing incursion, the past several days had been peaceful. Almost a long needed break, even for born and bred soldiers.

They had reached camp without much additional fanfare, which pleased Ahsoka because she was in enough trouble for botching her stealth scouting mission as it was. Although, she realized suddenly, her time traveling guests would probably distract Anakin from all other considerations. She looked back at the pair. As soon as the march had stopped, Kenobi had fallen back to his master’s side, two steps behind and a little to the left as was the formal place of a padawan. Ahsoka wondered if it signified distrust or discomfort; Skyguy wouldn’t tolerate her following from behind him unless it was necessary for ceremony or a council report, and Ahsoka rarely saw here peers use such formality with their masters either. However, the pair looked more curious than anything else—there were clones without their helmets on in the camp and both were appraising the soldiers intently.

“Wait here while I brief my master.” Ahsoka told them as she sprinted off to the center of the camp where Anakin held his strategic and communications center. Anakin had once told her that it was his grandmaster who had brought him to the temple, his face screwed up in that strained scowl that he always got when discussing losses. She thought about what it would be like if Master Plo Koon was gone—or Master Kenobi—and she had suddenly a chance to talk to them again. She would want a moment to prepare and compose herself, and Ahsoka had grown enough under Skywalker’s tutelage to realize that Skyguy more than most needed space to process through his feelings.

“Master!” She shouted as she dashed past the tent flaps to see the general and Rex hunched over their communications council, looking over star maps. “You’ll never guess who I found if I gave you a thousand—” She cut off. Sywalker looked agitated, angry even, and anxious. He was unconsciously flexing his fingers in his prosthetic hand, a calibration test to test accuracy and range of motion that had turned into an unconscious habit when he was preparing for a fight. She eyed him cautiously, wondering if this was about her and if she’d not be able to use distraction to slip past a rebuke after all.

Anakin let out a controlled breath and forcibly relaxed. “A thousand guesses for a maybe-jedi? Can’t be that hard.” He said lightly with a little mischief that didn’t quite reach his eyes. So it wasn’t her. Bad news while she was away then, which was worse.

“What happened?” She asked seriously.

Anakin’s attempted cheer dropped and his face darkened. “Obi-Wan’s transport was shot down in the Kraste system five days ago. The Separatists have taken the system, and the council only bothered to tell me today when I asked if he was ready to help back us up here.”

Ahsoka took a step back. That couldn’t be a coincidence. This was all wrong. “Qui-Gon Jinn.” She blurted out. Anakin blinked, nonplussed enough to be thrown off of his brooding.

“What?” He asked after a moment.

“That’s who I found in the crash. A guy who calls himself Qui-Gon Jinn, and master, he’s got a tiny Obi-wan with him to prove it. They say they’re from the past, something about the force bringing them here--?” She trailed off uncertainly. But Anakin was already on the way out of the tent, jogging lightly through the camp looking for these visitors out of time.

Ahsoka stayed a moment to ask Rex for more details about her grandmaster. Thoughts of Anakin’s having lost his grandmaster had put her in a mood for paranoia. However there wasn’t much more information to be had. Anakin had begged the council to be sent to retrieve General Kenobi, but they had insisted he remain where he was posted. Jedi were entrenching themselves deeply in this planet, and it would be a slow and painstaking campaign to uproot the enemy presence.

By the time she’d caught up to Anakin, she found him staring openly at their temporal visitors. They were seated further up ahead on a patch of compact dirt with about a dozen clones, eating rations and conversing with them. The kid’s eyes kept sliding to the side to meet Skywalker’s stare, but Anakin made no move forward, and the padawan would quickly break the eye contact to pay attention to the discussion he was having with several clones (who, Ahsoka could see even from this distance, were absolutely enchanted with the younger model of their grand general. Perhaps they of all people were best prepared to handle duplicate jedi).

At last, Anakin moved forwards and the clones jumped to attention for him before he mumbled an order to be at ease. Master Jinn slowly stood up, Obi-Wan standing and falling into place two steps behind again. Ahsoka realized now with incredulity, that this was probably unconscious habit, that the pair simply always followed the formality. “It really is you.” Anakin said at last; his Adam’s apple bobbed with unspoken words.

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Knight---?” Master Jin responded with perfect tranquility.

“Anakin. Anakin Skywalker. What are you doing here?”

Jinn raised his eyebrows, “Padawan Tano has brought us hither to speak with her Master.” And Ahsoka was absolutely sure he was being obtuse on purpose.

“I am Ahsoka’s master.” Anakin said with a little frown.

Master Jinn maintained a perfectly calm and indifferent aspect, but Ahsoka saw Obi-Wan’s jaw drop in surprise before quickly shutting his mouth and looking between her and her master. Ahsoka was genuinely unsure what it was that had surprised him so—as if he had any ground to find something strange after time traveling with his master.

The older master tilted his head deferentially, “Then perhaps you alone know the answer to the question you ask. I follow the force, and the force has brought me to you.”

Anakin raised his eyebrows, and a thoughtful smile crept onto his face, his mind clearly racing with possibilities. “Perfect. You came and just the right time.” He said at last and started to march back to the communication center, raising his hand with a twist to indicate he should be followed.

“Master…” Ahsoka said skeptically as she jogged to keep up with his unnaturally long strides. “What are you planning now?”

“’We don’t have anyone to spare.’ The council told me. About saving Obi-Wan—He’s the one we can’t spare.” And the anger and anxiety were back after their brief banishment. “But now I do have a spare Jedi—and maybe the best man for the job.” He smiled brightly now. Anakin’s quick shifts in mood and emotion had kept Ahsoka off balance when she was a new padawan, young and inexperienced, but now it was almost contagious. She smiled back. Maybe the force really was looking out for them.

Chapter Text

Ben Kenobi learned long ago that the force didn’t exist to look out for him; it was bigger than one man. He trusted it nonetheless. He also wanted more for the galaxy than his own well being, so when Luke’s bright light in the arid field of the force blinked out, Obi-wan did not ask why. He did not question the will of the force when after days of canvasing the desert dunes he found Luke’s speeder, blaster rifle propped against its hood, idling besides the faint remnants of a tear in the force. It was clear enough what happened. The force opened its maw for mysteries unknown, and the force’s bight child followed the call. All he asked as he eased himself into a meditative pose in the center of the disturbance was he be allowed to follow.

It was a complicated negotiation, to weave with the force’s silken threads instead of simply following the natural course of their ornate twists. The jedi were taught to use the force not change its fabric. Paltry tricks to change a mind, move an object or intuit things unseen or yet to happen. The had not lived as Ben did, burdened under the crushing emptiness of death, standing against the seething, churning agonies of a force corrupted. For sixteen years, Obi-wan had warred with himself and with the force. Somewhere along the way he had accepted the dissolution of all he knew, the loss of all he desired and the lie of the carefully crafted identity of Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, general of the republic, councilor of the jedi order.

In some ways, Obi-Wan had died in the sands of Tatooine. Hope preserved him and gave him eyes to see what he never could before: that life is not a state of being but an action—and darkness was nothing but a new place for light to shine.
The force dissolved around him, shifted—changed. And before he could open his eyes he was blinded by the vibrancy of hundreds, no thousands of jedi, connected across the galaxy in a bright web he had never noticed until it was gone. Living, fighting, mourning.
Ben brought a shaking hand, weathered by years of sand and manual labor, to his mouth in shock as tears welled up in his eyes. Tears were an extravagance one could not afford on Tatooine. This was—not what he had expected. Fear coiled in his chest as he realized for the fist time in so very long he had something to loose. And here he’d thought he’d been so enlightened, Ben thought with a wry smile and a heavy sigh. Well, there was nothing for it; there was no honing in on Luke’s bright presence when the force was alight with stars. He would have to track the boy down the traditional way. Ben stood up and rolled his neck to work out some of the tension that bunched up in his upper back. He took stock of the nondescript woods. When he was a younger man who’d spent his life on Coruscant, in spaceships and world capitols, these forests would seem hostile; finding civilization would be a priority. Now, he felt the cooling evening breeze chase the water from the air as thousands of insects danced in dew drops. The ground was firm. The trees were shelter from the harsher elements. He would bide his time, for he had every reason to be cautious.
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Obi-wan was used to keeping his composure in unusual or uncomfortable circumstances, but as he sat in the briefing with Ahsoka’s master, he found his mental equilibrium sorely tested. Knight Skywalker didn’t care an iota about his visitors learning of this future they found themselves in and was explaining the galactic civil war that was being waged currently—which he and Qui-Gon had already intuited somewhat from talking with the cloned soldiers, despite their best attempts at discretion. Obi-Wan was horrified but only in an abstract, distant way. None of it felt particularly real. What did feel viscerally real was the tangible stares of every soldier and of Ahsoka and her master.

Obi-Wan was accustomed to stares; all Jedi, once recognized for what they were, tended to draw eyes. But as a padawan at his master’s side, he was practiced at fading into the background. It was partly the advantage of Jedi/padawan partnerships: the senior peacekeeper could take point on diplomacy while the pupil held the advantage of being underestimated and ignored, free to observe and study people’s more candid behavior. However, there was no denying now that he was an object of intense interest among everyone here. Probably because he was another general in this war, (it sounded like almost every Jedi was) who had worked with this battalion before and was now missing behind enemy lines. Yes, it was becoming painfully clear that he would not grow out of his uncommon ability to mortify himself.

“—So if the force sent you here and now for any reason, I’d say it’s to go save your padawan. This will definitely count as a point to me in the rescue tally, by the way.” Anakin finished, directing the last comment directly at Obi-Wan as if he had anything to do with a rescue contest with this man.

Qui-Gon’s brows were furrowed in thought and contemplation. As an added point of evidence towards his supreme misfortune, Obi-Wan was pretty sure that Qui-Gon was either dead or cast out of the order by this time. There was simply no way this older version of himself could possibly get away with participating in a war as a general without his former master murdering him with the look of disapproval Qui-Gon had been developing over the course of this conversation. Knight Skywalker seemed so confident that Qui-Gon would save this older Kenobi; more proof that he had never met his master. Otherwise he would know he was sealing his future death warrant.

“Rest at ease, padawan” Qui-Gon said at last, reading the general tenor of his thoughts through their bond. “We will go and retrieve Knight Kenobi. I rather look forward to meeting him.”

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka blurted.

“I beg your pardon?” Said Qui-Gon, turning to look at the girl quizzically.

“Sorry—” she said sheepishly, “It’s just; he’s not a knight. He’s a master.”

Obi-Wan kept his mouth shut, and Qui-Gon simply nodded and rolled with it. There was no way he would be able to achieve that rank in such a relatively narrow time frame. A realistic goal for human padawans to complete their trials by was their mid-twenties, and though at sixteen he knew he was one of the best duelers in his age group, Obi-Wan was all too aware that he was no protégé student. He’d been kicked out of the Jedi order enough times to know that. How on earth this other Obi-Wan had managed to finish his own training, establish himself as a knight worthy of teaching a padawan of himself and raise that pupil to a full knight themselves in the space of twenty years, Obi-Wan had no clue. Most likely the rank of Master was being awarded to knights willy-nilly as a part of the wartime ranking system.

“Of course,” Qui-Gon said sanguinely, “We will retrieve Master Kenobi.” Obi-wan spotted the slightest twitch at the corner of his master’s mouth. He thinks this is funny, he realized indignantly, but there was nothing for it. This situation has been out of his control from the start, and he knew Qui-Gon would reprimand him for thinking life was in his control under any circumstances.

“Yes, well—about that. Master Jinn, I need you to go alone. The mission is risky even by my standards.” Anakin said as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand sheepishly. “Look, as far as I’m concerned, if the force didn’t want time to be disrupted, it wouldn’t have sent you here, but I can’t risk Obi-Wan not even making it to the point where he needs to be rescued in the first place.”

“I can hold my own.” Obi-Wan spoke up for the first time in this whole debriefing.

“Which is why you can help Ahsoka and I take this planet while we wait.”

Obi-Wan looked up to Qui-Gon anxiously. “I won’t leave my padawan to fight wars on a distant planet.” He said firmly. Which was a bit rich coming from his Master, Obi-Wan had to admit, but he would take what he could get.

“Then you’re not going.” Anakin said with frustration. “I may be prone to reckless schemes, but even I know when to avoid unnecessary risks. I’m trying to save my—general. Not get him killed decades early. I can spare you a stealth transport and a couple dozen troopers. You go in, you find the survivors—and there will be survivors. You get out and come pick your padawan up. I can keep him out of the fight here too, if you want. Send him to the fleet.”

Obi-Wan silently willed his master’s famed stubbornness to come through for him. Instead, Qui-Gon paused a moment, before asking to speak with the knight privately.

“Master, don’t do this. We’re stuck out of time; we need to stick together. This other—me—he isn’t your padawan. I am.”

“Enough, Obi-Wan. I would speak to Knight Skywalker alone.” Qui-Gon said censoriously. Obi-Wan bowed his head and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Snips, show Obi-Wan the camp will you?” Anakin said. The knight had a touch of smugness in his voice that betrayed confidence that he would have his way. Obi-Wan glowered at him before turning and stiffly walking out. Ahsoka followed him from a slight distance.

“You know, my master is probably right on this one.” She broached at last. “We don’t want to lose both of you.”

“Would you accept that?”

Ahsoka hopped up on a crate and shrugged sheepishly. “Honestly, I would probably stow away.”

The pair lapsed into silence for a moment, as Obi-Wan thought about his options. Qui-Gon obviously had guesses about himself and his future that he wanted confirmed outside of his hearing. Given that Qui-Gon obviously thought this subject was relevant to the debate about bringing him along, Obi-Wan was quite sure that his master’s intuition would prove accurate and that the confirmation would bring him over to the strange, militaristic Jedi’s wishes. Obi-Wan had been quite proud of himself from refraining to seek answers to the millions of questions he couldn’t help but think of. He had meant what he told Ahsoka about foreknowledge not being particularly helpful, but this strained the limits of his discipline.

“He won’t be gone long.” Ahsoka offered at last. She was trying to comfort him; Obi-wan needed to get it together.

“It’s not that—” He started “It’s that we don’t know how or when we’ll go back. We’re anomalies right now. It’s all wrong, and if we split up in the middle of a galactic war—there’s too many variables. No one knows what could happen.”

“You know. . .my grandmaster always says that the easiest way through a trap is to spring it. Maybe it’s okay if everything goes haywire.”

“Well, your grandmaster is an idiot.” There was a quick beat before Ahsoka burst into uncontrollable laughter. Obi-Wan stood about awkwardly while she got it out of her system and tried to parse out how he’d walked into—whatever trap that was. Her grandmaster was probably Yoda or someone on the council, who Obi-Wan would know of both currently and in the future and should never in a million years call an idiot. It made some sense, considering how ridiculously young her own master was; he must have passed his trials early and taken Ahsoka on almost immediately. The council must be awfully confident in his abilities and training.

“Let me in on the joke?” He said at last.

“Oh, oh gosh haha. I’m sorry. Sorry. Later. I’ll tell you later.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and crossed his hands across his chest. Fortunately, Qui-Gon and Anakin walked out of their tent. Qui-Gon coming to briskly tell Obi-Wan that he shall be departing alone directly, and that he was to follow the orders of Knight Skywalker. Obi-Wan kept his hands stiffly at his side and nodded once. “Yes Master.” He said. Qui-Gon kept a formal exterior but gave him a proud smile through their bond. I’m going to bring you home. He said before walking off.

Chapter Text

There were no days on Darrowreigh. The periods of a single planetary rotation and it’s orbit around its sun were equal; one side was forever towards the sun, and the other cloaked in endless night. General Kenobi and a couple dozen troopers who had accompanied him in his small councilor class transit had made a camp on the top of a bald hill in a forest of endless twilight. All the thin, wiry trees leaned achingly towards the rim of light that skimmed the horizon. Their red and yellow leaves shivered in the constant gale of icy wind that blew in from the hemisphere of cold and dark—a consequence of convection in the planets atmosphere.

The local government had invited him to negotiate additional republic defense from the nearby separatist strongholds. They were a people divided, they had said; they needed reassurances so that the separatist sympathizers could not leverage fear to sway the people in their aims. They shot him out of orbit on his approach, intending, Obi-Wan suspected, to force their landing on the dark side of the planet where exposure and the brutal grip of winter would finish the work, possibly even maintaining plausible deniability as well—if perhaps the Darrowreignian government was merely serving him up to the separatists as the price of being left alone rather than joining Count Dooku’s cause directly.

The good news, was that they had managed to crash very near the planet’s terminator, and several days of brutal, sleepless marching had brought them into the half-light—and a climate that sustained liquid water and some edible vegetation. The bad news was that the droids had found their crash site and, indifferent to the cold, had tracked them at a much faster pace. They were besieged on their hill—a fine defensive position, with tall rock cliffs all about and a clear view of the woods about them—and supplies and foraged food were running low. The hill was ringed with mounds of shot down droids, but his men were exhausted and many wounded. They were running low on blaster charges, so Obi Wan had ordered them into their shelter—a large impromptu yurt, made of rocks and moss and roofed with trees and tarps, and took to patrolling the edges of the hill with two troopers at a time—deflecting the droid’s shots back into their ranks and retrieving what weaponry they could.

Obi-Wan had a very good sense of time, and he also had a very educated guess on how long it would take the Council to retrieve him if they were going to come at all. He had realized on the second or third standard day that they were past that point, and the chances of external help were rapidly diminishing, but as the fighting began in earnest and Obi-Wan immersed his focus and force awareness totally in the struggle of survival, his internal clock began to slip. Obi-Wan wasn’t really sure how long he and his men had been on this hill. The sun never moved, the weather never changed. Only his men grew more demoralized and spent and the droids kept coming.

A line of droids burst out of the tree-line and he and his two men laid cover fire with recovered separatist blasters while Kenobi took point, grabbing the closest one with the force and flinging it viciously into a tree before flicking out his blade to deflect the oncoming shots. Most hit their target, some flew wide, and one slipped past his guard and threw him back with a jolt as his chest piece disbursed the deadly energy bolt. Dazed, Obi-wan focused on controlling his breathing and reaching out to the force with his mind while his men hurriedly pulled him back from the cliff’s edge and into the hut.

“I’m fine. Not injured.” He grunted, propping himself off the ground by his elbow and whipping the cold sweat off of his forehead with his right hand. “Just—winded.”

Cody frowned. “With all due respect, General, you’re exhausted. You put all of us on rest rotations and not yourself.”

“Perhaps.”

Cody frowned deeper. “So you’ll sleep, then.”

Obi-Wan looked up at him dryly “Do you have enough blasters to hold off a squadron of droids without my light saber?” Both men knew they did not. Nine clones remained, and the scavenged droid blasters were poor quality, cheap, with charges meant to kill men rather than dismantle mettle droids.

“We’ll have to.”

Obi-wan finally pushed himself up from the stone ground and sat cross-legged. His arms shook under his own weight as he propped himself up. He had been on his feet for a long time. Days, surely. He hadn’t wanted to sit down for fear that he wouldn’t get up again—or at least not quickly enough—and he’d probably been right. Just these moments of rest, after catching his breath and before going back to duty, were sapping his strength more than any fight or march could.

“I’ll meditate.” He said at last. There wasn’t enough time for sleep to do its work, but Obi-wan knew there was more strength yet that he could pull from the force. An hour or so of full meditation would suffice. Cody gave him a curt nod and pulled the men out to their small battlefront, and Obi-wan began to center himself enough to fall into the force.

The force around him felt fitful and agitated, and he knew his own soul was at least in part to blame. It felt hard to grasp, like trying to believe something you hadn’t believed before, like hearing a song you remember but can’t recall. Past experience suggested it could take hours to smooth things out and restfully meditate, and Obi-wan did not have the time. He reached for a flitting, fleeting strain of the force and grabbed and did not let go. When it danced away from his mind and into the sea of the force, it brought him out with it, and with a jerk, Obi-wan was fully immersed in the force, disconnected from the pain and exhaustion, the exposure to the elements and the starvation that had tormented him and his men for days now. Probably too disconnected, come to think of it. But as he began to gently come back to himself and reach a healthy equilibrium, he felt things shift. Instead of him pulling the force to him, the force pulled on him. And with a disorienting lurch he found himself—

A hallway in the jedi temple. Between the training rooms and the garden. It was quiet, still. A figure—Qui-Gon, he realized with a start—stood by the balustrade overlooking the garden. Obi-Wan was a jedi master sitting on the council. He was no stranger to visions even as a youngling and knew how to handle himself, how to relax and let the force show him what it would. But this was a hard and bitter pill to swallow when Obi-Wan was exhausted, beaten down and seeking aid from the force—not reminders of old wounds. He stood frozen in place when Qui-Gon turned to him.

“Obi-Wan.” He said, walking quickly towards him. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Obi-Wan craned his neck to look up at his master, a padawan again in stature if not experience. He wasn’t really sure how to answer that, so he remained silent. Qui-Gon reached out and tugged on his braid.

“Padawan. Where are you?”

Obi-Wan made a show of looking around. “A vision—looks like the west garden corridor.”

Qui-Gon started and took stock of his own surroundings. “I suppose so. I meant where are you actually? Be as specific as possible.”

This was not the most cryptic of force visions, but it was one of the stranger varieties.
“On Darrowreigh. A hill in the eastern terminus, fifty three degrees north—why?”

“Perfect. Don’t move.” He said and the vision ended, jolting Obi-Wan out of his meditation.
He grimaced and stood up stiffly, not feeling any more rested or at ease than when he started. He staggered out of their cobbled shelter and drew his saber once more. The force was as opaque as it was translucent at times, but the urging to stay put was clear enough—if a little needless. Obi-Wan did not see an escape despite all efforts, and he had no intention of being taken captive. Therefore, he would stay on this hill, holding out for help or death.
____________________________________________________
Qui-Gon opened his eyes with satisfaction. He wasn’t sure if reaching through his training bond with Obi-Wan would work with the adult—and for two days it had not. But while Knight Skywalker had known that Obi-Wan was headed for Darrowreigh, there was no way to pinpoint his location easily—not without becoming discovered by a hostile government and separatist forces. It was why Skywalker had needed a Jedi who could reach out to Kenobi in the first place. He briskly walked into their transport's cockpit and instructed the pilot to go. They would arrive within the hour.

Qui-Gon settled into the co-pilots chair and thought about the brief conversation he had just had. The vision projected was of Obi-Wan as a boy younger than he was now—perhaps how they both looked when their bond was just developing and growing stronger—and though he interacted with the boy like he would his Obi-Wan, he knew the guarded force presence behind the padawan’s eyes was unfamiliar and much older. He tried to think of what he would really look like or what kind of man his pupil would become but found he had no idea of the former and feared the latter. Qui-Gon grit his teeth. All indications suggested that Obi-Wan had become astonishingly successful, but he worried about what kind of man would spearhead a war, lead cloned soldiers into battle. He thought about—no it wouldn’t be like that.

Time passed quickly enough and soon the ship was descending in the specified area, close enough that scanners could pinpoint the stranded Jedi’s exact location. The clone pilot was very good; he brought the transport ship, boarding ramp lowered, into a near hover over the skirmish on the hill. Qui-gon surveyed the field. Blaster bolts were flying as a small handful of soldiers tucked behind the partial cover of boulders picked off droids making attempt to scale the cliffs—and not the first if the piles of destroyed droids that scattered about the fields were any indication. On the precipice of the cliff, drawing the most fire from the enemy was a Jedi moving fluidly, his saber a sharpened shield, efficient and minimalist in its movements. Obi-wan, though his saber form was not the one he had taught him.

The men on the ground responded quickly to the sound and sight of the transport dropping out of their cloud cover and into the fray. They immediately fell back, Obi-wan covering the retreat as the nine surviving men were most exposed roping up into the transport one by one. Once Kenobi had leaped into the ship and slammed the hatch behind him with an absent wave of his hand, the ship was off, shaking violently as the pilot brought it into orbit as aggressively as possible. The men clung to their handholds against the force of the acceleration, until all at once the violent tumult of atmosphere stopped in place of the smooth stillness first of space and soon after of hyperspace. Mission success.

Qui-gon looked over to the man he had retrieved with an evaluating eye. He was covered in dirt and grime, unshaven—with a beard impressive enough to suggest it had not merely sprung up in the absence of a moment to shave—and hunched over in weariness, his eyes squeezed shut as his left hand lightly brushed his brow, as if to ward off a migraine. Qui-gon was sure the man had not even noticed him yet. It was obvious that the he had just endured extreme hardship, but Qui-gon couldn’t resist the impulse to chide him for his inattention.

“I see you still have yet to master an awareness of your surroundings, Obi-wan.” He said lightly. In truth, he could not see his padawan underneath the grime and years. He couldn’t even feel his presence in the force, so tightly it was closed and cloaked, and he wanted so badly for the other man to open his eyes and reveal— he wasn’t sure what.

The man winced, shook his head lightly and looked up, blinked a few times and closed his eyes again as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“General?” One of the men, who was rescued along with Kenobi and who was clearly attentive to the muted expressions of distress of his commanding officer, asked.

“I’m fine, Cody. Just more tired than I thought.” His voice was unmistakably Obi-wan’s, and Qui-gon, who had been going about this mission and meeting with a certain level of detachment, suddenly wanted very much to be acknowledged.

“You aren’t hallucinating, Obi-wan. Look to the force, and you will see I am truly here. Your former padawan, Knight Skywalker, sent me to fetch you. He told me to inform you that this counts to his rescue tally, by the way.”

Obi-wan scowled at him, but Qui-gon felt his mind reaching out through the force. He was authoritative and defensive, penetrating the doubts and mysteries to see without being seen himself. It was rude, Qui-gon felt, to be so distrustful to one’s former master, even if he was supposed to be dead, so the moment Obi-wan could no longer deny the truth of his senses, in the moment of his shock and surprise, Qui-gon batted away his shields and grasped at the severed threads of a long abandoned training bond—the ties of lineage that bind jedi to their past and their future. In a moment they knew each other again. In a moment Obi-wan reeled back and viciously severed the connection.

“Don’t!” Obi-wan shouted hoarsely, took a second to recompose himself, shoving his unruly bangs out of his eyes, before saying more evenly, “My apologies, Master Jinn, I’m not sure how you’ve come to be here, but I—I thank you for your aid.”

Qui-gon frowned. “Obi-wan, what is the meaning of this.”

He walked to the corner of the transport and sat down heavily, leaning his head back against the wall. “I don’t know what you mean.” He mumbled, then turned to his second hand man. “Cody, please contact the council and inform them of our retrieval. Tell them that Master Qui-Gon Jinn is here. I’ll speak with them soon; I just need a moment to—” And he slumped into a sleep. The medic Qui-Gon had brought with him rushed to check that sleep was all that held his general in it’s grip, but Qui-Gon had seen the man’s exhaustion—seen how the man had used the force like the only lifeline keeping him awake and standing. It was something Jedi were strongly discouraged to do; too easily could a knight loose track of his own limits in the force and burn himself out, but Qui-gon got the sense that this man was well aware of his limitations—aware and finding them unacceptable. He frowned and left the general to the care of his soldiers and walked back to the cock pit to meditate.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka prowled carefully around the perimeter of the training ring hastily carved into the dirt of their camp. Anakin and half the battalion it seemed were spectating a dual that she had challenged the little Obi-wan to. She knew most of the men were rooting for her, and Anakin desperately wanted her to prevail. This match would reflect on his contribution to their training line--if he had improved the line’s skill and added to the teachings or not. Ahsoka for her part had just wanted to see if she could beat Master Kenobi when the advantages of age and experience were conveniently irrelevant.

Her target stood still in the middle of the ring, stance at the ready, following her every movement carefully. If it weren’t for the naked desire to win in his eyes, Ahsoka would almost think him unchanged. She lunged with an aggressive attack with both her sabers in a reverse grip, ducking low and swiping out from both sides in quick syncopated strikes. She had trained with Master Kenobi a hundred times if she trained at all, and while Ahsoka wanted this to be a fair fight, she had the incalculable advantage of knowing her opponent. Obi-Wan would go on the defensive, and her relentless offence would keep him there until she could finish the bout. She reached for the force to brace for the clash of sabers but hit—empty air.

Ahsoka pivoted her over-extended attack into a summersault that left her in a low defensive crouch just in time to throw up her arms and block a strong downward strike as Obi-wan followed his evasive jump with an aerial flip into a leap attack. She disengaged her shoto blade to free it for a counterattack from the lower right while her primary blade was locked with his. Instead of disengaging or parrying, he leaned into his locked blade keeping her in her low defensive position and hoped lightly up, using their clashing blades as a pivot to vault over her. Ataru. He was using Ataru—and not simply borrowing from it to trip her up—he was proficient at it. Ahsoka had never heard of a padawan or knight changing styles by the time they attained proficiency in one. So much for ‘know thy enemy.’

She flicked her blade to deflect his attack at her back, nocking his blade to the side before coming in with her Shoto. Her reverse grip made this so easy, saving her from having to leave an opening while she pivoted to block as a dualist normally might. Obi-wan had to disengage his offence and leap back, and they were back to sizing each other up before the second exchange began.

“I’ve never seen that fighting style before.” He said lightly. Gone was his tense and ready defensive stance, and instead he walked in time with her slow march around the circle, keeping opposite of her with a relaxed and open stance. Ahsoka was beginning to think that Obi-wan might be telegraphing the opposite of his intended strategy in these ready stances, staying still and defensive when ready to move rapidly in an offensive strike and standing loose and open when he was more guarded than ever.

Or maybe not, she thought as her opponent darted across the ring to barrage her with a quick succession of thrusts.

“You wouldn’t have,” she said between parries and counterstrikes, smiling with more fangs than necessary. “I invented it.” And there—an opening on his left flank as he committed himself to a reverse twist disarming maneuver on her primary blade. Drop the saber. Dash left as his committed twist turned to the opposite direction. Upward thrust with the shoto in a two-handed grip.

He dropped. On the ground with his free hand tucked under his center of mass, he kicked at her legs to try to trip her. Light hop and lock his blade with her shoto baring down from above. She reached out. Her primary saber returned to her calling hand. He dropped his blade away from her aggressive lock, and her shoto fell, finishing its stroke in the crackling dust, as he rolled out of its way. He leapt up. She went for a cross-strike to his neck with a reversed thrust to his primary hand with her shoto. Parry. Parry. Strike.

Sweat tickled the back of her neck, her breath a slow steady beat, her sabers a syncopated rhythm, a wild dance. The force at her back was like a gale, wild and powerful, and she leaned into it to support her. The force around Kenobi felt tight as a bowstring, coiled and poised. It was not the calm waters of her grand-master, but perhaps some of the same qualities were there. She learned his rhythm. She stopped seeing him for the man he would become, and as though a veil had suddenly been lifted from over her eyes, she saw the boy before her. Doubtful. Eager to please. Vulnerable.

There. As if sensing the change in his opponent, Obi-Wan hesitated. He locked eyes with her, and she could see his next moves. She anticipated a feint she might otherwise have fallen for, batted away his true strike and brought her saber to his neck, close enough that even on the low power setting, he would feel the heat on his skin. Her opponent froze, breathed in and out slowly before dropping to his knees and placing his unlit saber at her feet. He really was so very formal. Ahsoka would not have yielded to him—even as a Jedi master and grand general—in this ceremonial fashion.

The clones were cheering for her and Anakin happily hopped into the ring, grabbed a startled Obi-wan by his arm and hauled him up to his feet while he congratulated them both. Her master was practically radiating delight, both at his own padawan’s victory over his master and—Ahsoka thought—at the young Kenobi’s performance in his own right. She saw the way her master kept his grip on the boy’s arm even as he clasped her shoulder and thought her master might just now have decided to keep their temporal guests.

The moment was broken by a signal going off on Anakin’s comm. He took one look at his wrist and turned to his men. “That’s our signal, men! Those assigned to the offensive battalion form up! We march in five clicks.” Instantly the camp teemed with action as troopers geared up and began to fall into a marching formation.

Obi-wan shifted his weight from one foot to another as he carefully watched the goings on. “What’s happening?” He asked at last.

“Master Mundi has engaged the separatists along the Eastern mining pass. They’ve just sent reinforcements, which means we should be able to punch through their western line to cut off their supplies lines to their factory complex on this continent. Once we secure the lines, we’ll either march to assist Mundi or start the siege on the factories themselves. Come on—if we hang towards the rear for a bit, Skyguy won’t notice you in time to make you sit out the action at camp or in the fleet.”

Obi-wan followed her reluctantly with furrowed brows. She’d seen that look before, and it was not a comforting sign in her usually unflappable grandmaster. “What’s wrong?” she asked at last.

“I—why are we conquering this planet? I thought we were supposed to be peace-keepers.”

Ahsoka frowned. “I know this is all new to you, but the separatists really are the aggressors here. You haven’t seen what they do to their occupied territories. Anyways—we aren’t conquering Moran; it’s loyal to the republic. Just has a little droid infestation problem we’re taking care of.”

“What? No it’s not.” The fast paced march had began and Obi-wan had to speak up a little to be heard over the steady beat of boots on the ground.

“Sorry Ma—Obi-wan. You lost me.”

“Moran isn’t loyal to the republic.”

“How on earth could you possibly know something like that?” Ahsoka asked skeptically.

Obi-wan rolled his eyes. “Because Master Jinn and I were just fleeing Moran after accidentally discovering it had been taken over by xenophobic cult of earth worshipers. Walked right into the initiation of their heir apparent. Trust me, they aren’t fans of the Republic."

“That was twenty years ago! How on earth is that relevant for today?”

“Are you serious? Morans live a couple centuries. Almost everyone will still be around, and their political development has always been slow and gradual. No way their government would be overthrown or turned over without outside coercion. . .like this. Didn’t you study the planetary cultural dossier before coming here?”

Ahsoka crinkled her nose. “Nope. Didn’t have time between the dog fights and the strategic intel.”

Obi-wan furrowed his brows even further and didn’t respond, instead marching quietly beside her. “Okay, but I may not know everything about these people, but the council would—you would. The Morans asked us to come here. Nobody felt they weren’t being sincere in their request.”

The tense face and slightly defensive posture that Ahsoka was beginning to think a tell for when Obi-wan was despairing of the future relaxed as he quirked his head to the side in thought. “Maybe if Qui-Gon and I don’t get back, nobody will know.”

“But you do get back. The real you is here already.” Obi-wan scowled at her frasing, but she didn’t care one bit.

“Nobody knows how this is supposed to work. Nothing like this has happened before.”

“Okay, you can’t know that.” Ahsoka teased. She was beginning to understand that this was a kid who liked to place everything into a ‘known certainly’ or ‘not known at all’ category. He clearly hated making assumptions but wouldn’t hesitate to make broad universal pronouncements. It was strange. Master Kenobi would never allow her to think like that—war was won on assumptions and doubts, good guesses and probabilities.

“If it did happen, then either nobody managed to report it to the council or jedi sages, or it was for some reason kept classified. It certainly didn’t come up in my Introduction to the Force in Spacetime class. Did you learn of anything like this?”

“Look, Obi-wan, you need to understand that I’ve been on the front lines since my apprenticeship began. I haven’t had formal classes since being an initiate; I don’t research cultural dossiers; I haven’t learned the theoretical nuances of the force and time. What I do know is how to save lives and destroy clankers. We need to focus on what’s important; why do you think the Morans would lie to the republic about their loyalties? Is this a trap?”

Until now, the two had been keeping their eyes alert to their surroundings, but Ahsoka made sure to catch eye contact with her young Obi-Wan to drive the important point home. Unfortunately, she’d only seemed to give him a new distraction to fixate on. His furrowed brows returned at her blunt description of her life, and then something flickered across his face—His eyes opened slightly wider as pupils contracted and briefly unfocused. His jaw slacked slightly behind his closed lips. He breathed sharply in through his nose, and the blood dropped out of his face. Shock—maybe even panic or pain—but before Ahsoka could decide how to respond to him, the emotion passed. Face now flushed and eyes downcast. He said at last. “I’m sorry. I’m really—it shouldn’t be like that for you.”

She wanted to act like she didn’t know what he was talking about—but it felt as though his words had shattered the illusion of normalcy that she’d unthinkingly accepted. She had been (if she was being honest with herself) irritated at the boy’s seeming naiveite mixed with a thorough education that he clearly relied too much upon. It never occurred to her that she might be the strange one. She swallowed. “It’s not your fault. Nothing in life is sure or easy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“No—Ahsoka—it is my fault, Isn’t it? I think maybe Skywalker was too young to be able to change things for you. But I won’t have been.”

“You know.”

“I’m not sure how—there’s no way there’s enough time for me complete my trials and fully train a padawan of my own in twenty years. . .” He trailed off.

“What gave it away?” Ahsoka asked lightly, happy to move the conversation away from the possibility of having been failed by the order in some way.

“I don’t know—you and your master weren’t exactly subtle—but I—” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he lightly leapt over a fallen tree in the army’s path. “It only just clicked now. I guess I’ve just started to understand you better.”

“Is that okay?” Ahsoka asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Obi-wan just looked at her quizzically, waiting silently as her true grand master often did, for an explanation. For every time he shocked her with how different the boy was from the man she looked up to, he surprised her with another instance of uncanny similarity. It was weird, and she wished he’d just pick one manner of behaving and stick to it, so she would know what to expect from him. “I mean, I got the impression that maybe you don’t like us. Anakin and I.”
“Why would you—I don’t dislike you. It’s just, this war is not something I’m looking forward to.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes and with a teasing lilt replied, “Ah, my grand master doesn’t dislike me. I can rest at ease knowing I’m not a shame on my training line.”

Obi-wan responded in kind, accepting her obvious invitation to dispel mutual anxieties of failure in ironic jests. “Take heart young padawan,” he said. “When I was but a little younger than you are now, my own grand master was once asked what he thought of my progress. His response—or so I’ve heard from the temple rumor mongers—was, ‘I can’t be bothered to follow the exploits of yet another of Master Jinn’s pathetic life forms.’ And I’ve been known as such ever since.”

“What?!” Ahsoka shouted indignantly—all attempt at lightening the mood abandoned. “Who said that? I thought Yoda was your grand master?”

“Huh? No—Yoda is my great grand master.”

“Who said that then?”

Obi-wan looked at her with trepidation. “You know, I really don’t think it matters. You don’t have to be mad or anything. My master really does collect pathetic life forms.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth to object, but Obi-wan cut her off before she could press. “Look. We’re way off topic. To answer your earlier question, this has got to be a trap. The Morans probably really do want the separatists gone; they worship the earth and believe in leaving as much of it pristine and untouched as possible, and these droids are mining and building factories and war complexes. But my guess is they’ve got some plan for getting the republic out of their hair too once we’ve taken care of the separatist droids.”

Ahsoka was not so easily distracted from injustices as to forget this subject, but she was willing to admit that there were more pressing matters to deal with than decades old slights. She grabbed the boy’s wrist and started to pull him up to the front of the line. Master Skywalker needed to hear this information.

Chapter Text

Anakin felt his face set into a deeper and deeper frown as he listened to the little Obi-wan’s information and theories. There was good sense to them and cause for concern but also little he could about the subject other than forwarding a vague message to be wary of local Moran forces. He had not yet informed the jedi counsel of his temporal guests, and he wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of having to make that report. Hopefully Obi-wan would get stuck with the task once Master Jinn fetched him.

“You make a good case, but aside from watching our backs, there’s not much to do. Sounds like a diplomatic problem; I’ll pass it on to the senate.”

Obi-wan looked at him sideways. “Don’t jedi handle diplomatic problems anymore? We should approach them and investigate now—not wait till more violence occurs. It’s not just droids that you’ll be striking down if you let this fester.”

Anakin pinched the bridge of his nose. He supposed the boy would have trouble accepting the realities of this war. Anakin himself could hardly bear it; how many times had he asked Padme if they were doing the right thing? But Obi-wan—his Obi-wan—was always so sure, so confident in the righteousness of their cause. He didn’t know how to assuage the boy’s doubts—didn’t know how it was Obi-wan had grown into the certainty Anakin had always relied upon in the first place.

“Yeah. We negotiate peace treaties and surrenders once we’ve won the day. Trust me, we’ll see to this as soon as we can. Right now, we have a very time sensitive mission. Master Mundi is relying on us. We need to lay the groundwork for the factory siege within the week or we’re going to be here a lot longer than anyone will like.”

“Nobody is saying we have to stop this campaign—just leave the warring to the soldiers while the jedi see to the peace keeping.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth to object, but Anakin cut her off with a quick nudge in their bond. It was time for Anakin to repay some of the patience he had always received from his master. Let it never be said Anakin Skywalker was an ingrate. “We can’t abandon our men, padawan. You’ll understand someday.”

Obi-wan’s eyes darkened and face flushed with anger. It took Anakin off guard to see his master—and the boy’s presence in the force was unquestionably that of his master’s as young (and adorable) as he was right now—loose control of a temper Anakin hadn’t known he even possessed.

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.” He clipped back. “I’m going to the Moran capitol. I only need one of your speeders and a comm unit. I’ll tell you what I find.”

Anakin was torn between the sting of a rejection that really shouldn’t mean anything to him, coming from a naïve padawan as it was, and the incredulous outrage at his idea. “Absolutely not.” He managed at last, hopefully with the appropriate weight and authority of a knight to an out of line padawan.

“I’ll avoid confrontation. I do solo missions like this all the time now.” Anakin did not care at all for the defiant set of the boy’s jaw or the indifference in his eyes. He knew he was essentially a stranger to him, but it was just wrong all the same.

“Not in this time you don’t! Listen kid, you’re out of your league. You don’t know the galaxy like you think you do, and you’re going to get yourself killed or captured. Then we’ll all be up to our waists in Bantha shit.”

Obi-wan’s stubborn resolution cracked, and Anakin sensed the hint of insecurity and doubt seeping through the force from him. Good. That doubt might keep him alive. Unfortunately, this Obi-wan proved himself to be infinitely more reckless and foolish than Anakin had thought possible for his master.

“I don’t think you have a say. As far as I can tell, I outrank you. Isn’t that right, Rex?” He turned to Anakin’s right-hand man, and damn—he’d managed to make friends with the clones enough to learn their names in just a few days. Rex looked at Anakin helplessly, and Anakin shook his head subtly.

“Maybe someday, kid.” He responded simply.

“So I’m right, you’re saying.” The padawan retorted. He quirked his head to the side and said. “There’s nothing in the jedi law that accounts for temporal displacements. You and the council might not like it, but I am Obi-wan Kenobi; you are my former apprentice, and I can do what needs to be done to prevent another war.” He said and with that turned about face and walked in the opposite direction from the march.

Anakin stared, dumbfounded. Obi-wan had always been good with loopholes, but he never used them to so flagrantly flout authority or the obvious wishes of the council. “Kriff!” he cursed. “Ahsoka, good thing we established you’re the better dualist because I need you to follow him and keep him from going far.”

“What—just tackle him?”

“Yes. I don’t have time for this.” Anakin grit his teeth. “I’m going to call Master Jinn. Hopefully the transmission doesn’t expose his position in enemy space.”

Ahsoka nodded curtly before darting out after the fool. Anakin jammed the comm code he’d given to Qui-Gon and didn’t even wait for a greeting to speak once he saw the little holo of the man himself. “Why didn’t you tell me that Moran was a potentially hostile planet?” He grit out. Years of worshiping the memory of the man who had seen his potential when none but his mother had believed in him, and now that Qui-Gon Jinn was here and speaking to him, all Anakin could muster was worry and frustration for a double helping of suicidal Obi-wans.

“. . .why would you be invading a planet if you didn’t think it hostile?”

“Because the Separatists invaded them first! I debriefed you on this situation.”

The grainy image of Master Jinn sighed. “You’ll have to pardon miscommunications; we obviously do not share a common frame of reference. I presume Obi-wan has clarified the issue?”

“Yes. Right before trying to run off to investigate why the Morans have deceived us in the first place. He pulled rank on me after I ordered him to stay.” Qui-gon smiled—smiled at that. “Fortunately, Ahsoka is going to stop him from getting himself killed if she has to tie him to a tree. You need to comm them and bring your padawan back in line.”

“How do you know your apprentice can stop mine?” He asked with all too much amusement.

“Do you want him to go off alone on a hostile planet? Anyways I know she can, because she roundly beat him in a dual just this morning.” Never in a million years did Anakin think he would be arguing with Qui-gon Jinn about who had the better padawan—not least because he had always envisioned Obi-wan to be the perfect student before today. But it was freshly dawning on Anakin that not only did he not know Qui-gon very well (Obi-wan had certainly rarely spoke of him), but quite possibly the Obi-wan he had known since boyhood might not have sprung fully formed from the temple gardens. He had been grieving his own master’s death while learning to be a master to Anakin; it had never occurred to Anakin before that this might have changed him.

“I don’t want him to go alone, but I think the mission needs doing," Qui-gon answered, "He’s a very stubborn young man. You should know this—from the little I’ve seen of your master, he’s still stubborn.”

Anakin’s pulse spiked at the allusion to the older Jedi’s mission. “You found Obi-wan? Is he okay?”

“Yes on both counts. Though he seems to have recklessly overexerted himself in his survival efforts—he’s sleeping now and likely will continue until we return to Moran in a day or so.”

Anakin closed his eyes in relief. “Good. Call your padawan. Tell him that you and he can go investigate the backstabbing locals to your heart’s desire as soon as you get back. And tell Obi-wan he owes me.” Anakin finished as he emphatically hung up. He checked his chrono and position—at this rate, they would likely meet hostile forces within the hour. Good. He could use some clankers to slice up right about now.
________________________________

Luke stared blankly at the dusty screen in one of the comm center’s booths. It blinked “Unregistered number. Please check your comm code and try again” back at him for the fifth time. He thumped the consol and looked for a button that would return his credits, but that too was a lost cause. Well, so much for telling Aunt Beru he was okay. It’d taken him almost a month to get a job as an assistant at a rundown droid refurbish shop, scrape together a stable living to rent a small room above the shop, and then save enough to put the long-distance call in. Luke didn’t mind, really. This was the most interesting thing to happen to him since he’d accidentally joined a Tuscan raider tribe as a twelve-year-old. He winced remembering how furious Owen had been after that; he’d probably be in even more trouble after this, but at least now Luke can say he’d tried.

He’d also been looking to see if he could get a job on a freighter. Getting off Tatooine was startling and exciting, but he was still landlocked as far as he was concerned. He wanted to travel in space—and now that he was halfway across the galaxy, he had a good reason for it. Unfortunately, most of the freighter ships he’d approached were land-locked too. “Issues with the war,” he was told. The light show he’d seen in the skies about a week ago confirmed it. Luke bet that smugglers wouldn't be as deterred by the Empire as the lawful freighters, but they also weren’t as easy to find in this place as they were in Mos Eisley.

Well, he’d taken the day off and had some pennies saved, so he had time to find the seedier neighborhoods. This city was larger than Luke could have imagined, but his current neighborhood was already a bit dirty and overlooked--like the moisture farmers' homesteads. Luke needed something dustier, more littered--more like Mos Eisely--so he set out and wandered around, looking for the scum of the earth. At last, upon walking through a narrow ally, he spied a cloaked figure exiting a building and walking purposefully along. He sensed malice and power from the women. Perfect.

Luke wasn’t a fool—he knew better than to get involved with underworld dealings—but Owen had started bringing him along when they delivered water to Jabba’s palace, and Beru took him to the Mos Eisley slave quarters to donate water in memory of his grandmother. He understood that everyone, from the simple farmer to the powerful crime lords and their slaves were connected in life. He had only to respect them and the rules that governed the meetings of the innocent with the criminal, and perhaps he could negotiate a ticket off this rock.

He followed the woman from a distance for several blocks before loosing sight of her around a corner. His senses screamed a warning two seconds before he was grabbed from behind and some kind of vibro blade was humming near his neck, prickling his skin with its intense heat.

“Well, you can’t possibly be a jedi spy with such an obvious force signature and such terrible grasp of shielding.” A woman sarcastically drawled in his ear.

“. . . huh?” Luke managed at last. He’d reckoned the risk of being made would be either loosing his lead altogether, getting told to get lost or maybe getting beat up and robbed. He couldn’t have known the woman had paranoid delusions.

His captor patted him down for weapons or tracking devises before removing her blade and spinning him around to look at him disdainfully. Her gray skin and sharp features cut an intimidating figure, and Luke found himself involuntarily shrinking back from her glare.

“What’s your name boy?”

“Luke?”

“Are you unsure of your own name or are you only capable of uttering monosyllabic questions?”

“I’m Luke Skywalker, ma’am, and I’m sorry I bothered you. I meant no harm by it—”

He was cut off as the woman seized his chin and turned his face from side to side as if examining him.
“You wouldn’t happen to be related to the famous general would you?”

“Um, no ma’am.”

“Call me ‘ma’am’ again and I’ll fork your tongue.”

“Okay. . .”

“What are you trying to pull, Luke Skywalker?”

“I was, uh,” Luke smiled sheepishly and put his free hand on the back of his neck. “I’m looking for smugglers to hitch a ride of this planet with, so I thought I’d just follow. . .someone who. . .”

The woman looked at him unimpressed. “Why do you want to leave? In trouble with someone?”

“No—I just. This is going to sound weird, but I didn’t mean to come here? And I figured I’d better try to get home at some point because my folks will be worried.”

“And your folks are. . .?”

Until now, Luke figured the interrogation was fair, given that he was caught tailing this lady, but this seemed down right nosy. “I can’t think that matters much.” He said at last. “So, can I go or what?”

The woman rolled her eyes and flicked her laser back on, it was blood red and—Luke couldn’t describe it, but it seemed to feel like more than it was. It felt like a living thing and a mean one at that.

“Answer the questions, sweetheart, and maybe you’ll get off this rock in one piece like you wanted.”

“We’re moisture farmers on Tatooine.”

“Tatooine, huh? Sure you aren’t related to General Skywalker? Rumor has it that’s the god-forsaken rock the jedi pulled him out from under.”

This crazy lady was really serious about this issue, so Luke tried to be thorough when he replied, “. . .My dad was a navigator on a spice freighter before he died. His ma raised my uncle and he’s raising me, so. . .no, I’ve never heard of any other Skywalkers. Maybe grandma had a brother?”

She snorted. “More like you have a brother. The man is. . . maybe six years your elder?”

Luke didn’t really know how to respond to that. He’d always dreamed of having a sister, so he’d be lying if the idea of a sibling wasn’t exciting, but he wasn’t sure why the name similarity couldn’t simply be a coincidence. “I suppose there’s other Skywalkers around. . .”

“Hm--no. You look too much like the bastard. What was dearest daddy’s name?”

“Anakin.” The woman tilted her head back with a triumphant look in her eyes.

“So he named his firstborn after himself, then. Come on kid. I can certainly take you off this rock.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “Uh, thanks, lady, but I think I’ll find another ride.”

“Call me Ventress, and you don’t have a choice, Skywalker.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Luke slumped his shoulders in resignation. This woman was clearly no friend of this second Anakin Skywalker. Luke wondered if the other man was a general for the empire or the rebellion and couldn’t help but hope it was the latter.

Chapter Text

“IVs? Really?” Obi-wan muttered at the medic who was switching out IV in his left arm when he awoke.

“Just basic fluids and nutrients, general.”

“How long was I out?”

“About a day and a half.”

“Regrettable.” Obi-wan replied as he pulled himself to his feet. His clone medic gave him the flat look that suggested he did not think the length of sleep was regrettable, but he didn’t try to stop him from removing the IV’s or leaving the pallet he had been stretched out upon, so Obi-wan figured he was as good as discharged.

He made his way first to the refresher. The chance to clean up alone was worth all the effort it took to survive Darroweigh. Once he felt human again, he went to the cockpit of the transport where he found Qui-gon meditating in the co-pilot’s seat. So, not a dream then—not that Obi-wan had truly thought so—he knew better than to doubt the force when it spoke so clearly. All the same. . .

Qui-gon looked up at him and tilted his head appraisingly. Obi-wan dismissed the pilot and took his seat. The pair sat quietly for a moment, before Obi-wan decided that he was probably responsible for this situation and needed to speak first.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked—a very reasonable question to ask a man who had just come back from the dead.

“You aren’t like how I always imagined you’d be as a knight.” Qui-gon replied instead.

Obi-wan sighed and looked out the cockpit at the patterns of hyperspace. He’d often wondered what his mentor and teacher would have thought of him; if he’d fulfilled his master’s dying wish satisfactorily or not. He never really wanted an answer.

When he saw that he would receive no response, Qui-gon spoke again. “You and I—that is to say, my padawan and I—have encountered an anomaly in the force that brought us here. We had been on Moran about twenty years ago.”

Time travel. Wonderful. “Have you reported to the council?”

“I’ve spoken with Mace and Yoda after your commander reported to them. I can’t say they were pleased with the circumstances of my return to life, but they seemed to defer to your judgement on the matter.”

Obi-wan understood the implicit question in his final statement; it was not the practice of the council to entrust serious matters to individuals who were personally entangled. It was, however, understandable that the council would ask one of their own who was closest to and most experienced with the issue to personally deal with it.
“Yes, I’m afraid that even breaches in the fabric of time are not enough to warrant unanimous council attention anymore.”

Qui-gon seemed both proud and a little put off—it was hard for Obi-wan to tell without their training bond. After a moment, Qui-gonn rolled his eyes, and teased lightly, “A council member before twenty years have passed. Where did I go wrong?”

“My proven ability to survive your tutelage proved a unique asset heretofore lacking, I’m afraid.” He replied with mock seriousness. The banter kindled a flicker of fond memories like an unexpected homecoming, but the slight, small glint of long forgotten joy unleashed a wave of unresolved grief. Obi-wan had rather hoped that his poor emotional composure as a freshly knighted master to a traumatized child only just rescued from the grips of slavery would not come back to haunt him. He attempted to swallow the tightness in his throat and calm his mind.

Qui-gon sat back in his chair and smiled slightly before glancing at Obi-wan from the side. “If you don’t survive your apprenticeship, it will be through no fault of my own. Here I travel across time to save your life and find but yesterday that you’ve run off against the wishes of my grand padawan and refuse to answer my hails.”

Obi-wan sat up even more stiffly than he had before. “What?” He asked with incredulity, not waiting for an answer before punching in Anakin’s comm code without even looking as he cross-referenced their hyperspace transmission to determine when they would arrive on Moran.

“A little, busy Master Jinn!” Anakin shouted as the holo image of a man in the midst of battle sprung up from the communications panel.

“Anakin, what’s this about loosing time displaced padawans?”

“Obi-wan!” Anakin visibly grinned as he deflected three blasters from hitting his face and chest. “You owe me double for all of this. I’m positive you told me you were a responsible padawan, who followed orders, a hundred times growing up.”

“I’m sure I spoke the truth relative to your own performance,” Obi-wan responded dryly. “Why did Qui-gon’s apprentice run off, and what are you doing to mitigate the risk to the timeline?”

“Ask Jinn!—I’m a little busy at the moment.” And with that Anakin blipped out.

Obi-wan sighed and looked over to his old master, which he’d been trying to avoid for most of the conversation. His master was looking at him with an undefinable expression.
“You don’t remember any of this, then?”

“No, but that means little with respect to the nature of this anomaly.”

“Then will you tell me why it clearly pains you to be with me?”

Obi-wan blinked. He didn’t remember conversations with his old master so frequently throwing him off balance. In truth, he scarcely remembered any conversations that so frequently blind-sided him with unexpected twists and turns. Satine could do it. Hondo for entirely different reasons.

“I’m not sure why—”

“You won’t look at me, your mind is locked more tightly than I’ve ever seen and you’re positively determined to treat me as a stranger. The timeline is not our concern; it is as it is, but you should not be so discomposed by this strange turn of fate. Your Knight Skywalker was not.”

Obi-wan rolled his eyes. Really, Anakin was clearly made to be Qui-gon’s padawan—perhaps the galaxy hadn’t been ready for the pair, and this was why Obi-wan had to train the boy himself. “I’m looking at you now. My shielding is customary caution while the war continues; you will find most jedi employing them should you care to look for it. Of course you aren’t a stranger, but neither am I your padawan, Master Jinn.”

“I know you Obi-wan. You can’t fool me with your half-truths.” Qui-gon replied gently. “Is it grief? I rather got the impression that I had died quite some time ago.”

“I do mourn to look at you now, but as you well know, old pains are the fires that forge the soul.” Obi-wan turned back to strands of light that filled the view of hyperspace—too stretched and warped to represent the stars that sent them out into the endless expanse. “No—I hesitate because we did not part on easy terms.”

“You’re angry with me, then.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Obi-wan dismissed. The truth was he knew not how he felt or was supposed to feel. He really ought to meditate on the matter, but there was simply no time. He recalled standing before the council as Qui-gon declared his intention to take Anakin on as his new apprentice. Recalled the stares as he stepped up with affected confidence so painfully obvious in the force as he declared he was ready for the trials, only to be denied by the council and his master alike. It was all meaningless in the end. Now that he sat on the council himself, Obi-wan understood perfectly well that his defeat of maul and perseverance through the death of his master was more than enough to merit a knighthood, but he also knew what it was like to look upon an orphaned padawan, too old to benefit from apprenticeship to a second master but too young to truly attempt the standard trials, and confer upon them the title of knight all the same. Send them off to war where they can avenge their fallen masters or join them in the force.

In the end, Obi-wan supposed he understood his old master now. He knew what it was like to aggrieve the boy one had raised in the service of the force. He understood that Qui-gon was a man with many flaws, and there was nothing he could have done to forestall that bitter rejection. He understood the blinding importance that Anakin impressed upon those with the gift to see.

“Tell me what happened.” Qui-gon insisted after a moment. He seemed truly invested in making things right with him, which struck Obi-wan as odd. This man had his apprentice and would be from a time when their partnership rang out in the force like a deep ringing gong. Past the trials and resentments of the earlier years, before Obi-wan truly grew into his own and began to chafe under the bonds of a padawan.

“A wise man once told me to let go of the past and focus on the present.” Obi-wan wryly mused while stroking his beard. “And you have yet to tell me why my precursor has run off.”

Qui-gon scowled, and Obi-wan wasn’t sure if it was the present councilor or the past padawan that was vexing the man. “Obi-wan and I discovered that the Morans were deeply xenophobic, playing only the minimal part of a loyal republic member but deeply resenting all interference. Since it would therefore be out of character for the Morans to invite the republic military’s aid. . .”

“He inferred that there was a trap, or rather, a planned betrayal once we chased off the separatists and has gone off to investigate.” Obi-wan concluded. He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed a long exhale. This conversation had left him drained, hollow in his chest around his diaphragm and bitterly tight about his jaw and neck. Perhaps he hadn’t fully managed to shake the weariness and exposure of his own recent run in with betrayal. Perhaps the strain to both exhume and exorcise old sorrows was taking its toll.

“What is it that worries you and Skywalker so much about this? I can’t say I want my padawan to act without my permission or supervision, but he is capable. He’s gone off to investigate not engage the enemy, and apparently Padawan Tano was sent after him. From the little I’ve seen, she’s a formidable warrior."

Obi-wan couldn’t help the proud smile that played at the edge of his lips. He was glad, if nothing else good came of this, that his master would have a chance to see the bright future of their lineage. Unfortunately the current circumstances could not be worse for a temporal visit.

“He may be perfectly suited for the task in his own era, but times have changed. You may have noticed that we are at war. Any jedi is an incredibly visible target—and valuable hostage. Doubly so if it is discovered that he is, well, me.” Obi-wan made eye contact with Qui-gon, and willed the man to understand without having to know all of his fears. “It will not matter that he is still a child, in fact it will only make it worse,” he finished.

Qui-gon tilted his head. “I imagined such was your concern—kill the boy and possibly eliminate a general or two. . . But I’m told all the jedi are generals. Surely he would bring a costly ransom but provide little material advantage for his actual death.”

“Qui-gon. I’m the Grand General of the republic.” Obi-wan did not speak of his true fear--that the Dooku may find the boy more valuable a prize alive and captive than even a kings ransom could provide. He had no wish to speak of Darth Tyrannus to Qui-gon Jinn.

“. . .What? Why?” The man who seemed to infer and accept his death so peacefully seemed at a loss of words.

“Because it’s my duty to the republic, and I am as good as any for the job, I suppose.” Yoda was important to the order for his great wisdom and occupied with the duties of the grandmaster of the order. Mace also was bound to the temple. Of all his peers, Obi-wan was the youngest and had no great experience or wisdom to preserve. What he had was the energy of a man in his prime, a proven track record for dueling the sith and their acolytes and a knack for diplomacy and negotiation, cultivated by the years of training under his Master as a jedi diplomatic arbiter. He suspected his master might not be pleased with the application Obi-wan had turned his training towards, but on this matter at least he found he couldn’t care less what Qui-gon thought. He’d confronted his own doubts a hundred time, had his debates with Satine, sat in the unceasing council meetings debating the wisdom of it all, the ethics, the alternatives—if any could be found.

“I can’t say I’ve approved of what I’ve seen of the order’s future, but I accept I have a limited perspective.” Qui-gon began serenely. Ah, so he was preparing a scathing lecture. “However, I wouldn’t have dreamed you’d choose to lead this war.”

“The Senate decides the war; I merely serve at their pleasure.”

“Even when the senate is wrong? What happened to serving the force?”

“You have no idea what serving the force means in these dark days. You do not know of the suffering—”

“of this slave army? I have an idea.”

Obi-wan flinched. Anakin’s screams as a child who dreamed of traumas too early in life to remember. The recriminating glares of the Twileks beaten for his slightest look of defiance. His men—his brothers dying on the battlefield.

“No, Master Jinn, you do not.”

“And that’s all the defense you have to offer? An appeal to ignorance? I trained you better than that.”

“Very well.” Obi-wan replied archly. Despite being sure he was indifferent to his old master’s opinions on this war, he somehow found himself sorely provoked. “The commissioning of a clone army was regrettable, but it was done in secret for reasons unclear. It was not my decision to conscript them, but the senate saw that a draft of some fashion were inevitable—we both know there are those in the senate who care not at all for the lives of the clone troopers, but even those of sound judgement, capable of seeing the humanity of the clones, could see their hand was forced. A drafted civilian would have no chance of surviving campaigns that my men will win with minimal casualties. The political will to fight, the loyalty of systems potentially swayed to the separatists side—neither would withstand a galactic draft.

I can do nothing but strive to lead them through the fire. What good would I do by resigning my post or leaving the order? How am I supposed to serve the force by abandoning them? My men are my brothers—kindred in a duty to serve. Slaves of the republic we may be, but the alternative is to be slaves to tyranny and destruction.”

Qui-gon looked at him soberly before standing up. “I understand now how it is we grew estranged before I passed.” He said stiffly before exiting the cockpit.

Obi-wan stared at the mindless patterns of hyperspace for a long minute before Cody entered and took up the co-pilots seat.

“How much of that did you hear?” He said at last with eyebrows raised.

“Does it matter?” Cody dissembled.

“Of course not. It changes nothing at all.”

Chapter Text

 Obi-wan had just spent a month on Moran in ultimately futile attempts to negotiate new trade agreements. He knew a thing or two about the planet’s infrastructure that he was beginning to think were unknown to the future jedi, and he had every hope he could use his experience to outmaneuver the padawan who followed him in hot pursuit. Twenty years ago, he and Qui-gon had stumbled upon a massive tunnel system, connecting the city centers to the surrounding wilderness by a series of high speed transit tubes and natural cave systems. There was an entrance nearby, and he could lose his pursuer if only he could--

The wind gushed out of his lungs as his Ahsoka pounced upon him from the trees.

“You--can’t--be--oof--serious.” Obi-wan groused as he and his opponent grappled and tumbled down the incline in the woods. 

“C’mon, Kenobi-- Yield!” She said as she attempted to pin him. Obi-wan threw her off with the force and sent her careening down the hill. He somersaulted backwards onto his arms and legs and took stock of his surroundings. The forests had changed, but the force hummed like an electric wire from within the caves. The opening was near. 

“You know, we have to see to this. The closer you guys get to completing your goals, the sooner you end up occupying a planet that doesn’t want you .” 

“I know it’s a problem! We’ll deal with it as soon as we can! And it’s not fair to call us occupiers, and you know it. No matter what these Morans really think, they did invite us here. It’s not on us if they change their mind about it.” 

Obi-wan walked on stubbornly and Ahsoka tagged behind him. He’d been willing to play along. He knew that he was twenty years behind, and probably shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but this whole situation put him on edge. He didn’t want to be marching with a clone army towards battle. He didn’t want to leave mysteries unsolved or negotiations untouched while he could maybe do something to prevent more conflict. He felt that if the Republic only knew what the Moran’s wanted they could leave the cultists to their crazy world and make whatever fight the Morans had planned obsolete. Yet even so he harbored an uneasy suspicion he dare not voice that neither these militaristic jedi nor the republic had any intention of giving up the strategic benefits of holding this planet, willing or not. He feared that the very reason the Morans wore two faces with respect to the republic is because they knew their true wishes would not be realized without the subterfuge. 

All his life he’d wanted nothing more than to be a jedi knight, and now it looked like that dream would be perverted just as it came to pass. He didn’t want to be a general.

“Obi-wan! Are you even listening to me?”

He turned his head sharply to look at his companion. “Oh, sorry no.”

She looked at him with exasperation. 

“I have orders to tie you to a tree if necessary. We’re also in the middle of nowhere. Are you planning on walking to the next city? It’s halfway across the continent.”

Obi-wan closed his eyes and felt for the unique signature of the tunnel entry he was aiming for. He smiled as he found it, started making his way towards the entry and privately resolved to no longer be a passive participant in his own future.  “No, I’m not going to walk.” he said as he flicked open the moss covered hatch that closed the cave entry off from the forest. “I’m taking the shortcut.” And with a jaunty salute he saluted his surprised age-mate and jumped down the deep shaft into the bowles of Moran. 

-----------------------------

Luke whistled softly to himself as he was ushered into a rusted over and locked down bunker and took sight of his maybe-kidnapper’s ship. “Is that a Lancer-class pursuit craft?” He walked up to just beneath its left wing and craned his neck to see if the ship still had a registry code that hadn’t been scrubbed off. “The hutts would kill for a ship like this.”

“They wouldn’t be so foolish.” Ventress replied dryly. She opened the hatch to a cargo bay and grabbed his upper arm as she dragged him inside. 

“Hey--alright already! I got the hint--‘I have no choice.” Luke protested. Ventress ignored him, deposited him in the cargo hold and locked the door before wordlessly leaving him for the cockpit. Luke sat and absently bounced his leg as he took in his surroundings. He chewed his lower lip. 

The whole ship felt oppressed, like the cool stone halls of Jabba's palace where apathetic courtiers and women with chains about their necks slunk in the shadows. Like dinner with Owen and Beru after he'd disappointed them by neglecting his chores to race Biggs. Ventress had an anger about her seemed so deeply buried Luke wondered if she was even aware of it anymore. She made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and  looked at him with a predatory eye. All the same, she hadn't tried to hurt or kill him yet, and Luke felt he could respect that in the same way you respected a wild animal. 

He needed more information, Luke decided. He wasn't going to get anywhere sitting uselessly in a sparce cargo hold. He got up and tried the cabinets that lined the wall--all but one containing simple ration bars were locked. Luke pocketed five. 

He climbed the hatch to the cabins--one was a small fresher, the other locked. Honestly, he hadn't expected to find much since the--bounty hunter? That seemed about right with a ship like this--had left him free in her cargo hold. All the same, this was a little disappointing. Well, nothing for it. 

Luke tried to appear confident as he opened the hatch to the cockpit and sat himself down in the empty co-pilot seat. Ventress, who had been looking over some pads, sent him a venomous glare. "Look, are you going to try to ransom me to this General Skywalker? Because I have to warn you, I'm not really sure how much you'll get for me. Um, I don't really think a big name Imperial would care if we may or may not be related, and probably a rebel has bigger concerns." 

She looked at him blankly for a moment before raising her eyebrows at him. "Imperials? Odd term for the Republic." 

Luke thought this might be some kind of test, but try as he might, he couldn't figure what it could be testing. "Yeah well--I mean they haven't been like a real republic for ages? I thought everyone called it the Empire." 

Ventres hummed to herself with a satisfied glint in her eyes. "Careful, boy, you might sound like a Seperatist sympathizer talking like that." 

Oh. It was that kind of test.  "Beru said I shouldn't talk about politics with strangers." Luke settled on the safest reply he could think of. 

Ventress smirked. "I bet your dearest aunt also told you not to follow strangers, but look where we are now." 

Chapter Text

Anakin wiped his brow with the back of his gauntlet as he surveyed the hard-won field. The supply routes were secured, and the fortress of a droid factory lay before them, belching out soot from five great smokestacks, bleeding slag into the hillside. It squatted on the hill like a wounded beast with enough fangs left to lash at any who dared approach. Beneath her lay her slaughtered children: man and droid, made to order, ordered to die. Troopers canvassed the battlefield, finishing off the twitching, crawling droids that tried in vain to fight or flee and evacuating the wounded, tallying the dead. Anakin felt their pain break against their restless compulsion to fulfill their programming. He held it in his hands, machine and flesh, and cradled it to his chest. This he would not release to the abyss of the force. Every joyous victory and grueling loss in this war was bought with pain and blood, and Anakin held it and kept it in his memory; no one else would—not the indifferent or ignorant denizens of the republic, not the droids or sith who pulled their levers—and not the jedi who would release their men’s souls to the keeping of the force with a prayer and a mantra that all is as it ought, will be as the force wills to be. 

He felt some relief when he felt the prink of light in his mind that suggested Obi-wan— his Obi-wan—had entered the system. Ahsoka had not returned yesterday, reporting instead to him that the truant padawan Kenobi had entered a heretofore unknown cave system tucked away in a hidden vale, and she was both tracking the boy and scouting the previously undiscovered passages. That the Morans would leave out such potentially vital military intelligence from the republic when they had given the GRA the requested topographical surveys suggested that Obi-wan was right at least about foul play. Anakin had resigned himself to trusting that the boy's judgement in staying safe and out of trouble would be as sound as his assessment of the possible diplomatic complications with the locals. Perhaps now that the siege was in place and Obi-wan and Qui-gon had returned, something more definite could be achieved. 

He turned his back on the field of fallen and walked restlessly back to the makeshift camp where he could find some transport or speeder in need of repair while he waited. Just as he was evaluating one of his men’s swoop bikes, which reportedly listed to the left, his chance at cathartic shop work was denied by a hail from an unknown and untraceable number on his comm. Anakin scowled. Anyone with enough clout to know his comm code but still took pains to avoid a trace had to be a separatist. Anakin let whoever it was wait for a minute while he internally placed bets for himself on who was going to complicate his life now. If it was Dooku, he was going to blow this droid factory to bits as his reward. He clicked the connection on and a leering Ventress appeared on his wrist. Kriff. He should have known, and now the price for guessing wrong was . . . having to deal with Ventress he decided. 

“Skywalker.” She sneered with her reedy voice.

“What now.” He replied flatly. Obi-wan would have thought of some witty exchange, but Anakin couldn’t act like this woman wasn’t a murderous blight on the galaxy. His master liked to compartmentalize these little details. 

“I have a deal to offer you.”

Anakin tilted his head as he tried to think of why this was happening now when a theory clicked into his mind, and he began to smile. “Oh—were you on Moran when I obliterated your feet? Need a ride home so you can crawl back to Dooku with your tail between your legs?” 

“Perhaps. And you’re going to give it.” 

“I think I’d rather keep you cornered here until we eventually turn over whatever dank little rock you’ve crawled under and put an end to your miseries.” 

She shrugged. “If it’s true what they say and jedi have no feeling for ties of blood and family, then by all means do just that.”

Anakin felt a cold hand grip his heart despite knowing he had no family left to lose. The memory of his mother, tortured and violated dying in his arms—that the jedi had done nothing—would have had him do nothing—

“I have your brother as my prisoner. Let me go and he may live—in one piece at that.” 

Anakin’s painful recollections were abruptly derailed. “Owen?” he asked incredulously “Why on earth would you kidnap him ? Or bring him here--?” Anakin supposed the obvious answer was that the sith were digging into personal lives in an attempt to find a vulnerable point of attack. He felt a little ashamed at the relief he felt seeing that it was Owen instead of Padme that they apparently found. 

Ventress pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose in a manner that suggested surprise disguised as disdain. “No, his name is Luke. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d never heard of him—he seems not to have known you existed either. Daddy dearest didn’t like to stick around did he?” she sneered. 

Anakin thought he might have laughed if he didn’t have to tend to the burning piers of his fallen men yet today. “Look. Ventress.” He said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know who it is you have but—” 

“Listen here, Skywalker. This kid is your father’s son. Goes by the name Luke Skywalker, some dust peasant from Tatooine who’s smuggler dad either died or ditched him, and he’s a dead ringer for you.” She appeared to have been walking during this little speech and she finished her case by reaching out and yanking a teenaged boy into the hologram field. The resolution of the picture was poor, but as Anakin squinted at the flickering blue image of a boy, more skeptically curious than terrified as he ought to be at having been taken hostage by a sith apprentice. He did look just like him, but—

“I didn’t have a father.” Anakin said with a frown as he tilted his head absently. 

“Sure. You and every slave bastard whose mother was whored out by her owner.” 

“Hey!” The boy broke his eyes from looking at the holo of Anakin and craned his neck to glare at the woman. “My father would never--!” He was cut off by a sharp backhand, and Anakin felt a spike of rage on the kid’s behalf. Now was not the time to explain jedi prophesies with a dark-sider; Anakin himself would doubt it had it not been his mother’s word in question. Even still—he thought about how he kept his marriage secret even from Ahsoka—would his mother have tried to spare him? He’d been so young. . .

“What are your terms?” Anakin asked sourly at last. At the very least, he needed to play for time. Ventres smiled sardonically. 

Obi-wan and Qui-gon found him pacing agitatedly by the time they arrived at his camp, and Anakin was slightly mollified that they seemed equally miserable. Or rather, Anakin guessed that Qui-gon seemed unhappy and could feel that his master was quietly shelving a series of miseries ranging from his ordeals on Darroweigh, which will be answered with neither rest nor recovery, to—displeasure at having Qui-gon back. Anakin caught his old master’s eyes and jerked his head towards Qui-gon with lifted brows, silently asking why on earth Obi-wan wasn’t pleased about this one great fortune in an escalating series of misfortunes. Obi-wan shrugged slightly while his eyes roved the hectic camp in exaggerated fashion. Ah. He didn’t like that he didn’t understand what was happening and had no control over the proceedings. He probably thought this was all his responsibility now. That and—

Anakin watched the way Obi-wan slightly turned his shoulders away from Qui-gon, how his eyes stole subtle glances at the man from the side. It was how Obi-wan acted around him when they were fighting. A pity. Anakin wasn’t sure who’s side to take with only non-verbal communication to go on. He did however have his own gripes with the two, and since they seemed determined to not deal with their own, Anakin would happily lay his on the table. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about the cave systems when I told you Obi-wan—sorry master—ran away? Why didn’t you tell me about the before you left when I’d debriefed you on the war and our current campaign? These are important strategic details!”

Qui-gon folded his arms into the sleeve of his robe serenely, “My padawan and I discovered these caves form a network of both natural systems and created infrastructure involving high speed speedrails that links the cities to their sacred sights in the wilderness. They are, essentially, a temple complex, and while the tenor of the Moran’s faith may cause reason for concern, the sights themselves are inoffensive.”

“Except for when the separatists discover them and use them to hit us behind our defensive line.  Except when the Morans use them for Force knows what they’re planning. Except when we loose padawans in them . Force, I could have used them today and halved my casualties.”

“The temples are sacred cultural sights. They aren’t tools for war.”

Okay, Anakin thought as he clenched his right hand. He was taking Obi-wan’s side for now. He appreciated the displaced master’s ideals, he really did. He wished the whole Jedi order were more like Qui-gon Jinn. But Anakin was a practical man, a man of action, and he could have kept his men and Obi-wan safe if only he had known. 

“Well not only has your padawan gone gallivanting off in them—no doubt to the nearest city—by Ahsoka can’t comm me from within them, and she’s on her own tracking him down. Obi-wan, we have another problem too.” 

His master mirrored Qui-gon’s stance with his hands in his sleeves, and Anakin wondered if either had noticed. “What now? The council told me the Moran campaign has been going apace.” 

“Ventress is stuck here somewhere on the planet.” 

Obi-wan’s shuttered expressions of muted unhappiness gave way as curiosity and interest at the possibility of capturing Ventress. “Hm, yes. A problem and an opportunity, it seems.” 

Anakin scratched the back of his neck and averted his eyes; this was the part Obi-wan would not like. “She has a hostage—um. She claims he’s my brother.” 

“What?”

“Yeah, I know, I thought it was weird too.”

“Your stepbrother? Why would the si—separatists kidnap him?” So Obi-wan was avoiding the subject of sith with his old master too, Anakin noted. More importantly—

“How do you know about my stepbrother?”

“I may have used old intelligence contacts to check up on your mother from time to time. . .”

Anakin had never realized Obi-wan had cared about the fate of his mother. Not once had his master gave indication that he gave merit to Anakin’s concerns in the area. His master was also not asking him how he knew about Owen right now, for which Anakin was immensely grateful. “Well it’s not him. It’s some younger kid that looks a bit like me and apparently also calls himself a Skywalker. Ventress thinks we share a father neither of us have met.” 

Obi-wan frowned. “But you—” He gave Qui-gon that same sideways glance. “You got your last name from your mother” He finished at last.

“I know! But maybe—maybe I don’t know everything about my family. It’s not like I’ve seen my mother since I was nine.” Mostly true. 

Qui-gon had been passively listening to this conversation, when suddenly he looked up. “You were with your family until you were nine? How on earth did the temple accept you?” 

Before Anakin could think of an answer, Obi-wan turned sharply to face Qui-gon and said, “The temple did not accept Anakin. I took him as my padawan from outside the ranks of the initiates.”

Qui-gon furrowed his brows. “A young knight breaking all precedent to take an apprentice from without the temple? How could the council allow this?” 

Obi-wan opened his mouth, but Anakin cut him off. “You—think I shouldn’t be a jedi?” He very much wanted to prove to Qui-gon that the man’s faith in him was merited and wasn’t sure how he was going to accept it if that single great motivation were shot down now. 

“Of course not” Qui-gon dismissed. “From the little I’ve seen, you are a splendid knight. It’s just not like you to be so reckless Obi-wan; you know the risks that family ties can have on a young jedi’s training.”

Obi-wan crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. “To answer your earlier question, the council had no choice in the matter precisely because there was precedent, and I’m rather surprised you’ve forgotten—since you were the one who set it by taking me . Secondly, I believe we’ve already established that I am quite unlike your expectations for me; I hardly see need to justify decisions you couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Don’t think your rhetorical dissembling will work with me, Master Kenobi; you forget who taught you your tricks.”

At that, Obi-wan twisted his head away from his master, looking down over his shoulder. The shift in mood was subtle, as it always was with his master, but Anakin felt him slowly deflate, and a quiet fondness tinged with grief welled up in place of his defenses. Anakin watched Obi-wan intently. Ever since joining the Jedi, the questions of his legitimacy as a padawan and knight had plagued him, and always Obi-wan had serenely ignored the whispers and slights to them both and told Anakin he shouldn’t bother to defend himself. This sharp defense was unexpected--the allusion to his own apparently unusual apprenticeship was totally unexpected.  But this was Qui-gon. He supposed that made all the difference. 

“If it makes you feel better,” Obi-wan continued, “ I took Anakin on with your blessing, and had you lived to see him knighted, I believe you would have found him everything you could have hoped he would be and more. I suggest you make use of your unique opportunity now to see the fruit of your labors.” He bowed his head slightly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have many duties to reassume.” 

Anakin watched in wonderment as he watched his master leave. Then he turned to Qui-gon, and paused for a moment, at a loss for what to say. Finally, settling on the clearest question, he asked “What’s this about you choosing Obi-wan from outside the temple?”

Qui-gon sighed. 

Chapter Text

After getting a tentative agreement to allow for free passage away from this cursed planet, Ventress went back to her private cabin to message her master. The count wanted to negotiate a departure with the Morans after they freed themselves from the shackles of the republic. Asajj didn’t trust the slimy backstabbers. There was also the matter of the stolen religious texts she had stashed in the vault of her cargo bay. Dooku believed that the Moran priests, like the Night sisters, knew secrets of the force lost to sith and jedi alike. He had hoped to worm it out of the population through steady influence, but when  it became clear the Republic was prepared to take the gateway world at almost any cost, he had rushed them to the planet in an attempt to rape its secrets by force before the system was lost. These tombs had better be worth it. 

Although--Ventres paused before sending her report off. Perhaps she had found something of value here after all. The boy was currently poking around in all the parts of the ship he had access to, switching between admiring the craft and looking for an angle of escape. The slap had cost her a level of trust that he had naively bestowed upon her--or perhaps he wasn’t surprised by the abuse, but he had been more cooperative before it occurred. The force rang out with his intentions like a flair in the dark. It was as powerful as Skywalker’s, and even more untamed. He really didn’t seem the type to join the sith, but he deeply distrusted the republic, or empire as he liked to call it, and the jedi certainly weren’t going to teach the boy at his age. 

Ventress deleted her unsent message. Dooku could find his own way off this rock. She exited her room to find the boy had pried up the floorboards to her cargo hold and was currently poking around her coolant pipes. 

“I hadn’t pegged you for a saboteur.” She replied sarcastically. 

He glared at her silently. Force, the boy was more a drama queen than the older Skywalker. She unclipped her sabers and tossed one to the boy, who caught it instinctively. He held it distastefully in front of him like it was a venomous snake caught by its neck; he could feel the power of the dark side within it and did not treat it lightly. Good.

Luke looked between her and the blade in his hand, silently wrestling with the impulse to ask questions and his resolve to hold his silence. Ventress lost her patience after a few quick seconds and ignited her own blade as she began to circle him. When he refused to light up his own borrowed saber, she struck out at him--slowly and with obvious telegraphing. He leapt to the side and shouted “What are you Doing?”

“I’m testing you.” Another strike, slightly faster this time. The boy ignited the saber she gave him and waved it about to get a feel for the grip and weightlessness of the thing. A lightsaber was nearly impossible to wield without the use of the force to control your movements. Nearly weightless, it was all too easy to swing wildly and without form or meaning, easy to cut off one’s own legs. 

Luke took a swing at her, and she lazily blocked it before spinning the blade out of his hand and skittering across the room. She skimmed the tip of her sabre just lightly across the back of his hand and he yelped and pulled his burned hand to his chest. 

Ventress motioned for him to pick up his fallen saber. 

“Something tells me you’re going to burn me again if I do that.” Luke answered shrewdly. 

“You were angrier when I slapped you, yet the burn is more painful.” Ventress responded. “Why?” 

The boy rolled his eyes. “Just what kind of a bounty hunter are you? This is weird."

“Answer the question, boy.” She hissed as she stuck out again, forcing him to leap back into the corner of the cargo bay. 

“This whole saber thing--you want to teach me to fight? or test me for some reason. The burn is some kind of stupid object lesson you want me to learn. The slap was just vindictive and mean.”

Ventress raised an eyebrow. She had expected him to say that the burn was retaliation for his own failed attack, the burn was a price of failure, while the slap was done to humiliate. She didn’t imagine that he would measure his suffering by her intentions. Perhaps the jedi got the wrong brother, or perhaps Luke Skywalker was simply raw iron that was yet to be tempered in fire. 

“Pick up the lightsaber, Skywalker. It’s time to live up to your name.”

Because it was impossible to track which tunnel Obi-wan had initially taken, it took ages for Ahsoka to catch his trail. She was also doubling her pursuit with a cursory survey of the tunnel system so that Skyguy would know what he was sending his men into when he sent the 501st’s scouts to take a more detailed strategic map of the hidden terrain.

She was currently wading through  a cold shallow lake that spread out over a vast underground cavern lit by teaming schools of small bioluminescent fish. Giant trees  of a sort stretched their soft, pale trunks from the bedrock ceiling of the chamber where they wormed their roots into the earth to the bed of the lake, where branches stretched out and soft filaments instead of leaves made homes for the bright fish. It was as if she walked upside down upon the dancing, starry sky of a ghostly world. 

The cavern seemed to be a connection point to a great many tunnels in the network, and by the time she stumbled upon it, she had spotted the light arrows burned into the flora with a lightsaber. Apparently Kenobi was confident enough that she could no longer prevent his plans that he was willing to point her in his direction. She wondered briefly if it was a ruse--her grandmaster might pull a trick like that with sufficient motivation--but she didn’t think the younger kenobi would. 

When she came upon the other side, she found a man-made tunnel, ornate with stone carvings and monuments inscribed with hieroglyphics. The tunnel brought her to  a small round room that opened to the sky. Ahsoka squinted in the sunlight, dim as it was after falling down the long deep hole to her position. There was--a raised flower bed in the center of the room, teaming with orchids and--Ahsoka stepped back in revulsion. The bed was filled with severed pinky fingers, most only brittle bone, but others fresh and everything in between. 

“Yeah that’s what got us into this mess in the first place.” 

Ahsoka whipped her head to the side to look at Obi-wan who sat on his knees with his hands laid out palm open on the stone floor beneath him. She chided herself for missing him, but the force was so loud in these caves, that a mind quietly meditating would be easy to miss. He opened his eyes lazily, and smiled at her. 

“The prince we were negotiating with walked in one day without his left pinky finger. Wouldn’t say why. Qui-gon thought he was being intimidated by the black sun to loosen the ports so they could open  up new disrupter smuggling routes to the outer rim. Turns out it’s just a ritualistic sacrifice to these picky plants. They won’t grow anywhere but spots like this where the temperature and humidity is kept stable by the earth and the sun is never harsh.”

Ahsoka stepped back to the bed and admired the delicate orchids despite the gruesome bed they grew from. “You said the cult worships the earth? Do you think maybe that’s because the force is so strong down here?” 

“Well it’s certainly not an ordinary planet. These flowers, the Corisyntheals, they’re supposed to give you visions of the future when consumed--I think that’s what the fingers are for, let them grow on your body and strengthen the flower’s connection to you in the force.” 

“Let me guess.” Ahsoka asked as she set her hands on her hips and turned to her little grandmaster. “You and Qui-gon ate them for some force forsaken reason, and you think maybe you’re just vividly hallucinating all of this.” 

Obi-wan stood up from his meditative position and rolled his neck. “The theory was favored by Master Jinn at first, but like I said before, I have visions. This isn’t one of them.”

“But you did eat the flowers.” Ahsoka said flatly. 

“Well--we think they might have been put in the wine.” Obi-wan winced.

“oookayy. So that’s a lead.” Ahsoka said as she reached out and plucked one of the Orchid’s from the rancid soil by its roots and set it in her hip pouch. 

“What are you doing?! These plants are endangered--and sacred to the local people!” 

“Uhuh. Look, do you want to get back to your own time or not? There’s plenty still here. I’m not going to make a bouquet of it.”

Obi-wan looked at her uncertainty, then, seeming to resolve something within himself (and perhaps realizing that the plant was already plucked), he nodded and led her to a long smooth tunnel, with several bullet shaped speeders parked diagonally beside the track. Ahsoka whistled as she admired the infrastructure behind a rail system like this and took a look at the engineering of the magnetic suspension clamps. Obi-wan set to hacking off a control panel with his lightsaber and. . . was he hotwiring the electronic locks with his lightsaber? The boy kept the blade on a lower setting, only half extended, with the hilt propped between his ear and his shoulder while both hands pulled out wires, cut them over his blade and ripped off a portion of the plastic coating with his teeth. He spat the plastic bits out as he switched the wired ends, twisted two leads together and held them very close to the blade as its heat slowly soddered the wires together. The locks on the rail opened like a cascade of dominoes, echoing through the tunnel in a growing cacophony before slowly fading into the distance. Obi-wan smiled to himself satisfactorily as if he hadn’t just been giving her a hard time for picking a flower before pulling this stunt. 

“Respect the local customs indeed.” Ahsoka muttered as she privately resolved to make her grandmaster teach her that trick. She was sure Anakin knew how to pull stunts like that but hadn’t learned his tricks from Obi-wan, nor was he particularly willing to pass down his roguish knowledge to her. But if Master Kenobi had grown up, learning and practicing such thieves' tricks in the field--well it was only fair he pass the knowledge on.  

“So, I’m starting to think that look you have means you’ve discovered a way to use me against your future me again.” Obi-wan stated as he climbed into the speeder.

“You know me so well already.” Ahsoka replied happily as she followed him into the speeder and whipped off into the city.

When they arrived, Ahsoka tried to comm her master, but found that the city was blanketed with a communications block on republic frequencies. Ahsoka muttered a few choice curses  that had Obi-wan turning his head and blushing faintly. 

“We could find the comm control and work a bypass around the block.” he offered.

Ahsoka considered the options. The communication’s block was specifically targeted against republic forces, nuanced enough not to be noticed right away. It was highly illegal and proof of treachery. Clearly Obi-wan wanted to continue sneaking around and gathering intel, but he failed to understand the current evidence was more than enough to act upon. He was right to press the issue, Ahsoka realized, but perhaps he wasn’t ready to press it enough. 

“No.” Ahsoka replies as her face set into an expression of steely determination as she started to march for the capitol tower. “We’re going to confront the problem at its source. Get them to think twice before doing whatever it is they’re doing or force their hand before they’re ready.” 

Obi-wan jogged after her. “Hey--! You can’t be serious. We need more information. We need to figure out how to wrangle an invitation to a negotiating table. . . (we probably need our actual masters to head up negotiations)” he added softly with a slight sheepishness.

“Obi-wan, you started this!” She replied, detecting the hint of self-doubt in his protests. “Now we’re going to see it through.” 

“You don’t even want to negotiate, do you?”

“Sure I do. Aggressive negotiations.” she replied. Obi-wan stopped in his tracks and stared at her oddly. “What now?” she asked. 

“That’s--that’s my phrase. Something I tease Master Jin for always doing.”

“Ha--really? You started saying it as a padawan? Ironically? That’s so cute. It sounds like you grow up to be a great deal more like your master than you’re expecting because my Obi-wan always throws the term around right before kicking ass.”

Obi-wan blinked. “It’s just--never mind.” 

“What? no seriously, what now?”

He shrugged. “I guess--I mean, I knew that I’d apparently trained your master, but I guess I just wasn’t expecting you to--take after me?” 

Ahsoka felt a warm flicker of pride at the unintentional praise. “Really? You think I take after you? Everyone always says that Skyguy and I are exactly alike. But you’re kind of like my second master really.” She started jogging towards the capitol building. Obi-wan followed after her. 

“Because he’s so young?”

“Ha. Maybe, but more because he’s Anakin Skywalker and you’re Obi-wan Kenobi.” 

He looked at her, perplexed and skeptical, but he didn’t press her on her meaning. Ahsoka wondered what it would be like to meet her grand-padawan and learn about the knight she’d trained. She supposed she wouldn’t really know what to say or ask. At last they came upon the capitol plaza. Ahsoka craned her neck at the skyscraper that held the planet’s governmental centers. It had an elegant sandstone facade that curved up into glass windows that reflected the sky. 

She looked over to her partner in crime. Ahsoka didn’t understand human hair, but she felt it shouldn’t still be standing upright in little spikes like it was for the padawan. His skin was peeling from sunburns across his nose and cheeks and he was clearly wilting in his full jedi robes despite the heat of the climate. Not even Master Kenobi wore the traditional ensemble into the field. He didn’t look prepared for the mission she was about to ask, but then she remembered how he used a tunnel system he’d neglected to tell her about to shake her tail and let her find him exactly when it was easiest to convince her to join him rather than stop him. She recalled him hotwiring the rail locks without hesitation, and realized that as his eyes roved over the government building, they were not admiring the aesthetics of the architecture but rather assessing the potential changes since he was last in the building. She shouldn’t underestimate him. 

“Obi-wan, I need to go in through the front door and confront them. You can’t let anyone know you’re here in this time, but you’re going to have to break in and get evidence of their plans on your own. There’s a chance we might have to fight our way out and with our comms blocked--”

“Can you hold your breath for four and a quarter clicks? Their water system feeds seven very large fountains throughout the building’s interior. Pry the grates open and someone our size can pass through the mainlined pipes  and go from the top of the tower to the cistern in the basement that time.” 

Ahsoka blinked. “I--don’t even want to know how you know that. I’ll meet you in the cistern in five?” 

Obi-wan gave her a sharp nod before wordlessly walking away. He walked with a casual gait that she’d never seen him use at any age, his arms swinging gently at his side, and he walked directly away from the tower before disappearing around a corner and vanishing out of sight. She shook her head with a disbelieving smile. Ahsoka realized that she hadn’t really bothered to wonder what jedi did before the war. If Obi-wan was any indication, intrigue and infiltration were staples of it.

It was just as well; Ahsoka was more the come boldly type. She marched towards the front door fully intending to bear the weight of the Army of the Republic down on the powers that be. 

Chapter Text

As Obi-wan walked away Qui-gon turned to the knight his padawan would grow up to train. 

“What’s this about you choosing Obi-wan from outside the temple?” he asked incredulously. 

Qui-gon’s lips flattened. “Now is not really the time--” 

“Oh, really? Because it sure was time to talk about my kriffing origins just a minute ago.” Skywalker seemed genuinely resentful about that, but his irritation was overshadowed by his curiosity and confusion about the history General Kenobi had alluded to.

“The two circumstances are entirely distinct, bound only by a slender technicality.” Qui-gon after pausing a moment to study the knight before him. “Obi-wan was raised as a temple initiate and had ceased to be so mere days before I chose him as my Padawan.”

Anakin looked at him askanse before gesturing for him to follow. The man walked with long purposeful strides and furrowed brows to a speeder bike, which he immediately set to taking apart with a tool kit provided by an R2 unit. Qui-gon had begun to wonder if he was meant to leave.

“Sorry,” Anakin spoke at last, perhaps sensing the tenor of his thoughts, “It’s just, if I don’t get to this now, something tells me I’ll never get the chance to, and repairing things helps me think.”

“Perhaps you should mediate.” 

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Anyways--you can’t possibly be telling me that Obi-wan Kenobi left the order as a child? Did his parents want him back or something?”

Qui-gon folded his hands in his sleeve. “Of course not. He completed his initiate training.” 

Anakin paused. “You mean he aged out. Obi-wan Kenobi. ”

“I am aware of his name.”

“Kriff that! I’d almost find it hilarious if it weren't so incredible.” Skywalker shook his head with a slightly mistified smile. “He’s the most jedi jedi to ever jedi. How on earth were knights not fighting over him when he was seven, let alone thirteen? Were you training someone else and had to wait till they passed the trials or something?” 

Qui-gon privately wondered if this Obi-wan was an epitome of the Jedi order--but then, from what he’d seen, the whole order had changed and his apprentice along with it. “Believe it or not, but Obi-wan did not start out as the man who raised you.” 

“Ha--I learned that after your padawan ran off, but then you agree with that kind of move don’t you? It looks like you two are made for each other.” 

“I am glad I changed my mind before it was too late to take him on.” 

“That almost sounds like an apology.” Anakin mused as he lifted the engine block to position over his head with the wave of one hand while he tinkered on its underbelly with his other. 

“It’s a simple fact. The boy was angry, uncontrolled--”

“You mean you weren’t too late; you rejected him. for anger and lack of control? Forget the fact that I can’t believe that, you certainly didn’t have that kind attitude when you were looking to take me on.” 

“I considered you as my padawan, despite being untrained and already attached to your family, and Obi-wan took you with my blessing instead? That sounds like an interesting tale.” Qui-gon did not miss either the implication that Anakin had been angry and uncontrolled as a child himself or the suggestion, both in this conversation and in his and Obi-wan’s interactions with each other, that Anakin was still the wilder of the pair. 

“It’s not.” Anakin responded darkly 

“. . .Then to answer your earlier question, yes. As an initiate Obi-wan asked me to take him on, but I feared the anger and darkness within him might prove him dangerous to train--” He was briefly interrupted as Anakin nearly dropped the speeder engine on his own head before catching it again in the force. “--However, after witnessing his selflessness and courage in action, I no longer fought the will of the force and took him on.” 

Anakin was quiet for a moment. He set the engine down and bounced restlessly on the balls of his feet before looking back to Qui-gon. His brows were furrowed in confusion and lips stretched in a satiric smile, but his eyes held a hint of--shame? Yes, Qui-gon realized suddenly that as an outsider Skywalker would have had his membership in the order constantly questioned. As an untrained and likely angry child, he would have worked hard to become a jedi; perhaps many in the temple even now question his success. He’d already stated he believes Obi-wan to be the epitome of a jedi--Obi-wan who now sat on the council at a shockingly young age and must be greatly trusted among the order. If Obi-wan couldn’t make the cut then how have I? He almost heard the young knight thinking. 

Anakin broke out  of his thoughts and scoffed. “Anger and darkness? Dangerous to train? Ha, I can’t think of anyone less likely to be tempted by the dark side than my master. He’s so thoroughly good it’s actually his greatest flaw.”

Qui-gon hummed thoughtfully. “Your padawan--Ahsoka. Do you worry what this war will do to her innocence--her bright heart?” Qui-gon received a frightful glare at the apparent change of subject and implications about his teaching ability, but Anakin knew well enough to play along and reluctantly offered an affirmative. He always worried for her.

“You see--knowing the struggles of those you teach is much easier than knowing the same for those who teach you. Perhaps you only think your master is not tempted precisely because he has been tempted for so very long and no longer gives an ear to his demons. I hardly know the man as he stands today, but it's plain to me that if he is firmly rooted in the light, then it is because darkness stands beside him like an old friend; it has lost its power to shock and appall him--and therefore lost its power to seduce.” 

Anakin averted his gaze to the ground and closed his eyes briefly. “Okay. Well--we’re having a strategic meeting in fifteen clicks. I’ll see you then,” he said and walked off. Qui-gon watched Anakin walk away clenching and stretching his hands in turn in an attempt to release some of the tension that knotted on his back and shoulders.

To take a padawan is to accept a vulnerability more profound than one can bear, Qui-gon thought to himself. A master will always worry for his pupil, and it seems this principle remains true for the padawans of one’s padawan. Anakin Skywalker seemed troubled on many sides. Qui-gon wished the knight could find peace--he wished this future Obi-wan would be less at peace with his part to play in this. He wished he had his Obi-wan at his side with that spark alight in his eyes that seemed nowhere to be found in the men Qui-gon had met in this dark time.

Qui-gon took a long, controlled breath and knelt in the spot where he stood by the speeder. He had some time to meditate. He suspected that he needed it.

Qui-gon stood in the corner of the command tent and watched the generals and commanders pour over plans and ordere. He was meant to give a full report of his mission on the planet twenty years ago, but it had been two hours, and the men were still arguing. He supposed this could only be a matter of course, since they were trying to manage a global campaign, which they were organizing with Masters Mundi and Billaba; a local seige of a droid factory; a hostage situation with an apparently high ranking seperatist agent; the force anomaly that caused this temporal displacement and the situation with the missing padawans.

Qui-gon was no stranger to the impertinence of arguing with one’s master, former or otherwise--he had certainly fought with master Dooku many times during and after his apprenticeship. Furthermore, both of his padawans had a defiant streak, so when Anakin scowled-- openly scowled-- at his grand general, former master and jedi counciler, Qui-gon serenely reflected on the truth of the ancient proverb: ‘what goes around comes around.’

Kenobi wanted to withdraw the siege and redeploy Qui-gon and the soldiers on the western continent to support Billaba’s ranks while he and Anakin explored the tunnel system in search for the padawans or the source of the force anomaly. (Qui-gon had scarcely been able to get a word in during this whole meeting, but he had informed the pair that it was shortly after disturbing a ritual in the deep buried temples that he and his Obi-wan had found themselves swept up in the force). The lost ground in the present field could be retaken after Deppa secured her regions; the situation with Ventress could be resolved by simply giving her her demands: a safe passage away from the planet. 

Obi-wan felt it was rather important that the sepratists be kept away from the temporal visitors, and there was something in the lilt of his voice and the way his eyes flicked to Qui-gon when he brought up the point that left Qui-gon thinking there was more to the issue than was being said. This man that his padawan might become--he was like a stranger, so closed off both in the force and without, calculating and confident where his apprentice was sincere but full of doubt. Qui-gon wanted to think of him as a stranger. It made it easier, for otherwise he would have to face the heartbreak of losing another son without even being able to articulate to himself or others that that is, in fact, what occurred. Yet all the same, Qui-gon knew this man, could read his minute expressions and see the structures of his logic behind his words. 

Skywalker, however, was loath to cede ground  bought with blood, and he trusted that his apprentice and Obi-wan would discover anything worth discovering in the caves--such investigations were why Obi-wan had gone rogue in the first place. He felt Qui-gon, who had experience with the caves and was clearly responsible for the most reckless and at risk padawan, should track the children down while Obi-wan saw the siege through and he personally tracked Ventress down and rescued his maybe brother. 

Qui-gon preferred Sywalker’s plan, but he could tell (where Anakin apparently could not) which elements were simply non-negotiable to Kenobi and which he was prepared to compromise upon. He would not allow Anakin to pursue Ventress alone, nor would he leave his past self to his own devices, but he could be persuaded on other matters. 

“This Ventress is in one of the cities is she not? Likely the capitol?” Qui-gon asked smoothly at last. “Let us all go together to collect the padawans, who have certainly reached the capitol after you’ve finished arguing. We can see to your Separatist agent and the Moran diplomacy then.”

Obi-wan placed his hand on his chin and cocked his head at him. “Perhaps you are right, but what do you suggest be done regarding the 501st?”

“I am hardly a general, Master Kenobi.” 

“Rex will run the siege just fine in our absence, and Mundi will back them up when he’s finished with his lateral sweep,” Anakin interjected, physically stepping in between the two men, his acerbic and obstinate attitude replaced in an instant with a perfectly amicable and relaxed demeanor. Qui-gon might have thought the man’s moods an act, so easily were they switched, but his presence rang out in the force vividly and the emotions were sincere. It only took a slight barb for the man to come to his master’s defense--only a mild favoring of his plans to appease his frustrations. 

“Hadn’t Ventress placed time limits on the fulfilment of her demands? We would have to track her down quickly. Take a starfighter to the capitol and look at the caves after.” Obi-wan said, changing the subject.

“Yes, she gave me until tomorrow, but like Master Jinn said--Ahsoka’s likely made it to the city already if what he says about the high speed transit tubes are true.”

“If she’d exited the tunnels, wouldn’t she have called you?” Obi-wan pointed out. 

“Honestly? If she caught up to that little you, he probably convinced her to go rogue with him--don’t give me that look! You’re the one leading her astray.”

Obi-wan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. We go to the capitol; Master Jinn looks for. . me, and we look for Ventress.” 

Qui-gon had had enough of this. “Obi-wan, why are you so set on keeping me and this Ventress apart?”

“I simply don’t want the separatists to know that you and my younger counterpart are present in this time. We’ve already discussed why--”

“You’re going to capture this woman. She has no way off the planet unless you let her, and you’ve resolved not to let her.”

“Firstly, I’m not altogether sure we have resolved such. Secondly, Ventress has a knack for escaping us. I have serious doubts that we can contain her even if we do capture her.” 

“Are you saying that she has repeatedly managed to beat two jedi knights?” Qui-gon knew full well that there were many warriors in the galaxy capable of defeating jedi, but to repeatedly succeed against them while outnumbered two to one was rather remarkable. 

Obi-wan hesitated, and Anakin stepped in. “She’s a sith acolyte. We weren’t sure if you should know we’re at war with the sith, but now that they’re involved, there’s no point to it. She’s apprenticed to--” Anakin caught his breath for half a second and glanced at Obi-wan, who kept a perfectly indifferent expression as he watched the exchange. “Darth Tyraneous. The sith apprentice to a yet unknown master.” He finished at last. 

Qui-gon sucked in his breath and released any anxiety at the news into the force. The return of the sith was grave indeed and did perhaps explain some of the evident desperation in this warlike jedi order. But what truly put him ill at ease was the obvious secrecy that Obi-wan was shrouding the sith in. He had not been denied most knowledge of this brutal future, though clearly the men had not been particularly forthcoming. But there was something Obi-wan did not want him to know. And Qui-gon wouldn’t have it. 

“And you know the identity of this Darth Tyraneous.”

“That information is classified.” Obi-wan replied easily.

“Really. Such that a knight might know and not I?” 

“No--but a general might, and we’ve already established that you aren’t one of those.” 

Anakin looked between the two obstinate men, before capturing Obi-wan’s attention. He tilted his head and pressed his lips in silent communication, and Obi-wan shrugged slightly and shook his head with some defeat in response. They hadn’t broken their training bond, Qui-gon realized suddenly. Obi-wan refused to acknowledge the slightest trace of a bond between him and Qui-gon, but here he stood, having telepathic conversations with a knight that by all accounts should have left his tutelage. 

“What?!” Anakin asked suddenly and looked at Qui-gon with disbelief. “Kriff, are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew! It’s hardly a secret.” Obi-wan responded.

“How was I supposed to know--” Sywalker stopped and put a hand over his mouth to stifle a sudden laugh and attempt to cover it with a cough. His lips twitched rebelliously and asked Obi-wan “Is that--ha, um--Is that why he hates me so much? I’m a disappointment? Not proper enough for his standards?”

“Anakin.” Obi-wan sighed. 

“Okay, yeah yeah I know. But we gotta tell him; he deserves to know.”

If Qui-gon wasn’t sure about his grand padawan before, he certainly was now. Obi-wan was right to say he’d like the knight. 

“Absolutely not. We don’t need to deal with--”

“It’s Count Dooku. The sith. He’s Count Dooku.” 

“Anakin--!” Obi-wan shouted, but Quigon had ceased to pay attention. 

“That’s not--” He thought of his master’s stern gaze, always accompanied by a steady hand to hold to. How Yan Dooku had tolerated his wild plans and open defiance of the rules and taught him that decorum didn’t mean blind obedience. He and his former master were not close, but there was a comfortable security in knowing that the master had successfully trained the student, and the student had lived up to the standards set before him. They were at peace they-- 

“--Qui-gon. Listen to me.”

“That’s not possible.” He finished at last. He thought of Xanatos, how bright the boy hand shined, bold and headstrong, brilliant and eager to excel--how he left the order and fell, bitter and treacherous, warped into a mockery of all that Qui-Gon had taught him. A Sith? How could such an absurdity come to pass? All the force offered was cold confirmation that it had. The dark side took so much. Qui-gon wondered if it rested like a genetic defect at the base of his teaching line--if Xanatos had fallen, if Obi-wan waged war on a hundred thousand planets because of him-- because he had failed them.

“Master!” Obi-wan grabbed his shoulder at the base of his neck and opened his mind to his former master until his presence became real to him for the first time since originally recovering the man. He seemed--concerned. He feared what Qui-gon might do and regretted that he had to suffer from an evil that occured past the boundaries of his natural life. 

“Master.” Obi-wan repeated until he was sure he had his attention. “We don’t know how it came to be that Dooku fell, but he had left the order to assume his title and tend to his family affairs some time ago, citing the Jedi order’s failings to adapt to the times as one of the reasons for his departure. I think--” Obi-wan took a shaky breath. “I think when you were killed by the first sith apprentice we discovered, it broke something in him.” With his mind open, Qui-gon could suddenly feel the bleeding edge of Obi-wan’s own training bond with him; it had not been weaned off as was normally done by masters transitioning their relationship with their apprentice to one of peers instead of tutors. He realized with additional sadness, not so shocking yet even more profound, that he had not lived to complete Obi-wan’s training. 

Qui-gon closed his eyes and dragged his hand across his long face. “How old were you?”

“Old enough to be knighted.” The man replied gently. “You taught me well, Qui-gon. As your master had taught you. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Qui-gon stepped stiffly away, and struggled to find words to say. “This--Ventress. If she’s exploiting your family ties, Skywalker, perhaps you should search for our apprentices, and Obi-wan and I shall capture her.” 

Anakin, after serving the tragic information to Qui-gon, had been averting his gaze from the older man’s suffering. Now he looked up blankly for a moment, surprised by the shift in subject matter, before furrowing his brows with incredulity.  “Oh, because I’m the one with attachment problems here.” He replied sourly. 

“Anakin.” Obi-wan cautioned. 

“No, really. Ventress has a kid with my last name that might be a long lost brother, and suddenly we’re going to ignore the fact that she’s basically Qui-gon Jinn’s evil sister?”

Qui-gon frowned. “That’s not how jedi apprenticeships work.” 

Anakin crossed his arms across his chest and looked on defiantly. “Maybe not,” he said, “but it is how family works.”

Chapter Text

“Yes, I was wondering where it is I could access your global employment archives.”

The receptionist blinked slowly as her eyes shifted from a neutral brown to a fiery orange with her mood. She wasn’t particularly impressed with the figure Ben cut in his tattered robes. “I’m sorry sir but those archives are locked for government personnel with the right clearance access codes.” she drawled. 

“I have the access codes.” 

“Oh. . .In that case, the archives run from floors sixteen to forty two. Current employment is on the thirty second floor.”

Ben thanked the receptionist with a slight bow and made his way on. In no time he was settled in a back room access port with an archive droid laying out parameters to try to find Luke. He didn’t know when Luke would have appeared, but the boy was raised by the most grounded couple Ben could have found;--he would find work. Likely with mechanical skills or farm equipment. It was an educated guess that Luke landed near enough or in the Capital city specifically, but Ben had successfully found a trail of witnesses by following that hunch. A boy had stumbled in from the wild lands. He fit Luke’s description and had an offworld accent. He disappeared into the crowds and the trail went cold. 

Fortunately, the Morans kept rather meticulous records. On his second day, he had narrowed his search down to three boys, freshly employed in mechanical posts without the proper identifications of a Moran citizen. He pushed back his chair from his desk--and started as the alarms began to blare and durasteel doors slammed down around the archive doors. Ben frowned; there was no way he could have triggered the security lock down. He had been careful to cover his tracks.

After a few minutes of waiting to see if anything would happen, Ben returned to his data port. The loud wails of the alarm was irritating, but he had focused under far more trying work conditions. He should have waited longer, for something did indeed happen: a lightsaber pierced the ceiling of his room and began to make a small circular cut.

A small fond smile graced his face. He remembered what it was like to flee though a wall or floor after poking his nose where it didn’t belong. Ben had intended to avoid the jedi of this time—it would be too painful even to a man long used to suffering to look upon an old friend, a fallen charge. Too tempting to vie against a history that had broken him against its unrelenting course time and time again. It would not be so.

As the piece of ceiling fell to the floor with a clang, Ben braced himself, drew the force around him like a cloak to hide his soul away and prepare for this encounter. He locked his mind away where the jedi could not sense it and found peace.

Obi-wan Kenobi hopped down through the ceiling and plunged his saber into the floor, only to look up with a start at Ben’s shocked gasp.  Ben stared incredulously. It was—he was a child. He’d planned to avoid the general he used to be, but this young padawan? I’ve broken time, he thought to himself despairingly. He must have let some of his dismay cross his face, because the padawan immediately turned off his lightsaber—the first one Obi-wan had ever built for himself—and placed his hands up placatingly.

 He looked Ben up and down with a calculating eye and said, “I don’t suppose you’re supposed to be here either?”

Ben blinked. “That depends on what ‘supposed means’. . .”

The boy pressed his eyebrows together. “Well you’re not a Moran, and I haven’t seen any non-natives except with the republic. . . and these separatists I suppose. If you’re a spy or something, I’m afraid they’re sweeping the floors at level eighty-six, so you can come with me if you want a way out.”

Ben walked forward and looked up through the precise hole that his past self had made. He found himself looking up through an impressive number of floors the padawan had bored himself through. “Where are you going?” It wasn’t so surprising that the teenager couldn’t recognize him, Ben thought. He had none of the softness that defined his features in his youth.

“Well I was headed to the fountain on the fifteenth-floor plaza—but I suppose that depends now on if your with the republic or a some kind of mercenary because in that case you’re on your own. Otherwise—Maybe we go down low enough to jump out the side of the building.”

“I’m a friend of the republic.”

“Great.” He said and started on the current floor again. “I can help you make the jump down each floor, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“You’re going to trust me? Just like that?” Ben was honestly appalled. He knew the boy couldn’t get a read on him in the force—he’d been doing little but perfect his shielding for over a decade. He didn’t recall being so recklessly naïve when he was young. . .

“I’ve yet to meet a bad guy who dresses in rags like that,” the boy said with that perfectly straight face and doe-eyed look that Ben did not like being on the receiving end of.  

Before he could reply, the flooring fell down into the next level with a bang and Obi-wan had grabbed Ben with the force and jumped down to the level blow—only to receive fire from a troop of the Moran Global Guard who had been waiting in position. Ben didn’t hesitate to ignite his own saber to deflect fire from the boy, who was taken off guard for a vital second before rallying his defenses. They stood back to back, and Ben began to lead them towards the exterior wall of the room; he had no heart to cut down their assailants, so retreat seemed the best option.

“Oh—ah, sorry Master. I wasn’t told of any jedi in the capitol, and. . . I’m a bit behind on the times, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sure you can tell me all about it once you’ve cut through this wall here. I will cover the both of us.” Ben said and waited for the boy’s active confirmation before settling himself into the force and digging up long neglected skills. There was an art blaster deflection, a series of moves to block sets of blots from different positions, some leading his blade in elegant arcs and tight turns while others jabbed out and viciously swiped to reach position in time to block an otherwise fatal bolt. The trick was to string the moves in such a way that every starting position began where another stroke ended, and the rhythm of the task kept perfect time to the staccato of the attacks. Once comfortable with his defensive task Ben took a moment to collect his thoughts.

Obi-wan had all but said he knew he was in his future, and Ben was rather glad that he hadn’t accidentally slipped back even further to the past without even noticing. He had worried about that; it wasn’t like any other jedi had intentionally manipulated the threads of time to slip between the weave and left him helpful notes. But force alive—! He now had two teenagers to put back—and in opposite directions at that.

Chapter Text

Obi-wan was fairly confident that he had not tripped the alarms, but once the alert was sounded it was apparently procedural to sweep the high security floors. A smart procedure, all things considered, but that didn’t mean Obi-wan had to like it. He hoped Ahsoka was all right. True to her word she had marched right in and demanded an audience with the head of state; Obi-wan had managed to see her being ushered into his penthouse office through the security cameras in the guard post he had infiltrated before he left to uncover their plans. Not four clicks after he had slipped into the right hall of the data center, a deep unease settled in his stomach; sometimes Obi-wan wished his intuition wasn’t so keen on divining certain doom.

Now he was jumping out a building from dozens of floors up and trying to focus on the force instead of his irritation that despite all insistences that ‘no jedi can be afforded to visit the capitol  for days,’ he had all but fallen into the arms of a jedi master. As soon as he landed, he started sprinting away from the plaza—only to skid to a  halt as soon as he realized his unexpected ally was not following him. The man stood where he landed in the open with his hands propped on his hips as he craned his neck to appraise the hole in the side of the building they had made their quick exit from. Obi-wan groaned as he saw the security detail looking down through the hole at the man, who had the audacity to wave at them. Obi-wan was preparing to dart back to the other jedi’s side, when the security spilled out of the building and surrounded him and he was forced to watch anxiously from the shadows of a side street as the man spoke to the soldiers. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but after a minute the security officers handed over the keys to one of their speeders and saluted him before leaving.

“No—we’re not going back in there,” the man said as he pulled up to the alley where Obi-wan lurked.

“I haven’t even said anything yet,” Obi-wan replied. He had every intention of going back in, if only to rendezvous with Ahsoka, but he suspected that arguing the point now would be futile. The master looked at him with a haggard frown like he knew what he was planning.

“I know you, Obi-wan Kenobi. Whatever you’ve left inside, it’s not worth it.”

“Oh, so we know each other then?”

“There will come a time when you and I meet, yes. My name is Ben.” With that simple introduction, Ben gestured to the passenger seat in his official security speeder. Obi-wan pressed his hands together and bowed in acknowledgement before crossing his arms and keeping his feet stubbornly planted on the ground.

“Well met, Master Ben, but with all due respect, there is very much a need to return. I entered the building with a friend and fear she may have been the one to set off the alarm.”

Ben frowned, “Apparently, the lockdown was triggered after a droid assassin took out the temple adjudicator. The separatists obviously have plans for the Moran temples and Dol Brunel was an obstacle to them, there was no mention of an intruder outside of us.”

Obi-wan decided to get in the speeder, and as soon as he had, Ben took off at an honestly fearsome speed. “The Separatists attacked the capitol?” he shouted over the wind. He needed to find Ahsoka now.

“Apparently so,” Ben mused, making no effort to be heard above the whip of the wind. Obi-wan had to read his lips.

“’Apparently so’? This is a huge problem!”

“It’s not your problem yet, nor is it mine anymore.”

Obi-wan stared agape for a moment, unsure of what that was supposed to mean before trying another tac. “My partner is Padawan Ahsoka Tano—you know her, I suppose? She was confronting Ballemat, the planitarty chancellor, about possible plans to betray the republic while I--” Obi-wan was cut off by the whiplash of the speeder almost ramming into a stone spire before Ben sharply turned it to the side and brought the land speeder into a barrel role to regain control of the vehicle. When the retched ordeal was over, both Obi-wan and Ben sat hunched forward in their chairs with their hands upon their knees as they tried to regain their equilibrium. Obi-wan looked up at the strange master, who had a faraway look in his eyes, and frowned.

He had been surprised, shocked even by learning of Ahsoka. Why? All the jedi on the planet were coordinating with each other, but—Perhaps Skywalker hadn’t been lying through omission when he neglected to mention that Ben was in the capitol and possibly able to help investigate the Moran plans. Anakin hadn’t known Ben was here, and Ben didn’t know which jedi were on the planet or perhaps that the jedi were on the planet at all. What was it he said? ‘nor is it mine anymore?’ Obi-wan leaned away from the older man and reevaluated his assumptions.

He had a ratty robe that alone was nondescript but seemed reminiscent of Jedi garb when pared with the lightsaber he wielded with expert precision. He was clearly adept with the force, and didn’t seem dark but—Obi-wan tried to subtly prod out the man’s force signature and found nothing. Not the mighty walls that other master’s shields suggested, just nothing. A desert where he should have found a mind, so subtly was the man shielded.

“You—you’re not a jedi are you.”

Ben’s lips thinned before he glanced down and smiled gently, sadly. “Perhaps I’m not.”

“But you were, and then you left.” Nothing good seemed to come of Jedi who left the order.

The statement stood as a question, but Ben merely sighed and looked back at Obi-wan. “You were with Ahsoka Tano; I’m quite sure she can take care of herself in the face of a few assassin droids if she did become entangled with them, but what of her master?”

Obi-wan hastily unbuckled himself and climbed out of the speeder. This was a bad idea. This was all a bad idea. “Don’t change the subject. Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“I want to return you to your rightful place in time; I assure you I mean no harm.”

“Well I’m going to help my friend. Goodbye.” Obi-wan hurried away as fast as he could.

“Obi-wan!” Ben called out and tossed a strange comm at him. Obi-wan caught it without looking and turned it over in his hand.  “Call me,” the older man said gently, “I won’t keep you against your will, but I will see you returned to your home before this is done. When you need my help, call me.” And with that the strange man started his speeder again and drove away. Obi-wan watched him leave with a sense of foreboding.  He had the niggling feeling that he was missing something—something important, but he just couldn’t discern it without knowing the context of this time. Everything was strange, too many pieces of the unifying force no longer fit in his mind and he felt disjointed and out of place, like the rules of the game had changed halfway though.

Count Dooku took a sip of the local tea. Most provincial beverages were vastly beneath the Count’s standards, and he refused to imbibe them, but the planet of Moran had many surprises. Before him sat Ballemat, the small minded xenophobe who had guided his planet on it’s whimsically pointless path through the spinning galaxy, and Padawan Tano, more crouched at the ready than truly sitting, her fingers twitched at her dual blades and the count detected a forlorn glance at her inevitably useless communicator once or twice.

The tension was palpable; it reverberated like an echo to the sirens that screamed thorough the building. Dooku wondered if he should kill Skywalker’s welp, but—she had such potential and was little trouble to him now. He would sooner eliminate her master and see her brought under better tutelage. They sat silently, until at last the alarms halted, leaving nothing but a ringing in his ears.

“Is—ahem, is it done?” Bellemat croaked at last. The count flipped open his data pad to look at the report of his droids, but as soon as his eyes began to skim the contents of his screen, Tano leapt at him, her sabers alight. Dooku snaped his head up and shoved her against the wall where he held her there with a light but unrelenting force choke. The padawan gasped her breaths and lashed out with the force but raw talent alone could not make up for inexperience and a lack of education. Dooku sighed dramatically. How many gifted pupils would the jedi waste on worthless teachings?

“Yes, your rival is quite dead, though if you do not wish to join him I advise you to follow through on our bargain. Although—” Dooko trailed off as he flipped through his seeker drone’s surveillance footage, or rather the footage deemed strategically relevant. Another Jedi padawan sighted in the archives. He sent a quick command that his droids get eyes on the other padawan and set his current captive down, releasing her in the force to holder at the tip of his bloody saber. “Who is your friend?”

The girl merely bared her teeth at him as her eyes flicked rapidly for an opportunity to escape or attack again, and she had been doing such a good job of sitting like a civilized being after walking in on his meeting before. Perhaps the traces of the negotiator could only last so long before Skywalker’s impulsiveness took over her response to trying situations. He drew a long breath in through his nose, preparing a derisive sigh, but his breath caught in his chest as he caught sight of the second padawan, dropping lightly into a floor with a seeker droid perched high in a corner and cutting another hole to jump down through. It could not be—

“His name is –Hondo,” the girl blurted. Dooku looked at her flatly; he had no intention of telling her of his own acquaintance with the cursed pirate, but she was a horrible liar even so.

“Very well, Padawan. Let’s go meet this Hondo of yours shall we?”

By the time they landed in the capital, news of the droid attack on the embassy had spread everywhere, and the Morans were blaming the jedi for failing at their duty to protect this planet. Even Padme had sent him a brief note stating that the Moran senators were causing a headache and that she needed to speak with him, privately and in person as soon as he was able. Anakin wanted to make time for his wife, but he couldn’t stop thinking of the young boy in the clutches of the sith. Family or not, he didn’t deserve this. 

“Well,” started Obi-wan as he walked into the small meeting room they had requisitioned from the surely local police. He paused to allow Anakin to shift focus back to him before continuing, “I believe I’ve found myself.” He tapped his wrist hollow and the little image of two figures leaping from the state tower sprung up in a loop. The small one was clearly Obi-wan, but--”

“Who is the jedi with him?” Qui-gon asked neutrally, but Anakin privately thought he might be annoyed. He knew he would be, but the Dooku ordeal had chastened Anakin enough to know better than to project his own feelings onto the older master--anymore. Obi-wan had switched from giving the cold shoulder to his old master to him and that was completely unacceptable. He’d done the right thing anyways. Qui-gon needed to be prepared. 

“The footage isn’t clear enough to pull an identity, but there should be no jedi with him. All are accounted for.” 

Qui-gon, who had been lightly meditating in the corner of the room, snapped his head up in alarm. Anakin leaned forward in his chair with his left hand propped on his knee and right braced against the table. “And forensic results? If he’s connected to the assasination of the high priest. . .”

“Turned up only my genetic material I’m afraid, which, I’ll have you know, did not make for an easy conversation with the local authorities. The stranger spoke to the global guard and told them he was me.”

Anakin refrained from openly teasing his master or demanding a comedic retelling of the tale but sent a little nudge through his bond that he expected his restraint to be accepted as a peace offering. His master favored him with a wry glance from the side and a slight pull on the side of his mouth that might almost pass for a dry smile. Apology accepted.

However, Qui-gon did not find this so amusing. “So this--unknown force sensitive knows who Obi-wan is if he knows what name to give to match the forensics.” 

“No--that doesn’t fit at all.” Obi-wan mused absently. Anakin did not miss the miffed expression that flited across Qui-gon’s face at such a fank refutation, but Obi-wan, evidently used to being a master rather than a student, seemed oblivious. “Why care about the forensics at all? The fact that only one trace shows up where two people landed is suspicious enough, and claiming to be me is a lie all too easily refuted.” 

“What was he doing in the state building, do we know?” 

“They say he was perusing the employment records.”

Anakin blinked. That wasn’t quite as nefarious as he’d suspected, but--

“He’s looking for someone.” Qui-gon said. 

“Precisely--he had to leave his terminal open when he apparently stumbled upon me in my escape and exited with him. His criteria were for human boys, around the age of sixteen years and of fair complexion, seeking employment as a mechanic of some kind in the last month without valid citizenship papers.” 

“If he’s a bounty hunter, then that’s a strange person to have a bounty on his head,” mused Qui-gon, “unless. . .”

“He’s a runaway,” Obi-wan concluded. 

Anakin had ceased to pay attention, that description--it resonated with him like catching a whiff of a scent you could almost taste. The answer lay on the tip of his tongue it was-- Anakin inhaled deeply, then “He’s Luke.” 

The other jedi turned to him suddenly with furrowed brows. “. . .who?” Obi-wan asked. 

“Luke--the kid Ventress kidnapped? That’s his name.”

“There’s no evidence linking--”
“It’s him, okay? Ventress really believes we’re related, and that description? sounds like me at that age--if I weren’t a jedi, that is.” 

Obi-wan tilted his head in deference; there was no arguing with that. “I rather got the impression that Ventress stumbled upon this boy by coincidence--yes, yes ‘there are no coincidences in the force,’” he spoke to preempt Qui-gon, mouth already open to protest. “But, the point stands; I don’t believe Ventress actively pursued this boy. If our mystery man’s intelligence is correct, this Luke has been here a month, and Ventress was sighted on the other side of the galaxy not a fortnight ago.”

“Well somebody's been looking for him, but I can’t believe it’s really just an attempt to get at me.” There were other more obvious targets for people Anakin cared about, after all, even if they were considerably harder to reach than a migrant civilian. 

Obi-wan propped his hand on his chin and cocked an eyebrow in his nearly trademarked pose. “Perhaps you really do share a father. . .” He said at last and looked at Anakin meaningfully. The idea rang through their bond: ‘ another child of the force?’ ‘he would be powerful even untrained’ ‘if this man has Obi-wan--’ ‘then we can tackle both our tasks at once’ ‘if Luke and I are related in the force--’ ‘then you can reach him.’ 

Qui-gon cleared his throat sharply, and both the Negotiator and the Hero with No fear turned to face him as one. “More secrets I can’t know?”

“Trust me, master, it’s not so bad as the return of the Sith; just things we’d like you to encounter for yourself.” Obi-wan replied easily. 

“The point is, I think I can find Luke in the force. Probably. And find Luke--”

“Find Obi-wan.”

Chapter Text

Luke sat across from his strange captor and squinted his eyes as if he could magically see through the back of her hand if he just tried hard enough. Ventress must be truly bored if she was teaching him to use a mystical connection to the universe to cheat at cards. 

“Don’t look at the cards, use the force.” She snapped. 

“I can’t ” Luke whined. Why couldn’t she just chop off a finger or an ear like a normal kidnapper? Instead, he was being groomed for entry into some kind of cult, and as much as he wanted to join the rebels--or separatists however they were called--this wasn’t really the way he imagined that dream coming true. 

“If you want to loose a finger or two, I can arrange that,” Ventress said. Oh yes, she could also read his mind, and try as he might to keep her out, she saw through him as much as he couldn’t see through the cards she held. “In fact--” she continued, “I might have to. Looks like your famed jedi brother just couldn’t be bothered to spare your life. He might need extra motivation. . .”

“You’re just trying to piss me off so that I can use that to read the cards.”

“Is it working?” She replied with a sarcastic smile.

Luke rolled his eyes. “you have an Idiot's Array, and you definitely cheated to get that; I don’t know how.”

“You are more powerful than you know, boy. You must focus your anger and suffering, hone it into a keen edge that flies before your saber.”

“No thank you.” Luke got up and began to pace around the cabin, but Ventress reached out from her seat and without even looking at him or even touching him, Luke found himself pulled off his feet by a tightness around his neck, not enough to choke, but alarming to say the least. 

“Try that again.” 

Luke tried to pull the invisible force off to no avail. “No--I’m mad at you because you’re a Huttspawn! That doesn’t mean I want to be like you.” 

Ventress dropped him with a roll of her eyes. “I’m clearly wasting my time with you. Not that the jedi will take you either, of course. Feel free to rot in insignificance.”

Luke rubbed at his neck, “Thanks--I will!” He stomped towards the hatch to the cargo bay, which in his opinion was now his room, but the moment he set his hands on the stair rails he felt-- it was hard to describe. As unhappy as he was about being initiated into Ventress's weird misery cult, the things she was trying to teach him were real. Intuitions and feelings that Luke had always felt were sharpened just a fraction from a hunch to a premonition when her saber was about to catch him unawares or her sabaac hand was better than his. 

He believed her when she told him all things were connected; he could breath that knowing of things like he did the air after the dust of a sandstorm finally dropped from the air. It was dry and arid, baren and cutting--but expansive, freeing. Now the air of things felt like the inside of a vast vaporator just before the dewpoint hits, laden with lifesaving water, oppressive in its sheer weightiness. It was as if his tentative relationship with his tutor ne captor and with the little things in her ship--the lightsaber she lent to him that put chills down his spine and left him flexing his hand after use, the cards he had been aquainting himself with in this new way of knowing--all were dwarfed by the coming of a storm. Someone was looking for him.

Ventress watched as the boy froze halfway through his dramatic exit, cocked his head to the side and collapsed into a deep trance. She swore and leapt to his side and turned his head too and fro. She tried to rouse him, tried to cut his connection to the force, but he was shielded now. This was clearly Skywalker’s doing. Ventress grimaced as she remembered the strength that Maul and Savage Oppress drew from their fraternal bond; she was a fool to assume that his status as a jedi would prevent General Skywalker from claiming his family. At least the boy didn’t really know where they were; Ventress had moved her ship several times since bringing him aboard. But that would only stop Skywalker from heading to her directly. He could still track her down through Luke like a bloodhound that caught its scent. 

She should leave him behind and return to her master. She knew she should, but--she already believed she had discovered the superior Skywalker. She’d meant what she said when she told him the jedi wouldn’t take him, even if he so obviously belonged with them. No, they would see someone too old to train where he was in truth a boy more capable of learning than any she had met before; they would see that he was quick to anger and freely touched the dark side and miss that he, much to her frustration, found its power and promises distasteful. They were going to drop him off with his moisture farming aunt and uncle on a planet only the hutts could love, and he was going to inevitably stay by them until their deaths whereupon he could run away and run spice for the Hutts. 

To hell with that. He might be a lost cause for the sith (though Ventress did wonder if she couldn't find the boy’s breaking point somewhere) but not for the separatists. Ventress wasn’t a particularly political sort; she followed Dooku because Dooku was her master, the one who trained her and taught her to be powerful. If asked where her loyalties lied--and who would think to ask her such a foolish question? (Kenobi, most likely)--she would say it was to herself and to the sith. Yet-- Dooku had a sith master in the republic, and Ventress already knew she had no intention of serving the republic even if it were the sith empire that Luke seemed to think it was. (Ventress couldn’t quite decide if that opinion was the result of political rumors and opinions becoming inordinately magnified in a small community too insulated from the greater galaxy or if the boy was unknowingly prophetic, more prescent than the combined wisdom of the jedi high council combined.  Perhaps it was both, and the tabula rasa of his world left space for the force to fill it with neither bias nor notice).

The boy blinked and propped himself up on his elbows and looked with bewilderment in his eyes to her for reassurance. She sneered at him and stood up, grabbing his arm and bringing him to his feet along the way. 

“I think--was that--is that what a jedi is?”

“You don’t know what a jedi is.” She couldn’t believe this. 

“No. . .? I mean you keep talking about them like they’re your enemies in the Empire so I figured they were. . .that.” 

Ventress was already in the pilot seat calculating possible escape routes and runs on the Republican blockade. She paused in her work to pinch the bridge of her nose and attempt to forestall a stress headache. “And now?” 

“I--this other Skywalker--Anakin Skywalker, like my dad? He’s coming for me. I think we belong together.”

“That’s real tough for you, kid, because Anakin Skywalker is not going to play by my terms now that he can find you straight out.”

“Stop acting like you’re going to kill me! I know you aren’t going to!”

Asajj rolled her eyes, “Then stop acting like I’m some kind of friend. I’m not.”

“Then stop teaching me to cheat at sabaac and fight with swords!”

Ventress couldn’t believe this. “I’m not playing games to pass the time, kid. I’m seeing if I can use you and your gifts.”

“Yeah, I figured! because you’re mean like that. It’s the only way you know how to make friends.”

“I do not--”Ventress pausead. There was absolutely nothing she could say to this that would not make her seem pathetic. The brat had a confounding  way about him that incessantly drew people into his paradigms. However, Asajj Ventress was no stranger to strategic retreats. She changed tact. “It doesn’t matter if you think you belong with your brother anyways,” she slowly drawled in her low voice. They were both seated in the cockpit, but she made sure to loom in the force if not in person. “The jedi won’t allow it. Love is forbidden to them, family denied. I knew Sywalker was lax enough to want to save you but even he will reject you; he must. No matter how much nicer he is, he’ll abandon you just like your fa--”

“Stop it! You’re lying!” Luke stood up, flushed with anger. 

“Read my cards; see if I bluff.” 

Luke paused before reluctantly sitting back down. He looked like he wanted to say something but hesitated, looked down at his lap and fidgeted. The boy was painfully lonely, she suddenly realized. He had spoken of his aunt and uncle, a friend or two--nobody who understood the way the boy existed in the universe.

Ventress had been approaching this all from the wrong angle. She didn’t need to offer him power or stoke his fears and suffering. Power after all was only a means to get what one wants, and Ventress already knows what Luke wants.

“You should embrace the power of that loneliness, Luke, use your rage to take back what’s been denied to you--" She let the offer hang in the air for a mkment and could see the ornery defensiveness return to Luke's eyes at the now familiar lecture. He wouldn't expect her new tact, wouldn't have an answer at hand when she went off script. "--But what do I care if you follow Sith tradition?"

Luke blinked and looked at her uncertainly. 

Ventress continued. "Go ahead and try to be nice and good and selfless. . . . but if you want to make a difference, you’re going to need to be taught, and I know for a fact the jedi aren’t going to take you. You want to be a rebel?  Then stick with me--go write your aunt and uncle a nice little letter saying that you’re all right, and help me defeat the republic. And who knows? maybe, then your big brother will be free to get to know you.” 

“He’s coming for me now. He’s trying to save me from this crazy assassin that’s holding me hostage.” 

“Of course. He wants to save you because he thinks I’m going to murder you. The jedi are much nicer than I am like that--but do you want nice or do you want acceptance?” 

“I want to meet him.” Luke lifted his chin at last and looked at her with a defiant glint in his eye. “I want to meet him, and then I’ll choose who to go with.”

Ventress rolled her eyes. “Did the suns bake the brains of all who live on Tatooine or does idiocy run in your family? I’m gone long before they can find me, and if they can find you they’ll never give you a choice about it; they’ll drop you home and maroon you on the dustball just to keep you off the board.” 

“I--I’ll take that risk. So you either let me go now, and maybe I’ll find you later, or you keep kidnapping me and leave the ‘join me’ speeches with the bantha shit.” 

Ventress and Luke glared at each other for a heated second before Ventress threw up her hands. “Fine,” she spit out at last, like the word was rancid on her tongue. She couldn’t believe that she was letting an untrained child-- an ignorant hick-- win the argument and letting him go. “You’re worse than  worthless to me as a captive now anyways. But when Anakin Skywalker inevitably lets you down, don’t expect me to take you back.”

Luke broke out into a wide smile. “Really? Wow, I had no idea that would work!”

Asajj dragged the palm of her hand down her face while rolling her eyes so far back that her pupils all  but disappeared into the back of her head. She was just about to retort with something that might reclaim some dignity when the hull containment alarms began to scream at her. She leaped to her feat and rushed to the cargo bay with the access hatch, Luke fast behind her, only to find a blade of blue like lightning finishing it’s cut through her triple durasteel hatch. How had they found me so quickly? Ventress thought incredulously as she ignited both of her lightsabers and prepared for a fight. There was no way. She could tell by reading Luke how close Anakin was to tracking the boy down, and he wasn’t close at all. She’d probably have to abandon her ship, she thought resentfully. She’d have to find Dooku and--

Her planning was cut short as the door slammed on the ground and through the searing edges of the metal as though through a burning piece of paper stood a man. . .no, not just any man--

Ventress felt her jaw go slack and her eyes widen in shock. “Kenobi?!” she asked incredulously, thoughts of a fight temporarily fleeing her mind. “You look like hell.”

“Only when I’m with you, my dear,” said Ben as he smiled grimly from beneath his hooded cloak. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Ahsoka wasn’t really sure what she expected to happen when she walked into the Moran chancellor's office, but coming face to face with Count Dooku was not it. She rolled her shoulders and neck in an attempt to work out some of the tightness that gripped her muscles after being strung up by the manacles that bound  her wrists behind her back so as to twist her arms out of joint if she stopped bearing her weight on the tips of her toes. Dooku was a real sithspawn, Ahsoka decided, but the fact that he was here without a whiff of republic intelligence for forewarning meant her discovery was probably worth the capture. Provided she was able to escape and report her findings, that is. She chewed on the gag shoved in her mouth out of frustration and once again tried to extend her awareness past the interference of the force binders.

 It was maddening, sometimes, how often victory and defeat walked in lockstep, just a breath apart, and too often the path to one came by way of the other. Here Dooku was, trapped on a planet rapidly falling under Republic control. They could capture him. They could shatter the Seperatists’ will to fight, strike a real blow against the sith. But he lay in hiding, unseen and plotting force knows what. And now that he was after the younger Obi-wan, this time travelling mystery was feeling less like a bizarre fluke and more like an attack. 

The door to the Moran brig she was being held in hissed open, and Ahsoka jerked out of her thoughts and prepared for--

“Mmmph!” She shouted around her gag and made sure to catch Obi-wan’s eyes before jerking her head back the way he came. The message was clear--get out now. He ignored it and hurried to the control panel around her cell’s force barriers.

“Who did this to you?” He asked  as he started pulling the interface panel off and examining the wires within. The question was asinine while she was still gagged, but he was thoughtful enough to lift her gently with the force so her arms no longer had to bear her weight while he worked, so she could forgive him for that at least. The fact that he was still here and not listening to her however. . .

“I know this is a trap,” he said as if reading her thoughts, “I mean--they practically published where you were being held and the security here is laughable, so--trap.” At that he sliced several wires and the forcefield spluttered out. He entered the cell and began searching her for any obvious trip wires or explosives. Ahsoka craned her neck to see him and continued to shake her head. He was obviously comfortable retrieving hostages and carefully methodical about avoiding hidden pitfalls. He knew he could handle whatever tricks the local authorities might have in store for him, but he didn’t know-- couldn’t know --that his hunter was not a petty tyrant but a sith lord. 

They hadn’t told him about the sith; she got the impression Anakin was leaving important matters of history on a need to know basis for their anachronistic guests. However, she should have realized that the young Obi-wan didn’t need to know only because Anakin and she were there to do the knowing for him. She should have never let him go off alone. Ahsoka squeezed her eyes tight. She was an idiot, and this was all her fault.

“Cheer up. I’m ninety percent sure you aren’t hooked up to a bomb of some kind,  so--” He cut off abruptly and tilted his head in concentration as his eyes flickered to the middle distance. “Ah, one moment, sorry--that would be the trap. I thought it was rather late in coming.” He carefully walked out off her cell--smart enough to realize that his sabotage alone might not prevent the force fields from coming back online--and ignited his lightsaber. 

She watched him stand in a battle ready stance, facing the door to the cellblock outside of her field of vision. Watched as he  drew the force to him. (She could tell by the shift in his breathing, by the way she felt the force that still supported her loosened from the tight grip of a distracted padawan to the weightless stillness of a meditative peace). For a moment, Ahsoka believed that Obi-wan was the man she looked to as a hero and mentor. For a moment she believed that he could take whatever stood on the other side of the door that hissed open. She watched as Obi-wan tensed, ready to spring to action, started in surprise--- and dropped his guard, retracting his lightsaber and hastily clipping it to his waist as he brought the palm of his hands together into a formal bow. 

“Master Dooku!” He said with some surprise and a sideways glance at Ahsoka who was shouting through her gag and thrashing in the air. Kriff. Kriff it all. She had known that Dooku had once been a jedi, but the information had been no more than an academic curiosity. An anecdotal warning of the temptations even jedi faced. Here she was, worrying so much that Obi-wan did not know of the sith that the possibility never occurred to her that he did know Yan Dooku. 

“Padawan Kenobi.” The murderous tyrant drawld as he calmly walked into her view, his hands clasped behind his back. “What an unexpected encounter.”

Obi-wan kept a stoic face, but he blushed. Was he embarrassed? Ahsoka hoped the slight nervous twitch in his fingers or the bounce of his heels signified that he sensed the darkness from the man, but he looked like a youngling caught with an unmade bed in a surprise dorm inspection. Ahsoka shouted again and jerked her head towards the exit as soon as she caught Obi-wan’s eye. He gave her a befuddled shrug like he was doing all he could and didn’t understand her anxieties. “Yes, I--Master Jinn and I--encountered some manner of force anomaly; we’re a little out of step with the times. I didn’t know you were in the city,” he commented, clearly trying to shift the conversation away from him. As he said it he turned his attention back to Ahsoka and once again pulled out his lightsaber, this time to cut her down rather than to defend himself. 

“Don’t turn your back on me, Kenobi,” Dooku rapped out, and Obi-wan snapped to attention. 

“Forgive me, master, but I’ve already checked to see if any traps or triggers would inhibit freeing Padawan Tano.”

“We aren’t going to free Padawan Tano,” Dooku replied with all the seriousness and feigned regret he could muster. “I’m afraid she threatened the life of the Moran high chancellor, and a prison break at this stage of negotiations would absolutely destroy the Republic’s relationship with the local government. Why, they’re liable to join the separatists.” 

The blood drained from Obi-wan’s face. “We can’t leave her here. It’s not the jedi way to abandon our own.”

“Nor is it the jedi way to wage war across the galaxy, yet you yourself will come to take the reigns of an army the likes of which the galaxy has never seen, and lead a corrupt republic in war and bloodshed, High General Kenobi.” 

Obi-wan had his back to her, so Ahsoka couldn’t see his face, but she wanted to protest, to tell him not to believe the Count’s lies. He clasped his hands behind his back and stood stiffly for a second before quietly saying, “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want Master Jinn to take me on, but--she’s my grand-padawan, and--” He didn’t finish his sentence, instead his lightsaber slipped from his sleeve in a flash and lit like a spark in a gas chamber. He lightly tossed the blade hilt first towards Ahsoka, and she didn’t have time to think of how mad he was to part with his saber before she was catching it in her knees and pulling a large breath in through her nose as she steeled herself for what she had to do. 

Gravity returned to her with a painful jerk as Obi-wan stopped supporting her in the force, and she used the momentum to swing her knees up and over her head, plunging the hot blade into the heart of the force binders that manacled her hands. The maneuver was risky without the force to guide her, and both her shoulders popped out of joint with a sickening crack as her arms were forced over her head backwards. She was glad for the gag for once, because she bit into it to manage the pain and muffle her cries. After a second, the force returned to her with a comforting rush--right before it scattered as she slammed into the ground. It was worth it; she was free. 

She took a moment to lie on the ground and breath the force, and she used it to look for Obi-wan. He was ducking and weaving away from Dooku’s blood red sabers. She had to pull herself together. She seized at the force with the unfettered gusto that her master modeled every day and leapt up, cutting the tie around her gag by bringing Kenobi’s blade within a hair of her own face and as she let the gag remain just long enough to help her  as she telekinetically forced her dislocations back into place. She’d never seen any jedi use the force like this before, but she saw Obi-wan take a slice to his arm, and she suddenly knew that she had to fix her arms or Obi-wan would lose his. He had the gall to smile at her as she joined the fray and dove to parry a blade meant for him. 

Dooku scoffed. “You think two children and a single lightsaber is an obstacle to me?”

“Obi-wan, run,” Ahsoka said as she positioned herself between the sith and his target.

“Not without you--”
“I said run!” 

“Not. without. you!” He shouted as he grabbed her free hand and pulled--and oh did that still hurt like an electroblade--Ahsoka growled and started booking it away from the sith lord. Dooku was wickedly good at dueling; she knew she could probably only delay him a handful of seconds worth of hard bought time for Obi-wan anyways. She could only hope that his positively ancient age meant he wasn’t the best of sprinters. Obi-wan certainly was--he seemed to be using the force to speed them both in their mad dash for safety, which Ahsoka didn’t even know was possible. With a rush, Obi-wan ducked into an empty hallway and they skidded to a halt on the polished floors. Obi-wan was breathing heavily with exertion, his injured arm was hanging limply at his side and his other was on the wall supporting some of his weight. 

“Garbage chute,” he panted at last and pointed. Ahsoka wordlessly stabbed at the security panel with his lightsaber and forced the chute open. It was different from her Obi-wan’s saber, she noticed absently. He also hadn’t demanded it back, and Ahsoka just knew it was his small way of giving her agency in her own rescue. He jumped in first to lead the way and she followed alert to give him cover. Once they had wormed their way well into the narrow recesses of the installations waste management system, Obi-wan stopped crawling forward and lay on his back. Crawling had been more painful than anything Ahsoka had yet tried to do with her injured shoulders, and she could feel them swelling and stiffening. She gladly took the break and mirrored his posture, her head by his feet and both looking ahead into the pitch black that stretched out like the expanse of space bottled in the narrow confines of the durasteel chute. 

They lay there in silence, and Ahsoka wasn’t sure if Obi-wan had stopped to avoid detection and wait for a window of escape or  if he could tell she needed a reprieve or needed one himself. 

“Thank you,” she said at last. “I mean, you should have listened to me and left when you still could, but--thanks.”

“You were gagged, how was I supposed to listen to you,” was his willfully obtuse reply. There was a strained quality to his voice that Ahsoka thought might only be detectable because she had only his voice to go on in the dark. 

“You understood just fine. I’m sorry we--I didn’t warn you of the sith; we didn’t know Dooku was on the planet.”

Obi-wan was silent. Ahsoka really wished he’d say something. 

“I didn’t know, I mean, I suppose I could have guessed, but I hadn’t realized you might have known him before he fell?”

“I don’t know him. Well, we’d been introduced once.  I’m pretty sure he avoids me because he disapproves of me. . .Guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.” 

Ahsoka felt she was missing something. “Why would he care about a random jedi padawan? Or you worry about some stuffy old master’s horrible judgement?”

“. . .because he’s my grand-master?”

Ahsoka choked on air.

Chapter Text

Ventress recovered from her shock quickly. Questions had their time, and she knew when not to ask them. Kenobi looked decades older, hair peppered with white, skin weathered and cracked, but he was no less a threat, poised and waiting for her to dictate the terms of their engagement. He was having mercy on her . The wisp of intuition and concurrent indignation sparked into her awareness like a heap of burning coals on her head. Her sabers already hummed in her hand. Luke, she’d already given up, but he had always been a means to her freedom--now Kenobi stood on her ship and in her way. With any hope, the ordeal he’d obviously endured would make him weak. 

She opened with a parallel downward strike, blocked as a matter of course by Kenobi’s single blade, held cross guard at the level of his eyes. The lurid purple that sparked from the point of contact of their blades cast a ghoulish aspect over his face, so altered as it was. She needed to focus on the familiar, on the enemy she knew and not the spectre of the unknown that haunted the man before her, like a demon of the light. It was why she opened with such a common parry that peppered their duals when neither was settled on a strategy. She threw her slight body into the lock; she bared her teeth and her rage and was rewarded by a tremor, the slightest give. He was weaker. She smirked and slipped her right blade down off the edge of his and pulled it back for a forward thrust. He knocked her remaining blade to the side and batted her thrust on his return to resting form.

“Tell me, Kenobi--” she drawled, “what ordeal could bring the great general so low?” When Dooku taught her not to question, Ventress had always understood the prohibition to keep her from thinking of the inconsistencies and unexplained. That which would distract her. She never interpreted the order to mean she couldn’t speak questions. If anything, that made her opponents have to think. She felt it was an edge. 

“. . .what?” Luke asked from the corner where he had retreated off to. 

“I’m sure you’re better equipped to answer such a question. I must defer to the experts on all matters of sinking low,” Kenobi replied through several swift parries. His senses weren’t dull, that much was certain. 

“Ben??” Asajj spared the slightest sideways glance at Luke who took a few steps from his corner towards the group. He was staring at Kenobi incredulously. “Ben Kenobi?” 

Ventress felt her battle rhythm miss a beat and the fuel of her rage stutter as confusion bubbled into her mind. Luke recognized him as ‘Ben Kenobi?’ The static of unexplained observations, which proceeds the lightning strike of new conclusions not yet realized, buzzed in her mind. She almost lost a hand for that. No questions. Not now. Not while locked in a dual against this not-quite version of her not-quite nemesis. Ventress lashed out to cover for her lapse--swinging her blades in wide opposing strikes, one after the other in unpredictable successions. Her own saber shredded the interior floors and walls of the ship, but when she managed to slip past her enemy’s guard, he himself slipped past her strokes. There was something different in the way he fought. Not a new form, not really.

For all that he was neither so quick nor so powerful as what he should be-- not so young , the part of her mind that never did stop thinking like it ought supplied--he had a steady fluidity about him, more grounded than most force users liked to fight. He bothered not at all with graceful movement through the force. Instead he shifted --or perhaps the force shifted around him. Fighting him felt like running on sand. 

She tripped.  She planted her foot in the force and struck out with both blades only to find the field or their duel--it hadn’t changed, but it never was what she thought it was. She’d played right into his ploy, and now Kenobi had his blade stayed a fraction from her rib cage, holding back an upwards cross stroke that could have severed her from her left waist to her right clavicle. The expanding of her chest burned her side with every breath and she looked at her enemy--and smiled. 

Kenobi was crafty, but he too had assumptions that would cost him. Assumptions like thinking Luke would stay cowered safely in the corner. That he and she wouldn’t have built a tentative--and so easily exploitable--rapport. Ventress calmly raised her lightsabers in a gesture of surrender before quickly flicking her right  saber to Luke’s neck, which was just in reach. Stalemate. 

Kenobi’s eyes harded, and Asajj was rather taken aback. She didn’t think man had it in him to be so raw. He had always been nothing but well worn civility, irony and dry humor substituted for genuine feeling. Ventress had always assumed such artificiality was the only way a Jedi could deny the truth of the dark. 

“Let him go, Ventress.” He said calmly, but there was a rough, strained quality to his voice, like his throat was parched, his words less practiced. 

“Hey, take it easy” Luke started as he edged away from her blade. “Nobody is going to get hurt; this is all some kind of misunderstanding . . .” 

“You can take the kid, General, and all I ask is you give me free range to leave this system.” 

He looked at her a long minute before retracting his blade and putting up his hands in a gesture of peace. Ventres--did not think that would work. 

“Very well--release him, now, and I will give you the pass codes to exit the system unquestioned.”

Ventress moved the saber fractionally down. “What’s this about a Ben Kenobi?” she asked instead, unsure herself if she was merely trying to aggravate Kenobi or stall for time while she tried to figure out what the catch was to his easy acquiescence. “--you’ve met this boy before? Because he and Skywalker certainly never heard of each other until now.” 

Luke looked between her and the general uncertainly, but when Obi-wan did not respond, he spoke up to fill the silence. “We haven’t really met--just, everyone knows about Ben Kenobi. I mean, all the farmers out by Dunlan Waste do. But wow I had no idea you were--uh--I mean, we thought you were just a hermit?”  

Ventress narrowed her eyes. And fully sheathed her lightsabers. She’d give up leverage, but an idea had struck her, and she needed Luke to answer questions. He’d proved notoriously difficult when he was put out with her treatment of him. “Luke. How long has this man been a hermit out in your little backwater planet?” 

Luke opened his mouth to answer, but Obi-wan finally spoke up. “You said they’d never heard of each other until now. Anakin Skywalker and Luke.” He looked at the boy in question with his eyebrows raised expectantly; his statement was directed at Ventress, but the implicit question was for Luke.

Ventress felt her hands drifting back to her sabers at her hilt unconsciously. This was the catch, the missing piece, the dangerous question. “How long, Luke?” Ventress insisted.

Luke looked between the two of them. “Will you guys tell me what’s going on?”

“Answer the question!” They both snapped in union before looking at each other, appalled. 

“Alright! Sheesh. Um, forever? As long as I can remember anyways. And yeah, I knew my dad was named Anakin, but I’d never heard of this jedi. She figured we were related because apparently we look alike? And, the Skywalker name and all, so she’s been trying to ransom me for an escape for a while now, but--I thought you guys weren’t going to go through with the deal? You are on the same side as my brother aren’t you? You feel like he does. But yeah, Ventress was just about to let me go because he found me in this thing she calls ‘the force,’ so what was the point of kidnapping me anymore if I’m just going to give away her hiding spot. . .what?” 

Ventress felt her heart slowly sink over the course of Luke’s ramble. She looked over to Kenobi and was not encouraged to see he felt the same way. She’d been too smart for her own good--too quick to rationalize what didn’t make sense--when the boy, that Jedi-spawned hutt-hick boy, had told her that he was the son of Anakin Skywalker. A man he’d never met, who must surely be dead as the sith overcame the republic and turned it into an Empire. Ventress wasn’t sure how she felt about this sith empire when it had seemed a quirk of the boy’s perceptions and was even less easy about it now that it might be a concrete future. What she did know was that now was not then, and Anikin Skywalker was coming for a son she had kidnapped.

Ben felt oddly detached from the disaster this whole affair was turning out to be, but his heart beat loudly in his ears, so he must have some anxiety that needed releasing. The moment he understood what Luke was telling him, he began to quietly search the force for the supernova that used to fill his skies. He must have blinded himself to not see it before, but--he was so close and closing in. 

Darth Vader must never learn of Luke Skywalker’s existence. All that he knew would be known by Vader. The irony was not lost upon him that he needed time. He had been more focused on finding Luke than on his return journey--and there was his own childhood self who’s trust and cooperation he needed to earn. Finding Luke was the first step--it was supposed to be the easiest step. But the boy had a budding bond with his father that Ben didn’t think healthy to cut.  He found he didn’t have the heart to deny Luke this small chance to know his father.

“Hello? Ben?. . .Is he okay?”

But that knowing was reciprocal, and even if Ventress’s theory that the boys were brothers was accepted, and force he’d never been so grateful to Asajj Ventress, of all people, it would not stop his old apprentice from relentless pursuit. Ben had minutes at most before Luke’s father arrived--and with two others, Ben realized as increasing proximity clarified the shrouded minds kept under tight shields. Himself and Ahsoka? No--no Qui-gon. In the flesh this time. He must have come with his padawan. More rips in the order of things. More wounds in the fabric of time to stitch. 

“Kenobi!” Ventress shouted as she amed a high kick right to his gut. Ben snapped to the present too late to stop it, but not too late to grab ahold of her foot as it hit him and throw her to the ground. He had her pinned on her stomach in an instant and she twisted her head to the side to glare at him. “You absolute loonbag. What the hell kind of jedi are you? Falling into meditation around a sith assassin.” 

“You know I’m your only hope of escape.” Ben replied as he let her off the ground. Unfortunately, she might also be his only hope of escape. 

“I am seriously doubting that, in light of your age-addled mind.” 

“Guys? The general is almost here, in case you guys wanted to go before he arrived? So, goodbye, I guess. Thanks for the rescue Ben, even if I didn’t need it. And Ventress? Thanks for nothing.” Luke smiled cheekily at the sith, and Ben felt his headache intensify. 

“You aren’t going with General Skywalker.” Ben stated firmly after a beat. Both Ventress and Luke turned to him dumbfounded. 

“Yes I am.” Luke insisted. “I’m choosing to, and I don’t care what you say about jedi and family, I just want to meet him.” 

“You don’t have a choice, and I don’t have time to discuss this anymore.” 

“What, are you going to kidnap me now? Uncle Owen always said--”

“No, Ventress is going to keep kidnaping you.” Ben said hurriedly cutting the boy off from repeating Owen’s opinion of him.

“Go sing in space, Kenobi. whatever madness you two have going on, I’m not a part of it.”

“Really? Because you’ve certainly changed your tune in short order if that’s the case.” Ben folded his arms and looked at his old opponent dryly. 

Ventress scowled as soon as she caught his intentions. “First you give me the escape codes for letting the boy go free, and now you’re giving them to me to kidnap him? From his you know what?” 

“Keep him safe and away from Anakin Skywalker, and I will give you valuable intelligence.” 

“What happened to your vaunted duty, general? Your loyalty to your brothers in arms? The republic?” Ventress had a wicked smile on her face, and Ben knew she’d carry through her part of the bargain. 

“This war is already lost for the both of us, Ventress.” Ben said grimly and walked out of the shuttle to the loud protests of one furious Luke Skywalker, who was already being restrained by his captor. The Jedi had arrived with the Hero with No Fear leading the charge towards Ventress’s craft.  He took a moment to recall the access codes Ventress needed to escape the planet and key it over to her ship, before drawing his saber for the second time that day. Ventress needed time to take off, to leave the atmosphere and the gravity well of the planet before hitting hyperspace without the fleet being alerted by the jedi on the ground. Ben would make that time. It seemed to be his singular job these days. 

Chapter Text

“If she’s holled up in her shuttle, what’s to prevent her from simply taking off to some other corner of the planet and punishing her hostage for non-compliance?” Qui-gon asked sensibly. 

“I hope she tries to fly the coop.” Anakin said distractedly. He was marching forward determinately, occasionally pausing to tilt his head and close his eyes. “I’ll have her under orbital bombardment and tractor beamed the moment she pops into sensor range if she tries that. Will be a lot less of a hassle than she usually is.” 

Obi-wan hummed in agreement. They outnumbered Ventress three to one and Qui-gon, despite Obi-wan’s concerns for the preservation of his past, would be an asset. He was a formidable dualer in his own right. 

Anakin jerked his head suddenly and took off towards a warehouse at a sprint. Obi-wan took after him withQui-gon not far behind.

“Trouble?” his old master asked.

“As always,” Obi-wan replied for Anakin, who was too far ahead. 

Anakin bulldozed the door down inwards in time to see Ventress's ship zipp away and swore vehemently in huttese. 

“Isn’t this what you had hoped for?”  Qui-gon asked, slightly winded from the sprint.

“Things have changed. . .” Obi-wan stated warily. He drew his saber and ignited it--he, unlike his erstwhile apprentice, did not run with his saber lit when it wasn’t needed. There was a figure, hooded, blue lightsaber held loosely at his side. He couldn’t read the man in the force. Even the droids held a buzz of intent that Obi-wan had attuned his senses towards over the course of the war. Surely this was the man who had carried his younger self away from the incident at the state plaza, the man who was looking for Anakin’s. . .parallel in the force. Too many personal connections. It suggested a pattern--a motive Obi-wan couldn’t divine. 

The man reached up with his free hand and pulled a thick canvas scarf over his lower face, goggles over his eyes. As if the hooded shadows covering his face and force signature were not enough of a shroud. It suggested they would recognize him. Suggested also that the man was not here to help. 

Anakin activated his comm “This is General Skywalker to all vessels. Lock--kriff!” Their unknown opponent telekinetically ripped the comm from Anakin’s wrist and crushed it under his heel. The fragile hope for peaceful negotiations with the stranger was crushed before it could bloom, and Anakin charged. Qui-gon strode confidently in to aid the younger knight. Obi-wan was slightly startled to find his battle quickened pulse steady at the sight of his towering teacher drawing the living force to bear in a battle. In his youth he had imagined his master would always prevail, had felt as safe by his side as he did in the bowels of the Jedi temple. He should know better now. 

Obi-wan held back and hailed the fleet in Anakin’s place.
“General Kenobi to all points--” Obi-wan began as he held his saber defensively and eyed the ensuing conflict. The unknown assailant was weaving his way towards him, clearly intent upon preventing the generals from calling in Ventress’s flight. To what end, Obi-wan could not discern. She was trapped on the planet. A new hideaway would only delay the inevitable, and Ventress was not herself inclined to procrastinate a confrontation.”Detain all ships--” He paused as he felt the expected pull of the force that had swiped Anakin’s comm from him and grabbed ahold of the thing with the force and pulled it back. The slender metal piece hovered and quaked above his wrist. 

Anakin and Qui-gon struck from opposing sides, each gripping their sabers  in aggressive two handed forms making powerful attacks. Obi-wan felt his comm hit the palm of his hand as the tug-a-war was cut off. The shrouded accomplice parried Qui-gon’s angled swing as he ducked and pivoted out of the way of Anakin’s. He twisted his saber out of the lock Qui-gon held him in and swiped low at Anakin, who deftly hopped over the blade aime at  his knees. No sooner had Anakin’s feet left the ground then the stranger, still crouched low, dropped his lightsaber and reached into the force with both hands to grab the younger knight. A force push would be par for the course, but instead he seized Anakin and swung him like a ball on a chain into Qui-gon, sending the two men over the railings on the landing platform before Obi-wan had even reactivated his comm. 

Obi-wan grimaced as his opponent again turned his attention to him. It had not been a minute since Ventress had taken off, but the window to send the fleet after her was narrow, and his adversary used the force unconventionally. He resumed his orders as he traded blows with the man. 

“--Detain ships exiting this city--track from my location. Ventress is onboard. Copy?”

There was no response, but Obi-wan couldn’t worry about what was currently out of his control. His opponent was unsettling, and it had taken him some time to realize this sense of wrongness extended past his inability to read the man in the force. He felt that he was being read quite well, so easily was he matched stroke for stroke despite his superior technique and gliding strokes. Obi-wan felt like he was fighting with his own shadow.

He looked towards the ledge where he lost sight of his padawan and master--the fall would be inconsequential but the hangar was too high to easily jump back. They would have to go around. They might be a minute out.

A ping sounded from the unknown force user’s wrist. The man seemed startled if the hitch and hesitation in his rhythm was any indication. Obi-wan pressed his advantage and smoothly shifted from his defensive posture into an aggressive drive, and the man backpedaled as he hastily answered his own comm. 

“Is this an emergency?” The man asked flatly as he leaned back and away from the heat of his own saber as Obi-wan bared down upon him.

“Ben. Our other comms are blocked; you said you’d help me.” The young voice--wasn’t something Obi-wan would easily recognize as his own, but they had planned to find the missing Padawans through the man who had last seen them. 

“Obi-wan?” Obi-wan snapped 

“. . .you’re with someone?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Obi-wan’s opponent--Ben--responded.

“This is General Kenobi. Padawan, where are you? Is Ahsoka with you?” 

“General--oh.” The kid seemed disappointed, and Obi-wan wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. “Yes. We’re at the east prison block----and--”
“Obi-wan!” he was interrupted by a much less disappointed Ahsoka. “Count Dooku is here. He’s plotting something with the Moran head of state and he’s after us. You. He’s after little you.” Both men disengaged and stepped back. Obi-wan felt a spike of stress bloom between his eyes.

“We have to end this now and help them,” Ben said. 

Obi-wan stared at the man incredulously. “Oh and now we’re going to trust you to save a boy from the sith?” 

“I don’t have time for this,” the man said as he turned his back on Obi-wan, leaving himself completely vulnerable and started to march away. “Are you coming with me to save yourself or not?” 

Obi-wan was torn. His younger self had suggested the comms were blocked. His message to the fleet may not have gone through. This Ben was a sith accomplice. A dangerous one. But what choice did he have? “I--” He started before Anakin leaped back over the ledge and placed himself between Ben and the exit. Barely contained fury danced across his eyes. 

“You have two seconds to explain to me why I can no longer find Luke Skywalker in the force before everyone has a very. bad. day.”

Chapter Text

Anakin had given him two seconds to explain. Ben spent them staring at his lost apprentice. He hadn’t had a chance to really look at him in their hastily traded blows mere moments earlier. Then Ben had allowed nothing in his mind but his mission to keep Anakin from Luke. That mission was now out of his hands, and Anakin was here before him again, furious but giving him time to think. Time to look again at his face. 

He wanted so badly to tear his sand goggles and scarf off his face and beg Anakin to-- to what? Love him more than Palpatine? No. It was not love the young man lacked but principles--a moral bedrock Ben had failed once to give him, and stood no chance at inspiring now. Ben said nothing. 

His comm unit was still active he realized disently. Ahsoka had pulled her master’s attention briefly from his quarry as she and his younger self gave hasty status reports to their masters. If the young ones could tell through the comms alone that Ben was at odds with their masters, they didn’t have time to ask about it. Scouting droids were scurrying through the vents and shafts of the building. They had to move on. They didn’t have much time. When their call had ended, Ben mechanically turned his comm off and slowly, as if calming a wild animal, raised his hands and repeated his offer to help. 

The General he used to be, opened his mouth to suggest they had no other choice but to let him, but Anakin preempted his master’s suggestion and raised his blade.

“I have a better idea” he said with disdain twitching on his lips. “You surrender now, or we take you three to one in under a minute and then go get our padawans without you getting in our way.” 

Well. That wouldn’t do at all. Ben had left Luke in the hands of Asajj Ventress , force help him, and not only would being captured by the republic slow his ability to actually recover the boy, it would certainly lead to a discovery of who he is and whence he came. Ventress was proof enough that once guests from the future was a known possibility, it was a simple abductive leap to discover Luke’s true relation to Anakin. Ben dreaded the consequences of such untimely knowledge. 

“Oh good,” Anakin said after Ben again failed to respond. When in his silent vigil had words ceased to spring naturally to his tongue? “I was hoping you’d choose the hard way.” Anakin sprung forward and the dual began anew, 

Obi-wan rolled his eyes with resignation before joining his brother in arms, but if his conciliatory shrug and defensive battle stances suggested a reluctance to fight, it was only a ruse Ben himself had played with Anakin a hundred times when they used to fight together. Anakin pulls focus with his relentless barrage while the Negotiator seems only interested in shoring up their defenses; in truth Obi-wan and Anakin were ever coordinating to corner their opponents. Like a game of chess, General Kenobi would line up the gambits to trap his opponents and Anakin with skill and power would execute them. 

However, merely seeing a trap coming rarely allowed a man to avoid it. Furthermore, Qui-gon added an unknown element. Would Obi-wan return to the forms and strategies of his apprenticeship to accommodate the master? Ben thought not. More likely he knew his old master better now than ever before. 

A feint from Anakin left him exposed to a cross-stroke from Obi-wan meant to take his left arm at the elbow. He took instead half of his robe’s voluminous sleeves. He needed to focus on the present. He’d only gotten so far with clever tricks meant to divide his three opponents. All three at once? This was a battle he could not win yet must not lose. 

He twisted to block a thrust from Qui-gon. Then a stroke to open the path--there. Side step, duck. Ben slipped behind the maverick jedi master, placing the tall man between him and the ghosts of his past. A moment of a reprieve earned, but already they came, relentless. 

‘Are you out there, even now?’ Ben tilted his head as he stopped--if only a moment--using the force like a weapon and leaned into it like an old friend. 

Hmph , the ghost in the force replied. The message sprang to his mind like the voice of conscious: You got yourself into this one, my padawan. If you want my help, beg it of the Qui-gon before you. 

Ben sighed and resolved to do no such thing. Ever skipping backwards, Ben felt himself being corralled away from possible points of escape. He allowed it to happen, knowing he needed to find the trio’s vulnerabilities rather than throw himself against their unyielding strengths. He ducked into the back hall of the hangar’s utility rooms where his single blade would have more room against the opposing three, crowded as they were. 

The younger Obi-wan was most curious. Unlike Qui-gon and Anakin he felt obligated to know about anyone who could wield the force as Ben obviously could. The mask bothered him. With a start, Ben realized his sudden insight into the younger man was a result of a kind of synchronicity they had within the force. So much of the man he had been had died, Ben thought, with the jedi that he was surprised to see evidence that he himself and the man in his past were anything more than strangers.

It was an opportunity. Ben pivoted to strike out at the opening Qui-gon had been baiting him with since the fight entered the hallway, an opportunity to disarm him by entering and then reversing a right side lock that would leave Ben wide open to an attack from Obi-wan on his left. As his blue blade spluttered against Qui-gon’s vivid green, and as the maverick smiled just slightly even as Ben slid his blade up and around his master’s and forced the hilt out of his hand,  Ben reached out to the mind of the man--himself--who readied to seize on the opening and end the battle.

 He had always had excellent shielding and discipline. It was exigent during a war against the sith but required even earlier in his life; Anakin had been a young boy with a powerful mind and absolutely none of the mental discipline that prepared initiates to form a training bond. Obi-wan had to carry the boundaries for both of them. Yet a mental shield was just a metaphor for the practice of discerning when one's thoughts are not one's own and cutting the intrusive consciousness out, and Obi-wan was not prepared to block out his own thoughts. 

He pinned his saber at the small of Ben's back and drew breath to demand surrender, but his breath hitched and brows creased in confusion as the words he meant to say slipped his mind. All was still but for the heavy breathing of the men, all waiting for the matter to be over, looking to him to finish it. I’m exhausted, Obi-wan thought--and then collapsed senseless. 

Anakin and Qui-gon shouted in surprise and alarm. Ben grit his teeth. One down, one disarmed--his master’s lightsaber had scarcely clattered to the floor before Ben had called it to his hand. Anakin, always Anakin, stood between him and freedom. He took the offensive for the first time in this encounter, dual wielding and pressing the young man in his distraction. Qui-gon rushed to Obi-wan’s side to take a pulse. Anakin was clearly buffeted between his fear for his master and anger at the man who felled him. The steady pulse beneath Qui-gon’s index fingers must have reassured the man by now. Anakin would regain equilibrium. Ben was out of tricks and out of breath. Anakin raised his saber to block Ben with a two handed grip. He was careless, and for just a moment neglected the second blade within Ben’s off hand. 

Ben didn’t allow himself to think about it. He snapped his second blade forward, and Anakin’s mechanical hand clattered to the ground. 

-- - --------------------------------

Anakin had a hard time describing it. When he understood that this boy Ventress held captive was like him , and he reached out to find him like the freed slaves of Tatooine had described finding themselves, he had felt-- he hadn’t felt so alone. It was only a faint awareness of each other, the slightest of connections, but when it winked out of his mind, through distance or force suppressants or--- or surely nothing else--it had put Anakin to mind of the pain Dooku had dealt him severing his hand on Geonosis. 

Now Obi-wan was on the ground--alongside that very same hand (for Anakin rather thought of it as his own hand instead of as a prosthetic), and Anakin was tired of losing. He felt no pain from his arm other than the prickle of a phantom limb, but if his body still believed it had a hand there, he could use it to channel the force in the way hands usually did. He resumed the duel with his remaining hand and reached into the force with his half an arm to throw the bastard back and off his balance. 

He redoubled his efforts and channeled his concern for Luke, Obi-wan (both of them) and Ahsoka into a mantra. Win it for them. Win it for them. Anakin Skywalker would bend the whole of the force to protect the ones he loved; he certainly wasn’t going to lose to a bundle of worn down rags in the form of a man. They had all this time been fighting to capture, not to kill, but Anakin was prepared to take whichever route finished this wretched duel the soonest. If he let some of his anger seep into his blows and quicken his veins what of it? This anger was righteous and Anakin had killed for less. 

Something shifted in his opponent. His parries gave way, just an inch, beneath his blows, and he backtracked, almost like he was afraid. Perhaps he should be--

But before Anakin could dwell on the matter for long, Qui-gon stood up from behind their opponent, flicked Obi-wan’s lightsaber out and slipped it into place beside their adversary’s neck who froze suddenly, unwilling to surrender but unable to avoid it. He’d forgotten about Obi-wan’s lightsaber, Anakin realized with some satisfaction. 

“My lightsaber, if you please.” Qui-gon demanded. “And yours.” 

The lightsabers in question hissed and retracted--but remained in the man’s hands. 

“You don’t understand. You have to trust me. I--”

Anakin whacked the man over the head with the butt of his lightsaber. Qui-gon glared at him judgmentally from over the unconscious heap of a man. 

“What?” Anakin demanded defensively. “You saw what he did to Obi-wan! Force knows what kind of tricks this guy can pull.” 

The invocation of their fallen comrade pulled the older Jedi’s attention back to Obi-wan as Anakin pulled out his force-suppressant cuffs--originally intended for Ventress--and set to work securing their captive. 

“I think he’s asleep.” Qui-gon said after a moment. 

“Can you wake him?” Anakin asked as he pulled the prisoner over to a pipe and handcuffed him to it. He bent over the man and pulled down the goggles and scarf to get a look at who he was dealing with. 

“. . .no.” Qui-gon said at last. “It’s like a healing trance. I can’t break it because--it’s not any kind of external compulsion. . .”

Anakin let out a long breath and spun on his heels to better look at Qui-gon. A man out of time. “You mean like he did it to himself?” Anakin asked neutrally. Obi-wan should be proud of him, keeping a level head like he was. He should be. 

“--Yes but that can’t be right.” Qui-gon had his eyes screwed shut in concentration. He opened them now and looked at Anakin. Anakin returned the scarf and goggles to their place and stood up.

“Well, whatever the case, it sounds like he’ll wake up in due course. Let’s go get our padawans.” 

“What? Right now?” 

“In case you weren’t paying attention, Count Dooku is hunting your padawan in particular. I’m sure he was a lovely master who earned your trust a hundred times over, but that was then and this is now. You don’t know what kind of man he becomes in the future. None of us --” Anakin stopped and reigned it in. Ahsoka needed help. 

Qui-gon tilted his head and furrowed his brows. His lips pressed together but whether it was in disapproval or uncertainty Anakin couldn’t tell. “And what of Obi-wan-- our prisoner? You can’t mean to simply leave them here unconscious.” 

“Unless you want to carry their dead-weight the whole time, I am absolutely going to leave them here. Trust me. This is Obi-wan’s problem, and so help me, he’s going to be the one to fix it.” Anakin didn’t wait for Qui-gon to respond or question him further. Already this conflict had wasted precious time. He walked determinedly towards the exit, recalling his cold wired hand to his living one without a glance as he walked by and tucked thing--half melted slag and useless metal into his belt. Anakin was tired--so tired of victories that felt like losing. 

Chapter Text

Luke sat at Ventress’s small fold out table and glared at her. He got the impression that glares populated nearly every face Ventress saw in life, but this was for him. He wasn’t stupid. Ben clearly wanted to keep him from General Skywalker-- Anakin Skywalker, who was not his Anakin Skywalker because he was a young general, and Luke’s father was a dead spice smuggler. But Ben Kenobi was a hermit, and now he was a general. A general for the Empire that Ventress insisted was the Republic. A general who Ventress was highly surprised to find had been apparently retired for some years, given that they apparently were still at war with each other. 

It sounded insane, but Luke didn’t think Ventress was in a position to question his sanity. Furthermore, it had felt so right when the other Skywalker had burst into his awareness, and that slick, slippery thread of the universe, which his captor had been teaching him to grasp and pull like a flimsy reign on a raging krayt dragon, dissolved into deluge of light and love and searching . Luke knew it was his father, alive again or rather alive yet , that he had been denied him. 

“Don’t blame me. ” Ventress stated, entering the room with a large gilded box, locked with several stone crusted clasps. 

“You said you’d let me go.” 

“That was before Obi-wan Kenobi himself came and offered my freedom in exchange for babysitting you.” 

“So? That was why you kidnapped me from the start! It doesn’t suddenly become not kidnapping because a local hermit told you to do it.” 

“I think you’re under the grave misapprehension that my decision to release you constituted a change of heart.” Luke rolled his eyes at that, and Ventress continued, “If it makes you feel better, I’m certain Kenobi has your best interests in mind.” At that she thumped the box on the table and sheared off the clasps with a quick flick of her saber, leaving the ornate designs a melted and smudge the wake of the light saber. Luke wondered if that box might have been worth more than his family’s homestead and vaporaters combined before it’s thoughtless destruction.   

“What’s that?” He asked, still angry but no longer willing to fight meaningless battles. 

“The codex of Morai She Ba.” She stated and raised her hands and lifted out the object. It was a several stacks of hides, stretched thin and scraped smooth and sewed together on one side. Ventress set on in front of him and took up another, and Luke was unsure what he was meant to do.

He opened the codex and was met with writing, fine and beautiful scrawls, ornate symbols and equations with different signs. “And...why do you have this?” 

“ This was why I was on that wretched planet in the first place and might tell us how you came to be there too. The locals worship their planet, and my master thinks there’s more than banal superstition in the practice. Thes holy texts might illuminate the mystery.”

Once Luke realized he was holding a stolen relic, his eyes widened and he gently set it down. Then--he took a moment to process Ventress’s words. 

“You’re master?” He asked.

“Is no concern of yours,” She replied without looking at him, perusing instead the pages of her volume as if looking for a place to start. 

“You’re a slave?” 

She hissed and lashed out grabbing his throat with the invisible hand of the force. Luke choked.
“I am no slave, do you hear me?” 

Luke wasn’t listening. He gasped for air, and though his mind believed that Ventress would not kill him his instinct bucked reason. ‘ I’m going to die, I’m going to die.’ He thought between fruitless gasps. He felt hot as if the very air became a furnace. ‘ My baby will die .’  

The thought startled him as much for it’s strangeness as with the strength of the grief and heartbreak that accompanied it. No. Luke revolted. This was not right and not happening--

Air rushed back through his aching throat, and Luke was on his hands and knees gasping it in greedily. It was rich with water that soothed his lungs. Luke focused on that and only that. The water in the air. It had to have a relative humidity above sixty percent, and that was expensive for a spacecraft to maintain. Luke felt as though he could reach out and pluck it. The room that moments ago had felt so hot suddenly dropped temperature as though the sun had set and droplets of dew condensed on the duresteel surfaces beneath his hands. 

Luke looked up. The room looked like it had survived a sandstorm. Everything was strewn about--including Ventress, who was half sprawled across the floor, half propped up by her arms as she stared at him in open shock. 

Seeing he was looking at her, Ventress stood and brushed herself off with a feigned nonchalance. She raised her hands and the room began to reorder. Luke leaned against the wall, exhausted. 

“I underestimated you, Skywalker. I suppose you want an apology.” 

Luke coughed and croaked out hoarsely “That would be nice, yeah.”

“It’s not in my nature,” she replied curtly, “But if it gives you consolation; you have my respect.”

‐----------

When the communication with their masters shut off and Obi-wan and Ahsoka shuffled on, here cutting their way into the air duct system--there crawling through a narrow access tunnel--ever on the move through the narrow bowels of the moran holding compound. 

"This guy you ran into--our masters were fighting him, you know that right?" Ahsoka asked after a moment. 

"Yes--I realized he wasn't with the order after it became obvious he wasn't coordinating with Knight Skywalker. He didn't seem dark, but. . . I don't know. He was up to something."

The pair moved on in silence. Then, the non-standard comm Ben had given Obi-wan hailed them. 

"Snips, you there?" Anakin's voice rang through. 

Obi-wan paused, uncertain before Ahsoka pulled the unit from his hands. "That's me." She told him and then to the comm, said, "Am I glad to hear you, Skyguy."

"We're maybe five clicks from your location, what's your status?"

"Keeping out of the way in the nooks and crannies of this place, but even if Dooku's too proud to get on his hands and knees and crawl through garbage chutes, his droids aren't and I'm not sure how long we can evade him." 

"What's keeping you from exiting the building?"

"It's a prison. All of the true exits from these shafts and such are blocked with shielding and sensor units. We can maybe start cutting our way out, but it will give the Count our location and we can't take him alone." 

“Put me on with Obi-wan.” Ahsoka shrugged and tossed the comm back. "Obi-wan?”

“Yes, sir” Obi-wan answered tentatively. 

“You are grounded until you’re thirty five, do you hear me?” 

Obi-wan paused as he weighed his options. “Yes sir. Can you put me on with Master Jinn?” 

“Don’t you try to appeal this. What did I tell you about running off alone being a terrible idea? 

“. . . that it was a terrible idea, sir.” 

Ahsoka could not believe how readily Obi-wan made polite, formal responses sound like back talk--or perhaps it was his back talk made to sound like polite formalities. Either way she could feel the internal screaming of Anakin over their bond. He had no idea how to handle his master as a kid. Ahsoka was simply glad they had not encountered a teenage Anakin Skywalker. 

“The man who gave you this comm--" He said at last, clearly changing tact and broaching the substance of his request to speak to Obi-wan.

"Ben."

"Is that what he called himself? Never mind. What did he say to you? When did you part with him?" 

"He seemed surprised to see me, being from the past and all. Said he knows the current Obi-wan and he wanted to help get me back to the right place in time."

"And how in kriff was he going to do that?" Ahsoka raised her brows at that. Anakin seemed more stressed about this than usual. Obi-wan for his part shot her an uncertain look, as if silently pleading for help in handling her unconventional master. 

"I don't know. As soon as I realized he wasn't a jedi, I left. He gave me the comm and told me to call if I needed help." 

"What made you think he's not a jedi?" 

"He was surprised to here that you and Ahsoka were on the planet, but all the Jedi here are coordinating."

"Just that?"

Obi-wan drew his head back in confusion. "I mean--is he a jedi or not? Surely you'd know?"

"Can you for once in your life answer me without another question?"

Ahsoka winced as Obi-wan shot her another wide eyed look. The squabbles and traded barbs were commonplace between her master and Obi-wan, but this Obi-wan lacked that history and deserved none of the transference not in the least because he hand answered every other question of Anakin's directly in this very conversation. 

"Sorry, sir--He admitted he'd left the order once I asked him about it." 

Ahsoka seized back the comm, finally deciding that Anakin's little interrogation had gone on long enough. 

"Anakin, what's up with this guy? Why are you so worried about him." 

"Later, Ahsoka. Obi-wan, did he say anything else to you? Anything that might seem strange? Did he say he was looking for anyone?" 

“No, I---he was surprised that I trusted him. At first, I mean. I think he didn’t like that I believed him when he said he was with the republic. I guess he was lying, but liars don’t usually challenge you when it works.” 

Ahsoka thought about what Obi-wan was saying. This Ben--and Ahsoka had never heard of a Jedi called that, but from the brief words she heard from him when they first called his comm, he sounded older and could have left the temple long ago. He said he knew Obi-wan, her Obi-wan, and he wanted to help, but Obi-wan was clearly battling him by the time they called. A man of many paradoxes. Anakin was silent for a moment. 

“We’re converging on your location. I’ll take Dooku while Qui-gon gets you two out, so I’m handing the line over to him now.” The line went quiet. 

"What's up with him?" Obi-wan asked. 

"Other than the fact that you disobeyed his direct orders and now a Sith lord is after us?" Her answer was incomplete, and Ahsoka suspected they both knew it, but she wouldn’t really know what had bothered her master until this was all over, and it was easier to deflect. 

“Point taken.” Obi-wan grunted as he stopped in front of a downward shaft. They were back in the garbage chutes, and Obi-wan was leading them in a seemingly random tour throughout the large complex. “This shaft leads to the incinerator.” 

“And you want to take it because . . . ?” 

“Those droids are clearly tracking us with trace element analysis.” 

“You want to burn our trail? Won’t that burn us ?”

“It doesn’t run all the time.”

“Of course not. Only at times when escaped prisoners are let loose in the garbage chutes .” She could feel the updraft testifying to the heat below even as the air had cooled by the time it reached her.

“We go down, but before dropping into the incinerator, we trick the sensor into thinking it’s overheating. Heat turns off, but they think it’s on. We wait till it drops cool enough, drop in, cut our way out. Incinerator turns back on, and poof. Droids lose our tail and maybe think we’ve killed ourselves to boot.” 

Ahsoka smiled deviously at the plan. Obi-wan was clearly a natural born conniver, and it was comforting to see that trait of her grandmaster’s living in the padawan too. 

_________________________

Obi-wan’s eyes fluttered open. Waking in the field without memory of the cause of unconsciousness was a familiar experience. That he woke with a slow, steady pulse and no pain, a clarity of mind unclouded by drugs or injury and unnaturally put at rest, was the disconcerting anomalies of this occasion. His heart rate spiked as he pulled in a sharp breath and felt for his weapon, clipped back to his belt by someone else-- Qui-gon. It must be. Anakin would not think to do so and their opponent would not return the saber. 

But where were they. Now on his feet, Obi-wan surveyed his surroundings. Ventress’s accomplice was slumped against a durasteel pipe, which he was cuffed to with force binders. Anakin and Jinn clearly finished the duel and moved on to the rescue of their apprentices, leaving him, alone and unconscious-- and how had that come about? --with a captive that was now his responsibility. 

Obi-wan would be irritated if he wasn’t so concerned with the impending crisis surrounding his young self. He rolled  a knot out of his neck and extended his awareness in the force, searching for any present danger. Perhaps he would be irritated all the same, he decided as he walked over to the captive and checked for any wounds. 

The man began to rouse when the binders were temporarily unclipped as Obi-wan freed him from the pole and re-cuffed his hands, this time more comfortably in the front. He stiffly pulled his legs to be criss-crossed underneath him and showed no indication of rising from his seat on the abandoned hallway floor. Obi-wan crowded before him and rested his forearms gently on his knees, uncharacteristically uncertain how to proceed. 

“At a loss for words?” the masked man asked at last with a wry tone. “Glad to see it’s not just me.”

“Who are you and why have you hindered our capture of Ventress?” Obi-wan wanted to ask how it happened that he went from capturing the suspect to waking up alone in the hallway floor, but the more pressing issues needed to be answered first. 

“You don’t want to know the answer to those questions; you think you do, but you don’t.” 

Obi-wan didn’t dignify that suggestion with a response. “Why the mask? If I wanted to I could simply remove it now and learn your identity that way.”

The man sighed. “ We see through a glass, darkly;” he began to quote, “but when we meet face to face, then shall I know even as I am also known.” 

Obi-wan tilted his head to the side. “The wisdom writings of the hagian sect are not widely read.” 

“Yet you have read them. Just so have I.”

Obi-wan’s lips twitched with an impulse to smile against his better judgement. “You delight in being cryptic.” 

“Perhaps.” 

The older man seemed lost in his own thoughts, and Obi-wan let him wander the paths of his mind without interruption. He was rather good at interrogations--many jedi relied too heavily on the force and the reputation which often precedes them for being more powerful, more omniscient than they really are. Obi-wan knew that all negotiations were really interrogations and interrogations, negotiations, but he hadn’t been taught this axiom by the jedi. Satine had taught it to him in his youth. Master Jinn had disagreed with the sentiment, but that had been a time when Obi-wan preferred Satine’s wisdom to all else. Before their budding philosophies--and the lives which they illuminated--had grown apart. 

At last the man seemed to reach a resolution. He sat up a little straighter and faced his captor firmly. 

“To put it bluntly, I am you, and you are me.”

Obi-wan’s lips thinned at the possibility of another riddle, but after his odd pronouncement the man reached up with his bound hands and pulled off the goggles and scarf. It was his own face, weathered with age and hardship. 

Ever since being confronted with the unexpected return of his long deceased Master, Obi-wan had expected to meet Qui-gon’s padawan--in other words, himself. He supposed it would be a fairly uncanny experience, possibly full of the unpleasant observations that must arise from the unprecedented opportunity to look at one’s past--or future as it may be--with an objective eye. He had prepared himself for it. 

He wasn’t prepared for it. As recognition sprung in his eyes and inarticulate questions vied for attention, Obi-wan could only think, and rather inanely at that, that he was most appalled by the state of his future facial hair. 

Chapter Text

Ben watched as differing shades of horror flitted across his younger face, before the general sat down in front of him with a small thud. He supposed he deserved that. His actions have done nothing to inspire confidence in the men of this time, and a heavy grief, which ever sat upon his shoulders and from that perch gnawed at his soul and carved grooves upon his brow, was evident in his aspect. Obi-wan had always known he was destined for sorrow, but to see that sorrow made manifest was another thing altogether. 

In the early days after the end, Ben had bitterly resented the force for bestowing him premonitions without power to prevent them and feared that he had the opportunity to forestall the tragedy but failed despite all warnings. In any case he had wished he’d never had the aftertaste of a bitter cup of which he had yet to drink but could not turn away. In time, however, Ben grew to understand that warnings seldom rang to avert the disaster but rather called their hearers to brace themselves. All his life Obi-wan had braced for what he could not say, and when the title wave crested upon his shores and swept his life--his people out to sea, Obi-wan did not break. He did not fall, though the dark side welled within him and promised cold relief, and Ben had grown to understand that one’s mind and soul were all one ever owned--and since those most precious gifts were so easily destroyed, the omens of the force proved a blessing in disguise. 

"You've come from the future--are there any other time travelers I should be worried about?" Ben's counterpart asked at last. Up

"You are aware, of course, of Qui-Gon and his Obi-wan" 

"Yes I am. Anyone else?" Obi-wan pressed. 

He knew his own tricks, Ben had to admit, and he wouldn't be satisfied with half truths. Ben, therefore, settled on whole lies, looked his past in the eyes and said sincerely, "No. I know of no other, but I was quite taken aback to run into a younger version of myself than expected, and do not know by what means he and Qui-gon came here." 

"But you do know how you arrived here." Ben had always been well served by a gift to read the things left unsaid as easily as if they were proclamations. He could use Obi-wan's proclivity to uncover buried truth to distract the man from open lies. 

"The Force brought me."

The general scoffed. "We're all afloat in the river of the force and brought by it to the present. That doesn't explain how you've managed to escape your present for your past."

Ben shrugged. "Very well, I asked the force to bring me. It encompasses all time, and I slipped between its threads."

Doubt--self doubt-- furrowed Obi-wan's brows. It wasn't that he disbelieved Ben, Ben realized, but he could not imagine ever managing such a feat--holding such a relationship with the force. He couldn't, Ben knew. When he had been a general, he had been too busy, too self reliant. The man he was had to die, to be dismantled to the very core and divested of his central beliefs; before Ben had learned such simple reliance upon the force.

"Why? Did you also give ventress my access codes? Why stop us from capturing her?" Ben well understood just how devastating a security risk he presented. He had hoped to retrieve his ward and find a way back before he was noticed, but the temptation to--to do what exactly he did not know, but in any case to interfere with Palpatine and therefore the republic's military security was monumental. He had watched the republic die and now feared in himself the impulse to kill it--in his own fashion rather than that of Palpatine's. 

Sixteen years his surviving soul was all he had to be thankful for, and how easy it would be to sell it now if only the order might live. 

"I need to know." Obi-wan pressed after Ben's silence had stretched on. "Is it something with the boy? With Anakin?" 

Ben clasped his cuffed hands loosely together and looked down. Perhaps the general would work out that Ben had lied about Luke and from that intuition parse out a theory closer to the truth than Ben wanted. But he suspected that Obi-wan believed him, that as much as he doubted this specter of his destiny and distrusted his motives, he could not imagine he would lie to him. If he was right, it would be better to let the younger man come to his own conclusions. 

"Obi-wan!" The younger man implored frustratedly. He leaned forward with his hands tightly grasping his knees, and his eyes flicked over his captive's face, looking for a way inside the iron walls of Ben's mind and inscrutable motives. 

"My name is Ben." 

Obi-wan leaned back, blinked and restored the affect of careful neutrality and stoic indifference that he had dropped after realizing who Ben was. "Then you and I are not the same man, even if we share a life." 

Ben looked down again at his hands. "Yes," he stated softly "You end where I begin."

-----------------

Qui-gon marched with his grand padawan up to the prison block, a giant rcube of smooth metal siding and turreted defenses. He closed his eyes and stretched out his senses for his Padawan, as he activated the working comm and informed the padawans of their arrival. 

Anakin prowled along the outer wall, his remaining hand lightly trailing along the concrete until, finding what he was searching for, he stopped, unclipped his saber and started cutting his way in. 

"This will set off alarms, but probably the locals will remain neutral. Not sure for how long , since they're clearly playing both sides, but for now? They'd be wise to stay away." He said with a scowl. Anakin seemed worryingly temperamental on a good day, but a heavy weight had clearly settled upon him, and Qui-gon wondered at how passionately distraught he was over the loss of a stranger--related by blood or not. 

Anakin finished making their entrance and shone the cut wall in upon itself with the force, which he channeled through his severed arm. Qui-gon was impressed. Use of the force required an intimate awareness of the body, and injury and loss of limb often threw off a Jedi's abilities in more than the merely physical. Even if the ruined wires and mechanisms laid bare underneath the fringes of his sleeve testified to this not being the first amputation for so young a knight, a hand was a hand, and Anakin's adaptability spoke well of him, even if his emotions ran hot. 

"Are you sure you should face--the Sith alone? My master has always been a masterful dueler and you have a handicap." 

Anakin smiled grimly. "I know. I've fought him many times before." He gave Qui-gon a sideways look and waved his handless arm lightly as if to suggest that Yan had wrought the initial injury on the boy. The heir to his own lineage. Qui-gon closed his eyes in grief. 

"That's why." 

"Why what?" Qui-gon asked. 

"Why I should take Dooku while you go save our apprentices. You're distracted, it's too close to you." 

Qui-gon shot the knight a withering glare. "This coming from a man who appears to be constantly distracted and is currently in higher dudgeon than I." 

Anakin shrugged, but a tightness in his lips belayed his nonchalance. "Sure, but not about Dooku." The clatter of droids echoed down the hall and Anakin spun his lightsaber in preparation. "Go on, old man." He managed a smile. "Simple extraction mission. It'll be easy." 

And then he ran off. Qui-gon frowned at his departure, but he could feel his padawan was close. Close and waiting for something. He opened for two way communication. 

"Obi-wan. Where are you?" 

"Just outside of the incinerator, Master." 

Qui-gon folded his arms into his sleeves as he quietly slipped through the hallways of the facility. "Hmm. And why is that?" 

"We're going to lose our tail through it. Maybe fake our deaths." 

Qui-gon paused and nodded to himself as he mulled the plan over. It was a good plan. Costly in time but would enable the padawans to move freely in the hallways without being hounded. 

"Very well. I will sabotage the security cameras. And meet you in the waste management systems." He could feel his apprentice smiling happily over their bond, and Qui-gon felt a weight in his chest ease in the bright company of that boy. He hadn't realized how deep the the the anxiety and loneliness had seeped into his soul since leaving Obi-wan on Moran to recover the man he was to become. The General and jedi master that he had discovered had all the accomplishments and accolades to make any master proud, but he was distant, closed off and hardened by waging an unjust war. The news of his own master's fall was a devastating blow that had aided some measure of understanding and concord between himself and Obi-wan but sympathy for a great loss, (A betrayal. Another betrayal, his mind whispered to him) was small comfort and did nothing to bridge the chasm between them. 

No. Qui-gon would take his apprentice back to their true time and he would let the future come as it may. These griefs were not meant for him, and it took the strong and hard won bond with his true apprentice to show him just how caught up in this future he became. What had Obi-wan told him as he begged not to leave him alone in this hardened future? " That Obi-wan is not your apprentice; I am." As always, he should have listened to the boy. 

----------

Senator Padme Amadala wished she could bite her knuckles, but the nervous habit had been trained out of her at age ten, and she could hardly restart the blatant show if weakness now. 

"C3-PO, have you managed to get through to Knight Skywalker?"

"No, my lady," the droid twittered fretfully. "I have been trying all day, and Master Obi-wan and Miss Ahsoka are unreachable as well. Whatever could be the cause of such incomunicability? I do hope they are all right." 

"I do too, C3, I do too." 

The heavy door to her apartment's library opened with the creak of real omme wood from Naboo, and Padme's footman announced the arrival of Senator Bail Organna and his aid. Padme looked up as they entered and found herself staring sadly at the girl yet again. 

This time, at least, the girl who had all but become Bail's second shadow, did not look back at her with a conflicting mix of shock, wistful grief and trepidation. Instead she fixed her wide eyes (and weren't they so much like Ani's) on C3-PO. A small smile graced the girls lips, and Padme, who had been so beset with doubt even still, found new resolve. 

"Are you ready, Amadala?" Bail asked with a formality that fit the occasion. 

Padme raised her chin high. "Yes, Bail. We are decided." 

Chapter Text

Anakin tilted his head to listen to the cold hole in the force that was Darth Tyranneous. Obi-wan, and indeed all of his temple teachers spoke of force sensing as an abstract act of the mind, as knowing without mediation, but Anakin had crept out to the dunes at night and listened to the choirs of the stars, had felt his slave master's malevolence like a physical blow and rode the wave of thrilling speed and violence in the pod races. He had never been taught that the force and the world of matter and body were two different things. Yoda had once told him it was more real than "crude matter," but Anakin didn't believe anything could be more real than the embodied force that sang from every stone or gust of wind. If the force was in everything and connected and animated each atom in the cosmos, than how could it stand apart, transcendent and abstract? 

He turned the corner and saw Dooku haloed in discordant notes, eyes burning cold and imperious. Anakin wondered if jedi saw the same thing when they looked at the sith, or if their imminent knowing showed them a clearer picture. 

Dooku sneered. "Skywalker, you are an underwhelming opponent on your best days. Do you honestly expect to prevail worked over as you've cleadly been?" 

Anakin didn't bother to answer. He looked over the room, took note of the light panels, the construction materials, the fixtures. He needed to be more creative than usual for this fight. Dooku ignited his saber and spun it once into a starting Mishaki pose before reaching into the force to grab Anakin by the neck and drag him forward towards his forward pointed blade. 

Anakin didn't resist. Instead he kicked off the floor and leapt into a layout, his right arm kept close to the small of his back and chin tucked low. He needed to minimize the target he presented to the sith as he flipped over him and used the momentum of Dooku's pull to slip behind his guard. Dooku struck out at him, but Anakin provided only one point of attack, and deflected it easily. 

He landed, feet skidding along the metal floor. He struck forward to an effortless deflection from Dooku as he spun around, left hand tucked behind his back in his normal formal pose. Now it stood a mocking mirror to Anakin's stance. 

Anakin smiled and pulled. 

The neolight panels, severed from their fixings by Anakin's blade as he exited his flip, crashed down around the Count. Plasma spurted from a hundred cracks in its casings. The sith recoiled in disgust and pain. The chemical burns won't be deep, but they could scar without treatment, and Dooku was a vain man. And it ruined his elaborately embroidered robes.  Padme had taught him the value of such rich attire.

Dooku stalked forward. Plastiglass shards sprung before him like a thousand darts. Anakin batted them aside and turned his face away as some slipped past his guard and rained down on him. He repositioned his right arm. Tapped the severed stump against metal. No--He wished, but it was too complex for this task. He reached to the other, fresh acquisition. Yes. 

Dooku was here. Anakin parried and pivoted. Skipped back from the second attack. The count seemed to move not at all but for his hands and saber. Anakin had to move twice as fast. Had to hop and skip away. Try to throw something. Try to trip him. He wasn't trying to look weak, but he knew he did. Just as well. His mind was in two places. At last the other half clicked. A small flick in the force activated the ion magnetic cuff he'd hacked from a droid on the way here. 

Anakin pivoted to fully face his opponent again. He swung a long stroke, powerful but obvious. Dooku scoffed. Anakin breathed. The body extended to the tools you used. The blade of a Jedi was an extension of his life. The pilot adopts his ship to rank among his limbs. And in every CIS droid there was the soul of Dooku. 

The sith locked blades with his right saber. Anakin closed his eyes. Everything slowed. He extended his being into his new makeshift hand, lobbed off a droid--not wired into his nervous system but connected to his mind in the force. He grabbed the confiscated saber tucked safely against his spine behind his talbards. Obi-wan's saber. 

A snap hiss. A clash. Twist out of the lock, turn--

The focaliser of the blade intended to strike him down clattered to the floor and the unfocused blade spluttered wildly like a bolt of unstable lightning. 

"Ha!" Anakin grinned ferally and pressed his new advantage. "Oh this was all worth it for the look on your face." 

Dooku's countenance immediately hardened. A blunted weapon was an insult to his precise combat style, but all the same he met Anakin in a series of stokes, quick and fine, testing Anakin's control with the droid's hands. It was only so so. No wonder the clankers were so easy to mow down, Anakin thought. This thing was like a stick. A stick hand with twig fingers. 

"I see you wield your master's blade." The count said after a moment. "Has he fallen then?" 

Anakin winced. Anakin had been pointedly not thinking about the man he took this saber from. He didn't know why he would-- he didn't know. A thrust from dooku slipped past his weaker right guard. He hoped aside and the blade plunged into the wall. When had he been driven against the wall? Anakin set his mind to his task and viciously fought to regain his ground in the center of the room. Anyways, the Old Obi-wan didn't feel like a sith. Didn't feel like anything but certainly not like a sith. 

"Nope. Just borrowing it." He replied glibly. 

It was basically the truth, but Dooku clearly didn't believe it. "That would be a shame." He said as he tilted his head and almost lazily batted aside Anakin's strokes. "So much wasted potential." 

"Potential to defeat you? Yeah I think he already realized that." Knowing now that Dooku sat at the head of his training line--and yes, it was still hilarious--Anakin wondered suddenly if Dooku actually cared about his master's potential. Ahsoka had said the sith was explicitly after Obi-wan. Anakin had thought he meant to kill him, but perhaps--

"Potential for greatness." Dooku corrected. "But once I’m through with you and your brat, perhaps I'll have a second chance to cultivate that."  

Anakin curled his lips in disgust. "Obi-wan would never join you." 

"Hmm. Yes he told me the same thing the last time I offered, but he was far less loyal to the jedi in his youth." 

Anakin's focus on the battle stuttered and he lost the fine control he had over the makeshift arm. Tyranneous had asked Obi-wan to stand beside him? Why hadn't his master told him--or even mentioned that Dooku stood in close relation to him, for that matter? It was irrelevant. It didn't matter. It wouldn't matter if the man from the future hadn't severed his hand. Hadn't left the jedi order and prevented him from rescuing an innocent. Wouldn't matter if Qui-gon himself hadn't told him much the same report about Obi-wan's youth as Dooku here eluded to.

Obi-wan's saber slipped his grasp and clattered to the floor. 

Dooku smirked and bore down with a vertical stroke.  He leaned in as their sabers clashed. "Yes, the Jedi squandered my teachings, murdered my apprentice and corrupted my line with the castoff slave of a worthless wasteland." 

Anakin heard the creak of his own teeth grinding. His single handed grip on his lightsaber shook with exertion as it staved off the full force of Dooku, gripping his lightsaber with two hands, leveraging his height. 

"Sir!" A pair of droids marched into the room and paused at the sight of the battle. 

"Report!" Dooku barked. 

"We lost the escaped prisoners, sir! They've been incinerated." 

What--

Anakin gasped. The lurid colors before him blurred. The force turned oddly. No. Ahsoka was well. Her presence in his mind was strong. No--the connection wavered. Not her, him. 

Anakin gasped. He felt distant. The world turned oddly. 

He fell off of Dooku's blade and collapsed to the ground. 

--------

Ahsoka had spent her active duty life around humans, and knew that even if Skyguy was good at handling heat and the clones had environmental control units in their armor; they weren't built for more extreme temperatures like she was. So if even she felt a little singed coming out of the incinerator, Obi-wan must be positively wilting. He sloughed off his outer robe and drew the sleeve of his good arm across his brow and then leaned against the wall. Ahsoka had a better look for the first time on the wound he had received and grimaced at the seared gash Dooku had carved into his arm. Her own shoulders were fully stiff and swollen, and now that survival no longer demanded her to push on, she felt like the joints had all but locked in place. They made for a sorry sight. 

"Let's never do that again." He groaned. 

"You're idea."

"Don't remind me--" he started but trailed off as he lifted his head. He shoved off the wall and stood upright, and Ahsoka was about to ask if he could somehow sense danger she missed when a green lightsaber sliced through the locking mechanism on the door and Qui-Gon Jinn had entered the room. 

Ahsoka had only a fleeting acquaintance with the man before he had left to save Master Kenobi. She wondered if he would strike a different impression on her now that she knew he had been taught by Dooku. 

The corners of his eyes creased in the hint of a warm smile at the sight of the pair, and Obi-wan couldn't hide his relief. Master Jinn nodded at her before walking up to his own apprentice and tugging lightly on his padawan braid and praised the two for keeping out of trouble. Ahsoka was glad to see that even if the pair were far more formal than she and her master, at least the bar for what consisted of 'keeping out of trouble' was still woefully low.

The man then gently grabbed his padawan's arm and assessed the wound. The open warmth he had radiated cooled into a stony, shuttered gaze as he looked over to Ahsoka and noted her wounds and ailments. "Padawan," he turned back to Obi-wan. "Did Yan Dooku do this to you?" 

Obi-wan averted his eyes to the side. "It's not as bad as it looks, Master." 

Master Jinn's tight lips sunk into a proper frown. "Yes it is. He could have killed you." He turned to the door and then motioned that they could leave; he had taken care of security.

Obi-wan walked two steps behind and to the side of his master as usual. And thought a moment before saying, "Actually, I don't think he was trying to kill me." 

"The sith deal only in destruction." Qui-gon replied, but if Obi-wan had a response, Ahsoka didn't hear it. Pain bloomed in her stomach then flickered out as her bond with Anakin wavered. The blood drained from her face as she stopped in her tracks and grabbed her borrowed lightsaber. Her arms were nearly useless for proper battle, and she should probably return the balde to its rightful owner (who at least had one uninjured arm), but though this was not the saber her own grandmaster used, it still felt like him in the clever way it moved in her hand and was a comfort to hold. 

"Ahsoka! What's wrong?" 

Ahsoka blinked and found Obi-wan in her face with wide eyes. She blinked again. “Anakin,” she whispered breathlessly, then sprinted down the hall towards the dimmed force signature of her master. She didn't need to say more.

Chapter Text

Qui-gon should never have let Skywalker face his master alone. He closed his eyes as he ran behind the man's frantic padawan, let the regret well into his consciousness, and then let it pass. The plan had been necessary to forestall a confrontation with the padawans present. Both highly capable students and dualists for their age, they had nonetheless reported that their ability to fight was hampered. They had split up in an attempt to keep their pupils safe, but Qui-gon should have been the one to confront his fallen master. He shouldn't have let Anakin persuade him, but he had wanted to avoid seeing the ruination of a man he loved. 

It was all for naught. Seeing Obi-wan cut to the bone, his arm hanging uselessly at his side and preparation beading on his forehead had been evidence that the soul of Yan had died. And now the injured youths were sprinting towards a conflict that had already felled a knight and for which only he possesses an uninjured defense. He never was able to surpass his master in the art of the sword. 

Ahsoka skidded to a halt by a door and ignited Obi-wan's lightsaber. Qui-gon was a little surprised at the sight; his padawan was not a supremely trusting individual. That he lent her his own lightsaber after she lost hers demonstrated great faith in her. He drew his own blade and waved open the unlocked door--they were expected. 

There stood his master, a blood-red lightsaber, damaged so that its blade flickered wild and diffused. He held it straight in line with his arm, pointing down at Anakin who struggled to breathe on the ground. His eyes snapped to Qui-gon's and the two men held their breath as the took the sight of the other in. He wore finely embroidered robes with silk and golden threads--so garish in contrast to the immaculately kept, simple robes the man had worn before. As if to betray the heart of the man who wore them the expensive garbs were splattered and stained with the plasma from a shattered lighting fixture. It ate into his clothes and in part his skin like moths. 

A part of his soul that would always be a fresh young knight wondered almost inanely what his master thought of him now. If the hard-earned respect he had worked so hard for in his apprenticeship had been lost along with every other worthy part of Dooku. He wondered if Yan was as repelled at the sight of him as he was him. 

"Qui-gon. I had some hope that you accompanied your padawan," He said and turned off his blade. 

Immediately, Ahsoka rushed to her master's side, putting her unprotected back not an arm's length from the sith lord. Qui-gon stepped in front of Obi-wan as soon as he saw his teacher's gaze fall on the boy. His heart rate spiked. The Obi-wan from this time had indicated his role in the war might make the younger boy a target for assassination or ransom. He had lied by omission. Dooku's interest was personal. 

"Forgive me, my master, for I fear I won’t be able to honor your legacy by ending this perversion of it." 

Dooku stalked forward and looked at him with something approaching triumph in his eyes. "The sith destroyed you, and the Jedi did nothing" he cocked his head to the side. "They still do nothing though the corruption has penetrated to the very core of the republic. Instead they take up arms and fight for a republic glutted off the backs of a thousand star systems. Which legacy is perverted more? Mine? Or that of the Jedi council's?" And with that Dooku pointed an accusing finger ar Obi-wan, whose shock rang through the force. That's right, Qui-gon thought distantly; his padawan didn't really know anything about his future in a personal sense. This conversation would give him nothing. Nothing but the ravings on the past of a bitter man--and a past that, as far as Qui-Gon was concerned, was not even real to him. 

He raised his green saber. "Padawan Tano, Obi-wan, take Skywalker away from here and get him medical help." 

Obi-wan's protestations sparked through their bond. He was indignant. He feared this was his fault and was unwilling to leave his master's side. 

Dooku rolled his eyes and raised his brows in a long-suffering expression familiar to Qui-gon's childhood. "You of all people ought to understand the failings of the council, but I know better than to try convincing you. Do as you wish but your padawan leaves with me this day." 

"You can't even escape the planet!" Ahsoka hissed from where she was applying pressure to her master's wound. 

Qui-gon didn't respond. He had raised his blade before against one that he loved. How alike his master and his first padawan turned out to be. Perhaps this would be easier than before. 

He trades a few strokes with the sith, before noticing Obi-wan hadn't moved. "Padawan! Do as I say!" he snapped, and then Obi-wan darted around the dualers to Ahsoka's side where he assessed Skywalker's state from himself. Qui-gon hadn't had a chance to truly think of the young man's state. Now he sensed from his apprentice that it was not good. Dooku sensed the moment's distraction and force pushed Qui-gon back his feet skidded on the floor seeking purpose, seeking grounding but he slammed into the back wall, and his vision blacked out for an instant as his head slammed the back of the wall. 

"You have yet to speak to me properly, my old padawan." Dooku sneered. Was he actually hurt by his cold reception? The man he'd known would never be, but the dark side festered many wounds. 

Qui-gon rallied and attacked anew. If the only point he could drive home this day was that he heartily severed all times with the corrupted sith, then he hoped it cut to the quick. He sunk into the living force and danced on the flow of its wind. He sensed Yan did not wish to kill him outright and traded in that belief by taking extra risks. There was a twisted trust between the two--a rhythm from the days they fought in harmony.  

Obi-wan attacked the sith from behind. In possession of his saber again, wielding it with his good arm. Qui-gon wished he didn't need the help, but the legends of the sith proved true; already a formidable foe, Dooku had added the raw power the dark side to back his polished skill. 

"Master, something is wrong" Obi-wan muttered. He always did have a gift for understatement.  "No I mean really wrong. With--" he cut off to flip away from a violent thrust. "With the planet."

Qui-gon furrowed his brows. His padawan was often troubled by premonitions and vague warnings that offered little helpful advice, but Qui-gon couldn't remind him this time to focus on the present (as if the present wasn't dire enough to demand attention as it was). He felt something was wrong with the world right now, but the living force was alive and well. 

Dooku slipped away from them both and stood between them and the door. He smiled, and Qui-gon felt something slick and cold coil in the pit of his stomach. "Very astute, young Kenobi. Tano, I believe you may hail your fleet now." 

Instantly Ahsoka was hailing all frequencies and demanding to be put through, demanding back up and medical evacuations. 

"Commander Tano! The fleet is falling into hyperspace!" She paused, nonplussed. Qui-gon activated his own freshly issued comm. "What do you mean you're falling into hyperspace?" 

"Sir--ships are slipping into hyper lanes at random without active hyperdrives. We're being scattered across the galaxy and we don't know how to stop it." 

Qui-gon looked sharply up at his master, waiting confidently for him to come to the bargaining table. He didn't know how the sith was doing this, but if that son of a bitch thought he would trade his own padawan for the strategic position of a fleet whose very existence was repellant to him, then he must have lost his mind along with his soul. 

"We'll leave the system!" Obi-wan shouted at his side, eyeing the security cameras in the room and clearly hoping to bargain with the locals rather than the sith. “We'll leave on our own, and you can keep your isolation." 

Ahsoka pursed her lips together. "Obi-wan. . ." 

"No. I'm a general right? And now a council member? I don't know how you're doing it, but this whole world is turning over on itself. Space is wrong. So, we'll leave Moran alone and trust you can handle what's left of your previous invaders. Just let us go." 

Dooku smirked. "You're out of options. Skywalker is dying--has perhaps a matter of minutes before it will be too late to save him. You're fleet is scattering. And yet because I am fond of you, Qui-gon, I will let you go. Kenobi is all I want." 

Qui-gon felt rage cascade into his mind and closed his eyes as he breathed it out. This has happened. This is as it is, and all is as it ought. He had a semblance of control before he looked back at the body of Dooku and told him to go to hell. 

"Oh, I'm not asking you," Dooku stated serenely. Qui-gon placed his hand protectively on his apprentice's shoulder. Obi-wan was shaking, and Qui-gon knew it wasn't from fear. How long had he been running and fighting since sustaining his injury? How long had it been since he'd rested? He was at his limits. They all were. 

"You'll let them all go," Obi-wan said slowly. 

"No." Qui-gon gripped his boy tighter. 

Obi-wan looked up and shook his head, his eyes wide with horror. Qui-gon wished it had been fear instead. Fear for what might happen rather than horror at what has happened and must go on. Obi-wan had already accepted the devil's bargain. He started to pull away. And Qui-gon felt--he felt a heartbreak, not new, but newly desperate. He was afraid. He could not accept another loss. Not again. Not Obi-wan.

He shover the boy behind him and lifted his saber aloft. The doubts that he could defeat a master he never did surpass dissipated in the clarity that he was the greater jedi--not Dooku. He was the servant of the force, and this was not the force's will. 

"You'll have to kill me first." He growled. 

Dooku shook his head. "No--I won't." He lifted his free hand and-- 

Agony and power seized every nerve. It was more than electrocution, it was the spark of life turned malignant, pulled from the living and let loose as lightning and fire. Qui-gon collapsed and writhed on the ground for how long he did not know. When it passed it seemed to sweep away all energy in its wake. Qui-gon took a shaky breath and hoped his heart palpitations would settle. Someone was holding him. Someone--Obi-wan leaning over him with worry and sorrow. Why-- 

His lips moved but the ringing in his ears drowned it out. Then he was set back on the ground. Obi-wan left.

Qui-gon lay there on the cold ground for how long he could not tell. He wondered if Anakin had died. When troops of clones burst into the room and secured the area as medics rushed to take his pulse and ask him to move his fingers and toes, Qui-gon said not a word. When the wrong Obi-wan stepped inside his field of vision and reached out through their shaky bond, Qui-gon closed his eyes and his mind. Eventually, a medic decided to give him a sedative, and Qui-gon slipped into a dreamless sleep. 

Chapter Text

Ahsoka tried to wipe the blood off her hands on the floor but merely left a grisly smear across the steel plates as shards of broken glass and plastic stuck to the tacky, half-dried mess. Lightsaber wounds were typically bloodless, but as if internal bleeding wasn't bad enough, Anakin had managed to rip the cauterized flesh--likely in his fall. She had--it had been all she could do to put pressure on the wound--she had sat helpless by Anakin as Obi-was walked away. 

The clone medics had rushed Anakin off a minute ago, and her Obi-wan--her grandmaster, whom she hadn't seen since the start of this horrid campaign, stood up from where he knelt besides Master Jinn. He walked back to her and sat himself down beside her--right in the bloody mess, which was unusual for her typically hygienic grandmaster. 

"It is good to see you are well, Padawan," he said gently, and something in Ahsoka broke. 

How, after everything, could he be kind and calm? How, when it was now so blatantly obvious that the life he lived now horrified the youth he had been? She wanted to fling her arms around him and cry, but Stitcher had wrapped them up with cold compresses to help them heal, so she settled for leaning over and setting her head on his shoulder. 

They sat together for a long while.

At last Ahsoka mumbled, "what happened to our fleet?"

"Reconvening at Abberine. We're only sending ships back here to evacuate the ground troops." 

"Just like that? We lost?"

Obi-wan hummed. "As long as the separatists are no longer able to use this as a staging ground for droid production and deployment, we'll come out of this with a partial objective met. However, I suspect Dooku has been coordinating this move for quite some time. We incurred a heavy cost for simply depriving the enemy of a holding they already considered disposable."

"The ships scattered into hostile territory too, I suppose." Ahsoka said quietly as she removed herself from Master Kenobi's shoulder and sat straight beside him. This talk of strategy and war was comforting in its own way. Normal. It took energy and focus and left no room for fretting and grief. 

"Yes. We won't have a full report of our losses there until tomorrow. I expect they will be heavy." 

"How did this happen?" 

Obi-wan paused. "What do you know about the force and spacetime theory?"

Ahsoka scoffed and choked down a laugh or a sob; she couldn't quite tell. 

"What?" Her grandmaster turned to look down on her fully. They had been staring off in the same direction and the wreckage left of the battle as they parsed through their losses. 

"Sorry, Master. It's just--you said the same thing. The other you." She smiled weakly. "You were a bit of a nerd, you know that?" 

Obi-wan raised his eyebrows. "You wait till this war is over, Padawan. You and the other padawans are in for extensive remedial courses." 

"What?!" Ahsoka was so glad to have something safe to be outraged and indignant over. She was almost excited by the prospect if only she could sit miserably in a temple classroom and grouse about the injustice of treating war heroes this way to Skyguy. 

She won a small smile at that. "Hmm. Things to look forward to with better times." 

"Only if you're teaching the class."

The smile dropped and he averted his gaze back to the empty room. "I would like that." He said after a pause just slightly too long. 

He didn't believe in this future for him as he did her. Ahsoka realized suddenly that she could read her composed and unflappable grandmaster better now. Anakin had insisted Obi-wan was an open book, but he could literally read the man's mind almost whenever he wanted, and Ahsoka had still witnessed countless misunderstandings between the pair. No--the maddening similarities to (and surprising differences from) the Grand General, which she had witnessed in the young padawan were now displayed in reverse. 

She was worried sick for her--were they friends? It felt strange to count him among her peers, but he wasn't the man that mentored her. Yes, she was anxious for the fate of her friend, but here he sat beside her, despairing of the future in the exact same way he had as a boy. 

"We--we are going to make it through this, right?"  

As if realizing he'd lost ground in his efforts to encourage her, Obi-wan stood up and gently tugged her to her feet. "Not sitting here like this we won't. Come--The Negotiator is on its way and we will leave within the hour when it arrives. We'll have Anakin back at the temple and whining about being cooped up in no time." 

He didn't answer her question, but perhaps it wasn't fair to ask anyways. “Okay, Master Kenobi.” She cocked her head to the side and mustered the jaunty bravado that served her so well in hard times. "Catch me up on the finer points of force metaphysics and what in the galaxy that has to do with what happened to our fleet, and maybe I can test out of whatever horrors the council has waiting for me on the other side, deal?" 

Obi-wan stroked his chin. "Write a detailed and researched report on this ordeal, and we'll count it as a practicum."  Ahsoka kicked herself. She really needed to tread carefully when bantering with the master of the art. The younger version couldn't assign her tedious homework. 

"But the basic theory is that the force is paradoxical in its very nature," Obi-wan continued, "--that the dark side is merely a corruption of the light but presents nonetheless as a powerful counterbalance to it--that what we call the living and the unifying forces are all one and the same despite their differing properties--these mysteries are not resultant from our limited understanding but rather are true to the very core of the force." 

Ahsoka squinted. It wasn't that she'd never thought of these things before, never wondered in her private doubts what made the dark side wrong if it was itself a natural part of the force. But she couldn't for the life of her imagine how any of this might be relevant to the current crisis.

Obi-wan, thank the force, didn't seem to notice her skepticism when he glanced over to see if she followed and received a hasty nod to go on. "You must understand; when we speak of the force as the spirit that binds us all together, the connection occurs in two different ways: one, that the force is life and vital energy, the animating soul of all that lives and grows (and even the stars have lives of a sort), and the second that the force underpins the vast array of spacetime in which we all exist. The living and the unifying." 

"Sure but why is that paradoxical? Two things can be true at once." 

"Excellent question, Ahsoka--and I suppose I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that your master never did see the difference between the living and the unifying force, and perhaps he knows better than most."

Ahsoka didn't want to be too distracted from the point Obi-wan was trying to teach her, but the allusion to Skyguy's possible role as the chosen one interested her immensely. Of course, all her friends had begged her to verify or disprove the legend once they'd learned of her apprenticeship to the man himself, but it was years later and all she knew was that she believed in Anakin--even if she didn't know about the legends and prophecies. This was the first time she had heard the man who raised the chosen one even hint that he believed Anakin was more than simply powerful. 

Obi-wan went on as if he hadn't so carelessly suggested an idea so large and weighty about her master. "The living exists in an eternal now. There is no past, no future--what is is, and anything could happen. We are free agents, conscious, dynamic beings. 

The unifying, by contrast, contains within it spacetime , the very fabric of the universe, it holds not only the infinite expanse of the three dimensions but also that of the fourth: of time. If you could stay perfectly still, you would still traverse spacetime along the dimension of time, and you would stretch out--"

"Like a timeline?"

"Yes. And so we exist as so many inter woven threads stretched out across the galaxy in a tapestry of Always and Ever even as we live and breathe on the razor fine edge that is the Conscious Now." 

"I see you're slowly circling into your theories on how this mess with the travel-sized you occured. But what does this have to do with the fleet?" Ahsoka received a wry and slightly reproachful side glance for the interruption, but force! The man really was going to stuff an entire course into the travel time between the field and their base. 

"I don't know how this has occurred or why; with any luck, our newest guest may have some answers. But what I do know is that it might be more helpful to think of this as a problem in the space where the unifying force meets the living--a break in the weave, a split consciousness of the now." He paused a moment to allow her to speak if she wished, but Ahsoka held her tongue. "That is how, I think, the Morans have scattered our fleet like chafe on the wind." 

Ahsoka waited for an explanation to that outrageous conclusion, but Master Kenobi walked quietly on as if his explanation were perfectly obvious and complete. "You--want me to work out why you think that." She said at last. Obi-wan smiled serenely. The pair walked on in silence until they caught up to their troops at the camp where they were staging a hasty departure from just outside of the city space-docks. 

"I'll have to get back to you on that, Master" she said at last, her heart aching for her own master to explain things with the intuitive simplicity that only Anakin could provide. 

Obi-wan nodded and set his hand upon her shoulder. "You have my utmost faith, Padawan. Now go find the field hospital and be there for Anakin. I will see to the conclusion of this campaign." 

With that Master Kenobi walked away, a man of many burdens gone to carry his load. Ahsoka remembered suddenly the mystery left her by a younger Obi-wan. She slowly and stiffly withdrew the orchid of Moran from a pouch her belt.  Dooku had inadvertently protected the delicate bloom when he confiscated her belongings, and a lieutenant had located and retrieved her belt and sabers almost as soon as the place was secured. Could it cause dreams of things to come as the Morans believed? If that were possible was the future not set in stone? 

When she set to her vigil outside the bacta tank where Anakin teetered between life and death, she set the plant in the window of the little room. The sun filtered through its translucent petals and cast dancing colors on the floor beside her. A living thing so fragile and yet so rooted in the weave of time. Ahsoka's eyes widened. 

End of Book I 

Chapter Text

Book II

Two Months Prior 

Leia froze. She listened to the birdsong and buzz of frogs and bugs and took a moment to appreciate the wonderful beauties of the jungle she now found herself in before realizing that she was already ankle-deep in a wet clay bog. She yanked her feet one by one, finding some rushes to step on and pulled off her left gilded sandals to throw it in the mud where it’s partner had remained stuck while her foot slipped out. 

Well. She supposed she had successfully escaped the imperial gala with the encryption codes, but--whatever this was was clearly trouble of its own. She slipped her small stun blaster from where it was sewn into the hem of her gown. 

She heard the rustle of something moving through the dense forest, too inelegant and noisy to be an animal. She tucked herself behind a tree and wished her father would let her use a real blaster. He didn’t want her to have blood on her hands ‘for as long as possible,’ but Leia didn’t want a blaster to kill people with. She wanted better leverage when it came to a standoff--wanted to have a chance against properly armed foes. 

Someone stumbled into her field of vision, and she waited till he had nearly passed before jamming the butt of her glorified taser into the small of his back and wrapping her free hand over his mouth. She didn’t know who was around to hear or, well, she didn’t know anything about her current situation, and Leia hated that, but she could make do by tightly controlling this confrontation. 

She immediately lost control when her target like a madman threw himself back into her and brought them both tumbling to the ground with her taking the brunt of the impact. She should have stunned him right then; had she been a different person with a different weapon, her intended captive would be dead. But surprise staid her hand in the fall and her breath was knocked out of her lungs in the impact. She wheezed in the mud and brush as the boy twisted off of her and pulled her blaster from her grip. 

Damn. She had to win a seat in the Galactic Senate before the value she could bring to the rebellion outweighed her parents' reluctance to let her risk danger. She wasn't exactly a soldier, but if she died on a simple intel hand off, she would only prove the skeptics right.  

The boy scurried a few paces away from her, looked at the slender stun blaster and the petite girl in a ballgown who he had pulled it from and relaxed. He sat in the mud and smiled awkwardly at her, and she was infuriated. 

"Uh, I take it you're lost too? I'm Luke by the way."

"If you are in any way involved with my kidnapping, the senate will hear of this." She wasn't sure if she had been kidnapped, and this guy didn't look like the one to do it anyways, but she didn't know what was happening and decided to operate on an assumption of the worst. 

"Hm? No, I don't know anything about that." He said absently. He wasn't even looking at her. His eyes roved the trees and undergrowth with naked wonder and awe. "I don't even know where I am." 

She appraised Luke's garb. Light, roughly woven poncho, worn boots and sand clinging to the creases in the fabric and the edge of his hairline. He had an outrageous outer rim accent and didn't look dressed for a visit to the Imperial center--nor did he appear to belong here. 

"I was on Coruscant, but I don't believe this is the same planet; even the garden biomes of the Imperial Horticulturary can't mimic a clear sky that well." 

"Imperial Center? Wow, so you weren't joking about the senate huh?" 

"Could you actually look at me when you speak to me?" Leia snapped--rather unfairly, she knew, but she was having a hard day. 

"Oh. Sorry." Luke winced and rubbed the back if his neck. "It's just--this isn't my planet either, and I've never seen so many plants in my life ." 

Leia wondered if he meant he'd never seen so many in one place before or if he was referring to a cumulative total. "I mean in my whole life," Luke said, and Leia frowned. She shouldn't allow her skepticism to show so planely. 

"Who could do this to us?" She shouldn't trust this stranger so easily, but she always had a good eye for when she was being lied to, and the boy seemed painfully honest. 

"What do you mean 'who?' There was something weird about a bit of desert. I checked it out and found myself here." 

"So, you walked into a trap, got drugged and found yourself here. By the Emperor, we'd better not be trapped in some form of blood sport." 

Luke looked at her flatly. "I was going to suggest some kind of wormhole." 

Leia stood up and tried to tie up her gown in such a way so as to be less of a hindrance to movement. "A wormhole. From one planet to another? In all the depths of space? The odds must be practically impossible."

"Well, it wasn't some trap . That spot was weird . How did you end up here anyways?" Luke followed her lead in standing up, though he paused to look at a flowering vine on the forest floor and gently touch its blooms. 

Leia shut her mouth. She had been trying to leave the galla without being searched at the standard check points. She had slipped into the back pantry of the kitchen in hopes she could hide in the empty food crates until they were carried out the next morning. Then she was here, but she couldn't very well tell Luke that. "I was at a party. Then I was here." 

He looked at her like he knew she was leaving out important information but shrugged and bent over to pull off one of his boots. He then offered her the boot with a half smile "I'll trade you for a name." 

"...Leia, but what am I going to do with one boot?" 

"We're probably going to have to walk a ways, and you don't have shoes." He said as if it were perfectly obvious that one boot would solve this problem. "We can use bits of my poncho or your dress to wrap the shoeless feet, but this way if we need to, we can swap the boot we have to the other foot when they start to hurt." 

Leia turned the boot upside down and an astonishing quantity of sand fell out. He was the strangest boy she had ever met, but he was right. They needed to find either civilization or shelter, and though it may be the only thing they had in common, both of them were clearly out of their elements here in a wild jungle. They would have to work together.

Chapter Text

Now  

The Negotiator hung low in the atmosphere, a dark shadow only slightly visible through the clouds. The steady stream of transports was slowing to a trickle. Ki and [] had already left the planet. Only Obi-wan, Cody and a small contingent of clones remained--and the prisoner. Obi-wan had scarcely locked the rogue in a room before Anakin's pain and disorientation rang through their bond. He hadn't had time to think of him since, but now they were to move him to the brig of a flagship he once and currently commanded. If Obi-wan had anything in common with that ill omen of a man, he would see it as a window of opportunity for escape. 

"Sir." Cody said as he walked up to where his general stood poised outside the holding room. "I have the transport prepped." 

"Thank you, Cody. Now--I need you to suspend all my access codes."

"May I ask why, General?"  

"This prisoner is another time traveler. Me, from the future."  Cody was excellent at adapting to the hectic twists and turns that accompanied working for Obi-wan and Anakin. He had already met with one time traveler in the person of Obi-wan’s deceased master with hardly a pause or note of skepticism, but this surprised and unbalanced the man. Obi-wan wondered if his second really had more faith in him than in the laws of time, and his uncertainty about ‘Ben Kenobi’ settled into a quiet but profound anger that he could ever betray this man’s trust. 

“. . .I see. Why is he a prisoner?”

Obi-wan motioned for the commander to follow him as he walked the short distance to the holding cell. “Currently? For aiding the escape of Asajj Ventress and disclosing top secret security intel--which is to say, my access codes--to a seperatist agent. He wouldn’t explain himself as of yet, and for obvious reasons, I doubt my ability to further interrogate or handle him alone.” 

Obi-wan had a slight bond with his commander--or perhaps he simply knew the man so well at this point that it felt like he had--and he sensed the disbelief in the commander. Cody felt there must be some extenuating circumstances they were currently unaware of. He had not heard the older man expressly denounce his past life. Cody unlocked the door and entered the room after Obi-wan. Ben sat inside, eyes closed in what might be a forceless meditation. He did not open them at the sound of the men entering, but he was sure the older man was perfectly aware of their arrival. Cody looked between the two men uncertainly. 

“You’re being transported to The Negotiator. Cooperate and I’m sure we’ll have things all sorted soon.” Obi-wan stated frankly. The man opened his eyes lazily and studied the pair; his gaze lingered on Cody until the commander looked away unnerved. Well, this was unacceptable. Obi-wan stepped forward and pulled the prisoner to a standing position with the force. 

Ben tilted his head at him. "Something other than me has upset you." 

"You don't remember?" 

"Do you remember the exploits of our youngest member?"  

"No." Obi-wan replied simply, he didn’t but then he was not a time traveler. Unprecedented circumstances demanded he make no assumptions. 

“The rescue of your padawans did not go well.” Ben guessed as he walked between the two officers. 

Obi-wan wasn’t sure if he should respond. He didn’t know why the man wanted the information--if he cared for the individuals involved or if he sought to exploit any knowledge of their weakness. They walked in silence till they reached the shuttle. Obi-wan watched his counterpart as his eyes flicked from side to side, searching for a possible escape. There was none. They marched the prisoner into the small brig of their shuttle and Obi-wan left to join his pilot up front. Why had he said he couldn’t handle Ben Kenobi alone? Obi-wan sunk into a light meditation to process his thoughts and wondered if he could handle the man at all. 

---------

Cody watched his general leave with tension in every line of the man’s rigid posture. He looked to the aged and worn image of the man on the other side of the forcefield. He sat on the ground with his shackled hands folded calmly together. The wrist force binders that all Jedi now carried had been reinforced by a force supprecent collar. With lines of stress and hardship etched across every feature of the man, with the ragged clothes and unkept beard, this Kenobi looked defeated in a way Cody could scarce believe. He had pulled his general half dead from a raging battle, stood by the man as he wore himself to the breaking point, pulled him from a Tygerian slave processing camp and watched him give funeral speech after funeral speech for his fallen brothers. Yes, he had seen Obi-wan Kenobi broken, but he had never seen him resigned. The older man had only looked at him once when he first followed his general into the man’s cell, and he looked at him like-- 

Like he didn’t recognize him? Didn’t trust him? He looked at him with detachment, but there was the slightest tremor. Anger, perhaps. Or fear. 

"You'll have to pardon the general, sir." He said to break the ice. "But, well, I suppose you'd understand his ways." 

Kenobi smiled sadly and ducked his head. There was perhaps some of the familiar kindness and humor in the gesture but he still failed to meet his eyes. "He doesn't approve of me. He's frantically searching his own soul for the seeded impulse that might lead him so far astray." He said.

Cody pulled a deep breath and sat on the ground, mirroring the man's position. This wasn't an interrogation per se, but Cody was beginning to wonder if there were any jedi available who could maintain detached from the evident truth that this is Obi-Wan Kenobi. It was different for him. Kenobi was a much loved commanding officer, but Cody knew how to respect him as a soldier, how to hold the man to the highest standards and how to approach him in his failure. The Jedi saw their councillors as teachers and priests, family and friends. They won't get answers from him. Cody might not either, but it was worth a try. 

"Will he find what he's looking for?" Cody asked. The shuttle took off. 

"I think not." 

"Would you help him to? Or do you want him to come around to your ways." The man looked at him again at that. 

"I thought the jedi would interrogate me, yet here you are. Why?"

"I think you might give me better answers. I'm used to your tricks, and since with all do respect, you seem retired from active service, I'd like to think I am your friend." 

Kenobi flinched. His breathing grew strained and he covered his face with his hands for a moment before dragging them down. 

"I am disloyal to the republic. Or, at least, the republic as it stands, so far fallen from its ideals as it is." 

It seemed nonsequitur, but Cody understood. A part of his heart sunk, but he gave a firm nod. "My apologies sir. It was presumptuous to claim your friendship."

Kenobi closed his eyes and looked away. His general was a master at keeping a stoic equilibrium, and it had seemed as though the skill had only increased with age. But this conversation, or perhaps Cody himself, was progressively unbalancing the man; he was breaking under the weight of some remembered grief.

 Cody had seen this before but never in a jedi.  The clones had been made to handle war without becoming traumatized, yet even the most resilient dispositions could be dismantled and stripped to the quick. 

"What happened?" He asked quietly. 

The prisoner took several slow breaths before saying. "It doesn't matter." 

Cody wanted to protest. Instead he asked, "and why is that, general?"

"I'm not your general." 

"Why is that, sir?" Cody wasn't going to bend on calling the man sir, and after a moment, Kenobi seemed to realize that. He closed his eyes and let the tension in his shoulders ease. 

"It has yet to happen. Just a hollow prophecy."

"But it happened to you." 

Ben smiled. "That hardly matters either." 

"It matters to me. Sir." 

The older man took a shaky breath and rubbed his eyes. He seemed surprised to find tears on his hands but more silently tracked across his face. "Oh, Cody." He said at last and glanced up as if to check that he was real. "I would have forgiven you for trying to kill me--if only you hadn't failed." 

Cody blinked. The two men stared at each other a long moment, seeking a bridge accross an insurmountable divide. Then Cody picked himself off the ground and exited the shuttle brig. The walk to the cockpit was short but surreal. He didn't know what to think. No, he realized--he did know some things. 

"General." He addressed his commanding officer when he entered the cockpit. Obi-wan looked up. He wore a look of practiced indifference, but he knew Cody had spoken to the man from his future, and Cody thought he might be desperate to find answers that Cody didn't have to give him. "Sir, that man needs a mind healer." He said stiffly but firmly. He doubted Obi-wan would give it to him, doubted that ben would accept it, but Cody didn't care. "That's my official report and reccomendation. You're going to need a mind healer---and--probaby already do. Sir." With that, he nodded stiffly and left the room. Obi-wan did nothing to respond. 

Chapter Text

Two Months Prior 

 Leia and her companion stumbled into a woodshed at the very edge of civilization. They had followed the light pollution in the starry sky and knew they were close to a city, but it had taken them two days to make it this far. Luke groaned and stretched himself facedown on the sawdust strewn ground. 

"I never want to see a plant again in my life"

Leia appreciated the sentiment but also valued her dignity. What little of it remained, that is. The gown was unworkable after a few hours of traipsing through the jungle. She'd had to strip down to her slip in place of a skirt and the moisture farmer's poncho to substitute for a shirt. 

"We can spend the night here and enter the city tomorrow. We'll need a cover story. We can rehearse it tonight." 

Luke propped himself up on his elbows and squinted at her. "Huh? Why would we need a cover story? We're just traveling through." 

Leia bit the inside of her lip. She still had leaked military secrets tucked inside her bra. Even if she hid them away for safe keeping before sending someone else to pick them up, she was still Princess Organa, one of the youngest galactic senators. Disappearing at a gala and turning up on some strange planet without a good explanation for how it even occurred, let alone why, would be a massive scandal on Alderaan and likely the gossip of the galaxy for a day or so. If it didn't draw attention to her extra legal associations, it would still devalue her hard-earned respect. But she could hardly tell Luke that. 

She wanted to keep the anonymity with him as a way to keep her secrets, but if Leia were being honest with herself, she was also enjoying this strange opportunity to be a normal teenager--even if their circumstances were anything but normal. Luke knew she was a rich core-worlder, but it sounded like he thought all core-worlders were rich. Hearing him tell stories of going thirsty in the humidity droughts, of fixing up his fifth generation landspeeder that broke down in a sandstorm or finally paying off the debt his grandfather took out to free his grandmother from slavery---she supposed he might be right. 

In any case, Luke treated her like a normal person, and if it was a little irritating that he wouldn't do as she said without question, it was more than worth it to get a glimpse of what people actually thought of her. 

"Leia? Earth to Leia?" Luke said. He had flipped to his backs now and hung his head upside down over his shoulders to get a look at her. She must have been more tired than she thought if she was spacing out like that. 

"You've never traveled off world before. The Empire will want papers we don't have." 

Luke snorted. "Then you've never been to the outer rim before. The Empire doesn't have time to micro-manage us." 

Leia had been to the outer rim as both senator and budding rebel, but she did suppose those circumstances would be where you would fund the empire if it were stretched thin in the outer rim. "How do you know we're in the outer rim?"

"I'm guessing because the stars're like those at my home. Guess I could be wrong." He floped on his back and put his arms behind his head. 

"Even one system over changes constellations." 

"Right. I mean the Sky Walk," Luke mumbled. "Or--you know--that strip of light from the galaxy." 

"...Okay. Well, I would like a cover story regardless." She paused, waiting for an answer, but he was, amazingly, already asleep. 

Leia sat herself against the wall of her shed and worrird her lip. She had been focusing on surviving the jungle and reaching civilization, but now that they were close, her mind was filled with questions for which she had no answers.

 Her mother still liked to braid her long hair and tell Leia of her own girlhood. Of preparing to take up the crown and how it had often felt like the weight of the world had been set on her young shoulders. It was her sideways way of encouraging a proud and stiff-necked daughter who deeply craved the comfort but didn't know how to ask for it. She missed her home. Missed the feeling of doing something that mattered. Two measily days in the wilderness and Leia was already going mad with the loss of control or sense of accomplishment. She couldn't even conclude that her strange transportation was targeted to her specifically or the result of her own doings because Luke was-- well. It seemed totally random. Their age was the only commonality. 

He wasn't a nobody , but he was exactly the sort of person she was fighting for. He didn't have opportunity under the empire, and though he often framed it as his planet and people being left alone by the empire, in truth the empire had abandoned them. Unfortunately, the republic had done the same, and the realization kept her from asking his opponion on the rebellion. She was afraid to hear that people were indifferent to it all; that they felt nothing would change no matter who held the reigns of government. 

Leia didn't sleep, and when in the morning they walked into town, and Luke talked about finding a job so he could save up for a ticket home, Leia didn't ask him to join her. She didn't tell him that she thought his resourcefulness would be a welcome help or that the rebellion was going to save Tatooine. She somehow knew that he would go where she asked him to, and she couldn't do it. She wondered how often her beloved fight for freedom asked the lives and livelihoods of its soldiers and gave them nothing in return. It was worth every sacrifice; she knew it was, but she didn't want to sacrifice Luke. He had a light and innocence about him that she envied. 

They bid farewell with nothing but an exchange of comm codes and a promise to call when they each found their way back home. He said he was glad to have found a new friend. She wondered if she'd ever find another friend like him, who saw her as she was without a hint of fear or favor and yet would share his own worn in boots for nothing but a name to call her by. 

Now

Luke  absently ran his fingers along the bruising on his neck, a uniform, thin line around his windpipe, as he scanned yet another page of the ancient text into the ship's computer. He had always been very sensible to the danger he was in with his captor, but saw all the same that she had more interest in using him than harming him. There was no doubt Ventress had a sadistic streak, but if she delighted in the suffering she caused, she seemed not to seek that pleasure as an end unto itself. She didn't hurt without reason, and Luke could appreciate that. Even if her reasons were as selfish as the sands were thirsty. 

What he hadn't accounted for was that Ventress might not be altogether in control of herself. That the strange power she possessed might also possess her. Luke thought of how he'd apparently lashed out in turn and supposed he wasn't really in control of this force either. 

He wished she could take him home (Ben had only demanded she keep him from his father--and wasn't that a strange and wondrous notion?), but Luke supposed he didn't really have a home back on the farm. He wasn't sure how far back he was supposed to be. Owen would probably be there, but not the man who taught him to fix droids and helped him fix up his speeder. Not the man who pretended not to notice when Luke took a swim in the water tanks. He hadn't the slightest idea how this had happened but without his steady goal of finding his way back home, Luke felt adrift. He felt alone, with only the aching hole of a father he'd never met and who might reject him still should they find each other in the end; the local hermit, who'd scarce said a word to him in his life before he'd revealed himself to be a general of the fallen republic and put a contract out for his continued kidnapping; and Ventress. He really needed to work something out with Ventress, or he was doomed. 

The ship lurched softly, and Luke guessed they had exited to normal space. He'd never traveled to another planet before--excepting this strange transportation, and that wasn't exactly the flying he had dreamed of. He got up and entered the cockpit to see, for the first time in his life, a planet from above. For a moment, he was lost in the wonder of it all. 

Then, he felt the slightest turn in the oppressive and embittered spirit of the place. He turned to look at Ventress and found her watching him with an unreadable expression. 

"What?" 

"I'm just wondering how Anakin Skywalker could produce such a naive and wide eyed kid." 

"You don't know him."

"Sure I do. We've fought many a time."  

"Trying to kill each other doesn't count as meeting someone." 

"Ha. You've never tried to kill anyone, then."

Luke wanted to retort but found himself suddenly hesitant; the boundaries he thought he had understood with his captor proved to be unpredictable. The bruises on his throat inspired a fear he hadn't had before, even if his apparent lashing out had earned him some trepidation from her . It was more than the threat or pain--what he had felt had been so deep, such profound pain and desperation. It wasn't his own. If Ventress noticed his pain and fear, she didn't say anything. Instead she turned to her ship controls and plunged into the planet's atmosphere. 

They landed on misty, windswept highlands with brown and orange scrub brush and heather outlined from the sky with lines of stone ridges. The place was breathtakingly beautiful. Beautiful, but wild, desolate. 

"What is this place?" Luke asked. He could see his own breath and the air hung damp and heavy. 

"Katinglare. There is a sith temple here." 

"Sith is your religion?" 

Ventress paused. "Perhaps more of a lifestyle. Oh don't bother holding your tongue now, I can sense your moral indignation." 

"Look, do you want me afraid of you or not? Because your abuse is escalating--" 

"I don't care what you think of me. I wanted rid of before I even knew just how big of a liability you are. But until the decrepit Kenobi can come to claim you and tell me just what in sith hells is going on, you're my responsibility. And I'll have you know, there's a good chance the republic captured him, in which case I'm sure the jedi will bury him in the deepest recesses of their temple and throw away the key." 

Luke crossed his arms and frowned. "I'm sixteen. I don't need a babysitter." 

"I'm sure." She intoned dryly. "What you desperately need is training. My offer from before still stands." 

At this she stopped, bent to the ground and brushed aside a large swath of weeds with a wave of her hand. The cracked and worn ground underneath held symbols and arcs, and her eyes flashed yellow before she brought her fist down hard against the earth. A chasm opened up in the hillside, with black stone steps leading into the dark. 

Luke suddenly felt a little hysterical at the realization of the absurdity of it all. He was an outer rim farming kid eking out an honest living with his aunt and uncle. Good people. How had he gotten here, in an indistinct time before his birth and standing before the maw of a dark temple with a witch who wanted to initiate him into her cult? Every new surprise had seemed so manageable. When had he gotten in so far above his head? 

Ventress began to walk inside. “Come in, if you wish,” she said over her shoulder. “I need the language holocrons stored here to translate our Moran texts, but you should only follow if you’re prepared to accept my teaching.” 

Luke sat heavily on the edge of the stairs. “I don’t think I like your teachings.”

Ventress stopped, almost entirely shrouded in the darkness below, and looked up at him. “There are ways to force those of weaker will into the dark. But for you--I think not. So long as you can meet my standards, I care not from which well you draw your water." She continued to descend and slipped from view. "Just remember which one's dried out in this near future of yours---and think of what that means for you and daddy dearest."

Luke looked up at the sky. He couldn't see the stars through the thick cloud cover that hung over the landscape. Ventress was paying more attention than he thought if she was using water metaphors on him. A well on Tatooine was rare and priceless; it took power to control and gave power to those who owned it. That these Jedi and Sith controlled the two open wells of the force made sense. It explained why Ventress took for granted that he must come to her side if the jedi would not have him. 

But Luke's people squeezed water from the air. It was slow hard work, but even the Hutts, who owned all the wells, would come to the moisture farmers for water when the wells dried out or went rancid. 

Luke sighed as he stood up off the ledge and carefully reached forward until his right hand reached into the shadows. He stretched his fingers and turned his hand about as he felt the prick of the force--the so called dark side--against his skin. It would not harm him if he didn't let it in. He took a step forward and then another as if wading into a deep pool. 

Yes the well of the Jedi was drying out, and the well of the sith was poisoned. Luke wanted to go to the force in the very air he breathed and draw his sustenance there. He wanted his father to survive and be there in his life; he even wanted Ventress to find a better way. He could figure it out. Ben said that both he and Ventress lost the war; it likely meant that being a seperatist wasn't a bad way to help stop the Empire from rising. He was in over his head, but as the ground above him snapped shut and the only way forward was into the sith temple, Luke felt at peace. The darkness couldn't poison if he didn't drink it first.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka sat in the Negotiator's medbay outside the room where Anakin was being removed from his emergency bacta treatment and prepared for surgery. She was supposed to be taking a crack on that written report her grandmaster asked from her, but her heart wasn't in it. She felt the slightest pull and shift in the force that signified a jump to hyperspace. That was it then. Mission over, and all the dangling threads and losses to recover later were placed alongside everything else left to do in this war. 

Commander Cody walked into the medbay, paused and then made his way over to her. 

"Commander." He addressed her with a slight nod, "Any news on General Skywalker?" 

"Not yet, Cody. Though they told me when we got onboard they were hopeful." 

"I'm glad to hear it." He paused--there was something else he wanted to talk to her about. 

Ahsoka was curious about what the commanser could want to speak to her about other than Skyguy's health. She liked Cody, but most of the times when she had worked with him he had always kept to Master Kenobi's side with a formality and focus only matched by his general. This might be the first time he sought her out specifically. 

"What is it, Commander?" Ahsoka asked at last, in case the man was waiting for permission.  

He sighed and then, as if coming to a decision, asked "What do you know about the recent prisoner the generals have captured?" 

She tilted her head. "Obi-wan--uh, the younger--said his name was Ben. That he didn't really trust him because he thought he might be a rogue Jedi--and Ben had said as much himself--but he had a way to contact him and he'd promised to help us. Anakin seemed really bothered about him though. He kept pressing Obi-wan for more information and was on edge about it." 

Cody nodded thoughtfully. "And that's all he said? Padawan Kenobi didn't recognize him?" 

"Should he have?" 

"Commander, Ben is a third Kenobi--from the future this time." 

"What?!" Ahsoka stood up, outraged. "Why on earth do we have him locked up?" 

"The general thinks he's a high security threat; he had apparently aided Ventress's escape and disavows the republic."

This was the last thing she needed. Right when she started imagining she understood her grandmaster, this happens "...But?" she asked. 

"I--trust him, commander Tano. We may be at cross purposes;-- we may even be enemies, but he's a good man." 

Ahsoka liked Cody better for it. She opened her mouth to come up with a response when a low baritone spoke out from the threshold of a private medical room. 

"Good men can fall."

Ahsoka whirled around to find Master Jinn, leaning against the doorframe in a fresh medical gown. 

"How could you say that!" Ahsoka cried before she had a chance to think about the deference padawans were apparently supposed to give to masters in Qui-gon's time. She winced as soon as the words were out, but whe was comitted now. "He's your padawan." She finished. She'd seen the way Obi-wan looked up to him, the way Qui-gon looked at his apprentic with pride.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Ben needed to focus on keeping Luke hidden and returning everyone to the times they were given. Unfortunately, the jedi well knew how to keep a man like him detained, and he was forced to contemplate what it would mean if he and his charge were stuck in this, the most perilous of times.

The jedi here would have an interest in restoring Qui-gon and the younger version of himself to the past. If they needed his help or insight to accomplish that task, Ben was certainly available to provide it. Although---Ben glanced at the men guarding him, Tots and Bluer. He didn't know what would be reported to Palpatine or when the Sith Lord might learn of his presence. Not yet, perhaps, but soon. 

Ben hated Sideous; he knew himself well enough to spot the bitter root within his mind. He kept a careful eye on it; pruned it, pulled it when he could. He understood that though he would always feel that dark mark on his soul left by what the Emporer had done, the man himself was not his enemy. Sideous had given himself over to his passions, his lust for power, and they had hollowed him out till nothing but avarice and malevolence remained. It could happen to anyone, had happened to the best man Ben had known, and it could happen to him. No, Ben's enemy was the darkness--whether it was in himself or in the galaxy at large. 

And the galaxy was falling into darkness; it was a part of Palpatine's game, but it was more than that. The people's heart's were hardening, the rulers were growing deaf to the cries of the downtrodden. At this late stage, Ben feared that warning the council of the sith's plans would only hasten their coming. Feared that the jedi had all along been so caught up in battling the sith that they lost sight of what they were fighting for. 

However, Sideous would never understand a man who could hold the power to slip into the past yet refrain from attempting to alter his fate. He could not not himself possess knowledge of the future without wielding it like a weapon of control. So he would fear Ben, and he would kill him. He had nearly limitless opportunity to do so. 

It was almost preferable. Ben didn't know when, but he knew his death approached. He had prepared these sixteen years for its coming. Now faced with the possibility of feeling again the life of the jedi be snuffed out, of being this time in the temple itself but locked away so he could not help, burried deep so he would be last to die---this was a torment he could not bear. Ben would not do it. He would return to his proper place or die before the time came, but he would not live through the purges again. He needed only to ensure that Luke would survive. 

His meditations were interrupted when his guards recieved orders to bring him to an interrogation room. He carfully filed away his thoughts and centered himself. He had just hours ago entierly crumbled under the questions of his old second. He had thought after facing Anakin that he could tolerate any ghost of his past, but Anakin and he were fighting. He at least had not tried to offer him the heartbreaking illusions of past friendships. 

Ben was ushered into a larger than usual room and paused as he looked at the assembled group. Obi-wan sat at one side of the table with Cody and Ahsoka flanking him. Qui-gon stood with arms crossed against the wall. Anakin and his padawan-self were conspicuously missing.  The rescue had gone poorly indeed. 

 Ben elected to focus on his old master, who must certainly be weighed with doubts and grief about him;--as a missing padawan, war general, and unknown rogue, Ben knew he must not be inspiring confidence in a man so grieved by Xanatos's fall. He knew what that felt like now. 

There was a moment of silence. Ahsoka spoke first looking between Ben and Obi-wan. "Okay, so two is a coincidence-- three . . ." 

"A pattern, yes." Obi-wan mused. Ben suspected that this panel was assembled to determine if he had fallen, but his younger self was far more comfortable with theoretical investigations on the paradox of it all than on thoughts of somehow turning. "You say you had come through time intentionally. Master Jinn had not." 

Ben had, of course, come back to follow Luke. He hadn't even considered the possibility that this was anything to do with him --not even, Ben was embarrassed to admit, when he encountered himself as a boy. But, he couldn't very well tell them this. 

"I came to retrieve something I needed in my time," Ben explained simply. "I've already told you I don't know why Qui-gon and his apprentice arrived. If it was an unexpected repercussion of my actions, I assure you I will do my utmost to remedy it." 

"Let's talk about what it was you wanted so badly you were willing to bend all of reality to your whims to get it."  Qui-gon frowned at both Kenobi's. Obi-wan lidded his eyes and crossed his arms. Ben supposed this whole ordeal was rubbing raw old wounds for both his younger self and his younger master. (Qui-gon was not young in the normal sense, but the man who was one with the force yet could still deign to talk and teach the living--the man Ben had come to know so well in his exile was so old, antient even that Ben could no longer look at the living man before him and fail to find him young). 

"You may rest assured, I am no sith or darksider." Ben said wryly. General Kenobi looked immensely relieved in his quiet way. Ahsoka looked vindicated and Qui-gon was unmoved. Cody also was hard to read, but Ben didn't dwell on him long.

"I must insist you answer our questions." Obi-wan said. 

"I am, in my own way." His audience looked unimpressed. "Qui-gon, You have not asked to know the things you will learn here--did not stretch out your hand to seize a second chance or change of fate. I have ----and that is why I dare not interfere. I am not here for power." 

As Ben made his point, his  eyes slid against his will to Ahsoka. All that vibrancy of life, that potential and good heart. She had railed against him before the end, against the jedi for losing sight of who they were to protect. That had been the last he ever saw of her in the flesh, and a few discussions on strategy and politics over the holonet were all he had left to sooth the wounds of that unhappy parting. 

He smiled a little to himself and shook his head. He had grown into such a liar over the years, lying to himself and others (when there were others around to listen, that is). Here he sat insisting he would not be selfish and manipulate fate to his liking--and all the while his will to resist the temptation and his carefully constructed walls that protected his heart from the horrors of this time were crumbling. Ahsoka had not even been a jedi at the time of the purges. She of all was least deserving of destruction, and Ben knew now that he couldn't let that happen again. One light. He could save one light without extinguishing his own. . . 

Cody looked to his general in a moment of hesitation, before saying, "He may not want to talk, Sir, but I think we ought to do our best to find out what we can. He mentioned that I had tried to kill him."  The three jedi turned to the clone with varying degrees of surprise. Obi-wan looked at his second briefly before turning to Ben with a tight expression. 

"Cody, I'm quite sure you would have had a compelling reason to pursue such a course of action." 

"Are you suggesting you think your soldiers ought to kill you?" Qui-gon asked. Obi-wan turned to where Qui-gon stood behind him and leveled a sour look at the man. 

"Of course not now, but extenuating circumstances can occur. You and I fought this--me just this morning, and I for one feel entirely justified doing so. If he says Cody tried to kill him, then I stand by my commander's judgement."  

Ben rolled his eyes and decided he didn't really need to be emotionally or mentally present in this conversation. He wished he could have that level of trust again, but his faith had crashed like a wave on the shores of reality. 

"Maybe you went undercover again." Ahsoka suggested. "This looks more like a disguise than something you would...actually dress like, master, no offense." 

"No, commander, generals--there's not an easy explanation. Can't you see? You don't trust me anymore do you?" He addressed his last question at Ben as he leaned forward. 

Ben refocused his eyes on Cody. Was it the clones he no longer trusted? Or himself? After all, he didn't see it coming, he thought the ones he loved had loved him in turn, but Anakin had--he had-- 

Ben closed his eyes as his mind reached for the comfort of the force only to come up empty. This was like the early days in the desert, when his shattered faith and broken heart had let go of the force's golden threads and he had all but lost his connection to it. 

His silence was answer enough for his interlocutors. 

"Very well, there are no easy solutions." Obi-wan conceded. "But I see no possible way of further investigating this possible rift let alone taking actions to prevent it unless our guest cares to elaborate. None of this changes the facts of my life as they currently stand." 

Qui-gon tilted his head. "Well, now is an impressive time for you to begin focusing on the present." 

"What is your problem?!" Ahsoka shouted at Qui-gon suddenly, her chair tipping as she angrily stood. Obi-wan jerked his towards his grand-padawan clearly mortified that she would make a scene on his behalf and opened his mouth to censure her. Ben beat him to the task.

"I thank you, padawan, on behalf of a man too young and foolish to appreciate it." He said with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. It was not that either Kenobi needed her defence or that her lapse in control was admirable--(indeed, Ben did not recall Ahsoka's fearsome temper ever so quickly triggered; she must truly be feeling the heavy burden of stress. Ben recalled again the conspicuous absence of her master...). No, Ben thanked her for her good heart, for pulling him out of his dark thoughts when the force could not reach him. "However. . ." He continued once all eyes were upon him "My old friend and master is clearly struggling as much as I am, and it is not the jedi way to strike at the weak and wounded." 

Ahsoka stared at him with a slightly awed smile, as if she couldn't possibly believe he was taking her side in this--before realizing that his reprimand was surely worse than the appeal to manners and respect that her contemporary grandmaster had prepared. She picked up her chair and sat down. Obi-wan's eyes flickered between the older men before he elected to change the subject. 

"Not the jedi way?" He asked Ben. "Padawan Kenobi reports that you admit to leaving the order." 

In truth, Ben had admitted only that he was no longer with the order--but his younger self could not have known that there was a difference. Ben shrugged. 

"Oh, but of course. You aren't here to change history." 

"Just think of me as another unpleasant premonition." Ben said absently. He no longer had any interest in this interrogation, he was busy thinking of how he was going to prevent Ahsoka from going to Mandalor in the future when he himself expected to be assassinated much much sooner. 

Chapter Text

Two Months Prior

Leia had spent all day finding a place to pawn her earrings without asking questions. Once she had local credits, she had to buy clothes from the local charity shop so that she was decent enough to get a cab to a more middle-class shopping center and enter without getting kicked by security. Choosing a simple but elegant outfit there, along with a host of hygiene products she locked herself in a private bathroom where she could spend a few hours scrubbing herself clean and making herself truly presentable. By the end of the day, she could afford comfortable lodgings by the spaceport and a ticket to Alderaan. 

Luke had been right; they were in the outer rim and there was no empire to ask questions. However, that advantage came with the unexpected trouble of actually booking the transportation she needed. 

“What do you mean you have no tickets to Alderaan?” She asked irritatedly. 

The clerk threw up his hands in a helpless gesture. “I mean only this!” he said, matching her angry tone. “We have no transports to Alderaan, direct or indirect. Perhaps try again when the republic has retaken our routes.” 

Leia frowned. “What on earth are you talking about?” 

He looked at her like she was an idiot. “The war? The CIS? It’s a tad bad time for interstellar transit, it is.”  

Leia stared back at the clerk nonplussed, thanked him off-hand and quickly exited the ticket office. He was crazy or it was some kind of joke. 

She walked up to the first person she could find on the street and flagged her down. “Excuse me miss!” She said as the woman tried to walk away from her at a faster pace. Leia jogged to catch up and walk alongside her. “Are we at war with the republic?” the woman held up a hand and tried to ignore her. “The separatists?”  She looked like a crazy person, but what else was she supposed to do? Leia wanted answers. 

“Yes! Yes!” the woman said and hurried away, “Now leave me alone.” 

Leia stared at the departing figure and popped her hands on her hips. Maybe the woman would say whatever she thought would cause Leia to leave her alone the fastest. She cast her eyes about for another person to ask.

Three hours of unbelieving investigation found Leia in her motel room in the earliest morning hours, surfing the holonet. She must have interrogated a dozen unsuspecting Morans before thinking to check the news, and now she found herself staring at the most recent report of her father, a younger man holding her senate seat and appealing for aid to several wartorn worlds. She watched a recording of his speech, heard him appeal to the good heart of the republic, to the care for the downtrodden trodden, which lay at the core of the republic's values, and she wept. 

She cried herself to sleep at the little desk in the room, and when she woke, the flickering holo picture of her dad reminded her that this had not been a dream. She leaped up and began to pace the room, biting her thumbnail as her mind raced. Acceptance had cleared the confusion from her mind. Several things were immediately clear: Luke had talked about the Empire like he knew what she was talking about; the Empire did not yet exist. 

She instantly scrambled to dig out the comm code he had left with her--Empire issued. Completely useless. She cursed at her own stupidity. He was in the city, but the city was massive , and Luke wasn't going to stick out like she did. She could possibly find him again, but it wouldn't be easy or quick without her political connections or rebellion resources. Every day was a last gasp of a dying republic, she realized, eyes wide. 

She didn't have time. Luke was a smart kid; he'd figure things out, and she could still look for him after saving the galaxy. . .

She had to find her way back to Alderaan, and no amount of civil war was going to stand in her way. 

Bail breathed in the Alderaani air happily as he departed from his senatorial cruiser. Home at last. The war was demanding for any senator who hoped to play an active part in guiding the republic instead of simply funneling galactic money to one's interests back home and skimming from the top. 

Breha stood in the palace gate, poised and beautiful in a loose white toga with lilies woven into her hair. She was barefoot as only a queen could be in her ancestral home and she smiled and ran up to embrace him, heedless of the attendants, secretaries, and diplomats that bustled about the temple hanger. 

"Husband mine," she said with mock gravity, "you've been away too long. One might think you prefer the Chancellor to me." 

"Mercy, your Highness! Mercy!" He laughed. "Are these cruel words the only welcome I'm to get?" She kissed him gently for an answer, and Bail wondered what he had done to deserve his queen. 

He felt eyes upon him as he pulled away from his wife and looked up to lock eyes with a very young flight technician with something familiar about her face. The girl's eyes widened and she turned and hurried away into the maintenance rooms. Bail frowned. 

"What is it, dear?" Breha asked, sensing his shift in mood. 

"It's nothing, just-- I just noticed a new flight technician who seemed out of place. Have you met her?" The queen made it a practice to meet all her staff; it was a high honor to earn a place in the palace, and Breha treated all her employees as the accomplished professionals they were. 

"No--we haven't brought on any new crew in the hangers." She frowned. 

"Maybe I've just been too absent. I'm losing touch with this place, aren't I." 

Breha was already marching towards the direction he had indicated spotting the girl. "I trust your instincts, Bail." She said. She threw open the door to the maintenance hangar, and Bail peered over her shoulders. His wife was petite, but she had a way about her of occupying space with her commanding presence. The hangar was empty--no ships were even being worked on. 

"Should I call the guards?" He asked. This was suspicious, and the evidence suggested that perhaps he had spotted an infiltrator. 

"For a young girl? Don't be ridiculous." 

"Hey--what happened to trusting my instincts? And I said a girl, not a child. Teenagers can be deadly." 

The queen walked slowly into the room, her bare feet gliding soundlessly on the concrete and her head held high as she looked about her. "Let's take your word for when something is wrong--and mine for when something is right." She said sweetly. 

Bail opened his mouth to object, but he failed to find a counter-argument worth his breath. "What's right about this?" He asked instead. 

The queen simply motioned that he stay quiet, and sure enough, the girl stepped out from behind a shelf of spare ionized plating. She held her head high and the wisps of her plaited hair framed a determined face. She seemed hesitant, but unashamed to be found out as an imposter. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn't quite place it. 

Breha tilted her head. "What's your name?" she asked. 

The girl winced. "I'm Leia." 

"That's a lovely name. You don't need to be frightened, Leia." The queen slowly approached her. 

"I'm not. I'm---" she took a deep steadying breath and squared her shoulders. "I've come to talk to you, anyways. In private. It's true, I don't work here, but I didn't think I could gain access to you so quickly." Bail somewhat doubted his wife's idea of things going right, but this was her domain and her decision. 

“Of course. Shall we walk to the gardens?”

Leia smiled, but there was a look of heartbreak about her, and her eyes were moist. She followed the queen quietly and Bail walked a few paces behind the pair. When they had secreted themselves away into a small hedged in lawn run through with a sparkling creek, Leia sat herself on the mossy bank, hugged her knees and seemed to think for a long while. Bail shrugged off his cape and laid it out for his wife to sit on, but she turned to him with a flirtatious look and said she’d prefer his lap if it was all the same to him. Leia jerked her head up clearly mortified, and Bail shrugged at her sheepishly as he sat and let Breha settle in his arms. 

“You’re not going to believe me, but I have proof,” she blurted out at last. 

“We’re listening, dear.” 

“I’m--” the words caught in her throat, and she swallowed and cleared her throat before trying again. “I’m from the future; I don’t know how I got here but the survival of the republic depends on you believing me.”

Bail frowned and waited for a few beats to see if some clarification would come. It did not. Breha shifted away from him so he could sit up more professionally; if the girl was talking about the republic, then she was likely seeking his audience as a senator rather than his wife's as a queen. The girl waited patiently. 

"And, your proof?" 

She leaned back, as her eyes desperately flickered over their faces, wanting to be believed, wanting-- 

"I'm your daughter. I'm--I know about your private lives, our family secrets; I know you. You have to believe me." 

Bail opened his mouth to say--what he didn't know. Did he dare ask for the knowledge she claimed to know? Breha moved next to Leia, reached out oh so carefully to trace the lines of her face with her hand. This was cruel, Bail thought. They had wanted children for so long, but they were barren. 

Breha spoke first. "I do, Leia. I'm--oh sweety I'm so happy to meet you." Leia sobbed into her hands, and the queen reached out to pull the younger girl to lean on her. The reality of it all suddenly hit Bail like a stun bolt to his chest. This was true. He smiled slightly as he looked at the pair, his queen and--his princess? Yes. They would adopt; it seemed like such an obvious thing to do, but--

Bail brought up his hand to hide the frown that suddenly sprang unbidden to his face. He knew now who the girl reminded him of, her features and her determination. Suddenly Bail remembered that Leia had come warning about the future of the republic, and this too was proven out in her very person. If Padme Amidala was not able to raise her daughter, as Bail suspected Leia was, then this indeed was an ill omen for the republic.

Chapter Text

Obi-wan wasn’t sure if he should be actively resisting or playing things safe until he could find a clever escape. The question may be purely academic, but it helped to think he had options. He stumbled again and the bony hand that escorted him along grasped him tightly, dragging him when his feat failed to regain purchase right away. As the running for his life and then fighting a sith had ended in spectacular failure, the adrenaline and steady reliance on the force that had propelled him forward had drained out of his system. Everything had a slightly unreal quality to it all, as if it were a nightmare too real to wake from. 

His master had fallen, screaming as sith lightning--a legend and myth of Obi-wan’s boyhood history lessons--racked his body. He had rushed to Qui-gon to make sure he was alive, and when his eyes met Ahsoka’s--she holding her master, a man who inconceivable would be his own apprentice one day--an incredible wave of guilt and shame had swelled within him. This had happened because of him. Dooku wanted him. Obi-wan wondered what it said about him that his grandmaster only took interest in him and his potential when he became a sith. Not simply a fallen jedi--a full blown sith. He closed his eyes as once again the images of his master collapsing under the agony of force lightning,  of knight Skywalker impaled in Ahsoka's arms flashed into his mind. 

He stumbled again. Dooku let go and let him fall to the ground. He was in the sitting compartment of a finely crafted ship. He hadn’t even realized when his captor had moved him onto transportation. 

“Your shock is inexcusable for such a paltry flesh wound."

Obi-wan blinked up at the imposing man. Hilariously, he thought the censure would be more terrifying before he learned that the man was no longer a venerable jedi master but a sith lord. He curled himself into a ball. 

"think it's emotional more'n anything." He mumbled. He wished it wasn't, but yeah. It was. 

"Then master them." The count said, as though he were appalled to have to say something so obvious. "You should have learned that by now, even if you are a proven late bloomer." 

Obi-wan squinted in disbelief. "...what? Wouldn't you, um, have stopped believing that. When you fell."

The count sat on a grand chair and set his hands authoritatively on the armrest. "You mean emotional control?" He scoffed. "It's true the dark side draws strength from passion, but I am no failed Jedi as were the pathetic darksiders you are thinking of." 

Obi-wan swallowed. "Xanatos." 

"Yes him."

"Seems like." Obi-wan paused to breath a moment. "Seems like Master Jinn picked a padawan from his master's stock." It was common folk wisdom in the temple that lineage traits often skipped a generation as fresh knights gravitated to apprentices that could work with them as they had grown used to working with their former masters. Obi-wan was just sorry his own master had to bear this horror twice. 

"I think he has." There was a glint in Dooku's eyes that took Obi-wan too long to understand. He was so tired; he wasn't handling this as well as he should. 

"I'm not like you--or Xanatos" he whispered. 

Dooku stood up and walked over to him till he towered over him. "No--not yet." He bent down and grabbed his chin as he turned his face from side to side. Obi-wan closed his eyes. "Do you know what the difference between a sith and a fallen darksider is?" He asked after a moment of study. 

Obi-wan tried to ignore the question, but the count dug his fingers into his grip on his chin, and at last he mumbled something about the training line descent from Darth Bane. Dooku moved his hand to his upper arm by his wound and dragged him painfully back to his feet. Obi-wan swallowed his cry of pain and made the effort to stand on his own. 

"Any sniveling, half-trained force sensitive can draw from the power of their rage and fear--lust and greed--but without discipline their passions control them. They reject the self-mastery of the jedi because they are weak. But the Sith--the sith do not believe in passion ; the sith believe in power, and you, Obi-wan Kenobi, are powerful. " He walked from the main cabin to the door of a private room, pausing in the threshold to look back at Obi-wan. "You just don't know it yet."

Luke shuffled down the passage with one hand skimming the stone wall and the other held out before him. It was pitch black, and Luke's eyes were filled with nothing but the phantom after-images that bloomed cyan, pink and deep blood red of where he knew his hands to be and therefore imagined that he saw. 

There were ancient ziggurats on the opposite side of Tatooine. Luke had learned of them in school, how the original natives had buried their dead and their relics deep deep down in the heart of the stepped towers. There were labyrinths and traps in the cold to dissuade grave robbers. It hadn't occurred to Luke that a temple would be built to keep people out like that, but looking back on it now, he felt pretty stupid to expect better from an evil cult of power and rage. 

He slid his foot forward to feel for another step, but the ground dropped out beneath it. His heartbeat quickened and he took several large shaky breaths. He carefully, oh so carefully, kneeled by the ledge and felt along it as much as he could. There was no way around it.  Perhaps it was a pit, the other side just out of the reach of his arms when he stretched out as much as he dared into the black emptiness. Perhaps it wasn't deap and he just needed a light hop down. Perhaps this was a dead end, and a secret door for thr initiated was the only way out between the closed entry and this unseen chasm. 

Luke closed his eyes and concentrated. There had to be a way around this. Ventress wanted him to follow her. It meant he had the tools he needed. He recalled her teaching him to read cards with the force. How he was supposed to channel his frustrations into a pin point in his mind, then expand the feeling till it was a lense through which the cards could be seen. Ventress was big on negative emotions, but Luke privately thought she only praised their power and efficacy in the force because she didn't have positive feelings to draw upon. It wasn't that Luke felt using his anger or frustration was out of the question (Beru had taught him that it wasn't the anger itself but what was done in anger that made the galaxy a hard and cruel place), but this place felt heavy and claustrophobic; it was soul crushing, and Luke didn't really know why, but it felt like his fear and frustrations were being imposed on him. Pushed in from outside himself, it felt like a kind of violation, like he was no longer his own but existed as a feature in this landscape of the impenetrable darkness. 

Luke squeezed his eyes shut though it made no difference to do so and crouched tightly in a ball. With his arms wrapped around his legs and his forehead brushing his knees, Luke began to mumble as a mantra, "My name is Luke Skywalker and I am a person. My name is Luke Skywalker and I am my own." 

Luke was freeborn, but he never forgot his roots. Owen and Beru made sure he understood both his history and the community of the downtrodden to which he belonged as a bright hope of freedom. This temple didn't own him. His fear didn't own him. His feelings were his own and they made sense given his circumstances. He couldn't let it control him, but this was all he had-- 

Luke uncurled himself. He had to jump. Oh, he couldn't read his surroundings like he had hoped; he was still blind in the dark, but he knew with certainty that this was a leap he had to make. He took a few steps back and bounced on his heels and bit his lip. Then he ran forward and leapt. 

He found no purchase, no ground on the other side and his heart leapt into his throat as he fell and fell. 

He plunged into a deep reservoir and the shock of the unexpected change--and that he had not died as expected on impact--chased the air from his lungs. It wasn't water. The taste of it as it rushed into his mouth was off, and the surface tension of water would have hit him like concrete. This lake was slippery and thin--he struggled to swim or float up, but he wasn't buoyant in this substance, and there was little resistance to his kicks and strokes. He furiously kicked, but made little progress, and as his lungs burned he began to doubt he even knew which way was up. No sight, no sense of up or down, no sense of smell or sound---only the bitter tang of the lake on his tongue tied him to reality. 

Panic surged from within, and from without he felt the press of disgust and disdain. Why should he die like a rat in a well? What right? What right had anyone or any thing to kill him when he was one of the rare beings that could wield the reigns of life and the galaxy itself? Reality was nothing but a phantom and he, suspended in nothing, was the only solid thing. Him and his pain. He didn't have air, after all, and his life was insultingly contingent upon that air. 

Air. 

He'd meant to draw from the air and not the well. He needed air. The anger dissipated. His thrashing slowed, and his half held breath gave out. The liquid burned his throat and lungs as it rushed in, and Luke went slack as he lost his grip on consciousness. 

.

.

.

Two plucked strings hummed two notes. The half cord reverberated in the open space and faded. It was struck again, slowly and methodically. A woman sat on the heathered ground, her slender hands plucked at a lap harp propped against her hip. The notes rang out again. 

Luke walked up to her, and she began to sing a sad, wordless melody. He looked about him, there was a flock of animals, beasts of the field, slaughtered about the highland. Their blood stained the shepherdess's hands and the hem of her gown, and she sang in a low voice, "la la ladi dati doe, lati dae, layly loe." 

"Where am I?" He asked, his throat felt hoarse. The shepherdess plucked the two notes again. 

"Katinglare. In the highlands of Doar." She said, pausing in her song. 

"Yes but--" 

She looked up at him for the first time, and her eyes glowed with an unnatural yellow. Luke took a half-step back. "But I-- was drowning in a temple here." 

"Hm." She then began to hum her song again. 

"Who are you?" 

"What an interesting question from one who claims to be the only truth. The only real thing." There was a sarcastic bite in the shepherdess's voice; it reminded him a little of Ventress. 

"That was--" Luke furrowed his brows, "I was disoriented. Panicked. I think I lost it a little." 

She smiled darkly. "Most do." She plucked the notes again and sang in soft low notes, "Oh doo oh dee, fa la loe lee." 

"Is this a vision?" He tried again. 

"I don't know--can you see?" 

Luke turned around and gasped, the flock--where the slaughtered flock had lain about the plain, there were people, men, women and children, dead. 

"You--" he cleared his throat. "You're the one who built this temple." He felt his hands tremble and clasped them behind his back. 

A third note, dissonant and sharp, was plucked. "Very good. Most try to defeat me before they discover this truth." She gestures to the plain of the dead. "Their would-be masters tell them they must first master me to earn their keep. Few survive." 

"Did Ventress beat you?" 

"She was given other trials." 

Luke swallowed hard. "Will you--what's your name?" 

"I don't have a name anymore. It is forgotten." 

"You can--um, if you want, I can give you one." 

The woman, the sith, stopped playing. She looked at Luke with murder in her eyes before the sickly glow dimmed. "The weak give their names away; they think if their children's children bear it, they will have a place in their descendents' lines. The mighty fortify their names with great deeds and monuments; they think a name can live forever when they themselves can not. But the wise--the wise forsake their names, for only so can you live forever." 

Luke remained silent. He wasn't sure he understood her meaning but felt it was somehow wrong on a deep instinctive level. 

The woman stood up and laid her harp aside. She was tall and beautiful, and she slowly walked to Luke and draped her right forearm over his shoulder as her left snaked forward to run through the hair on the back of his head.  He tried to jerk away but she held him tightly, the blood on her hands smearing his simple tunic and hair, and she leaned into his ear as he turned his face away from her and whispered "will you forsake your name for me, Luke Skywalker?" 

He felt sick, enervated with fear and dread, repulsed. What other way, though? What choice did he have? He thought of the explosion of light and warmth when his father first sought him in the force. He thought of a mother he had never known, who chose his name in her dying breaths. This was all his parents could give him, and though he'd never met them, he loved them still. 

Luke dropped out of the woman's grasp and dove unthinkingly for the harp left lying on the ground. He heard a wild shriek behind him and felt a familiar vice about his neck, but he didn't stop. His knees thudded on the soft ground besides the instrument and he reached and plucked the strings--

He awoke coughing in someone's grasp as the not-water was pulled violently from his lungs. There was light, or almost light, and though the lurid reds of Ventress's lightsabers painted her features in sharp and terrifying light, he'd never felt so grateful to see her in his life. Well, maybe that wasn't such a high bar to pass, he thought hysterically and began to laugh. 

Ventress dropped the kid and looked at him with astonishment. He definitely wasn't fallen (even if he did have a terrifying laugh), and yet he had survived the temple trials.

She honestly hadn't expected the boy to enter the temple; she had wanted to push or tempt him, but the thought that he'd probably die in the ordeal and that the old Kenobi would hold her responsible had warned her off that course of action. That . . .and the fact that maybe she didn't want the kid to die after all. 

So when a wholly unexpected training bond sparked in her mind-- a bond wrought from a dissonant combination of her dark presence and his still bright light, flickering as it was on the edge of death and of corruption--she'd dropped what she was doing and ran to fish the boy out of the dark lake, the rules and tradition of sith trials be damned. 

He was still cackling like a maniac on the ground but seemed to settle enough to draw painful gasps of breath and prop himself up with his arms. 

Against her better judgement, Ventress tilted her head and asked him just what he thought was so hilarious at a time like this. 

He started to laugh again at the thought, but eventually managed to gasp out "You're face! Haha, I'm happy to see your face and you look like a ghoul." 

Ventress looked at the boy flatly for a long time and wondered (not for the first time and certainly not for the last) if she had made a terrible mistake bringing this kid into her life. The dissonant bond flickered a little lighter, but she wasn't paying attention to notice. 

Chapter Text

Obi-wan pinched the bridge of his nose. This interrogation hadn’t been his idea, but after giving Cody broad powers of discretion over the issue of his future self, he couldn’t veto the man’s proposals now. That and Cody had somehow assembled Ashoka and Qui-gon before Obi-wan even heard of the idea. If he didn’t show, then his old master would be the commanding officer in the room, and if Master Jinn already disapproved of how he had turned out, he didn’t even want to hear the man’s opinions on Ben. A messy confrontation from his own master turned sith, and now a cloaked and suspicious padawan. . . Qui-gon was bound to be contentious and difficult; what Obi-wan hadn’t expected was for Ahsoka, already burdened by Anakin’s injury and her own kidnapping, to snap out in his defense. Or for Ben of all people to pacify the situation. 

This was all out of control. It had been out of his control from the start, and Obi-wan needed to stop reacting and start a proactive strategy. First, his past self runs off to uncover the conspiracy between the Morans and the Sith--and the full extent of that conspiracy did require further investigation, Obi-wan noted to himself. Then his future self interferes, inexplicably, with the capture of Ventress and rescue of her hostage. He was wrestling with himself and losing badly. That was going to change. 

“Master Kenobi, you get him to talk.” Ahsoka prodded, pulling Obi-wan back from his thoughts. Ben and he had apparently both checked out of the conversation at the same time. 

Obi-wan examined the older man and tilted his head lightly as he tried to get a reading on him. After being so thoroughly bamboozled by Ben in his mind during that disastrous fight, he knew they had a connection. If only he could-- there. He was thinking about Ahsoka, his presence of mind tinged with regret and resolution. Perhaps he did intend to change things about the past, after all, Obi-wan mused. Either way, he finally, finally had an advantage over a man who knew his every thought, knew what had been and could yet be for his life. 

"Am I to take your silence as an indication this interrogation will go no further?" Obi-wan asked Ben coolly. 

"Oh, you may do as you please, but if you want a dismissal--" 

Obi-wan found the ironic audacity humourous; it was precisely the kind of banter he regularly used to distance himself from stressful or otherwise pessimistic circumstances, and it was very likely being offered now as an idiosyncratic form of consolation. However, in all his limited interactions with this man, Ben had never taken any care to comfort or encourage him. Quite the opposite--apart from the denial of having fallen to the dark side (a relieving declaration that Obi-wan did believe) everything he had communicated to him was foreboding and grim.

 If he was changing his tune now, minutes after describing himself as an unhappy premonition, then he had absolutely reached a decision about his grand-padawan, and he wanted the younger version of himself to let his guard down. Obi-wan would have none of it, but he didn't need to let Ben know that. 

“Ahsoka,” he said calmly. “Have you had a chance to think further on what I was telling you of the force and the fleet?” 

Ahsoka brightened. Obi-wan was glad Ben had managed to steal his role in reprimanding her a few moments ago. It gave him the opportunity to demonstrate to an old man that he enjoyed a treasured relationship that Ben had obviously lost. Obi-wan would be lying to himself if he denied his hope that Ben might prove to be as selfish as Qui-gon thought him to be. After all, Ben had spoken of himself as rising from an event where his old identity had died, and Obi-wan was that old identity. He would very much like to live for the duration of his full natural life. 

But he couldn't tell if Ben wanted to prevent a proverbial death that made him who he was or if he wanted it to happen. He didn't know what Ben saw when he looked at him. He certainly saw--well--he supposed he saw a living death. 

"It's like the Moran orchids." She said, her eyes flickering between Obi-wan and Ben. She knew the context of this conversation was performative but didn't know what game Obi-wan was playing with it. 

Her answer was more interesting than Obi-wan had expected, however, and he turned to her with his full attention now. "The what?" he asked. 

Ahsoka frowned. "The orchids. Little you told me about them--but you knew about them from before coming here, to this time I mean, and wouldn't you know that then?" 

Obi-wan did not. In fact, he had never even been to this planet before as far as he recalled. He searched the force for answers but none were forthcoming. Ben looked up and watched with more attention. Qui-gon stopped leaning on the back wall and actually took his seat at the table next to Cody. 

"The flowers are a part of the cult of earth-worshippers' rites of entry." Qui-gon offered, providing his first helpful contribution to this whole ordeal, Obi-wan privately thought. "My padawan and I had discovered the cult was in control behind the facade of the planet's government; they were xenophobic in nature and resented their planet's role in the Republic's trade network. You don't recall this mission?" 

"No...do you?" Obi-wan addressed Ben directly. 

Ben frowned. "No, I do not." 

"What does this mean?" Ahsoka asked. 

Obi-wan didn't know, and he suspected Ben won't be helpful at this time--or possibly ever. "Why don't you tell me how this orchid has illuminated your understanding of the force and spacetime instead, Padawan," he gently replied. 

“It gives visions of the future and they put their chopped fingers into the dirt so that it’s rooted in the person’s life who wants the vision. It’s the unifying force like you said, Master Kenobi; it’s tied to the eternal timeline where all points in time exist. That’s how you get visions of the future through the force, I suppose, because the future has to be there to see, doesn’t it.” 

Obi-wan brought his hand to his chin. “Hm, yes this flower is a good analogy. . . and maybe more. A pity we don’t have access to the planet anymore to study it.” 

Ahsoka smiled smugly. 

“--or you have a sample with you?”

“What do you take me for, Master--I know a lead when I see it.” 

Qui-gon leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “Padawan, those flowers are sacred and rare. Removing one from their temple--a high ranking Moran will have severed their finger and waited decades for any one particular bloom. It will be an affront to them and set diplomacy with the Morans back a century.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes but glanced at Ben before uttering any rejoinder. Somehow the older man had been able to explain Qui-gon to her in a way that she could understand. “With all due respect; I don’t think diplomacy could get worse at this point,” she replied. 

“ Obi-wan should have known better.” Qui-gon frowned. 

“He did object, Master Jinn! But look at him now.” She gestured vaguely to Obi-wan and Ben. “They’re glad I did it, so who turned out to be right?” 

Obi-wan looked over to Ben. He was certainly curious about this orchid, but Obi-wan didn’t think he was particularly happy to hear they had one in possession. It gave knowledge of the future, after all, and such knowledge was clearly something Ben wished to keep to himself. 

"Well done, Padawan, we shall look at the flower later. Continue with your theory." Obi-wan said and stifled a smile upon seeing both older men put out by his declaration. After years of training Anakin, Obi-wan was a patient man, but his padawan was in surgery with a hole in his gut, and Obi-wan hadn't been there when it happened. Ben had made sure of that, and Qui-gon left him to fight the sith alone. 

"So, this time traveling--you said it was a break in the weave, like the consciousness of the living force that defines the now was intersecting weirdly with the eternal spacetime structure of the unifying force, yeah? And I was thinking, 'what has that to do with throwing all the space around the planet into hyperspace?'  But that's the point isn't it? The space went weird; and it's all around this one planet that's already had a bunch of weird time splits, so something about the planet resonates as a focal point in the unifying force just like the orchids are. Maybe their priesthood has something to do with it, like they can use the planet to bend it."

Obi-wan smiled at her with a twinkle in his eyes as he glanced at the man from his future. Ben had told him that he merely asked the force and it brought him here; he hadn't expected the visitors from the past, and he was clearly surprised to hear Ahsoka's allusions to the happenstance that drove the republic from the system. As expected, Ben was more invested in what Ahsoka had to say on this subject than anything else they had so far discussed. 

"What has gone on with hyperspace?" Ben asked Ahsoka. 

She opened her mouth to answer, but Obi-wan stood up and, placing his palms authoritatively on the table, said "Well! I think we've dallied past this interrogation's natural conclusion long enough. Cody, will you show Master Jinn to his quarters and provide him any intelligence we have on Dooku? I want any feasible support in recovering his padawan offered to him. Ahsoka, well done; you are dismissed." 

Everyone looked at him with varying levels of incredulity. Ahsoka held a protest on the tip of her tongue, but she looked at him, and seeming to read something in his countenance, casually saluted and left the room. Qui-gon narrowed his eyes at both Kenobi's suspiciously before walking out at Cody's behest. 

Obi-wan was alone. Ben frowned at him. Ever since he encountered Ben, he felt he had been running--running away from the possibility that he could leave the order, surrender his principles, his friendships and every other bright light that guided him through these dark times. He'd lost control because he hadn't wanted control. It was time to face himself and reconcile himself to the will of the force, whichever path that might take him on. 

"Normally, I would approach these matters with a measure of diversion, but all things considered, I suppose I had better get to the point," he said.

Ben simply looked at him wearily. Obi-wan continued, "Anakin and Qui-gon left us to recover their padawans from Dooku as you well know, but Anakin confronted the sith and was gravely injured." 

Obi-wan knew Ben must surely have guessed at this before now--Anakin's absence was sorely felt in the room--but he watched carefully to see if confirmation betrayed any reaction. Ben seemed to stare briefly into the middle distance, but otherwise offered him no insight. Possibly, Ben was indifferent to a past he believed was set in stone, but Obi-wan was not so sure these events were effectively predestined after time travel was introduced into the causal chain. Would Anakin have been injured if the young Obi-wan hadn't run off to uncover Dooku's plot? If Ben hadn't fought them, delayed their rescue and thinned their numbers? 

"While he recovers, I am responsible for the care and education of Padawan Tano, and I assure you, you will never see her again unless you offer even the bare minimum threshold of cooperation. For obvious reasons, I would prefer to avoid this contingency, but that's not up to me--not yet at least." 

Ben leaned back in his chair and appraised him. "You could sense my regrets with regards to her." 

"Yes." 

"And you suspect that I would change the past to improve her prospects." 

" I would. For her or for Anakin." Obi-wan knew that the council would never approve of this sentiment, knew he would agree with them if the case arose with another Jedi, but he had little cause to bury his hypocrisy and temptations with the one person who already knew them intimately. Knew and--perhaps--already given in to their thrall. 

Ben nodded quietly to himself. "I-- wish I could change. . .everything, but I-- "

He sat silently for a long moment. Obi-wan gave him the time-- he needed time too. This would be a slow and painful conversation, he realized. 

"I think I would fall," he said at last and looked at Obi-wan. The confession brought peace to the older man's countenance. He shifted to a more comfortable position in his seat and looked up at the ceiling. "The temptation to grab power, to seize the reins of history, that part is obvious as you well know, but it's more than that. Old griefs have healed, but--"  he paused. "I'm sorry, I haven't been kind to you have I?" He made eye contact, and Obi-wan felt like squirming like a youngling under his gaze. Was he waiting for a response? 

"I'm--not sure what you mean." Obi-wan admitted. Certainly it would have been kinder not to use his access codes to aid in the escape of a top level sepratist assassin. . .

"I mean I've given you no hope. I've been--well, I've been trying to keep myself apart from all this." He gestured vaguely at the room and the ship. "That's why I cannot interfere--to try to save is to make oneself vulnerable to loss, and I'm not sure I'm strong enough for that. But you are." 

Obi-wan pressed his lips together. Ben continued, "You will wish the burden fell on the shoulders of another, but you will carry it, and you will not fall." 

"I'm... not sure I agree with you're ideas of carrying. Let's talk about Ventress."

Ben rolled his eyes. "You were in the midst of making profoundly manipulative and ultimately self-defeating barters for my cooperation. Let's talk about that."

Obi-wan suddenly felt new pity for every being he ever talked into a corner and broke with sheer stubbornness: obviously not enough pity to change his ways but pity nonetheless. "If you have regrets, then there is something you could have done; tell me now and I will do it with no questions asked." 

Ben folded his arms. "Allow Ahsoka to speak with me, privately and without surveillance," he countered. 

Anakin would kill him if this backfired, but--"agreed." 

Ben tilted his head. "There will be a new apprentice after Dooku--Darth Vader. He is now unseen, but if he learns of my reason for being here, then all is lost. I needed aid and resources to covertly accomplish my purposes and couldn't use republic forces without exposing myself. So I approached Ventress and made a deal. She is very near to falling out with her master and becoming a neutral agent."

Obi-wan narrowed his eyes. The story was vague enough that it was likely true but useless. The intelligence on Ventress's near future was interesting but immaterial and the new sith apprentice was disheartening but not particularly surprising given what happened with Maul. It did sound consistent with the actions of a rogue jedi. It sounded like something he might do. He took a deep breath and decided that this was enough interrogation for the time being. 

He stood up and saw a silent communication scrolling on his wrist comm. It was procedure when sending sensitive communications to officers in interrogations, but since their prisoner likely knew everything about their military movements and plans, Obi-wan didn't hesitate to flip open his come and read the missive. The blood drained from his face.

"What is it?" Ben asked neutrally. 

Obi-wan ran his hand through his hair. "I'm well aware that events will occur, for which I will have desperately wished for a warning, but I didn't expect that to occur today. . ." War was so often a series of missed moments in long days, but it was just this morning--(or was it yesterday by now?)--that he had set out with Anakin and Qui-gon to rescue a second  Skywalker from Asajj Ventures. The boy was still captive, he realized distantly, and without Anakin to push the issue he might never be recovered. 

Ben frowned. "My memory of this time does not include a hint of time travel, whatever happened--"

"I'm talking about Alderaan and Naboo." Obi-wan snapped. This wasn't Ben's fault. It might not even be his fault (though his friendly connections with senators from both systems and past role in the Naboo crisis likely meant the council will consider it his responsibility. . . ). Ben was looking at him with a mirrored look of concern and confusion. "That they've succeeded from the republic and announced their intention to align with the separatists," Obi-wan clarified. 

Ben looked at him blankly, then with dawning realization and horror. His expression was muted, but his eyes widened and pupils dilated; his lips pressed together. For a man so jaded about this war and the events of his past, this was an unusual reaction. Obi-wan set his hands on the table and leaned over towards Ben, trying to get a read on him. Force binders made the minds of those bound by them inaccessible through the force, but one thought occupied such a large portion of his attention and sat amid such a complex and fine web of emotions--

"Who is Leia?" Obi-wan asked, feeling the weight of importance the question held within the force as it passed his lips. 

Ben's eyes flicked from side to side in thought. Then he looked at Obi-wan with resignation and said, "someone I should have anticipated."

Chapter Text

Obi-wan had fallen into a fitful sleep as Dooku's ship swept him far away behind enemy lines. His dreams were shallow, more half-waking thoughts made wild as they danced the line of unconsciousness than anything. He thought about his future, if this would change anything. He thought about the sliver thin exchange he had had with his future self when he'd commed Ben. He wished he'd gotten a better read of who that man was. The general. A councilor with a knighted padawan and a grand padawan. Ahsoka was wildly talented and confident, and Obi-wan, who was terribly competitive in his own quiet way, knew he had a long way to go to earn the respect she seemed to have for him. 

Qui-gon always told him not to measure himself by others, but Obi-wan couldn't seem to purge his consciousness of a constant awareness of where he stood among his peers and all the jedi. A notable dualist for his age group--he'd still need to be better to pass his trials; an average student--he needed to focus better, think quicker, stop getting caught in the weeds of the abstract nuances of the questions at hand and find a real solution; not in control of his emotions enough; a good track record in the field but one with more black marks than most… it was a constant struggle to prove that he belonged with the Jedi. Prove to his master that he hadn't made a mistake giving him a second chance--and a third. 

Maybe his grown up self belonged now because all the jedi were like that now. But Dooku was carting him off to try to turn him into a sith, which was.. something. What he supposed he feared most of all was that Dooku was right. The sith were supposed to be dead. Long destroyed. Obi-wan had no idea if, in another age, he would have found himself among the dark lords. He wanted so badly to do the right thing, to help people, but maybe there was a reason he never really fit--a reason why he sometimes dreamt of himself alone in the temple halls, slick with blood. 

An iridescent woman lay dying. He couldn't-- she reached to cup his face, and he felt her sorrow. 

"It's okay to mourn, Obi-wan," she spoke softly. 

"Is this a vision?" He asked calmly. He'd learnt to ask whenever he was in doubt. Qui-gon had fixed him an unforgettable look once, when upon coming back to save his padawan from a Black Sun holding cell, he was greeted with that question. 

"In a way. In another you are here. I am with you," she coughed and the blood that leaked from her lips was bright like starlight. "Child of light." 

"I went with Dooku willingly," Obi-wan blurted. He suddenly felt she needed to know. "He--I needed to save everyone, but it shouldn't have been an option to go without a fight. I couldn't let Master Skywalker die, and I…" he choked back a sob as tears escaped against his will. Sometimes visions stripped him of the pretense of control. Sometimes the weeping intermingled with the signs and symbols, each tear itself laden with meaning. 

"Yes." 

Obi-wan didn't know what to do with such a simple acknowledgement. No contradiction assuring that he really had no choice; no censure admonishing him to do better; no advice. Weren't visions supposed to be useful? 

"Wake up." 

"What?" 

"Wake up!" 

Obi-wan gasped into awareness on the operating table. He lurched. Metal hands held him down, he cast his eyes about the room wildly and saw the implant. He struggled. He slipped into a dreamless sleep and suffered no visions.

Ahsoka woke up. No. Ahsoka woke him up, and he blinked and tried to focus on his padawan, who was safe. There was … strong drugs in him: painkillers, and that probably meant he was in pain. He was in pain, but he didn't seem to care, so that was probably a win. 

"Skyguy." She smiled at him. He smiled weakly back, but actually she was absolutely in trouble, and Anakin wondered what that meant if he more readily remembered his intention to set his rebellious padawans...no, padawan and master (little Obi-wan was more in trouble, but Ahsoka was his. They were his), then he remembered...oh right. Getting run through. 

"Easy, easy! You're okay you're okay." A pause. Anakin needed to pull it together. "Master. You're recovering from surgery. You're going to be okay, but the medics say that half your insides are reconstructed, so you gotta take it easy okay?" 

Anakin blinked slowly. "'Kay. I should.. not be awake right now." That felt like the truth. His insides felt reconstructed, and even with himself drugged so so much, he was probably not going to take it easy. Yeah. He wasn't. 

Why? … 

"Luke!" Anakin surged up in his recovery bed and listed over to the side as a panicked Ahsoka tried to catch him and prevent him from reinjuring himself mere seconds after being roused. 

“Master--Hey! Hey, easy there. Luke’s the kid Ventress kidnapped right? We’ll find him. Take it easy. We’ll figure it out.” 

Anakn pulled his knees up and set his forehead on them, breathing deeply to steady himself and ride out the wave of nausea. He felt he was waking up more now. Getting the hang of being not dead or asleep like he probably should be. “You don’t understand--he’s some kind of little brother. He’s like me, I know he is. I need to help him, but Obi-wan---” Obi-wan had betrayed him. Not now. Yet another one. One too many, in Anakin’s opinion, and he hadn’t had time to figure out what to do with that; it felt like he’d been stabbed, like his insides were seared, and oh right, they were. But it felt like that. 

Ahsoka pulled away and her presence in the force, which had been supporting him with calming thoughts and generally trying to brush aside some of the thicker cobwebs of the painkillers, withdrew. Anakin lifted his head to look at her. Oh. She was maybe a little jealous. He would be. 

“Yeah. Listen, Skyguy, we’re all really sorry because you should be resting, but we really need you in the nearest comm bay. Like, Asap.”

“Comm bay. . . you want me to talk to somebody? Now ?” He sounded a little whinier than he meant to. But why wasn’t Obi-wan handling whatever this was? He was so kriffing out of it. 

“Come on.” She said as she tugged him out of bed and into a hover chair. The trip to the nearest communications center was short. The architects of the star destroyers must have known that the jedi couldn’t even let their wounded go without pestering from the council.

 When Ahsoka pulled him into the room and pulled him to his feet he saw Obi-wan arguing with his wife, which was the last thing Anakin needed. He loved them both--wasn't that enough? It should be. 

"Knight Skywalker! Are you well?" Oh, Padme was looking at him. 

"Yes, senator. I was just, uh, sleeping." He was. It wasn't a lie, even if it felt like it. 

"Anakin hasn't been briefed on these--developments, Amidala." Obi-wan spoke to padme. He was..not happy. But Obi-wan felt his concern and how unsteady he was on his feet and offered his reassuring support through their bond. "Anakin," Obi-wan addressed him now, "Padme has requested your presence in these talks." Can you handle this ? Anakin nodded solemnly at Obi-wan. Yeah. He could handle his secret wife. 

"Anakin…" Padme started with hesitation. "Naboo has seceded from the republic along with Alderaan." Anakin blinked. "The decision has been a while in the making," she hurried on, "but while we stand firm in continuing our everlasting commitment to democracy and justice. We simply believe that the future of galactic freedom lies with the separatists." 

Anakin looked to Obi-wan, who was gently massaging a stress headache, then to Ahsoka who was looking from him to Padme with some worry. They expected him to respond. Obi-wan wanted him to talk her out of it. Ahsoka wanted him to fix this. Padme wanted…

"Okay, honey." Obi-wan face-palmed; well, Obi-wan could just deal. "If that's what you want to do, I trust you." 

"... thank you for your support, Knight Skywalker." Right. Secret wife. "I confess I'm surprised at your equanimity, but this is what I wished to discuss with you. So long as the seperatist movement remains under the grip of the sith and trade conglomerates, it will not rise to the high standard Naboo holds for all its allies and government. I would ask all the jedi to aid us in reform, but--I know when I ask too much." She smiled at the three of them sadly. "So, I ask you all not as jedi but as my friends: please join us. Help us bring peace and justice to the galaxy."

Anakin shook his head "No, no, no, the separatists are sons of bitches, and you're still cool because you're not a son, but I am and it just wouldn't...work." 

She looked at him with concern, like that was the wrong thing to say. Well, what the hell was he supposed to say when the woman he was in love with asked him to join her in treason? 

"One might ask whence this sudden change in Naboo and Alderaan's support originated." Obi-wan asked, changing the subject. 

Padme lifted her chin. "We received intelligence of deep republic corruption." 

"Dooku has made much the same accusation before." 

That reminded Anakin of something he'd forgotten but meant to ask Obi-wan. "Did he say that when he asked you to join him ? Because what the fuck, Obi-wan?" Obi-wan regretted asking him to join this conversation; Anakin could tell through their bond, but here he was, legs quivering under the weight of standing, talking to Padme like he was asked. 

"Anakin, I think that's hardly relevant--"

"Like hell. Because you're going to have-- you're already been past kidnapped, and I got impaled for that...and you--you cut off my hand!" 

"You've been impaled?! Are you okay? What is going on?" Oh, Padme was upset. He had been trying to avoid that. 

"We're taking care of Skyguy, Ms. Padme." Ahsoka said, swooping in to grab her master and put him back in the hover chair now that maybe pretending to be not stabbed was a lost cause. "But Dooku was involved with some kind of treachery on Moran, and Master here lost a dual while saving me and--another padawan." 

"The point. " Obi-wan said, trying to regain a sense of purpose to their conversation, "is that this is not a new sepratist talking point. I fail to see why you would be convinced of it now." 

"Master Kenobi--Obi-wan, please. If the intelligence had not come from a reliable source, then we would not have asked. I assure you the queens of our bright planets do not hold the value of republic participation lightly nor forsake it easily." 

"Is this source Leia?"

Anakin had had trouble following some of this exchange, but the question was weighty. Padme balked, even without his close empathetic bond he held with his wife while in person, he could read her easily enough. Obi-wan he did have direct insight towards, and he was trying to look like he knew more than a singular name. 

"Who?" Padme was trying to get a read on how much Obi-wan actually knew. She was so smart. She wasn't going to get Kenobi'ed. 

"What I don't know is why you would find her so reliable." Obi-wan folded his arms across his chest. Padme looked at them both sadly, so sadly. 

"Pehaps now is not the time for this conversation. You seem to have a lot on your plate." They were loosing her. 

"No wait, Padme--" Anakin stumbled back to his feet and made an aborted gesture as if to reach for her. "Don't go--" 

"At least let us send a diplomatic delegation. I'm sure you know how deep the concessions would go to satisfy your concerns--"

"Shut up, Obi-wan," Anakin snapped. "Padme. We need you. Not Naboo, Not Alderaan. You." 

She tilted her head and it looked like her heart was breaking. Anakin thought maybe his was supposed to be too, but it-- his whole chest burned from the dull ache resting at the base of his sternum, and he felt that without feeling.

"We will speak again. Master Kenobi, Knight Skywalker--Ahsoka. My heart remains with you all." 

Obi-wan bowed. "May the force be with you." 

Padme looked at him--and vanished. Anakin curled his arms around his wound. Just thinking of the thing moments earlier had seemed to rouse the sleeping pain, and it pulsed with every stuttering breath and carried off the haze of drugs with each new wave. Was this real? it hadn't felt so. A hand on his shoulder, guiding him back to the hover chair. A gentle tug on his mind, Obi-wan wanted him to sleep. Anakin didn't want to sleep, but he felt feverish, clammy. Obi-wan brushed his hair gently from his forehead. 

"Well done, Padawan. You handled that well." 

"No I din't" Anakin mumbled. "Can't lie to me when I'm coming down." 

"We'll get you back on your medications now. I'm sorry I ordered you off them for this." 

"Don't want 'em." 

"You'll never heal if you're fretting yourself like this." 

"You're such a hypocrite." 

"I know, Anakin." Obi-wan smiled at him faintly. "I know I am."  The suggestion to sleep returned in force, and this time Anakin let it work its charms on him. He slipped into a supernaturally peaceful sleep, and over him his master stood, picked up their burdens--both Anakin's and his own--and asked the force for some reprieve.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka looked to Master Kenobi for orders after Skyguy was safely returned to the care of the medics. He was going to be okay and this at least gave her back a sense of equilibrium. She could take what may come, face any battle as long as her Master was there at her side. 

Obi-wan gestured that she follow him and made his way to one of the quiet officer's caf and got them both some tea. The sat silently for a moment before Obi-wan spoke up. 

"I know it's been scarcely a day since I asked you to compile a thorough mission report and going theory, but I'm pleased with your progress Padawan. The assignment is suspended in light of recent complications, but I do ask that you listen to one more lecture on the subject." 

"You're leaving us." Ahsoka leaned forward, perhaps a little angry at the idea. The boon of reprieval from writing was not enough to distract her from the reasons why he might alter his teaching methods so. 

"No--but I think you might."

She drew up short for a moment, puzzled. "Master always said you spoke in riddles, but I hadn't seen it until now. Is this some kind of secret jedi teaching method?" 

He smiled at that. "No, but our guest from the future has asked to speak with you alone. I believe he intends for you to hear things that will change your fate, and though I know not what may come of it, I have agreed to let him." 

Ahsoka opened and closed her mouth a moment before saying, "but he said he wasn't going to mess with the past!" 

"I don't approve of his methods, and don't know what goals he seeks to achieve. You should be very careful not to trust what he says at face value, but...I know you are dear to him." 

Ahsoka bowed her head, unsure if she wanted to smile or cry. If she was being honest with herself, she'd never been quite sure if her grandmaster thought much about her at all. Oh, He was kind and friendly, judicious in his lectures and praise and a reassuring presence in battle. But Anakin was so transparently proud of her, so happy to just spend time with her without even trying to use that time to teach her more. Even Master Plo was more demonstrative than Master Kenobi, Master Yoda more likely to say what he really thought of her, but Obi-wan was like Qui-gon, never saying what he really felt. That must be why her Kenobi withstood the older man's ire so patiently, why Ben asked her to have compassion on the venerable master. 

"I haven't broke you have I?" Obi-wan asked dryly. Oops he saw right through her. 

"Not at all, Master Kenobi." She smiled "I'm quite sure my future self cares about you too." 

The edges of his eyes crinkled. "What will your future self know about general relativity, I wonder?" He asked, and Ahsoka's smile dropped at the sudden turn in conversation. The crows feet around his eyes deepend-- the little shit was laughing at her, she thought much much too loudly. Ahsoka instantly sat up straight and tried to assume the most serious, most sincerely studiful expression, mortified but desperately hoping he hadn't heard. What on earth. She'd spent too much time with the other Obi-wan, and now she was going to be stuck mixing up her responses to all Obi-wans possibly forever.

Obi-wan gave no sign that he'd heard her and continued to serenely wait for her answer.  Oh, right. He'd asked a question. 

"Hopefully more than I currently do, Master Kenobi, sir." 

"Yes, hopefully. Then she might not have to worry about being laughed at by one's elders or peers." 

Oh he'd definitely heard. Ahsoka felt her face heat up. He let her stew for a moment before offering relief in the form of his intended lecture. The man certainly did know how to make students grateful for his teachings. 

"It is an ancient theory that is now only studied by a handful of scientists and engineers, but it explains how time and space are one and the same, among other things." 

"I thought the unifying force was supposed to explain that. You said it contained all of spacetime." 

"Of course. General relativity tells us about how that spacetime works . " 

"Okay. I'll bite. How does it work?" 

Obi-wan leaned back in his chair. "We tend to think of them as fixed things, like this table here." Obi-wan set his mug down and moved it slowly across the table. "We imagine ourselves moving through space like this cup across the table, everything quite in order, everything nicely fixed. In truth, the space between, and the time it takes to cross it--these things are relative; they are different depending on what vantage point you look at them. You see, gravity bends space and because light always travels at a constant, which can not be exceeded--" 

"Hang on." Ahsoka interrupted. This theory was insane , and she didn't really mind if Master Kenobi knew she thought that way about it. "We're traveling faster than light right now ."

"No, we're traveling in a hyperspace lane. But Patience, padawan, we'll get there. Gravity bends space, and this means that light traveling through it a gravitational well, such as that of a planet, star, or even the galaxy, travels further, and--because it cannot travel faster, time there is slower ." 

"Because light cant just take it up a notch?" 

"No--not because of-- the point is that time naturally passes slower the closer to a gravitational mass it is. It also passes slower the faster the traveler traverses space." 

"But even if you say hyperspace travel is just taking a short cut and isn't really faster than light, this theory can't be true. We just had a conversation with Senator--I mean, Padme, and she's closer to the center of the galaxy , which is one heck of a gravitational well. But time has to pass the same or how could we possibly talk?"

"Yes this is why the theory is rarely taught anymore. It is true, but--on the galactic level, space and time are held in place through the hyperspace network. It is not simply a path to travel upon, the natural hyperspace lanes are channels of the unifying force, it holds the galaxy together, on the same page, and disperses the effects of space or time time dilation." 

Ahsoka frowned. "...why do you want me to know this?"

"Because I might not always be with you to teach it, and I have a hunch you will have more of a hand in untangling this knotted time than you think."

"Okay. The unifying force has an active role in keeping time stable across the galaxy and uses hyperspace lanes to hold things in place. The whole reason we were trying to take Moran in the first place was because it was such a hub for hyperspace landes, so maybe it makes more sense now that the place is strong in the unifying force?" 

The crows feet showed up again, but this time Ahsoka realized it meant he was pleased with her answer. "Very good, Ahsoka. You may speak with the other me when you wish. I will ensure you have privacy and trust your judgement implicitly." 

"Obi-wan--thank you." 

He looked a little surprised at her declaration, but she hurriedly gave him a half bow and ran off before he could ask her what for. 

She took a long night's sleep before taking her opportunity to talk to the future Obi-wan. One of the first things Ahsoka learned in her time as a padawan was to always take an opportunity to sleep as soon as it became available; one never knew when the next available bed would overlap with the time to enjoy it. 

When she entered the older Kenobi's cell she found him pacing, clearly deep in thought. 

"I think it's ridiculous that Master Kenobi is keeping you in here.... Master Kenobi." It was true, but it was also a sensible continuation of the natural good cop bad cop routine she's slipped into with Master Jinn. Obi-wan had all but told her that she held a soft spot in his future's heart. 

"Perhaps in the grand scheme of things…" he mused, stopping his pacing to sit calmly, "but I have been and may yet be at cross purposes with your generals, and I'm afraid I do share some culpability in the failure to rescue Padawan Kenobi." He must have seen the surprise on her face because he tilted his head and explained, "I'm rather good at reading Qui-gon's moods." 

"Walk me through this. You help Ventress escape for…future reasons and you don't try to free this Skywalker kid she had captive. In fact, I'm getting the impression from Skyguy that you ensured the kid stayed in danger."

"I needed Ventress free, I've told myself as much; but as you know I was also trying to complete my purposes with as little intrusion onto the timeline as possible. The second skywalker was not discovered by the jedi at this point, so I refrained from altering that history by interfering--even if that restraint allowed his continued captivity." 

"And then you wanted to help Obi-wan and me, but probably Skyguy and maybe my Master Kenobi wanted to take you into custody. You fight; you cut off Skyguy's hand, and Obi-wan has to stay behind to deal with you. Rescue party is low on manpower and fails spectacularly, and now everyone including yourself thinks it's your fault." She gave him an opportunity to respond, to offer some defense, but he merely nodded thoughtfully at her. 

"This isn't like you," she declared at last. 

"On the contrary, I believe you will find it very much like me to do this. True--I hold information that places my actions in more context...but yes--wise or foolish, right or wrong--this is very much like me." 

Ahsoka sat for a moment and thought very hard about what she ought to say next. She couldn't tell if he intended to give her that context or not, if pressing the issue would yield results or if she should table the issue and come back to it. She'd been in many interrogations, but Master Kenobi was a whole different thing. 

"Obi-wan said he believed you were going to try to change my fate." 

"I cannot heal the whole galaxy, but--yes, I wanted to make things right for you." 

"Wanted?" 

"I would like to still, but--I fear my information might be out of date. If not already, then soon." 

Ahsoka leaned forward. "You mean to say things have already changed--" she thought about Padme and Obi-wan's question about a Leia--intelligence Obi-wan alone had heard--after he had spoken with his future self alone. "Alderaan and Naboo didn't secede in your past?" 

He smiled, but he looked worried--it was a worrying development, but Ahsoka suspected Ben cared a great deal less about the fate of the republic than she or any current jedi did. He was likely worried about time . "They had not." 

"...so someone else is changing the timeline...Leia?" 

"Yes. Leia." He seemed distant, lost in thought. Ahsoka wondered who this woman was and what she meant to him. Well. He seemed more communicative with her now than he has ever been for anyone else, so Ahsoka pushed her luck. 

"Who… is Leia? What is she trying to do?" The notion that some hostile agent with access to knowledge of the future might be altering the course of the war--and at such a large level that Ben was no longer sure anything he thought he knew would still apply--was alarming to say the least. 

"She isn't your enemy," Ben said, guessing at the content of her thoughts. "Ahsoka, listen to me. She might very well dismantle the republic bit by bit; oppose her if you must but know she isn't your enemy." 

"You told Commander Cody that you were disloyal to the republic," Ahsoka replied quietly. "...why should I believe you when it seems you agree with this woman? Maybe you didn't want to interfere, but it's kind of sounding like you agree with what's being done." 

"What I want doesn't matter." 

"Then what does?" Ahsoka was beginning to lose her cool. "Me??" 

"Yes, you matter, Padawan. As do the youngest version of my self at large and the younger Skywalker. Both are in the grip of the sith because I am an old fool, and forgive me, but I am going to ask you to save them." 

"Why me? Why not ask Skyguy or yourself or Master Qui-gon?" 

"I'll help them however I am able." 

"But. . ." 

"I had a rendezvous set up with Ventress. She had agreed to release her hostage to me at that time, and now I require someone else to go in my stead." 

"Kriff, you were going to pay her for her cooperation." It was the only way she would agree to such a risky plan and not take her freedom and run. There was more in it for her. "What were you going to give her? Military secrets? Future intelligence?" Ahsoka was finally getting an idea of just how dangerous Ben could be, and she suddenly understood the paranoia and distrust her elders were directing towards him. She didn't think it was possible. She didn't want to believe it but--

"Yes, Ahsoka, I promised to help her; not to spread more evil, but because she can be reasoned with." 

"You said you were not going to interfere with our time. You lied ." 

"I was going to tell her the date on which our spies learned Dooku had betrayed her. Hastening that rift--it changes nothing in the end."  He looked down at his hands. The man didn't seem particularly sorry about any of this, and Ahsoka bit her bottom lip. 

"What makes me the one who should go in your place?" 

"I want you to build a network independent of the Jedi." He said, as if this was a perfectly reasonable request for a teenaged padawan. "Asajj, consumed by the dark though she may be, will give you a useful contact on the other side." 

Ahsoka closed her eyes. She was so thick. She should have realized sooner. "We--we lost the war, in your time, didn't we? That's why you don't care what happens to the republic. Why you want me away from the republic and jedi--" She stood up suddenly and started pacing agitatedly as she thought. "And Obi-wan knows it too! He's letting me talk to you. He wants me to listen to you… Fuck, oh fuck. Padme too--that's why they left, this Leia--she wouldn't even have to lie and she could probably convince other planets to abandon the republic. You all think this is a lost cause and you're asking me to run away like.. like a coward ." 

"Ahsoka Tano!" Ben growled firmly. Despite herself, Ahsoka snapped to attention at the implicit reprimand. "Some evils cannot be defeated in battle. Sometimes grasping the    thin thread of hope and holding tight is the hardest thing you will ever do--and the most important." 

Ahsoka looked at her feet and gave no reply. She was so angry at him--he wasn't doing anything Obi-wan Kenobi was supposed to do. 

"Do you understand, padawan?" he pressed. 

Ahsoka swallowed. "No." She glared at Ben. "I'm not giving up on the republic. The future is up for grabs now more than ever." 

"I ask only that you seek out the boys I have failed and that you develop resources and allies more flexible than an army." Obi-wan reminded her gently. "I'm not asking you to abandon the republic or the jedi---I'm asking you to carry the hope I have brought this far forward when I can do so no longer." 

This was--this was wrong in a whole new way, and Ahsoka wished he would just come out and say all the bad news to her face instead of leading her to dreadful suspicions. "You think this is a last request." 

 A conflicted look crossed his face as he seemed first surprised by the assessment and then, finding the summary apt, at war with fond and bitter memories. "No," he said at last. "I--do expect I'm not long for this material world, but my request--how should I say this--it's not a binding task; it isn't a way to honor my legacy or some such nonsense--I want you to know I ask it of you because I hope it will go well for you and because I trust you more than most to rise to it." 

"It's not about--Obi-wan! This isn't about me feeling coerced. This is about you planning to die!" She bit her bottom lip at the realization that she's raised her voice more than even Anakin would think proper. She'd been impetuously arguing with her grandmaster for quite some time now, but only now did she see the flicker of annoyance light in his eyes before being ruthlessly stamped out into an expression of limitless patience. At least that was very much like the Obi-wan she knew. 

"Rest assured, I have no intention to kill myself, but I do know quite a lot of secrets that many powerful people would like to see burried." 

"Just tell everybody then! The timeline's gone off the rails it seems anyways, and, honestly? It sounded like a garbage timeline anyways."

"No--that would only hasten events I would forstall as long as possible." He paused, lost in private memories, then continued.  "Now that history is headed along a different course; I will do my best to help you all, but--I don't know as many truly useful things as you think I do. I don't know why --well. It hardly matters." 

Ahsoka wanted to object. Wanted to say that he was in jedi custody and nobody could touch him, but Obi-wan would know that better than anyone, and if he thought it wasn't safe then he was probably right. She turned her back to him and thought long and hard about her course of action. 

At last she looked over her shoulder back at the jedi. (And no reports of him having left the order could convince Ahsoka that he was not a jedi when the code and everything the jedi valued was so clearly on display in the man. All the strengths and virtues, all the infuriating habits and failings--Ben carried himself like he was the jedi order in the flesh, like his body was a temple and no force inhibitors could ever deprive him of what he held inside his heart). 

"I need a little time to prepare things. Then I'll come back for your rendezvous intelligence."

"Let me tell you now and not wait to say our goodbyes for a time that may not come." 

She tilted her head. "It will come, Master--but not today," and with that, Ahsoka hurried from the cellblock before their prisoner could object. 

Chapter Text

“Can we leave now?” Luke asked as he walked into the central hall of the sith temple where Ventrass meditated and unlocked the holocrons stowed away in all the hard to reach places of the temple labyrinth. She had heard of the grand libraries of the Jedi--the sith had slightly different ideas about the accessibility of knowledge. 

“You slept for fifteen hours in a temple that hates you, personally loathes your presence, and you act like I’m the reason we’re still here?” She tossed one of the holocrons to the boy. “Open this.” 

Luke caught the thing, and turned it in his hands, trying to find it’s mechanical workings no doubt. “Firstly, I didn’t say it’s anyone’s fault , I just want to go. Secondly, that bed was comfortable.” 

“That bed is a stone altar used during the old republic for human sacrifice.”  

The holocron clattered to the floor and hummed unhappily in the force. “What? Why didn’t you tell me--no--don’t say ‘you didn’t ask.’” 

Ventress shut her mouth and shrugged. “Okay. I didn’t tell you because I wanted to see how long you’d last. You really are much too oblivious in the ways of the force--otherwise you’d have been able to tell how much the force here wanted to stab you on that slab.” 

“Well, I was exhausted from the last time this place tried to kill me, and anyways, we often sleep on stone back home. Cooler in the heat.”

“I don’t care.”

"I feel like.. you do?" 

"Ah see, that's not me caring , that's the bond we're stuck with." 

"A bond? I don't think that makes you sound tougher like you think it does." He smiled incredulously as he bent down to pick up the dropped holocron, and turned it in his hands to look for any damage from the fall. Finding it flawless, he whacked it against the ground a few more times. Ventress was a little horrified but also curious to see his ongoing progress.

"I've already explained how the force allows for the meeting of minds. The sith and jedi alike have ways to bind some minds together--usually for the purpose of training."

"Oh. So if this is just what happens when you teach somebody, I'm not really seeing how we're stuck with it."

"No it doesn't just happen. You shouldn't be able to focus enough to sustain one without training, And we're currently using antithetical sides of the force, AND I wouldn't even be able to create a training bond at my current level of skill. You did something in your trials. And it isn't going away." 

"Okay. Well, I mean it's not like you weren't reading my mind all the time anyways."

"You need to stop projecting every thing that crosses your mind. That's one good thing we can put the training bond to use for--teaching you to shut up." Ventress smiled at the thought. 

Luke frowned at that and seemed a bit more irritated at the jab than Ventress expected. Ah, he didn't understand she was talking about shielding and imagined she wanted him not to think at all. She would be pissed too if Dooku told her things like that--which he had, and she was. 

Luke stood up, tossed the holocron lightly in his hand as if testing its weight, and then decided to vent his frustrations by chucking the ancient repository of secret sith knowledge across the large hall and into the stone wall at the other side of the room. It burst open on impact, and Luke gasped in shock, and instantly looked to Ventress to see if he was in trouble. 

Ventress stared back at the boy dumbfounded, and when he jogged across the wall to collect the pieces and found the holocron not broken but opened--his first assignment--he turned to her and held up the core with a triumphant hoot. 

For her part, Ventress felt her heart rate quicken at the sudden realization that this was happening. This Skywalker was her apprentice. They had a training bond. He was already starting to accomplish the challenges she set before him despite denying himself the strength of the dark side. (Yes, the holocron could only be opened with anger, but Luke had somehow managed an innocent anger, and he had imposed it upon the holocron as a way to shrug the emotion off rather than use the feeling like a tool for a forced entry). He had even managed to complete the Sith Trials , and the rule of two, already strained and broken, was utterly desecrated by this new apprentice. 

Dooku would have a fit. She smiled back at her apprentice, a genuine smile this time, though it was not without a sadistic edge. This might just be the most vindictive, heretical and chaotic thing she had ever done. 

"We need to get you a lightsaber," she resolved at last. "Fortunately we have a choice of kyber crystals right here in this compound."  She reached for the force to locate the tell-tale wail that would lead her to the temple's kyber vault, then she turned on her heels and walked towards her desired treasure. Luke, himself holding a fount of forbidden knowledge, shrugged and tossed the holocron core over his shoulder as he jogged forward to catch up with her. 

Luke knew that there were nice lightsabers out there; the hermit Ben had one that seemed to ring with light, but Ventress insisted. The Jedi had their secret ways to discover their Kyber crystals. Luke likely couldn't even find one if he'd wanted to. So after picking one of the dissonant and suffering crystals at random and constructing his lightsaber by hand--('you're supposed to use the force,' Ventress had said. 'Why? That seems harder,' Luke complained. 'You know what? You're right. Do whatever the hell you want.')--he had stowed the thing away in a cupboard on Ventress's ship and tried to forget about it.

 Now he sat in the cargo hold with a datapad, reading the translated texts Ventress had taken from Moran. Luke had never been particularly interested in school or books, but Ventress was clearly going to foist off whatever work she herself didn't want to do onto him in the guise of his sithly education, and the texts were interesting. The morans talked of something called the Spirit of the Earth, which sounded a bit like what Ventress taught about the force. It was probably a good thing that Luke had access to a perspective other than Ventress's because despite their improved relationship; Ventress was still a deeply disturbed individual. 

"You know, you should take a look at yourself sometime." Ventress said as she entered the cargo hold. Luke winced. Forgot to shield again. "Oh, you're remarkably even tempered and adaptable, but not just anyone will throw themselves into a well of the darkside just for a chance to save a father you never met--and who, I'll let you know, is certainly overestimated in your imagination." She sat on the couch with her arms spread across the back of the seat. "Let me guess. . . Abandonment issues, obviously, but you can't blame mommy and daddy for dying, so instead you idolize the exciting life you felt he led (anyone's guess on who your mom is, I suppose)." She tilted her head. "Aunt and Uncle probably sacrificed a great deal of resources raising you, so you owe them and feel trapped because you can't abandon them as they grow older. . ." 

"It's not like that!" 

"So you direct all that dissatisfaction back on yourself. Think it's your job to be the hero and your fault that you aren't already." 

"It's--you're cheating!" 

"No I'm not--check your shields." 

"I don't know how--all you've said is that I should just know when other people are poking around." 

"So, am I?" 

"...no." 

"Congratulations." 

Luke looked up and narrowed his eyes. "You--you use sarcasm because sincerity scares you!" 

Ventress rolled her eyes and crossed her legs. "Oh honey, I know for a fact you've intuited more about my issues than that . You need to stop pulling your punches or you'll never survive." 

Luke sat up straighter and set his datapad down. "Fine. You don't like that I'm trying to be a good person because if everyone's bad, then you can't be held accountable for all the horrible things you do." 

"And?" 

Luke paused, once again unsure of what he'd gotten himself into with the assassin. "Uh, probably you've really only known bad people, and that's pretty sad, actually." 

"Hm. Well it's a start. I suppose your lack of cutting wit is why Kenobi never bothered to train you himself." 

Luke let out a sigh of relief that that odd test was over. He was pretty sure he failed, but that was probably inevitable. "So are you and Ben, like, frienemies?" 

"What?" 

"It's just--it kind of seemed like you guys enjoy each other's company even if you are trying to murder each other." 

"No. I just like making him and your dad look like fools." 

A long silence followed, and Luke picked his datapad back up. After a moment of staring blankly at the text before him, he realized something. 

"...hey, do I get points back if I've finally found an insight that gets under your skin?" he said as he turned back to face Ventress. But the assassin had already left the room silently and without notice. Luke made his way to the cockpit where Ventress was rapidly changing course. 

"What's up?"

"A mission. Alderaan and Naboo have seceded. I'll be negotiating their warm welcome to the seperatist movement." Ventress burned with dark delight at the prospect, or perhaps it was the dark side within her that licked hungrily for the power and chaos that this development apparently offered. 

Luke paid it no mind. "Alderaan… hey I have a friend from there." As soon as the words were out, Luke furrowed his brow. Leia had also stumbled through a rift in space. She'd talked about getting back home and finding an explanation for what had happened to them; she'd said she'd comm him as soon as she found out. (She'd been so sure that she would find answers. Luke had been perfectly resigned to the prospect that this story would remain a lifelong mystery and a tall tale no one back home would believe but would always love to hear repeated nonetheless). 

Luke kept thinking about her from time to time as he'd worked in the droid shop, but after getting kidnapped and learning of his dad, she'd slipped to the back of his mind. Now he was thinking about how she'd kept talking about the Empire and insisting they needed to steer clear of it. Luke thought she was rather paranoid at the time, but he'd forgotten that Leia was from his time too . 

"That's nice kid; now go and take a sonic shower while I try to find a cloak or something you can borrow. You look and smell like a bantha, and we'll be treating with core world queens." 

"I'm not wearing girls' clothes!"

 Ventress leveled a fearsome glare at him, which lingered through their bond long after Luke had turned and made a hasty retreat. Ventress was like Beru on the rare times his aunt's ire was stoked--but she was like that all the time. No wonder it took a supernatural force to maintain that level of ferocity--and no wonder it made her feel unstoppable. 

Chapter Text

Leia worried her bottom lip as she watched the blue of hyperspace through the viewport. 

"Leia? Can we talk?" She turned at the question, saw Padme Amidala and winced. The woman had been a childhood hero of hers in the abstract, but Leia had never connected the hazy dreams of her biological mother with the historical figure. 

Her own father had approached her, asking her how he and her mom had come to adopt a child who was obviously the daughter of their dear friend. It was not how she would have wanted to be told. Leia had always been told that she was a war orphan, that the jedi Obi-wan Kenobi had pulled her from the wreckage of some wartorn world as he fled the decimation of the jedi--that after her father had helped the general escape he had offered to raise the baby as his own. Some time between this time in the past and when her dad would actually become her dad he had decided that her full history was not something she needed to know, and Leia was furious with him for it. 

However, her dad was a politician and so was she, so when he suggested that Padme might only be convinced to abandon the republic and all she held dear if she knew the plea was coming from a daughter--an orphaned daughter--Leia had agreed. They needed Naboo. It was Palpatine's home planet ; it was the first victim of the trade federation in a crisis that would lay the foundations for the current civil war. If Alderaan was joined by Naboo in this drastic move, it would impart real moral legitimacy to what otherwise appeared an abandonment of a righteous cause. 

Alderaan needed Naboo, but Leia wasn't sure if she needed Padme . Her parents of this time were wonderful to her despite her showing up unannounced and demanding they change course in everything they had worked towards. They weren't really old enough to be parents to a teenager Leia's age, but they were clearly trying their best. It sometimes hurt Leia more to see how much her mother and father tried to make up for the fact that she was a stranger to them . It made her miss the man who shared so many inside jokes with her, the woman who knew just what to do to calm her moods and direct her passion to the right causes. She didn't know what to do with a second mother trying to get to know her. Didn't want a third not-quite parent. 

"Of course, Senator Amidala," Leia said after she left the woman unanswered for a beat too long. 

"Please--I'm not a senator anymore." She smiled sadly. Leia supposed she had shattered this woman's dreams; she wondered if Padme would despise her for it. 

"Neither am I," she said as if that made any of this better. Leia had worked hard to assume her father's senate seat and used it for all it was worth to do some good in the galaxy, but she loathed what the senate had become in the grip of the Empire and suspected all vestigial organs of the republic would be cut out before long. 

"You were a senator?"

"Yes, I've always dreamed of continuing my father's legacy as well as my mother's." Leia had also been inspired by Padme--the young queen and voice of freedom in the senate--but for some reason she couldn't admit that to her now. 

"Will you walk with me, Princess Organa?" Padme held out her hand and Leia took it. Very few knew of Leia's true title in this time, and Leia knew that Padme was trying to meet her halfway in using it. The formal title, her family name--not the given name Padme might already recognize from a list of baby names she liked. 

"I know this all must be hard for you," she said after a moment, "and I know I'm not your mother--in more ways than one. But now that this has all been made official, and we're truly committed to seceding… well, it's all been so busy and hectic, but I would like a chance to get to know you." 

She had been so sad in Leia's dreams, and she was sad now, though perhaps not quite so thoroughly. That at least was some comfort to Leia; she might be making the woman who bore her miserable, but if she did it right, she could spare her death and even greater pain. Leia lifted her head high as she met Padme's eyes; she managed a gracious and polite agreement. They should know each other. 

Padme smiled faintly and led the way to a private little seating area, tucked away next to the engine room. "I don't want to impose on you; I understand why you've kept your privacy and distance but--"

"No, I--" Leia interrupted. "I'm sorry, I just--my parents lied to me. They said--" Leia paused to swallow and steady herself. "They said they didn't know who my birth parents were, and I'd been a fan of yours and they didn't tell me. I can't even ask them why because at this time they haven't even done it yet and don't have the slightest clue why they would." 

It all came out in a muddled rush that would make Leia's rhetoric tutor ashamed, but she didn't want Padme to think this was her fault. 

Padme blinked once and then blushed. "Oh. This is all my fault." Leia frowned, unsure of how to respond, and Padme tried to explain herself, "Your father is a Jedi. We--our marriage is secret, and I never thought. . . You said the Jedi were destroyed by the sith in your time, and you are quite probably force sensitive. Bail would have to keep us a secret for your safety."

"I'm not force sensitive," Leia replied inanely. Instantly a hundred lucky guesses and pin-point intuitions sprung to mind, and her words rang false to herself. Worse, it was the most trivial topic Padme had mentioned. Leia hadn't wanted to ask about her biological father; Padme had (supposedly) died unmarried and without any known lovers. Leia didn't even know if Padme would know who she was supposed to have conceived a child with in the not too distant future. However, not only was Padme certain about Leia's parentage, they were married . Secretly married to a jedi.  

"Ani will be able to tell for sure--if you want to know that is." Padme must have seen the spark of interest in her eyes because she hastily explained, "Anakin Skywalker is your father. I mean--he will be. You have his eyes you know." She reached out tentatively as if she wanted to gently caress Leia's face but feared the connection would be unwelcome. Or perhaps she feared that Leia would vanish like a dream upon waking; Leia certainly felt that way about her. Leia leaned forward just enough to let her mother cup her face. 

"The force has given us a second chance, sending you to us like this," Padme said after a moment. She pulled her hand away to wipe away the tears in her own eyes. "I hope that this time we can be there for you. I hope one day we can be a family without war or secrets." 

Leia suddenly found herself clenching her jaw and grinding her teeth--an unlady like habit that gave her migraines. She couldn't help it though; in the midst of everything that had been happening and with everything she had been trying to achieve, it hadn't even occurred to her that she might irreparably alter her own history. 

Padme sensed that she had overstepped an unseen boundary and also pulled back. "Leia--I'm sorry, I--" 

"I already have parents," Leia blurted out. "I want--I'd love to get to know you both, and I don't want you to die, but I have my real parents. Don't--" Leia froze. What was she supposed to say? Don't take me away from them? 

Leia had successfully changed galactic history already but her private memories of the history of the clone wars remained unaltered. She felt pretty confident that her past and identity would not be overwritten, but that might mean that returning to her own time was impossible (and perhaps even if she could, none of her changes for good would be actualized there). But even if the two histories diverged as seperate timelines that both were real, Leia didn't want a version of herself in this time to live without her mom and dad. 

She'd spent a little over a month with her younger parents, and as much as it sometimes hurt that they didn't have a shared history with her like they should, they were so quick to love her as their own. They wanted a child so badly; she understood now. All those years they called her their blessing, their unexpected gift--she had known they were glad to have adopted her, but she never realized how badly they wanted her. Now they might not get the baby they would love and cherish, the baby they wanted--they might be stuck with her in all her sixteen years and with her hellish temper to boot. 

"Oh force, I'm sorry," Leia said as she hastily jumped to her feet. "I'm so so sorry. I just--Good day, senator." She concluded with a light bow and hurried away, cheeks burning with feelings she couldn't properly distinguish. She didn't look back. Padme Amidala had rejected her republic--joined the war against her husband , Leia suddenly realized--on behalf of a daughter who didn't want her. Guilt, Leia realized at last; her cheeks burned with guilt. 

The Negotiations were set to occur on Naboo, and even Luke knew that the trade embargo on the planet was one of the first acts of aggressions prefiguring the civil war. However, despite its apparent secession, Naboo was deep in republic space. Luke looked over Ventress's shoulder as she analyzed hyperspace lanes and galactic fronts in the war. It was clear they were going to have to slip past the republic's lines to make this meeting. If all went well, the separatists would expend the resources to protect their new members from Republic reprisal, but until then, he and Ventress were on their own. Or, as Ventress would put it, she was on her own. He had her. Which was nice, even if Luke knew the niceness was accidental. 

"Ground rules." Ventress said as they slipped out of their final hyperspace jump into the Naboo system.

"Can I land your ship?" 

"Absolutely not." 

"I know how--"

"No. Now rules: You don't talk. You don't let people know who's kid you are--Skywalker is something of a jedi legend, and I won't be the only person that will kidnap you as soon as you drop that name. You neither confirm nor deny that I'm teaching you; there's only supposed to be two sith, and those sith are sitting at the top of the republic and the separatists. That means there's nowhere safe for you if the boys at top decide to clean house." 

"Hang on, hang on. What do you mean only two sith? That temple was huge; there were enough kyber crystals to supply an army--"

"Yeah that was thousands of years ago. Sith like to kill each other so they decided it would be easier to watch your back if only one other person was around to stab it."

"Nice." Luke wasn't particularly surprised that the Sith had been all but stamped out for a milenia with a mentality like that. By his count, that rule was all but ignored now, and again it was no shock that they were at the precipice of defeating the jedi. 

"Oh, don't you get sarcastic on me now ."

Luke smiled innocently, but his attention was quickly pulled away as they approached Theed; the city sparkled with water. It was full of life and beauty, and something-- something of this world seemed to fit a place in his soul. It felt like coming home. 

It also reminded him for some reason of Leia. The other time traveler was Alderaani, but suddenly Luke wondered if she was here. It was like the brief connection he had had with his father on Moran when the jedi sought him out in the force, like the bond Luke somehow developed with Ventress when he cried out for help in the sith trial. Maybe Leia was force sensitive too. Luke's brief foray into the Morans' sacred texts was leading him to think the force was what brought him to the planet, and since it also brought Leia, maybe she was like him. 

They were greeted with fear and loathing, Luke observed. He wasn't sure how much of what he had learned of the separatists in school was empire propaganda and what were true atrocities. Owen had sat him down when he was a child and told him that math and machines were the only truth he'd learn in the Mos Espa Education Camp. The separatist, his uncle had said, were terrible tyrants, but not the tyrants that the empire claimed them to be. Luke hadn't understood what that meant at the time, and he never thought it would be relevant in his life.  

Despite their cool welcome or, perhaps more accurately, Ventress's cool welcome, they were formally ushered into Queen Jamilla's receiving room. Luke had never seen such splendor, and he found it a little distasteful. Jabba's palace was not so finely gilded or beautifully fashioned, but even if a sense of goodness and light pervaded the space (a great relief after the oppressive atmosphere in the sith temple), it felt wasteful, like they didn't even know the value of what they had. Ventress gave him a knowing look. 

"Dooku is the same way," she said so quietly Luke wasn't even sure he'd heard, "but at least he's not naive about it." 

"Don't tell me you care about the poor" Luke replied, which instantly pulled the attention of the whole room towards him. 

'What in sith hells did I tell you about not talking??' Ventress demanded in his head. She'd been talking to him in his head . 

Luke gaped at her then narrowed his eyes and tried to respond in kind. ' What mean MIND TALK - -Didn't Know Didn't Tell oh Hell' was approximately the message he'd managed to barrage his teacher with. 

"Luke?!?" An astonished voice cut through the awkward moment. So Leia was here. He smiled as he picked her out from the crowd of the Alderaani delegation. She was far more sensibly dressed then the last time he'd run into her, but it was still obvious she belonged to the opulent class.  He should have guessed she'd be involved with this scheme; she was vehemently opposed to the empire in a way Luke hadn't really understood until he'd learned his own father would be betrayed and killed by the very side he'd fought so long for. 

"Hey! So I'm starting to think us meeting up the first time wasn't random," he replied. Ventress's cold core of bitter anger heated as Luke continued to draw attention to himself and destabilize the already tense negotiations, but she reigned her darkness in and coiled it around herself like a shroud. She would wait to see how this development played itself out. 

Leia looked at him with incredulity before breaking through the dignitaries about her and marching to the center of the room where Luke and Ventress stood. 

"Leia!" a man with the Alderaani delegation and a woman poised at the Naboo queen's right hand both shouted with an edge of panic, but she paid them no heed. Instead she went to grab at Luke with a clear intention to drag him away, but in a flash Ventress had slipped herself between the pair and grabbed Leia's wrist with her bony hand. 

"Asajj Ventress!" The queen of Alderaan stood up with fury. "Unhand my handmaiden this instant or we shall never rest until you're brought to justice for your crimes." 

Luke knew this was the wrong move to make; Ventress, being herself an assassin, was quite simply paranoid of any and all sudden approaches, but now her contrary nature and lust for dominance in all circumstances compelled her not to comply. Luke suddenly understood that Ventress had murdered for less, that she viscerally wanted to hurt Leia just to prove to the queen that she held no power over her and that her threats meant nothing to her. 

In an instant Luke drew and ignited the lightsaber Ventress had insisted he bring and held it to her back so that the very tip of the blade burned a hole in her clothes and seared the skin underneath. He didn't have to say anything; she knew. There was a breathless moment as the whole room stood frozen. Then, Ventress slowly released Leia. Luke grabbed the girl's arm and took a few steps back. He looked at the room, saber still burning in his hand, and then said "Leia and I are going to talk. You guys fight about politics like you wanted to in the first place." He then turned around and pulled his friend hastily from the room.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka was sitting beside his medbay bed when he woke up. 

"Hey Skyguy," she greeted him. Anakin flexed his new prosthetic--rubbish. He would have to fix his old one; it would take time but he liked his old hand; he'd spent so much time fine tuning it. "How are you feeling?" she asked. 

"Uh, fine. Totally fine. Did--did Padme call us saying she was going to secede to the separatists, or was that the painkillers?" 

Ahsoka winced. "Um, that was real. Listen, you know that Ben is a future Obi-wan right?" 

Anakin frowned. He hated both of those facts, so he supposed it was no surprise there was some connection. "Yes, what's going on?" 

"Well, um he's from the future, but he says that Alderaan and Naboo weren't supposed to secede, so he thinks there's another future time traveler named Leia that's trying to change things and maybe destroy the republic. He wasn't very specific because honestly he also kind of wants to destroy the republic."

Anakin winced as he sat up. "Padme would never. Obi-wan would never --" 

"Master, I think we lost the war in the timeline Ben is from. He didn't want--he says he was here for something he needed in the future and didn't intend to mess with time, but this other traveler is trying to--I don't know, but Padme's probably trying to save her people given whatever she's been told. They--Obi-wan, Ben I mean, he wants me to go save this Luke and Obi-wan because he had some kind deal with Ventress to get him back but we're keeping him as a prisoner right now--" 

"Ahsoka--Ahsoka! Slow down. Okay. I'll get the debrief from Obi-wan. Tell me what you want to ask." She was struggling with something, and as much as Anakin himself felt unmoored with recent events, helping to reassure his padawan would give himself a sense of grounding. 

"I talked with Ben. Obi-wan thinks that Ben wants to help me." 

"And?" 

"Ben wants me to 'set up a network of contacts and resources outside the republic.' He thinks that Ventress can be worked with, but I think he's a little sorry that he left your brother with her." 

"He'd better be!" Anakin was still at a loss for why Obi-wan, any Obi-wan, would do this to him; how any Obi-wan could abandon the Jedi to help a Sith. 

"Yeah--um so I guess I wanted to ask if you'd let me go on an unsanctioned rescue mission? Ben said he'd help you guys out with information too, but it really seems like he's only going to tell me where to meet up with Ventress. " 

"He and I need to have a long talk first, but you know me, padawan." He smiled weakly at her. She smiled widly back. 

"You're the best! . . .I was also kind of wondering if you'd help me, uh, break him out of custody against his will." 

Anakin raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Why the kriff would I do that?"

"He doesn't think he's safe! And Obi-wan would know what Jedi security can achieve. He says someone's going to assasinate him for all the things about the future that he knows." 

Anakin sighed. "Let me guess, you're asking me because our Obi-wan would have none of it."  Ahsoka grimiced. Anakin rolled his eyed. "Okay, Ahsoka. Walk me through everything you know one more time. . .and then we can talk about giving the Kenobis a taste of their own karking medicine." Ahsoka beamed with her smile and soul and Anakin felt a small piece of the pain he carried inside him ease at the thought. Saving Obi-wan really was the best way to get revenge on Obi-wan, he relected. The man was an obstinate, self-destructive mule at any age, it turned out. 

-------------- 

Ben had been waiting for Ahsoka's return for longer than he liked. Her vague words about having to prepare seemed to suggest more than packing a change of clothes and some ration bars, so when Anakin limped into his cell block, a medical droid in tow insisting he use the hoverchair for his own good, Ben shouldn't have been as surprised as he was. Nonetheless, he knew this would come eventually and had been preparing himself for it. In many ways he had been preparing himself for sixteen years for the eventual time when he might come face to face with Darth Vader. 

Anakin tossed the mechanical hand Ben had cut off onto the floor in front of the shield that hummed between them. He crossed his arms (the glove was back over his obviously new prosthetic, and Ben was quite sure Anakin hated the new limb. The two men stared at each other for a long moment befor Anakin scoffed and broke eye contact, turning his head aside and shaking it in frustration. 

"You cut off my hand!" He said at last.

Ben sighed. "Yes."

"You Cut Off My Hand!" Anakin shouted again, and his face went pale as the exertion of raising his voice pulled upon an obvious abdominal injury. 

"I never wanted to fight you, Anakin," he replied calmly. He had never known how to handle Anakin's anger. Wasn't that always the problem between them? And now that time was changing before his eyes, and the second chances Ben had scarcely dared to hope for seemed to spring anew, he found he still didn't have any answers. 

"Oh of course! You just wanted to hang out with your new pal Ventress , give her your own security codes, and send her on her way with a kid named Luke Kriffing Skywalker! It's not like you attacked us to keep me from saving my--my little brother or something. Not like you've apparentl y abandoned the Jedi, and--and" Anakin's voice cracked and there was a cold sweat upon his brow. He sat down on the floor outside Ben's cell heavily and put his head inside his hands. "Have you abandoned me?" He asked at last. 

Ben gasped despite his efforts for poise and composure. How did he know ? He couldn't--He had left him. Oh force, he'd left him burning, and the smell --but he couldn't kill him; part of him had wanted to, and the horrible anger and devastation--it was the precipice of madness, and he couldn't do it. He could maul his own padawan, sever his limbs and leave him to burn on molten stone, but the killing blow that would have been a mercy--the quick end to the monster to be and to his brother's agony--he was heartless to deny it, but his heart had been broken. 

Without a clear response, Anakin rambled on. "Because Ahsoka says you're trying to get her away from the Jedi, and Padme--Padme wanted us all away from the Jedi, and you told yourself-- a kid who really wants to be a Jedi--that you weren't with the order, but-- you never said anything about me."  He looked at Ben, and Ben hoped he couldn't read him through the force. "I haven't even left for Padme, but I would've left with you if you'd asked me too." 

Ben closed his eyes. "I'm sorry I cut off your hand, Anakin. I didn't want to be discovered, and I placed my needs above yours--and everyone's." 

"And Luke?" 

"What I did had nothing to do with him," Ben lied. "I hadn't even known Ventress was holding him until the last moment, and I knew that you and I had not known of him at this point in history." 

"Ventress thought he and I shared a father but--Obi-wan and I were guessing that he was like me? A child of the force?" 

"A child of the desert without a father. Anakin--" Ben leaned forward. "Anakin, you know the boy is important but not how much; you must let him forge his own path. You have to let him go." 

Anakin had calmed, but this was an admonishment he was unwilling to receive. He leaned away from Ben and looked at him coolly, and Ben shook his head to himself. Though he understood now that he had never understood his apprentice like he thought he had, Ben still couldn't quash the illusory sense of knowing and being known he had when with the young man. The Jedi before him was Anakin --the Anakin he loved, the Anakin who died for reasons Ben didn't understand. 

"You know, you grow more cryptic in your old age, old man," Anakin said at last, and something eased in his posture, the tension in his countenance evaporated like water in the desert. He gave Ben a lopsided smile. "Let's talk about you giving my padawan dangerous unsanctioned missions." 

"I believe she is uniquely situated to reach Luke and my younger self through the channels I have access too." 

"If it's just a rendezvous you have then just tell us and we'll corner her--surely you don't still need need her." 

This was why Ben had hoped Ahsoka wouldn't tell Anakin; but he should have known better. "I will help you, Qui-gon and General Kenobi as best I am able, but you'll just have to trust my judgement." Anakin looked at him incredulously. Ben probably deserved that. 

"I have a better idea. You tell me what happened to Ahsoka in your past, and I'll stop it." 

"General Kenobi asked me the same question." 

"Uhhuh, but I'm not you am I? Always content to take no for an answer--Always happy to let tomorrow worry for itself. No. You and I are having it out now or your whole scheme is out. Now, what happened to my padawan? What are you trying to stop?" Ben kept silent. "Obi-wan Answer Me!" Anakin shouted again. 

"I don't know!" Ben spat bitterly at last. Then, in a softer voice, "I don't know, but I have a good guess." Ben didn't know what more to say; all his reasons or excuses to keep his past a private burden had been removed, but still he hesitated. History was changed, and the small bloom of inner peace that arose from acknowledging that the past was beyond his control--that gradual acceptance--it had withered. If the Anakin before him was not a ghost but a man, then Ben had a duty to him he wasn't sure he could fulfill.

 No--Ben realized suddenly, it wasn't questions of duty or competence that caused his doubts, nor were the obstacles to healthy acceptance after a long grieving process what kept him from acting. He was afraid, plain and simple. He didn't want to be betrayed again, didn't want to lose his loved ones again.  If the Anakin before him was not a ghost but a man, then he could hurt him again, and Ben, old fool that he was, was afraid to accept the reality of when he was--and who he was with. 

He hung his head. "Anakin, I didn't leave the jedi order," he spoke quietly, "I outlived the jedi order." 

Anakin took a sharp breath, but he let Ben continue. "I don't know how to stop it. Our men--" Ben's voice cracked, and though he'd been well cared for during his detention, it felt like those weeks on end in the desert where water was scarce and needed rationing and a fine coat of sand lined the inside of his mouth and throat. "The clones turned on the jedi; I don't know why--don't know whether they chose to follow the sith or if they'd always served the sith, and if this whole war had been a sick game." 

The force-binders fell from his wrists with a startling clatter and Ben felt buried in the enormous imminence of the force and of Anakin, who had somehow turned off the ray shields and entered his cell without him noticing. Anakin was clasping his shoulders and turning his face to make eye contact.  He was searching for the bond he believed he could still find with Ben, but that bond had been burned to ash years ago. 

At last, Anakin gave up. "Obi-wan--kriff no wonder Ahsoka says you think you aren't safe with us." 

The conclusion was sensible enough, but something about Anakin's demeanor was giving Ben warning lights. He narrowed his eyes at the man. 

"Can you tell me anything else? I know you're still holding back. You won't talk about me; you'll barely look at me; you shy away." Anakin sounded both worried and hurt, but Darth Vader was a secret Ben intended to carry to the grave. 

"You know, my padawan did bring us a flower that can apparently give visions of one's future. I don't have to go through you to get answers."

"Anakin Skywalker! Do Not--" 

"E chu ta, Obi-wan!"

Ben opened his mouth to say what he did not know when Anakin received a signal on his comm. Instantly Anakin's mood shifted from obstinance to a cocky, self-satisfied anticipation. "Wow that was fast," he said, clearly bating Ben to ask what he was talking about. Ben ignored him and sulked. Yes, he knew it was unbecoming behavior, but he had picked up several bad habits in his exile and sulking was certainly one of the harder ones to shake.  

"Fine, have it your way. I won't explain my genius plan." Anakin raised his fist and the medical droid that accompanied him dropped to the ground as its battery cells were forcibly disconnected. He called over what looked like a sedative, and just as Ben reeled back and called upon the force to defend himself, Anakin sedated himself and slumped from his sitting position to the floor. Ben stared at him incredulously just as the cell block doors opened and Ahsoka ran in. 

"Ahsoka what--" Ben began to ask but she had already rushed up to him and pulled him to his feet. 

"Come on!" 

Ben allowed himself to be dragged from his cell mostly because he had no idea what was happening--was he needed somewhere? Was there an attack? None of those possibilities, however, accounted for Anakin's behavior. Ben was suspicious to say the least. 

"Padawan, what are you doing?" he said as he dug his heels in and refused to move. 

"Didn't Skyguy tell you the plan?" Ben looked at her sourly. "Fine, master, I'm being kidnapped. By you. Let's go!" 

Ben raised his eyebrows in surprise and took a great breath to quell his indignation. "Absolutely not." 

"What now you have a problem with breaking the rules?? You took on Master Skywalker, yourself, AND your own master all at once just to avoid this, and you nearly won!"

"I'm not going to argue with you." 

"You already are --and, and you don't have a choice." Ahsoka ignited her lightsabers, and Ben frowned. He didn't have his own saber on hand, but he was far from helpless. Nonetheless, he had no intention if fighting his grandpadawan. In his youth, Ben would have eagerly met such a transparent challenge in kind, and it was Ahsoka's youth, Ben thought, that spurred her on now. Signs of a fight would support the flimsy narrative Ahsoka and Anakin were building to explain this all away to the council, but this seemed improvised. 

"Ahsoka, I'm touched by your concern, but you have to let me go."

"Why does Every One of your stupid plans end with you walking into certain death!" Ahsoka nearly shrieked her final words, and suddenly Ben remembered to pay attention to the here and now. She was hurting. On retreat after a failed campaign that nearly took her master's life and left a young Obi-wan--a friend--captive by the sith, she was saddled with the burden of her other (and more stable) athority figure coming back from a future where all was lost and saddling her with the duty of carrying hope to a dying galaxy. 

It reminded him of himself when he was an orphaned padawan hastily promoted and saddled with his master's dying wish to train the chosen one. But he had been much much older then than Ahsoka was now. How had he forgotten her youth? 

"Forgive me, Ahsoka" he spoke at last. Her aggressive posture relaxed a fraction as she sensed his relenting. Ben looked around the immaculate corridors of the Negotiator; she would likely fly under the imperial banner soon, so he wasn't sorry for what he was about to do to his flagship. In a flash Ben had yanked Ahsoka's shoto from her hand and spun the truncated blade in his hand experimentally. "...but if I am to kidnap you, I believe I must first defeat you." 

Ahsoka's eyes widened with shock, disbelief, then excitement, and her lips twitched in a suppressed smile for a moment or two before she gave in and grinned. 

"I'll must warn you, Master, in case your memory has failed you in your advanced years, that I won the last duel we fought." 

Ben held the smaller blade in an improvised Soresu stance. "For you, perhaps, but the advantage of hindsight is all mine, I'm afraid." 

And as Ahsoka laughed and leapt into the fray with a rapid barrage of reverse gripped stokes, Ben took up the playfulness and joy of the moment like a mantle.

 He had forgotten how it so often was in the war and his life before. The brokenness inside was buttressed with a hundred adopted roles--a hundred little plays with scripts so clearly written. The dutiful padawan, the firebrand's apprentice, the stoic knight, the wise master, the negotiator, the general. They were aspects of himself he understood, roles he both loved and hated to play, but when they were all stripped away, and he had been left with only his naked self, then he had discovered what somehow Ahsoka already knew: Obi-wan Kenobi had a deep self loathing he knew not how to cure. All his life he had had a death wish he'd tried so hard to run from, and perhaps at last it was finally overtaking him. 

Not today though. Today he could have fun with a lost daughter restored to him, and if the role of mentor was just another act, he would take it on with joy. When Ben surrendered his grief to the force, it mattered not for who's sake he did it. Like a shower of rain in the cracked soil of his soul, he felt a small piece of himself--a forgotten aspect of his personality that he thought had died along with so much of his identity and sense of self--return, and Ben realized anew that he too was not a ghost but a man. 

Chapter Text

Qui-gon had been allowed full access to the jedi's intelligence on Yan, and he'd spent nearly a day and a half pouring obsessively over the sad tale. He was surprised to learn that his old master had apparently left the order over his own death at the hands of the sith and the councils alleged (said the report, but Qui-gon had no doubt it was true) failure to investigate further into the sith. He and his old master had not been close for some time now, and he doubted that they, stubborn old men both, would manage to repair before his end. 

He remembered this time's Obi-wan informing him that they too had been alienated at the time he died. At the time Qui-gon had assumed that his apprentice's choice to wage war rather than seek peace had driven the divide, but later revelations had shown that Obi-wan was still his padawan when first severance then death had divided them forever. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

He and Obi-wan had had a difficult three years as master and apprentice, but they had persevered and triumphed, and Qui-gon felt that they were just hitting their stride. General Kenobi had said that his training was "nearly complete anyways," and even if Qui-gon had his private doubts about that --it did give him a hint as to when these events had occurred: sometime between five and ten years from now. 

Had Obi-wan even been there when he'd died? It didn't matter, really, but-- why had Dooku been so affected and Obi-wan not? Qui-gon pushed his chair back and stood up. He needed some tea and maybe food; he was maudlin with exhaustion and an overwrought mind, and it was time to recenter himself. 

He made his way to the officers' caff and found Generals Skywalker and Kenobi sharing a meal with a peculiar air of comradery and conflict between the pair. 

"How many times do I have to spell it out for you?" Anakin asked with affected outrage. He leaned forwards and propped his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. "I'm a convalescent ."

Kenobi for his part was leaning back with mild irritation on his face but relaxed ease in his posture. He turned to Qui-gon when he entered and straightened his posture. "Master Jinn" he greeted. 

Anakin smiled at Qui-gon by way of greeting but then quickly looked between his Obi-wan and Qui-gon. The smile left his face. "Oh, what now? I swear Obi-wan, you have no right to complain about me giving you grief if you and Qui-gon are going to be like this every moment you're around each other." 

Obi-wan waved Qui-gon over, inviting him to join them at their table. "There's nothing between us," he said to Anakin, "Master Jinn is merely concerned for his padawan and troubled by this future self of mine who seems quite renegade and suspect in everything he does. I share his concerns. Unlike you." His last statement was punctuated with a glare at his old padawan. 

Anakin rolled his eyes. "For the last time, I didn't see anything. I was sedated . And also I've been stabbed--which should give me some leeway here I think." 

"I see you're back at your not so subtle use of the passive voice to hide the semantic subject. Sedated by who?" 

"What is this about?" Qui-gon asked at last, observing that this argument was well worn and going in circles and that neither general was showing any inclination to stop any time soon. 

" You're apprentice kidnapped my apprentice," Anakin said. Instantly, Qui-gon regretted his decision to come to the caff. There were altogether too many apprentices being kidnapped by their grandmasters as it was. 

"So says the official report," Obi-wan added dryly. "In truth, I had negotiated a deal with Ben. He would be allowed to speak to Ahsoka, and I believe he hoped to help her at least. Next thing I know Anakin and his padawan have sprung the prisoner from Jedi custody." Obi-wan folded his arms and frowned at Anakin. "And here I thought you would be more angry with Ben than the rest of us even." 

"Oh, I'm plenty angry at him. But if I did want to exact revenge on any Obi-wan-- hypothetically speaking of course--then what better way than to rescue him out of the gundark pit he insists on jumping into every time? You're just mad they trashed the east corridor. " 

Obi-wan turned to Qui-gon and changed the subject. "How has your research fared, Master Jinn? The council is prepared to back up your efforts to rescue me from the gundark pit I've jumped into."  Anakin smiled in triumph. 

"Current intelligence to Dooku's whereabouts are sparse. I've largely been attempting to understand his motives." 

"Well I wasn't really with it enough to notice what he said to you, but he indicated to me that he's given up trying to convince my Obi-wan to join him and decided that a younger model might be more malleable." 

"I know that." Qui-gon, in fact, hated that fact with a visceral loathing that was not altogether healthy or jedi-like. "What I meant was, I was trying to discover his motives for doing...all this." 

Obi-wan merely looked at him with pity, but Anakin had enough distance to ask, "do you mean the separatism or the sith?"

"My master had always held frustration for the corruption in the senate and bureaucracy of the council, but the trade conglomerates and slaver syndicates that compose the backbone of the separatists were precisely what he hated about it." 

Obi-wan hummed thoughtfully. "It is in the nature of evil to deprive its practitioners of the very goals or pleasures that first tempted them to pursue by corrupt means their desired end."  

It was a very councilor-like thing to say, and Qui-gon was pleased to see that Anakin openly shared his annoyance with it. "You can't possibly be suggesting that Dooku has been doing this to save the republic," he scoffed. 

Obi-wan was indifferent to the skepticism. "I'm saying he thinks he is saving the republic or at least thought so at first before naked greed and vice consumed him. He said as much to me when he invited me to join him at the inception of this war. He claimed the sith master was rooted deep within the republic; a claim which the council considers a real possibility, mind you." 

Anakin looked disturbed. "Padme claimed the same; that's why she's--why Naboo and Alderaan, I mean, are joining the separatists. Ahsoka says that their time traveler told them to do it?" 

" Their time traveler?" Qui-gon asked. The news of the new secessions was alarming, but also very much not Qui-gon's problem. 

"The future me believes for reasons unknown that the secessions were catalyzed by someone from his time called Leia. It's a pity he escaped--" Obi-wan cast a sidewise glance at Anakin, "--or else we could have learned more from him." 

Qui-gon folded his hands together and set his chin on his thumbs.  "Two from the past--and two from the future." 

Anakin let his mechanical hand thump to the table with a thud. "No," he glowered. 

Obi-wan looked between the two men with confusion. "... What am I missing?" He asked, and Qui-gon noted absently that his padawan must have gained confidence in his life if he was willing to openly admit to missing a connection that others had made. 

"What did he say about this Leia when he gave you her name?" Qui-gon asked Obi-wan, stepping unconsciously back into the role of a teacher. 

"He didn't say anything as such." Obi-wan furrowed his brows. "I relieved the bad news while interrogating him alone--I asked him why he hadn't warned us; he was as surprised as I, and we do share something of a mental connection--me, myself and I--so I understood that his mind was preoccupied and alarmed with Leia. When asked who she was, he merely said he should have seen her coming." 

"Preoccupied and alarmed… as with a threat or on behalf of a friend?" 

Obi-wan leaned back. "They aren't working together. He didn't know she had come." 

"Ahsoka said she thought Obi-wan and the other time traveler had a common disregard for the republic--because they think the clones are actually loyal to the sith." 

"What?!" Obi-wan asked, scandalized and disbelieving. 

Anakin shook his head. "It's not true, naturally, but something happened. Anyways, that's not what we're talking about right now. We're talking about the chances this Leia is your second padawan ," he said as if he were leveling an accusation. 

Obi-wan looked genuinely surprised. "Ah--no, that can't be right." 

"Why not?" Qui-gon asked. 

"I'm not sure, it just--" Obi-wan seemed to search the middle distance for answers. "Ben no longer carries himself as a teacher like I do," he finally said. 

The table slipped into silence. Obi-wan and Qui-gon sipped their tea while Anakin sat awkwardly for a moment before taking out a multi-tool and beginning to fine-tune his prosthetic. He paused in his fidgeting only to look up at his master and grandmaster from time to time; there was a bright spark of humor in his eyes when he did, as if something he saw inspired a private joke at their expense. 

"When can I depart to rescue Obi-wan, and what aid will you be providing?" Qui-gon knew better than to ask if they would be joining him; Kenobi and Skywalker were generals. They were too busy with war even to save themselves. 

Obi-wan set his cup of tea down. "We've had to alter our rendezvous with the fleet to the Ceti Star Cluster in light of recent developments. We will arrive soon where you will be joined by Deppa and her padawan. You have point on the mission, naturally, but I will have you know that Master Billaba also outranks you." There was a teasing lilt in Obi-wan's voice that reminded Qui-gon painfully of the boy he had failed to save. He quickly shifted his focus onto another subject. 

"Depa Billaba on the council as well? I'm not surprised in the least." Mace was a lifelong friend of Qui-gon's and Depa, a senior padawan in his time, was the Master of the Order's pride and joy. Three years ago (from his point of view) as Obi-wan was aging out of the initiate program, Depa had been making waves as bright upcoming padawan who already possessed evidence of leadership ability. It was strange, sometimes how so many different paths can lead one to the same success. 

Obi-wan looked at him gravely. "Qui-gon, your mission is clear and rightly so--you have a duty to your pupil and we are naturally quite concerned about the integrity of the timeline. The republic has a real interest in preserving my personal history." 

There was a catch, and Qui-gon wasn't quite happy with the impersonal way General Kenobi spoke of Obi-wan. "But…?"

"But Master Billaba's primary objective will be that of the big picture: to oppose the sith and the separatists broadly. She will not compromise those goals--even for me." 

Ah, it was a warning then; don't mess with the republic's goals and desires; don't go rogue, or the young woman who had in the past come to Qui-gon for consolation when Mace, her master, was being particularly intransigent would come after him and bring down the full force of council censure on his head. 

"So be it," Qui-gon said as he stood up and made his leave. This at the very least was nothing new. Some things would always stay the same, Qui-gon had realized over the years, and the council being a meddling busybody was certainly one of them. It didn’t matter; nothing would prevent him from taking back his child.

Obi-wan came to in an antechamber, a droid administered stimulus put a shot of adrenaline through his veins and set him on edge. He pulled on the force to center himself and instantly felt the dark, oppressive spirit that hung in the air. He was ushered into a grand command center--or maybe a throne room, Obi-wan thought, appraising the grand chair, empty--thank the force--that dominated the center of the room. 

Dooku stood away from the grand chair, at a table with maps of the war fronts casting an eerie glow across his sharp features. The show was intentional, Obi-wan knew. Dooku the strategist, Dooku the humble servant of his cause--it was calculated to appeal to a child of the Jedi, but the shadow of the Tyrant, the Proud and Power-hungry loomed in the backdrop. This too was intended to be felt. Obi-wan was not with a jedi anymore and Dooku had no intention of hiding who he was. 

Obi-wan stood silent in the middle of the room while Dooku let him stew. That very well might be the sith's first mistake--Obi-wan was very good at brooding, and time to think brought him equilibrium. He was undoubtedly in store for many unpleasant misadventures, and Obi-wan practiced letting the fear of that go. 

"You have been a thorn in my side from the very outset of this war, I'll have you know," Dooku said at last, walking over to tower above him. 

Obi-wan shrugged. "I suppose that's more a consequence of your choices than my own." 

"Perhaps. Perhaps. But nonetheless, you will never grow up to be such a puppet of the council. You will join me or die, and on that day I will learn if doing so solves all my Kenobi problems, or simply one." 

"You might as well find out today. Save us a lot of pain and trouble to reach the same pathetic end." Obi-wan crossed his arms across his chest and looked up at Dooku with his best expression of haughty judgment. "Killing your own grand-padawan--and specifically twisting time to get him before he's fully grown. Nice." 

Dooku hummed. "We shall see, padawan. We shall see."  He pressed a button on the command council nearby. "Now, there's no reason to play rhetorical games at a time like this, you have been given a slave implant, are you familiar with their workings?"

Obi-wan was, and he already knew as much from his brief moment of consciousness as the wretched medical droids were inserting the thing. It certainly limited his options, but it wasn't an unprecedented experience. In part, his daring talk of being killed this day was simply meant to gage on his captor's likelihood to pull the trigger.

"That is one of many security measures I have implemented to keep you from escaping, but I'm well aware that to control even a youngling of the jedi, threats to your person have minimal effect." One of the doors along the sides of the command center opened and several droids marched a captive clone trooper into the room. Obi-wan winced. The clone caught sight of him and his brows furrowed with concern. 

"What's your designation?" Dooku asked his prisoner.  

"My name is Tapes, designation CT-7639."

"Very well, Tapes. Rank and commanding officer?" 

"Sergeant with the 212th--General Kenobi's command." 

Obi-wan felt the blood drain from his face. Dooku spared him a sideways glance and proceeded with his interrogation. "How old are you, Tapes?" The trooper pressed his lips together. The opening questions were all very standard for a prisoner of war, though Obi-wan suspected that Dooku was not in the habit of taking prisoners. The soldier had undoubtedly intended to shut his mouth as soon as the formalities were done with and refuse to give up the slightest amount of information, but this question seemed pointless. The trooper looked back to Obi-wan--not with recognition (he must have been captured before rumors of the younger Obi-wan had spread, but with concern for a fellow captive. 

"Answer me." Dooku said firmly but without violence or threat." 

"Five standard years." 

"Thank you, Sergeant." Dooku pulled a dagger from the folds of his robes and tossed it at Obi-wan for him to catch. It was elegant, finely crafted steal without flashy or ornate decorations to distract from the practical use of the thing. 

"Now you have a choice: cut off your padawan braid or I take one of his hands."

"This...isn't a choice. This is all you--not me." Obi-wan rebutted. 

There would come a time when Obi-wan could not assent to whatever Dooku asked him to do, no matter how many people the sith tormented as a manufactured consequence of his refusal, and Obi-wan knew he would need to keep his head about who really held the agency here. His padawan braid, however, was not worth the cost of non-conformity. It would grow back in time, and Dooku knew he was asking for something humiliating and painful without crossing a line that Obi-wan wouldn't or couldn't follow. This was the start; they both knew it. Obi-wan slowly lifted the knife to his braid. 

"Commander!" the trooper spoke up suddenly. "Don't worry about me--I'm a dead man." 

Obi-wan sliced the braid off and quickly tied the sheared end in with the leather strap used to tie the base. He slipped the loop into the folds of his robe, and Dooku let him keep it without further demands. "I'm not your Commander, sir." He turned to Dooku "and he isn't going to die either. You let him go free, or it's over--I'll blow myself up; you know I will." Dooku did know he would--or at least knew it was enough of a possibility to deter him from pressing the issue. 

His grandmaster may hold all the power here, but Obi-wan knew this contest was ultimately one of will. Yan Dooku was famously stubborn amongst the Jedi but his fame and reputation for an iron will and a stiff neck had only grown as it proved to be a defining trait of his teaching line. Obi-wan was cut from the same cloth for good or ill, and now was as good a time as any to prove to the sith he'd already learned everything he'd needed from the Jedi Master Dooku.

Chapter Text

Luke pulled her out of the receiving room with an urgency that suggested he finally realized how dangerous the sith apprentice he had arrived with was. She hadn't even noticed him at first, so occupied was she with the insidious and predatory presence of a figure heretofore only known to her through history. She remembered what Padme had said--that her birth father had been a jedi--and though about how he would have been mortal enemies with this woman. Then the cloked figure spoke up about not caring for the poor, and he was Luke . 

After they had scurried at random through the palace cooridors for a while, Leia yanked her arm out of his grip and rounded upon him. "What are you doing here!?" She asked, but before he could even answer she came up with more to say. "What year are you from? You obviously knew about the empire but, force, I was an idiot for letting you run off. As soon as I realized I wanted to track you down, but I've been busy--" 

"Leia! Leia. Sheesh," Luke interrupted. "But yeah I just realized that you were also from the future, so it's a good thing we ran into each other again." He smiled at her and Leua frowned. 

"You... just realized? Never mind. What are you doing here? " 

"Oh, I'm here with Ventress. You work for the queen of Alderaan, huh?" 

"The sith." Leia stated flatly. She suddenly remembered that he also held the bloodied lightsaber--a trademark of the sith and the emperor's inquisitors. She took an uncertain step back, but she'd been certain she'd had him pegged as an honest guy who really was telling the truth when he talked about being a farmer who had no idea how he'd come to be in a jungle on another planet with her. It was true their acquaintance was short, but Leia prided herself in her skill of taking the measure of a man on far less evidence. No, Luke hadn't lied to her. She just didn't know what he'd done between then and now. 

"Uh yeah. Long story--" he winced. "I know, I know. Abbreviated version is: I went looking for a smuggler to get me past a military blockade on the planet, ran into Ventress, got kidnapped because my--because I apparently have a magical connection to the force, and after being un and re kidnapped a few times, I decided what the hell? I'm maybe stuck in the past, and I might as well try to help against the Empire. So I joined the separatists, and even if the Emperor  is the head sith, I don't think they like each other very much."

Leia gaped at him. "Luke, I don't know what they taught you in one of those Empire propaganda mills, but the sith are evil. You need to get out of there." 

Luke gave her an exasperated look. "Stop treating me like I'm stupid!" 

"Then stop doing stupid things!!" Leia winced at the volume of her shout and watched as some servants and courtiers skittered out of the hall and out of sight of the pair. This was not the place for this conversation, and Leia chastised herself for losing awareness of her surroundings and losing control. Nonetheless, something about Luke had incredible power to get underneath her skin.

She'd been here before and had a good enough reckoning of the palace layout to drag Luke to the gardens. Luke for his part allowed her to grab his wrist and lead the way, but would not stop arguing with her. 

"What, stupid like joining the separatists? I don't know about Alderaan, but Naboo isn't too far from my home and also happens to be the Emperor's home planet.  I think I'd have heard about them seceding during the clone wars." He looked at her pointedly, and Leia winced. She'd been hoping her age and ignominy would prevent people from tracing these changes to her future intelligence, but Luke was also young and unknown. He didn't think it impossible that she could change the course of the war. Maybe he was trying to do the same thing himself.  

"That's different" she said pausing further conversations until they were safely alone in a wide open lawn of the gardens. "We're going to try to wrest the seperatist cause from the clutches of the sith. If we can get Dooku to genuinely betray the emperor, then Sideous might take care of our sith problem for us." 

Luke seemed to weigh what she was saying. "That could work. I'll have to ask Ventress what she thinks about it." 

Leia gnashed her teeth. " No . She is a sith don't you see? She's loyal to Dooku."

"Yeah that's my point. She's loyal to Dooku, not Sideous. She doesn't want the empire to happen any more than you do." 

"Don't be naive--" 

"Stop it!" Luke shouted and Leia was taken aback by the force of the anger she felt from him. Luke glared at her a moment before shaking his head and looking down at the ground. He kicked the fluffy seed head off a Malomees flower and watched the seeds scatter in the wind. "Stop treating me like a child just because you think you're more important than me." 

Leia felt her face flush, and for the second time that day, she felt the uncomfortable and foriegn experience of disappointing somebody, who she really wanted to impress. No, that wasn't quite right. She didn't want impress Padme or Luke, she wanted them to like her. She wanted them to like her, and it wasn't working. 

"I don't think I'm more important than you, nerf herder, I am more important than you!" Of course Leia regretted the words as soon as they came out, but the retort had been so easy, so obvious and true in it's own way--even if Luke wouldn't take it the way she meant.

 "I mean--" Leia tried to backpedal without actually recanting, "I mean I have knowledge about the rise of the Empire that you couldn't possibly know, and, and I have connections that you don't-- influence that you don't--and that means I have a duty. A duty to you--to everyone. You--you're really nice, you know, and it's impressive how you can survive in a desolate place like your home planet, but you're in over your head. You're lucky you were born so far away from civilization; you don't know what the sith do to force sensitives like you." 

And there, after all her rambles, was the crux of her unease. Leia had seen the inquisitors, had felt the oppressive malevolence of the red guard. She'd also met rebels who had the force, who tried to follow in the steps of the Jedi and lived in constant fear of death just for doing so. Her own parents had apparently hidden her past from her because they feared that she just might possess force ability and that the Sith would destroy her--body or soul--because of it. She didn't want that to happen to Luke. 

Luke looked at her a long moment, and there was hurt and possibly contempt within his cold blue eyes. "I do know the sith, and I know what they do to people like me--I've lived it. But Ventress gave me a choice; she didn't make me follow her, and maybe that's why I did." He sat in the grass and carded his hands through the green blades, still inordinately fascinated by plants it seems. Leia sat beside him and pulled her knees into her arms until she was coiled up like a tight ball. 

"She was going to kill you, you know?" Luke spoke again. "Just because your boss told her not to." 

Leia caught her breath and didn't ask how Luke knew that. "Oh...thanks, Luke." She lifted her head and looked at him. "I'm sorry--I didn't realize you saved me back there, or I would have thanked you sooner." 

He glanced at her from the side and smiled a little. "No you wouldn't have." 

Leia decided to ignore that insight. "Will she try to punish you now? For turning on her like that?" It had been a very public and potentially humiliating showdown between the two. 

"I dunno. She's keeping her shields tight right now. But-- I think she's going to take her anger out on me by just being an utter taskmaster in her 'training regimes.' Not like she wasn't gunna do that anyways ," Luke muttered as an afterthought. 

"You… really trust her, don't you? Leia felt her face scrunch up tightly. "You said she kidnapped you more then once, and act like you've seen the horrible things sith do to each other, but you still trust her? Luke, that isn't healthy." 

Luke breathed a long sigh. "I don't--trust her like that --like I do you . I. . . She's like a wounded animal. They'll lash out at you if you get to close, and they're plain old mean sometimes, but you understand what they want and it's not to hurt you specifically; they just want to stop hurting--to be safe and in control again." 

Leia gaped at him. "You have pity on her? Seriously, she really, really doesn't deserve it." 

"I'm not making up excuses! I know that she's plain old selfish, vindictive and even sadistic. But she's also willing to tolerate me not being that, and trust me--the real lost causes hate seeing kindness in others. They're all over the place in Mos Espa, slaves and slavers alike; they want to drag you down with them and make you as cruel as they are or else they want you dead. Ventress isn't there yet; she's just an ordinary bad guy, even with the mystical powers of darkness and hate." 

Leia didn't know what to say to that. She didn't have that kind of faith in humanity--even if it sounded like Luke really was more familiar with firsthand evil than she was. All that cruelty in the world and he can still have pity on a sith and casually talk about trusting her, a bossy kid he once spent a day and a half trekking through a jungle with and did nothing today but make his life even harder. Leia felt he deserved some of that trust back. 

"...She's not my boss," she said. 

"What?"

"Queen Breha. She's not my boss; she's my mother. Or….will be." She carefully watched as surprise flitted across his face and waited anxiously to see if this would change the way he treated her. 

"Oh. That's nice. . .I wish I had a mom sometimes." 

Leia laughed bitterly. "I have a spare if you want one." 

"Huh?" 

"Oh, never mind; I'm just...thinking my problems aren't as bad as I thought." She wiped a tear away and was surprised to find that somewhere along the way she'd started crying. "Thank you, Luke." 

Luke stretched himself out in the grass and looked up at the sky. "For what?" 

"For coming back." Back in time with her from the start, back to her after she'd left him behind-- "I'm glad I'm not alone." 

"Me too," he said and she somehow knew he really meant it. 

All about them the galaxy roiled and buckled. A padawan out of time huddled in a brig; above him the great apostate welcomed a delegation of priests and world-weavers from the cult of Moran.

 Far away but nearer than one might think with the great girth of the galaxy in mind, his master, firm and resolute, was greeted warmly by the padawan of his long time friend--grown up now herself and with a young apprentice tucked just behind her elbow. The hero with no fear came to see the man off; the negotiator did not, occupied (as he claimed) with the movements of fleets and armies as the war spun out of course. 

An old man stooped as he disembarked from the stolen jedi transit and eyed the skies of Mandalor. His grand-padawan led the way with a lightness of step that spoke of an eagerness to take action and save the day. He was given a comm and fiddled with the encryptions before sending off his message: he had, despite all odds, arrived on time. He would like his ward returned. "Change of plans," was all he received by way of response. 

The assassin smiled as she saw the hermit's irate response filter in, but the negotiations with the queens quickly commanded her attention again. They wanted reforms; they wanted an end to slavery; they wanted the droids installed with ethics codes. They wanted so many things that the almost sith would never have before agreed to, but something tolerant had taken root inside her heart: a budding recognition that the good could also get results and an unexpected respect for those who loved righteousness. 

Far away in the center of a not-yet empire, a man who did not know how small he was turned his inner eye to the place of many fountains, Naboo--the gardens of delight that reared him in his youth and taught him what it meant to be selfish. He felt no loyalty, no gratitude for his homeland but loathed that the planet had betrayed him in its turn. But that was not what drew his mind to that place now--no something stirred the force in Naboo--something had taken root. He searched the force, he turned his ever seeing eyes, but his vision was obscured. Blinded by the light of two twin suns, he scowled but knew not what it ment.

End Book II

Chapter Text

"I move to recess." Queen Jamila declared and her court nodded in deference and stood as she stood. 

The sith stayed insolently seated but Bail could care less about her, and it seemed the Naboo's Queen was similarly indifferent. She invited Breha for a private tea; an opportunity for the two queens to discuss their thoughts in private and be sure to offer a united front in the ongoing talks. 

Bail was glad his job offered more flexibility than his wife's; they were both anxious to find Leia who had run off with a sith acolyte, but Breha would have to wait and trust her husband to manage. 

Nothing could be taken for granted since Leia came into their lives mere months ago. She was fiery and self assured, never doubting for a moment that she could command whole planets to jump at her word, but she was still so young, so clearly lonely, and for every moment Bail felt a kindred bond with her there would be a time when he made some misstep and found her pulling away. Worst were times when the mistake was not born out of his inexperience with his unexpected fatherhood but instead something the Other Bail, the one who actually raised Leia and who she clearly wanted him to be, had inexplicably done. 

Padme drew up to his side in the hallway outside and gave him a knowing look. "Spare me a moment to talk, Bail, and I'll help you track her down." 

Bail sighed with relief and readily followed the former queen into a quiet office tucked away in the folds of the palace walls. He'd been hoping to get her help since she had total command of this palace's hiding places and the loyalty of all its staff, but Bail hadn't wanted to ask her outright. Leia had been cold and uncomfortable with Padme--a result of her unexpected discovery of her heretofore unknown parentage which Bail could not for the life of himself understand why he'd kept hidden from her. Nonetheless, the barriers Leia kept up with her biological mother clearly wounded Padme, and Bail didn't want to leverage her maternal feelings any more than absolutely necessary. 

Padme shut the door behind and said, "Leia's father is Anakin Skywalker." 

"Oh--I...hadn't wanted to pry." Bail hadn't missed the spark between the couple on the odd occasions when they were together in his presence, but oddly, he really hadn't bothered himself with questions of Leia's paternity. 

"I know, and it's very good of you. Naturally, our marriage is a secret few are privy to, but Leia told me she was upset to discover you and Breha knew her parents and kept it secret from her." She looked at Bail sadly, but a wry quirk of her lips softened her sorrow with a note of humor. "I'm sorry, Bail; I can't imagine she spared you her ire just because you hadn't kept such a secret from her, but I'm certain the future you did so to protect Leia. If Anakin--" she broke off her speech and her eyes darted down to her hands that tightly clasped the folds of her gown. 

Bail understood nonetheless. Anakin was a powerful Jedi. The jedi chosen one if rumors were to be believed, and Leia had been raised in a galaxy in the tight grip of the sith. Things were beginning to make more sense, even the story they told was tragic and sad. 

"Anyways." Padme spoke again. "Leia understands that now, and I hope things will be easier now that that's cleared up. She--she really loves you and Breha, you know. I'm. . ." Padme looked down again to steel herself, before looking at Bail directly and speaking with the poise and confidence he was more used to seeing in his old friend.  "I'll never be able to repay you for taking her in, but Leia expressed to me that even if we change our fates, she would like to be always raised by you." 

Bail put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll do it together, Padme; you're her mother too." A distant part of his mind recognized that this was easier to say now that he knew who Leia's biological father was. Skywalker was obviously pushing the boundaries of the jedi code against familial attachments--outright breaking it if he hadn't imagined Padme's reference to their marriage--but he still had duties and constraints. Bail was self aware enough to know that he'd never been so proud or flattered in his life as when he'd learned that the bright and talented girl that was and will be his daughter had dedicated her life to his legacy and passionately espoused his convictions. He didn't really want competition for that high honor. 

She smiled weakly at him, blinked to dry her moist eyes, and then said, "They're in the east meadow--just talking, so we don't think it's a hostage situation, but the royal guard has the place surrounded all the same. Let's go." The spark that so often lit Padme's eyes as she embarked on a mission of some kind returned, and Bail found himself impressed again, even if he should be used to it by now. 'I'll help you look' indeed. She must have had her people following Leia and the acolyte from the start. A bit of worry eased in his heart, and he found himself thanking the powers that be that Padme was still on his side. 

Somewhere along the way, his conversation with Leia had turned into an interrogation where she pestered him with questions she couldn't believe he didn't know the answers too. Luke was pretty sure Leia had actually inherited a spy network from her royalty parents, and this explained why she was so weird. She certainly acted like everyone was a spy and just assumed people knew things. 

"So you do answer to the emperor!" 

"I already told you I don't," he replied with irritation. 

"Yes but I'm not talking about your true loyalties! I'm talking about the authority structure of the sith as an organization. What's your position inside the sith?" 

"Pretty far down! Ventress all but told me she isn't supposed to be training me, and we're supposed to keep it on the down low."

"Well you failed spectacularly at that." 

Luke rolled his eyes and prepared some retort to remind her that he did that to save her life , but Leia suddenly held up a hand to silence him and stood up, brushing grass off of her expensive looking skirt. Luke followed suit and saw two figures approaching them. Leia seemed to recognize them because she smiled at the man and bowed lightly to the woman. Luke was pretty sure that if Leia lwas showing deference to the woman that meant she was important and powerful, but he was still having a hard time reconciling himself to the idea that powerful people could also be good people, so he settled with an awkward head bob to both the visitors. It wasn't like they weren't eyeing him with suspicion as well. 

"Leia--introduce us to your friend?" the man asked with a tone that spoke of an exasperated guardian (a tone Luke knew well). 

"Dad, this is Luke. Luke--my father Senator Bail Organa and Senator Amidala." Luke waved and was met with suspicion from her dad and a tight frown from the woman. A beat passed, and Luke only realized he was supposed to say something when Leia spoke hastily again. "Luke is from the future too," she said, "We were apparently both caught up in the same strange anomaly because we were both transported to the same area on Moran. We walked to the city and parted ways, and only after I had realized that I was displaced in time did I realize that Luke also knew what I was talking about when I spoke of the Empire." 

"You never mentioned this to me," Bail said, and Luke was selfishly a little glad that Leia was taking some of the heat off of him. It made sense that being with Ventress would mean lots of people would receive him with suspicion, but still--Luke didn't do anything wrong and this wasn't his father. 

Leia tipped her chin up. "It wasn't relevant." 

Incredulity flashed across Bail's eyes before he pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's a sith acolyte from the future, Leia, how could that not be relevant?" 

"Well I didn't know he'd go and do something like that! He was just a guy--I couldn't have known that he was a force sensitive or that Ventress of all people would find him." 

Luke already knew from experience that Leia was very good at arguing, but he was still impressed that she could do it to her own dad. 

The woman interjected to cut off further debate. "Did you talk to Obi-wan Kenobi?" she asked him, and Luke furrowed his brows. He had talked briefly to Ben , but it sounded like she meant the general of this time. Luke hadn't yet told Leia that there was a third traveler from their time, but Ben was a complicated subject for Luke, and he hadn't yet had time to think about the old hermit and where they now stood. 

"No?" he replied, and she didn't seem to believe him. Any disapproval he'd escaped with Mr. Organa was now fixed upon him in the piercing eyes of Senator Amidala. 

"Because Obi-wan knew that we're acting on Leia's intelligence, and I think the only way he could have gotten her name is through you." 

"What?!" Bail exclaimed. "Why haven't I heard of this?" he asked Padme, and as if realizing he was now repeating himself, he looked back to Leia and then to Amadala and pressed his lips together. "Did Skywalker tell you?" He asked suspiciously, and Luke perked up at the name. 

"No, Obi-wan asked me himself. I didn't tell you because I thought we had a security breach and I didn't want to tip anyone off that I was looking for it. However, that was days ago and we haven't found anything." 

Luke had a few moments to think while the senators were speaking to each other. The current Obi-wan must have gotten the information from Ben, he realized. Ben had, after all, gone off to prevent his dad and his past self from rescuing Luke; Ventress was sure he'd be captured by them and undoubtedly questioned. What Luke didn't know was how Ben, who'd evidently followed Luke back to the past in a bizarre attempt to protect him from the fall of the Jedi, knew about Leia even if Leia also had the force like Luke suspected. 

"I haven't talked to anyone," Luke repeated. "I didn't even realize I was in the past until like a week ago." Everyone looked at him oddly as though random time-travel was a totally normal possibility to consider when the people of a strange planet were talking about things that didn't make sense. 

"You've talked to the sith." Bail said. 

"Yeah, so? Ventress doesn't want Palpatine to win either." 

"What is your relationship to her?" Amidala asked, and Luke gave Leia an exasperated side glance. With all the interrogation she'd been giving him, he wondered if she wasn't more qualified to answer the questions than he was. Leia silently folded her hands behind her back and pursed her lips together, suddenly fascinated with waves the wind made in the grass. 

"You know, I don't really think I have to tell you that." It was pretty obvious that he was learning from Ventress, but she'd been clear that there was a big difference between her taking on a random force sensitive as a subordinate and actually having Luke as her apprentice. He didn't mind Leia knowing, but it was for the best if he could keep himself out of Sideous or Dooku's crosshairs by keeping as low a profile as he could. Ventress hadn't given him many rules to follow, yet he'd already managed to break them all as it was. 

"Luke, honey--" she started to say, and suddenly he realized that much of her frowns and looks of disapproval had been born out of worry for him. "You don't need to do this. I know it might feel like you do if you've grown up in a world without jedi, but we can use your gifts for good. I still have friends among the jedi--" 

"Hang on," Leia interjected "Nobody's joining the jedi until I can come up with a way to prevent the purges." 

"Yeah--" Luke agreed, "I mean thanks for the offer, but I've kind of...been over this already." 

Padme frowned and her brow creased in determination. After a moment of thought she spoke, "Luke--I have reason to believe Leia might be force sensitive--if the both of you came together and you're force sensitive, maybe that is the connection: two youths with the force that hadn't yet been purged or turned by the sith.  Can you maybe tell? If she's like you?" 

Leia cast her eyes down. Something about this topic made her uncomfortable--not the force as such or the idea of having strength in it, but something with the senator… Luke caught her eyes and tilted his head. Did she want him to answer? Leia made no outward sign, but Luke understood her like he now understood Ventress. She didn't mind; she wanted to know. 

"Yes, I don't know much about the force--I mean I know next to nothing, but Leia feels different. She's. . . Yeah I'm pretty sure she's like me." 

"Obi-wan already knows about Leia, but I don't think he knows about her." The senator gave meaningful looks at Leia and her father. "He and Anakin have already refused to join us once, but I haven't had the chance to really talk to Anakin. If he understands why we're doing this and on whose authority . . ."

"I'm not sure--" Leia started, unsure and maybe a little self conscious. 

"Wait a minute," Luke interrupted, "you're trying to get Anakin Skywalker to defect with you…so that he'll--what? 'Save' me from Ventress? Because like I said, I've already been over that, and it didn't exactly work out like I'd hoped, but we worked it out." 

"General Skywalker tried to save you from Ventress?" Leia asked him. "You didn't tell me that!" she accused. 

"Yeah, well, it's complicated because by the time he got around to rescuing me, Ventress had already let me go and then Ben--uh, that's another guy I met--kind of ruined everything for me, but maybe not because I think I can help best from where I am right now."

"Perhaps we've strayed from the matter at hand," Bail suggested. "Luke, possessing first hand knowledge about the possible future we are from, is an extraordinarily powerful--and dangerous--gift. You have to consider the possibility that Ventress targeted you for capture and assimilation in order to capitalize upon your knowledge." 

Luke rolled his eyes. He only knew the history of the civil war and formation of the empire in broad strokes, and other than the identity of the emperor, which Ventress already knew, most of what he knew was useless. Not everyone grew up with a spy network to inherit when they came of age. 

"No--I actually know why she kidnapped me in the first place, and it wasn't that." 

"Well, what was it then?" Leia asked him, and Luke suddenly remembered that he hadn't broken every one of Ventress's rules--not yet anyways. He hadn't spoken his family name or let anyone suspect who his father was. 

Luke weighed his options and considered how much information he really wanted to share with these people. On the one hand, Leia was his clearest ally; she was in the same predicament he was, from the same time and with the same idea--more or less--about what to do about it all. Her parents and Amidala were clearly her chosen co-conspirators, and they were negotiating an alliance with Ventress. (Technically, Ventress was a proxy for Dooku, but still). 

Luke trusted these people more than the bulk of the separatists generally, and he wasn't fond of keeping secrets. However, Ventress meant what she said about his family associations bringing unwanted attention. There was no reason they needed to know his private history; Luke hadn't even been told about his father's true career, but he wasn't quite sure if his aunt and uncle had lied to him to protect him or if they simply didn't know themselves. 

He thought about how Leia had studiously avoided personal questions about her parents and home life when they first met; a queen for a mother would surely bring as much unwanted attention on her head as a jedi father would for him, and she hadn't trusted him with it at first. Not at first, but she did trust him today, and Luke knew her openness was a rare gift. He owed it to her to reciprocate with some trust of his own. 

"Um--" he said to stall for time as these deliberations skittered through his mind. He looked down and scratched the back of his neck, and his audience could tell he was thinking about what to say. They waited patiently, seeming to know they would win his secrets in due course. Luke hoped that his father wouldn't get in trouble if his friends found out he wasn't quite as celebet as jedi were apparently supposed to be. 

"She nabbed me because she was stuck on a planet the republic had blockaded, and she thought that maybe I was Anakin Skywalker's brother and could be used for leverage." He looked up as he said it and was met with an array of expressions. Leia looked at him blankly, her father's eyebrows were slowly climbing as he considered Luke's words. Amidala looked slightly panicked, which seemed somewhat extreme and gave Luke pause. 

"It, ah, turns out I'm just his son. Being from the future and all." 

"What's your birthday?" Leia asked him suddenly, and the non sequitur took Luke off guard. 

"What?"

"You're birthday, Luke! When were you born??" She leaned forward and grabbed his shoulder tightly. Luke took a slight step back. 

"Empire Day."

"Which one?"

"The first one."

Leia let him go and stepped back. 

". . . What am I missing?" Luke asked, but nobody seemed to hear him. Amidala had her hands pressed tightly to her mouth and Luke didn't meet her gaze for long, but her eyes were moist. 

Leia began to pace a moment before rounding on her own father. "You knew. You had to have known," she said lowly. 

"Leia--" Bail began, he looked to his coworker for help, but was utterly ignored. "Leia, Padme told me why she thinks these things might have been kept from you." 

"You--" Leia squeezed her eyes shut tight and her hands clenched and unclenched. "Dad--I know you haven't, but you--! You SPLIT US UP!" Her voice nearly cracked as her words swelled to an irate fever-pitch, and Luke stopped paying attention to her meaning as he felt the dark side surge around Leia like a sandstorm. She shook her head in disbelief, she felt lost, and Luke didn't know how to help her.

"What is going on?!" Luke repeated, shouting this time since it seemed to be the thing to do at the moment. 

A soft hand lightly touched his cheek as Amadala drew his attention away from Leia. "Luke." she said. "Luke--Leia was adopted. We learned that I was or will be her mother by birth, but I wasn't--my husband and I didn't live to be there for her--" She blinked rapidly and then tilted her head to look at him again. 

Luke felt spellbound by her. He didn't understand the link between what he was being told and what was happening now, but he felt the weight of its meaning. 

"My husband is Anakin Skywalker. You do look like him." She smiled softly. 

Oh. 

"I--" Luke blinked. "You're the one who came to the farm with my dad." he said at last. Owen and Beru hadn't known who his mother was; they talked about a fine lady who had visited once with his father, rich and soft but with a compassion and interest for her hosts' humble home that Owen thought only youthful love could inspire. They didn't know who she was and didn't know if she was in fact his mother, but it had been the best his aunt and uncle could offer him to sooth the orphan-hunger. 

Padme nodded solemnly, and Luke saw that as she fought her feelings to maintain composure she grew more and more formal in her posture. That wouldn't do at all. Leia was crying in her father's arms now, and his mother-- their mother --was sustaining a double portion of her heartbreak at the sight of another teenaged child who did not know her and had lived a life without her. Luke himself closed his eyes as he felt the memory of all those lonely years well up from deep within his gut. 

A few years ago when he had been thirteen, Luke had slipped from the top of a vaporator in the west plains. He'd broken his leg at the crack of the second dawn and baked in the heat for hours. All that time Luke felt like a speck in the dessert, and thought of nothing else besides stopping the pain. By the time Owen found him, he was completely out of it, and his leg had inexplicably healed over. Of course it healed all wrong, and the bone had to be rebroken before it could be set right. 

It felt like that now. Everything all sharp and jagged as a splintered family snapped back into place. Luke closed the gap between him and his mother and wrapped his arms tightly around her. She stiffened in surprise then hugged him back, and Luke felt a bitter anger that he hadn't even known he bore against the force suddenly ease. He was an orphan, and the force had brought him across the unfathomable distance of years long past to within spitting distance of his own father--then taken that away from him. It seemed so senseless, so cruel at the time, and Ventress has taught him that such was the nature of life--and such was the nature of the force. 

Now Luke realized that Ventress spoke the truth--but only truth in part. It had hurt; it had been capricious and even cruel, but the winding path the force had set him on went through pain and through joy, each in their own turn. His sister and his mother--Luke knew he would have found them in time no matter which path he took, but they were found today , and that was what mattered. 

"And here I thought you were a natural at being sith--" Luke jerked out of his mother's embrace at the unexpected voice of Ventress, almost as if his thoughts had summoned her like a desert wraith. "what with stabbing me in the back less than two hours after I said we tend to do that sort of thing." Her hands were propped on her hips, and Padme grabbed Luke protectively and leveled a terrifying glare at the sith assassin. 

"You stay away from him, sith, " she seethed. 

Ventres raised her eyebrows and smiled with an edge of a leer. "I think I'm missing some context here--you're the fool who's banging Anakin Skywalker, yeah? Yeah y'are." She prowled around them. Luke couldn't believe it, but he thought Ventress might be feeling threatened. "Well senator, we're all separatists now aren't we? And your kiddo? Is my apprentice whether you like it or not." 

Padme and Leia both bristled and opened their mouths to speak, but Luke beat them to the punch. Pulling himself from his mother's grasp and placing himself between the women, he held up his hands. 

"Hey. Hey! " he said, "Guys, can't you see this is a good thing? We're trying to get along, remember? Cooperation? Trust? Ring a bell?" The question was rhetorical, but Luke let it hang in the air for a moment. "I can be a go between. Like a Tuscan peace child." 

Nobody liked that. 

Too bad, Luke decided. He smiled at his new family and then placed himself back at Ventress's side. He squinted at her as he tried her telepathy trick again: ' I've broken, like, ALL your rules by the way.'  Ventress gave him a deadpan look that somehow managed to convey her full range of exasperation and long suffering. 

"Luke--" Leia said at last her eyes were still puffy but she carried herself with pride and determination. "I'm sorry I said I was more important than you." Luke was honestly shocked; she didn't seem the type to admit to her mistakes even if he could tell she had been sorry almost as soon as she said it. 

"Give Ventress hell for me," Leia pronounced, then turned on her heels and marched away. Ventress grabbed Luke's arm and firmly dragged him off, but Luke couldn't stop the stupid smile that spread accross his face. 

"That's my sister," he said. 

"Yeah I could tell," Ventress replied. "You're both such Skywalkers."

"You think?"

"That's not a compliment." 

"Sure, but you really think so?" 

"No."

"You do ." Luke smiled again. He had a twin. The force brought them back together so they could save their parents. It all made so much sense now--except for one strange thing: why the hell was Old BenKenobi in the past as well, and what was he trying to do? The question was soon eclipsed by the emotional weight of all the things he'd learned today. It probably wasn't important anyways. 

Chapter Text

The Moran looked at him with lidless eyes. They were humanoid, more or less, but their unblinking stare could put outsiders ill at ease; so said the cultural dossier, but Obi-wan didn't think his disquiet came from his inexperience with the local physiology or culture. 

"I'm so glad you've come," said the prince--an honorary position for a planet that slowly evolved away from its monarchy some millennia ago.  But the message came through a protocol droid's translation, and Obi-wan, who'd been forced to study the basics of the language by his master, caught that the prince had used his language's singular 'you'--a strange exclusion lost in translation to basic. He might simply mean Qui-gon, and be dismissive of the Jedi's young apprentice… but he looked at Obi-wan as he said it and--

Obi-wan woke with a start. A pair of battle droids marched up to his cell to deposit another ration. The force shield on the small gap in his cell blinked out and the thin bronzed arm slipped through with a flimsy tray of a ration bar and water. Just what he had been waiting for; Obi-wan grabbed the droid's arm. 

"Hey!" it warbled in its nasally, mechanical voice.  "He's grabbed my arm!" 

"Well--pull it back," its unhelpful companion replied, but it was no use. The droids were thin and leggy, likely built for agility in multiple terrains. It wasn't much stronger than an ordinary humanoid, and it didn't have great leverage, bent over to deposit the food as it was. Obi-wan has the force and determination. He kept the arm on his side of the shield until the shields automatically reactivated, severing the mechanical arm just above the elbow. The droid fell backwards as the tug-o-war abruptly ended. 

"Oh bother," it said. 

"Nice, 379-1. Real nice," the other commented. Who had given the murder-bots a sarcasm script?

"Well. Should we report it?" 

"Don't involve me -- I don't want to be disassembled." 

"Oh bother," the droid repeated. They were both quiet a moment, obviously thinking with all the processors they had. "What if… we don't report it," it concluded tentatively. 

"What could he do with a hand? Hey! You--" the second droid's head peaked into Obi-wan's cell from the other side of the ray-shield. "Why did you steal 379-1's arm?" 

"I may be feeling vindictive," Obi-wan offered. 

"He says he's feeling vindictive." 

"Aww--" said the droid without the arm "it's not my fault you're a prisoner." 

"I know, but I can't cut off the hand of Dooku just yet, and it would make me pleased if you get decommissioned. One less battle droid to deal with." 

"You know what? Keep the arm. I'll find a new one." The droid sulked away with his friend, and Obi-wan smiled and bit into his ration bar.

He used the force to disassemble his prize. He hoped it might  have many uses down the line, but for now he simply needed some wire to short out the sound dampeners between the cells in the brig. He began to meditate as he stripped the protective coating off of the wires and unraveled the copper threads till they were thin enough to be slowly worked through a slender crack in the wall. The sound dampener was embedded in the walls and it took a great deal of concentration to not only move the wires into their precise place but to see what he was doing through the force. 

Obi-wan lost track of time, but when he felt the jolt of voltage surge across the wires as though it traveled along his own nerves and jerked from his meditative pose with a start, he hoped he'd done it at last. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he scooted over to the side of his cell and knocked on it tentatively. 

"Hello?" he called out with more anxious anticipation than he would like. 

He was taking a large risk and going through great pains to talk to a person he couldn't even be sure was placed into the cell next to his, but the brig wasn't very large. Dooku didn't keep many prisoners--or at least not close at hand--and Obi-wan needed to circumvent the isolation the sith was keeping him in. Maybe not right this moment, but eventually the solitude would get to him, and he wasn't prepared to risk the weakness of will that would follow if his captor was the only soul he could seek company in in that lonely moment of crisis. 

"Sir?" The muffled voice of Tapes rang through the wall, and Obi-wan sighed in relief.  

"I'm not a sir--my name is--" Obi-wan paused. This was a soldier from the future Obi-wan's army. Not only was Obi-wan not particularly excited about trying to explain the time travel (which was a mystery to him too, after all), but it likely wouldn't help in his mission to get the man to treat him like a jedi and a person rather than a commanding officer. "...Dax." 

There was a pause. "You'll have to excuse my ignorance--Dax, but I thought all jedi Padawans hold the rank of commander?" 

"I don't. I'm not fighting in this war." 

"I'm even sorrier that you've been captured then."

"Don't be. I'm still a jedi, and besides...I'm pretty sure you got captured just so Dooku'd have leverage over me." 

"My jump ship was shot down in a no-man's-land on Praxus. I was the only one of my brothers to survive the crash, and the clanker's got to me first." There was a wistful tenor of grief as the man told his story. Obi-wan wondered how long he had been left in solitary confinement, and if this was the first time he could tell his story to a listener who cared. It helped Obi-wan to steel himself to listen to the hard tale. It wasn't right, so much of it was wrong--Tapes was five years old . This was a children's crusade. 

"The seppies don't take prisoners unless they maybe need information--and well, I don't really have much intelligence anyways and they didn't even bother interrogating me to try their luck." 

"I'm sorry." Obi-wan leaned over and pressed his forehead to the wall between them. "This is all my fault." His fault in the future for throwing this man's life away--his fault in the present for getting him into this kind of trouble. Obi-wan knew there would be a time when he couldn't comply with what the sith asked, and he feared something terrible would happen to Tapes because of it. 

"Comman--Padawan Dax. With all due respect, I'm saying I should be dead, and you're the reason I'm alive." 

Obi-wan quietly began to rethink whether or not this plan to talk to his fellow captive really was going to improve his mental and emotional fortitude. "You shouldn't be dead. You shouldn't have even been in a place to be captured or killed to begin with," he responded. Qui-gon would tell him to stop focusing on what ought to be and accept what already was, but Obi-wan was pretty sure his master wouldn't be practicing what he preached on this particular matter. 

"It's what I'm born to do, sir." 

Obi-wan was silent. He couldn't quite bring himself to say the man should never have been made in the first place--that if he was able to return to a time that made sense, he would try to prevent it all from happening. He knew that wasn't right either and wished the force would just tell him what to do and be done with it.

Ahsoka propped her elbows on the diner table as she indulged in a smoothie Ben had charged to the temple's tab. She looked to Ben who was meditating on the other booth seat, likely waiting for a response from Ventress. His eyes were closed and even if she was pretty sure he was deeply stressed, he seemed to hold himself in perfect equilibrium even better than her Master Kenobi. 

Her comm hummed on her wrist. And she smiled as she looked down at the message from Skyguy. He updated her on their troop movements (currently fortifying the strategic worlds opened to the separatists through Naboo and Alderaan), and told her that they were giving the wayward planets space, which both irked the part of her master who wanted to swoop in and fix everything and relieved the part that wanted anything but a war with Naboo. More interestingly, Ventress was reported by republic spies to be on Naboo. The Jedi didn't even know yet; Anakin had learned the news from the chancellor himself. 

He'd had half a mind to bring his full fleet in and kill the sith witch himself (the chancellor agreed with the sentiment--she was poisoning his beloved home planet, after all), but thankfully he had better options, he wrote. She was technically listed as missing in action, and that gave her a freedom of movement few other jedi enjoyed. Anakin wanted her on Naboo. He had high level access codes to enter the system and the palace (clearly his undefined connection to Padme paid dividends, Ahsoka thought), and since the rendezvous Ben had promised was clearly a bust, this would give her a fresh lead on their mission too. 

She looked up at Ben again and then reread Anakin's last lines: 

Figure out if Ben will actually be of use for once. I can't figure him out to save my life (which is definitely why I'm laid up in this kriffing medbay), but he knows more about this Naboo crisis and the person screwing with history than he lets on, and it would be real nice if he'd help put things back to the way things should be. Otherwise--ditch him, Snips. Remember the Corellian Captive Juke I taught you a year or so back? ;) 

Ahsoka smiled mischievously to herself. She loved Obi-wan dearly, but it was times like this that made her glad that Anakin was her master; he understood her more than Obi-wan did or apparently ever would. Anakin knew how to hunt. 

"Ben." she said. He ignored her even thought she'd known he heard. "Ben." She loudly slurped the last residue of smoothie from the bottom of the glass with her straw. Ben cracked his eyes open and looked at her with irritation. Ahsoka smiled. 

"Ben, face it, Ventress ditched you and took Anakin's brother with her. What are we gunna do about it?" 

"We'll have to track them down. It will take time, but it's not impossible." 

"They're on Naboo," Ahsoka said snugly and relished the surprise that crossed Ben's face. 

"And you know this because. . .?" 

"Anakin told me." 

"And Anakin heard it from?" 

"The chancellor still has contacts in Naboo." 

"Ah." Something in Ben's countenance closed. 

"What?" Ahsoka asked, feeling inexplicably defensive despite having done nothing wrong. 

"Ventress will be there to discuss Naboo's succession. We shouldn't involve ourselves in that particular set of circumstances." 

"Only because you want it to happen!" Ahsoka objected. 

"You know very well that I've interfered minimally with things. The changes Leia is making were not my plan." 

Ahsoka folded her arms across her chest. Ben Kenobi wasn't going to talk her in circles; she was his grand-padawan after all. "Not your plan, but you still want it to happen. We need to go there--save this Luke guy, stop this Leia lady. Save the republic then save the jedi. Come on Ben! It will be so easy with you on our side!" 

Ben sighed and took a careful sip of his glass of water. "When the time is right, I will help to bring all your anachronistic guests home--"

"Do you even know how to do that?" Ahsoka interrupted. She was answered with a withering look and shut her mouth. 

"--but until then, Leia is safest if no attention is brought to her. Ahsoka, you and I bursting in--even if it is only to confront one reneging sith assasin--would most definitely draw eyes." 

Ahsoka wanted to argue, wanted to say that she cared little about a time traveling traitor's safety as much as Ben clearly thought of her as an ally. Ben himself got a pass because he was Obi-wan; Ahsoka wasn't just going to break anybody out of republic holding cells. But it was pretty clear that Ben still had an agenda not quite in line with her and Anakin's, and as much as she accepted that he wanted to help her, and as much as she wanted to help him--it was probably time to part ways. 

She heaved an exaggerated sigh of defeat that instantly drew a suspicious eye. Good. Ben should know what kind of game was afoot. This was war. 

"So what?" she asked, "we're just supposed to hideaway in a hole because you don't want to get too close to where things are actually happening?" 

Ben pressed his lips together. "There's too much I don't know--about why things in my time happened the way they did, about what's happening right now. . .If going to reassert myself in this history, I can't make the same mistakes." 

Ahsoka felt this little speech was an encouraging sign from Ben; he was acting like Obi-wan again. "So what'll you do about it?" 

A shadow crossed his face. "I need to go to Coruscant." 

"What! I just talked you out of going there! You said you'd be assasinated." 

"As a prisoner, I would be, but I'll be going covertly." 

"And me?" 

"Unless you wish to return to your master, I would gladly accept your company." 

" I want to go to Naboo." 

"As does Anakin, I'm sure," Ben retorted. He was right, of course, and worse--the unspoken truth that Anakin couldn't go for the exact same reasons that Ahsoka shouldn't hung in the air. Naboo was willingly joining the seperatisrt; if the jedi were seen to invade the wayward planet, there would be an uproar spread far and wide among other planets happy with their place in the republic until the moment that placement no longer feels like a choice.

"Okay fine," Ahsoka relented. "I need to go back to the ship and call my master then. Give him the update." 

Ben hummed absently. "We really should leave the ship in the yard. It's an incriminating trail, and we'll need new transit for Coruscant anyways." 

"Sure thing, Master." She shrugged. "I'm sure a padawan debriefing her Jedi master while stowing away in a covert attempt to sneak into the galaxy's capitol planet is just what we need."

Ben rolled his eyes and waved her on her way. "Now I know you're up to something," he mumbled, clearly catching that she had undisclosed motives for going back to their stolen transit. 

Ahsoka gave a quick salute and hurried out of the diner making for the shipping docks where they had stashed their ride. Okay maybe she wasn't as good at intrigue as Obi-wan was; even as a padawan he was relentless in his gambits and counter-strategies, but if Ben wasn't going to stop her, then he was basically giving her permission. 

Chapter Text

"It is good to see you again, Master Jinn," Deppa smiled as the the giant of a man ducked into her shuttle. 

"And I you, though it has not been so long on my part." 

She inclined her head. "Allow me to introduce my padawan, Caleb Dume. Caleb, this is Qui-gon Jinn, an old friend and your temple tea garden ghost." 

The boy, who looked a little younger than Obi-wan, blushed bright red, clearly mortified by his master's allusions. Deppa always did have a devastating sense of humor. Unfortunately for the hapless padawan, Qui-gon was more curious than merciful. He cocked his head to the side and looked at Master Billaba for explanation. She in turn looked at her pupil; perhaps she was trying to teach him courage. 

"I didn't--" he started, but realizing defensiveness would earn him no graces, he quickly changed tact. "It's an initiate rumor, Master. They said that you, uh, after you were killed by a sith, a tea garden you'd tended in the temple was left to neglect." He winced, knowing this would not be a story Qui-gon loved to hear. "And, um, some of the initiates started saying that you...your spirit..came to them in dreams and made them care for it the right way." 

"And were you one of these initiates, padawan?" 

He blushed again. "Not exactly...the first group started training other younglings once they got apprenticed, and it's like an initiate tradition." 

Qui-gon smiled and despite himself felt some of his misery ease. Deppa gave him a knowing look; when had she grown so wise? Then he turned back to the padawan and said, "though I cannot speak to the truth of messages from beyond the grave, I can assure you I am very pleased you and the initiates before you have taken such care of the tea garden." Padawan Dume gave a short bow and his master dismissed him. "He will make a great knight one day. Mace must be terribly proud of you both." 

She smiled and ushered him into the cockpit "He worries constantly, but such is his nature." She took the nav seat and left the pilot chair to him. "Your earlier communication suggested a reconnaissance in Moran; is that still where your famed heart leads you." 

Qui-gon gave her a wry side glance. "Yes, your military had set up extensive infrastructure there. It shouldn't be a problem accessing resources and unsanctioned landing sites." 

She hummed as she programmed the destination into the hyperxrive. "Obi-wan mentioned you disapproved of the Jedi's role in this war." 

"Could you expect anything less from me? The true shock is that nobody else seems to see how wrong this is." 

"That's where you're wrong, Master Jinn," Deppa replied quietly. "We know--but we're trapped and cannot see the way out. If your eyes are clear with the blessings of an outside view, then please--tell us what we might do. Such may be the reason the force has brought you to us in these dark days." 

"Otherwise shut up and stop complaining of problems I do not understand?" 

She tipped her head. "You're words, not mine." 

"Actually I rather think they were General Kenobi's."

She shook her head, and her nose scrunched the same way it used to when her master would order her to make fifty more repetitions of her Djem So forms just so that he and Qui-gon could dual again. "You two." 

Qui-gon knew he was asking for punishment, but--"what?"

"You sulk when you fight, and you both want me to smooth things over."

"I do not. We aren't even fighting." 

"Not even with this Ben Kenobi? There are a great many Obi-wans running about right now, and it's supposed to be your job to give your padawan the best chance at a bright future. Maybe both older Kenobis feel like a threat to that, like no matter what you do to save the padawan today, he'll have to face a war tomorrow--and force only knows what else the day after that." 

Qui-gon punched the ship into hyperdrive and folded his arms across his chest. "The council put you up to this." 

"I sit on the council, Qui-gon--I wanted to check on you as much as Mace, Obi-wan or the rest." 

Qui-gon was silent a moment, but he knew when he was trapped well and good. Master Billaba opened her volley with an accusation that he sulked; he couldn't very well sulk in response. 

"Yes it's hard, but I don't need to have all the right answers to know that what's happening is wrong and that the Jedi shouldn't have a part in it. I'm sorry. I know I don't have the responsibilities you do and do not need to weigh the costs of every choice, but it's still true." He folded his arms and furrowed his brows as he looked for the words to say what he really meant. "I don't--This isn't who I wanted my Obi-wan to become. He's only sixteen and already has such a gift for diplomacy; I look at these strangers with his name and wonder if I left him a crueler galaxy than the one I enjoyed."

She looked at him serenely, but Qui-gon could sense the spark of disbelief and amusement. It rankled him, but he felt he was stuck in the same hold she'd pinned her padawan with when she'd first introduced him to the boy: defense was not an option, only steeling oneself to tell the full story and accept that others will take it as they will. 

"You know, Master Windu always told me you were a proud man." 

Qui-gon rolled his eyes. "You think I take too much responsibility for things?" 

"I'm not here to lecture you, Qui-gon Jinn. Mace wanted to come himself, but the council elected me instead; I'm here to help." A long moment passed and Qui-gon wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Eventually, Deppa spoke again. "They call him the Negotiator, did you know that?" she said. 

"Who--Obi-wan?" 

She rolled her eyes. "Who else? You said you feared his diplomatic gifts were thrown away, but it is his gift to wrestle truces and treaties from the ravished of battle that has elevated him to the position he holds today. I don't think you realize how proud you ought to be." 

Qui-gon looked down at his hand resting carefully on his lap. He had been too thick to realize it before now, but Deppa had clearly told him her intentions at the outset of this stuttering and difficult conversation: she believed both he and Obi-wan wanted her to mediate between them, and she was here to help. He wondered if Obi-wan knew what she was up to--probably not, all things considered. Qui-gon couldn't see the man agreeing to such an idea.

Nonetheless, Qui-gon could use this. He didn't want mediation because he wasn't fighting with Kenobi. He wasn't. But there was so much he didn't understand. 

"He said that we were at odds when I died." Qui-gon looked up at the bright lines of hyperspace outside the viewport. "At the time I assumed it was his actions as a knight or some evolution of his character that I had disapproved of-- It wouldn't be unprecedented. We are so different, Obi-wan and I; that was clear from the start." 

"But?"

"But I learned I hadn't even managed to see him through to knighthood before I passed into the force."

"Ah." Deppa leaned back in her seat. 

She was going to make him ask. "I'm dealing with a history I haven't lived, and it directly concerns my real and present responsibilities: to train my padawan into the knight he should be." 

"Yes, so many padawans are orphaned in this war;--I've had to face my fear that my Caleb might be numbered in their ranks before the end." She looked to him, and Qui-gon could see the weight that she bore in her heart. "I can only imagine what it would be like to find myself in a future that confirms all those fears, and I suppose I also might find it difficult to relate to the Caleb I would find in such a time." 

Her empathy was kind; less so was the fact that she was going to make him ask. Qui-gon closed his eyes and massaged his eyelids and then asked, "what happened? I need to know." 

"Have you tried asking Obi-wan?" 

"Deppa, stop." Qui-gon gave her a wry glare. He had always had a soft spot for Padawan Billaba from the moment Mace first took her on. She reminded him of himself--the iconoclastic padawan of Yoda's latest stern and formal protege. She had felt like his niece then, now he saw her as the cousin she truly was. "It's unseemly to torment your victims so." 

She laughed. "Okay, Okay! I relent," she said as she sobered to the serious topic at hand. "But you must know, I did not witness these events firsthand. I was a young knight then myself, treading dark paths with foolish abandon, but Mace told me what had happened. He was both furious at you and grief stricken at your passing, however, so even the famed Windu objectivity might be tested in such circumstances." 

"That sounds like Mace," Qui-gon replied neutrally. 

"This all happened so suddenly; Obi-wan was nearly of age, already older than some padawans who face the trials but likely still a few years out from his own. You were taking your time with him, and you both made such an effective team that nobody was in a hurry to see you split. 

You had been stranded during a mission on some remote rim world when you met an enslaved boy, strong in the force and eager to help. His mother said he had no father." 

"Anakin Skywalker," Qui-gon guessed. It made sense--the young knight had obviously met Qui-gon before his passing; he was older when he entered the temple--old enough to know his family but not his father, Qui-gon recalled as he thought of the discussions that had risen when the sith assasin had called in with her hostage Skywalker.

"Yes. You freed him and brought him to the temple to be tested. You believed you had found the chosen one." Qui-gon's eyes widened, but he kept silent. Depa went on, "The council, however, refused to take him as an initiate: he was too old, too attached, too angry and harmed by his past traumas as a slave." 

"As if that's his fault!" Qui-gon cried indignantly. Leave it to the council to look at a child raised in brutal captivity and see his traumas as mark against the boy instead of a sharp rebuke against themselves . 

"I know, Qui-gon, I know. Nonetheless, you were adamant. You declared your intentions to take Skywalker as your padawan publically before the council." She looked at him gravely before continuing. "Obi-wan you recommended for the trials to make room at your side; he stepped forward to declare before the council that he was ready--and the council rejected him. Master Jinn, it amounted to a public disowning.

There was no time to determine what was to be done; you and Obi-wan were sent to complete your mission and investigate the return of the sith. . . and you perished in the confrontation. Obi-wan defeated Maul. Perhaps he wasn't ready to be a knight, but he had lost his master and destroyed the first sith in a millenia. The council knighted him without the trials, and the first thing he did as a knight was defy the council's wishes and take the boy on to be his padawan. Obi-wan never said a word about it, but it is widely understood that he did so to honor your wishes and complete your chosen calling."

Qui-gon remained silent at the end of Deppa's tale. After a minute she stood up and placed her hand on his shoulder. "I must check on my apprentice's progress in his meditations," she said quietly, "I really have missed you Qui-gon." She squeezed his shoulder in encouragement then quietly left the cockpit. 

Alone in the silence, Qui-gon placed his heads in his hands and thought, insanely, of the temple tea garden ghost asking younglings to take up the difficult task of cultivating the volatile and finicky teas after a time of neglect and abuse. Unfinished business. Qui-gon could believe himself to be such a ghost; after all, he couldn't think of a single sacred duty that he hadn't left incomplete. 

Chapter Text

"Again." Ventress twirled the thin switches that she'd cut from the garden yew tree in her hands as she watched Luke slowly pick himself off the ground. They'd been at it without rest for hours, and Luke didn't yet know how to draw strength to endure from the force. 

"I can't do it," he said at last, and he wasn't giving up lightly. 

"You can." She flipped her right hand out to sting his thigh with her rod, and he jerked his lightsaber down in an attempt to intercept the still green wood. One proper parry, she'd told him. They could stop as soon as he could swing his lightsaber through the sticks she was jabbing and swiping him with.

Just as his blade fell in front of her stroke, Ventress pulled the stick up to rap his knuckles. Her left switch flicked his overgrown hair into his eyes. He hissed. 

"I can't. This--this thing is alive and it's like it's fighting me!" He held out his bloody saber. 

Ventress tilted her head as she considered the kyber crystal within his blade. Maybe it was fighting back--Jedi always take care to match the blade to the spirit of its wilder, but Ventress knew nothing of those secret rites or how such a feat might be achieved. The sith just picked their crystals at will and forced their blades into submission. 

"If it's fighting you, then you should defeat it. Either way, it's no excuse for your abominable form and unhoned reflexes. Now. Again." 

"l can't tell," he ground out as he raised his lightsaber with a shaky hand, "if this is still about me stopping you from murdering my sister or if you've already forgiven me for that." He paused and tried to catch his breath.  "--Because this level--ow! of jackassery is just-yEs--oh... your normal selF." He punctuated his final sentence with a surprisingly quick reaction to her feint and a swipe that brought his lightsaber skimming along the wood, searing it black as Ventress pulled it away just in time. Her hunch was correct--the boy was more talented when he wasn't over-thinking things. 

Ventress jammed the sticks into the ground signaling that she was satisfied. Immediately, Luke slumped back to the ground and folded his legs beneath him. 

"To answer your question," she said, "no I have not forgiven you for openly defying me like that, and I never will. Forgiveness is for those not strong enough to exact revenge. Sith always keep the score, and we do not forget." 

Luke narrowed his eyes at her, "If you're keeping score, then what about all the crap you put me through?" 

"Exactly. Your betrayal was excellent progress both in your training and in our good standing with each other. We're even now." 

Luke balked, "we are not even! I didn't even do anything wrong! You don't just get to murder people like it's your right to!" 

Ventress smiled sharply and glanced up at the window presiding over the yard they were training in. She hadn't looked before, but just as she knew, Padme was there, barely visible behind the reflective surface of the glass. She could hear everything they said to each other, and Ventress was glad for it. "Good. Now you're thinking like a sith." 

Luke rolled his eyes. "You should stop saying that like it's an insult, you know. If you're ashamed of who you are, then just change." 

Ventress felt her vicious triumph, which she had enjoyed at the chance to flaunt her apprentice's status as hers to a woman who had a world given to her and still was not satisfied, wither as Luke's rejoinder clarified his good character to his hidden audience. Padme left her perch satisfied and more determined than ever to take back her blood relation.

Damn. Asajj had encouraged him to sharpen his tongue against hers and talk back. It was both generally more entertaining for her (Dooku had never allowed such things), and, she felt, the only way to toughen the boy's sanguine nature into something that could survive in the wider galaxy. That tolerance on her part had helped the two of them find a balance despite all odds, but to a stranger it looked like she lacked control over her apprentice. Maybe she did lack control, Ventress thought  as she reached down and dragged the boy up by his arm. But she knew a thin thread of loyalty was being spun in its place. Ventress understood loyalty well, but never in her life had her devotion been reciprocated. 

Her musings were cut short by a ripple in the force like the rush of air as a vacuum lock was released. A weight hung in the bright daytime sky, and though she couldn't see it she knew that her master's dreadnought had dropped out of hyperspace into the system. Luke paused in his gait and squinted at the sky in confusion. 

"What--" he began to ask but was cut off by a sharp hand from Ventress. Dooku was comming her, and she gestured him out of the line of sight from her holo-cams before answering the call and bowing deeply to the image of Darth Tyranus that sprung up on her wrist. 

"Master." she greeted, "I hadn't expected your presence before the conclusion of the preliminary talks." It was a slight jab, but they both knew the Naboo government would be irate at Dooku's show of force. Much of Ventress's hard work today, already strained by the unexpected revelation that her apprentice wasn't only Anakin's future son but also Padme Amidala's, would be lost. 

"I would prefer you not remain distracted from your previous mission. The less we remain reliant upon these earth worshipers the better." 

"I have captured their holy books and retrieved the holocron to translate them. They certainly worship the force as made manifest in their planet, and Moran is clearly a focal point in the unifying force." 

Dooku frowned. "This I already know." 

"Between escaping the Republic's blockade, retrieving the holocron to translate, and fielding these negotiations--" 

"I am uninterested in your excuses," he waved his hand dismissively. "You will report to my ship and give me something useful while I complete these talks." 

"I live to serve," she replied with a final bow. The call was unceremoniously cut. 

Luke looked to her with uncertainty. 

"Lets' go before Amadala gets wind we've been called off planet and tries to kidnap you." 

"Hang on, my mom will not try to kidnap me. Also I haven't been called away." 

"Right, because Dooku doesn't know about you. We're trying to keep that happy state of affairs, and you running around down here while he's down here and I'm up studying alien cults is not going to help." 

"Okay fine. Lets go--but I'm saying goodbye to my family first." The boy got that stupid grin on his face as he spoke the words family. He had no idea what he was getting himself into. 

"Kid, listen to me well and good. We talked about how Daddy Skywalker isn't supposed to have a family? That means your soon to be parents are keeping their romancing a secret, and that means that you and your twin can only be claimed by Padme Amadala and Padme Amadala alone. She is a very powerful person, and we're standing in her home turf. A palace she used to hold court as queen before she stepped down to play galactic politics."

Luke furrowed his brows as he considered, apparently for the first time that his newfound family were much more than the scruffy plebeians he'd grown up imagining. 

"Use the dark side, Luke; you should be able to feel her anger and desperation at finding not one but two kids from a future where they don't know her, and don't know each other. That woman can't take your sister back, not when she's evidently been raised by her close allies and royalty in their own right. But she can take you . And she will try. I'm nothing more than your father's enemy. I'm not adopting you, I'm training you, and Amidala won't want to see that happen." 

Luke hung his head and his shoulders slumped as if he was carrying the whole weight of his broken family upon them. Asajj didn't understand the profound importance he placed in them--the strangers of a few scant meetings. Her own parents had sold her into slavery since infancy, and Ventress had stopped asking why a long time ago; it didn't matter what they did or why. They gave her life and nothing else, so she was going to take what she had and wring every last drop of power she could from it all. 

"I'll talk to Leia. She'll understand." 

Ventress sighed, but her attention was drawn to the approach of the royal guard. They demanded her presence before the queens to account for Dooku's act of aggression. Ventress gave Luke a sidelong look; he caught her meaning and ran off. He had until she finished smoothing things over with the local authorities to put his own affairs in order and meet her on her ship. 

Obi-wan huddled against the wall he shared with Tapes after being dragged back inside his cell. The dark side clung to the walls of this place like cob-webs, but it cleared out where the light of Tapes eeked through the walls. 

"You okay kid? Unhurt?" Tapes asked. They'd only been able to talk to each other for a few days, but this exchange had become like a ritual between them. Tapes would ask after his welfare; Obi-wan would brush it off. They would argue about which of the two was older and therefore more entitled to worry about the other. 

"Yeah. No torture yet." Obi-wan heaved an exaggerated sigh as if he were disappointed. Maybe in some ways he really was. 

Dooku had proved to be a rather patient captor. He demanded little from Obi-wan so far: bow here; stay silent while I kill these defectors from the techno-union; Do not look away when I show you what people will do to each other if given the chance. Obi-wan knew he was meant to grow accustomed to his place as Dooku's captive, to find obedience easier and easier through slow repetition. 

He did comply so long as what was asked of him wasn't actually wrong to do. He hated it and felt the oppressive grip of despair every time it seemed like he was being jerked around like a dog on a chain, but he knew that terrible costs would be born by innocents at his first sign of rebellion. He needed to know that he truly had no other choice when he defied the sith. He could live with the consequences of his actions if his soul was on the line. He could live with it. 

He thought maybe a little torture would be easier though--take the choice out of his hands and ride the sufferinf out. At least no one else would hurt for it. 

"Can I ask you a question, sir?" 

Obi-wan shifted his weight at the break in their usual dialogue, and ignored the habitual 'sir' that still snuck into Tapes's speech patterns from time to time. "Of course." 

"Why is Dooku doing this to you?" 

Obi-wan looked down. There was still blood on his hands from when he'd tried to stop up the bleeding of a captive Torgutan resistance fighter earlier in the day. The man had been stabbed by his lover when Dooku had promised the woman her freedom if only she could kill her partner that very instant. 

Obi-wan had expected his grandmaster to kill the woman after her betrayal was complete, but the count honored his word and set her on her way with enough money to go wherever she pleased. Her eyes had met Obi-wan's as he knelt over the dying man and pressed his hands against his bleeding wound, and he saw that she was already destroyed. 

"He's not doing anything to me. Just bossing me around a bit while he does terrible things to others." 

"Did the jedi teach you that?" 

"Teach what?" 

"That your suffering doesn't matter?" 

Obi-wan set his head back against the wall and sighed. "No, we don't--why would you even think that?" 

"I haven't met many jedi, but my general famously does the same sort of thing. Underplays his injuries and stresses. . . You remind me of him." 

Obi-wan pressed his palms against his eyelids and slowly dragged his hands down his face. Ever since showing up in this time, the spectre of the future Obi-wan Kenobi had loomed over his head. 

"I wish I didn't," he mumbled, and instantly regretted his laps in voicing such an unhelpful complaint. 

"With all do respect, sir, I'm paying you a compliment. " 

"I'm sorry, Tapes."

"Don't--" 

"Dooku's coming!" Obi-wan cut off the trooper. He felt the cold, heavy weight upon the air that he had come to recognize as the fallen jedi's signature presence draw near. A few moments saw Dooku stepping into the dark well that prefigured him. He had never personally collected Obi-wan from his cell before, and this seemed an ill omen. He had just been released from Dooku's company. 

He waved his hand and the cell door opened. "Come." 

Obi-wan stared insolently back for a second before he saw he'd pushed as far against his captor's limits as he dared and scrambled to his feet. "What's happening?" 

Dooku ignored him until he had lead him into a training dojo. He pulled a training saber from a rack and tossed it at Obi-wan, he caught it and eyed the sith lord wearily. 

"You were not yet a knight when you defeated the first sith to resurface in a millenia." Dooku spoke at last. His saber ignited and Obi-wan wondered distantly if he was going to die now. "A fool by the name of Darth Maul: we all thought he'd perished until he dug himself out--half a man--from the hell you'd sent him to." Dooku smiled slightly and struck out. 

He force pushed Obi-wan with a sharp shove concentrated not in his center of mass as was usual but high on around his neck and shoulders. Obi-wan fell back off his feet as though clothslined off a speeder bike. He choked at the hit to his windpipe but managed to throw back his free hand to turn the shove into a handspring away from his attacker. No sooner had his hand planted upon the ground then Dooku began to telegraph a cross-stroke to his back. Dooku maybe wasn't trying to kill him if he was giving Obi-wan half a second to ignite his training saber and block the strike, but he was using his fully powered saber against Obi-wan's training blade. 

Obi-wan completed his rebound in one piece, but the his back and waist pricked with an uncanny chill and tight anxiety where he would have been cut in two. Obi-wan somehow understood that Dooku had mimicked the blow his other self had apparently dealt to Maul. He stared back at the sith with wide eyes. 

Dooku began to walk around him in a slow, appraising prowl. "You defeated him because your master had already fallen. I wonder--what did you feel when you seized Qui-gon's saber and swung it through his killer?" 

Obi-wan swallowed but did not turn his head or eyes to follow Yan Dooku as the old man circled at his back. He had the force, and the force was with him. It had been clear Qui-gon was dead by this future date; it didn't matter when or how. It wasn't him; wasn't his master. 

"Was it peace?" Dooku's voice stretched thin between the irony and sarcasm in the question. 

"If you think those events mean I'll fall, then you're asking the wrong Obi-wan Kenobi." 

". . .maybe it wasn't rage and grief that pushed you on. . . After all--Qui-gon had publicly disowned you just the day before." 

Obi-wan spun to face his accuser. "You lie!" he spat. 

Dooku tilted his head with the slightest lift of his shoulders as if to concede. "Perhaps. If you want to be pedantic about it, he hadn't disowned you as such , I suppose. He prematurely recommended you for your trials in order to make room for a new padawan." A look of derision twisted Dooku's expression. "An undisciplined youngling not raised in the temple. Angry, overeager, brash. Everything we said you were when the council talked of your aging out of the temple unchosen." 

Obi-wan felt his face heat against his will, but with what feeling he could not say. His enemy leered as he saw his attack hit its mark. 

"He did so because Anakin Skywalker was the chosen one. What do you think, Obi-wan Kenobi?" The sith spread his arms wide, and Obi-wan felt the galaxy falling under his reach. "Has your protege ne replacement balanced the force? Was Qui-gon right to throw you away?" 

Obi-wan's blood beat loudly against his eardrums, and a dread welled within his gut and seized his tongue. It wasn't the words and insult nor the awful tragedies that had yet to be--not really. They hadn't happened to him, but the visions--the looming dread and unshakable expectation of infinite sadness---

Dooku attacked again, his saber curving and looping like a calligrapher's pen, and Obi-wan had to leave his existential panic for the very real threat of the burning blade. The wound Dooku had previously scored on Obi-wan's arm, which had been treated but still ached from time to time, seemed to burn afresh at the nearness of the same lurid blade. 

The former jedi master clearly dwarfed Obi-wan's skill, and he pushed the padawan to his very limits but no further. Obi-wan's Atari form was useless against the Sith, and the man seemed to be forcing him back into a more defensive form. 

Over and over Dooku came at him--and Obi-wan parried for minutes that stretched like hours. Any time Obi-wan tried to disengage, he was pressed again, the fatal blade would swing closer, threatening unthinkable punishment should he give up before the sith was ready to allow it.  

Eventually, Obi-wan felt something in his core--some hold he had upon the force--give out, and he stumbled back until he hit the wall, and Dooku's blade rested against his neck. Obi-wan gasped for breath and felt the sweat roll down his temples and small of his back. I should be sweating more , he thought with absurd detachment, I must be dehydrated. 

Dooku frowned down at him, his severe features as unreadable as the stone busts that graced the temple walls. 

"You'll have to do better than that if you want to live," he said at last. 

Obi-wan blinked uncomprehending. Then he managed to wrangle his too thick tongue back under his mind's rule and croaked, "well, if you're going to kill me, get on with it."

Dooku's lightsaber blinked off with a screech, and Obi-wan sunk slightly on the wall as his knees began to shake. 

" I won't be the one to kill you, at this rate." He waved his hand and four droids walked forward with binders. "But I will be leaving you for some time and will not be able to protect you anymore."  Dooku looked at him, and Obi-wan knew he wanted him to ask who he was supposedly being protected from. He refused to give him the satisfaction.

Dooku sighed as if dealing with a youngling's tantrum and then got, at last, to his point. "I have another apprentice--brilliant, driven, powerful in the dark side. But just as our Qui-gon discovered when he found his chosen one, I can only have one. " 

The droids shackled Obi-wan, and he didn't have it in him to resist. Dooku turned to walk away, and left him with no more than an order to the droids:

"keep him in the force-sheilded cell while I'm away."

Chapter Text

When she waved to the tired security guard of the low security port, she reached into the force to trigger the silent alarm. Poor man had no idea it was even activated until the police burst in with the frightening efficiency that spoke to Mandalor's pre-reform roots as the home of the galaxy's fiercest warriors. 

There would be a little time as the Mandolorian police clarified that the guard had not triggered the alarm on purpose. Then they would run a customary check of the registrations for all ships at the dock. They would discover that their ship was a reported stolen republic military transport. They would seize it and arrest anyone inside.

She sat back in one of the shuttle's only comfortable seats and commed Ben. 

"Yes?" he answered with the slightly dry trenor that seemed more pronounced the older Obi-wan got. 

"Master! I'm--" she pressed her lips together and cast her eyes aside. She felt a little guilty about this, but it's too late now. "They've found our ship; they're not inside yet, but--" 

"Who, Ahsoka?" Ben interrupted her spiel firmly. His voice was calm, but there was a thread of urgency that she could detect within it. "Who's found the ship?" 

"The police--port authorities." 

Ben mumbled a string of huttese curses so fluently and with such creativity that it might even rival Anakin's prodigy in the art. Something about the foul turns of phrase coming from Obi-wan scandalized Ahsoka in a way she never thought cursing could anymore. He could not have picked that up from Anakin alone; her grandmaster had raised him for ages and never once gave hint that his padawan's colorful tongue would wear off on his own formal speech patterns. 

"Stay down. Don't let them know you're there. I'll be over in seven clicks." He hung up.

Ahsoka took a deep breath, stowed her sabers in a safe compartment at the back of the ship and stepped out with her hands raised. 

Ben made quick time for the port, but still arrived just in time to meet Ahsoka's eyes as she was ushered into a police speeder. She shrugged a half-apology, and Ben was pretty sure he was being played. He had the clearest premonition that the day would conclude with Ahsoka running free and himself in Mandalorian binders--unable to stop her heedless flight into danger. 

Somebody wanted to go to Naboo quite badly---no. That wasn't it. Anakin wanted to go to Naboo, and Sideous wanted him there on his behalf. How many times had the man sent Darth Vader to put down a rebellious world? If Ventress, and by extension Luke, really were on the world of a thousand fountains, then it was merely convenient bait. Was Ahsoka going to meet him there? Was she going with her master's knowledge at all? 

Ben needed to know. Ahsoka was carted off to some holding cell--Ben followed the transport dragging the ship and all items confiscated from the padawan in the opposite direction. He'd break her out soon enough; anyways, he'd likely need her lightsabers to do it. If he snooped in her comm messages along the way, then that was her fault for being so transparent in her conniving schemes. Ben smiled. 

Duchess Satine Kryz was working in her private office, reading the daily briefings from all her ministries, when the call came through. Padawan Ahsoka Tano had been arrested for illegally entering Mandalorian space, and she wanted to speak to her. 

This could only mean trouble. Satine had briefly met Skywalker's padawan, and was more than happy to help the young jedi, but she was regrettably a GAR officer. Her unsanctioned presence here was a breach of several treaties which could not be lost without dire consequences. She hesitated only briefly before calling Obi-wan. She needed more information before she met with the interloper. 

When Kenobi appeared on her holo, he looked haggard. Unsurprising, perhaps in light of the Republic's recent losses. He pressed his lips together in displeasure when he saw it was she who called. Not a good time then. Satine smiled tightly; it never was. 

"Duchess," he bowed formally, "to what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"Master Kenobi," she inclined her head in turn. "I have some questions regarding Padawan Tano. I--" 

Obi-wan cut her off with a raised hand. "Satine, wait. I don't want to know." 

Satine took a deep breath as she felt her hackles rise. "Don't tell me you want plausible deniability! Is this your doing?"

Obi-wan pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's. . . complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it! Obi-wan, there's arrest records, a chain of custody --I can't cover this up."

"There's what?! " There was a slight shift in the perspective and clarity of the holocam as Obi-wan evidently switched from his ship command board to his wrist comm. He began to walk, likely to a quieter area for him to talk discreetly. "I haven't the slightest idea where Padawan Tano is, and I assure you that if she happened to be found in your territories, then it wouldn't have happened with my or the republic's knowledge. Ahsoka is currently missing in action." 

Satine frowned again. She wanted to force him to speak directly to her, but she wanted more to keep the treaty with the republic. From the sound of it, Ahsoka was more likely AWOL than MIA, but if Obi-wan was trying to protect her, it would give her the pretext to protect her fragile neutrality. There were powerful houses and factions on Mandolor that would perceive the slightest breach of treaty from the Republic as an open slight and nigh on act of war. Satine's power to smooth problems over could only go so far in a volatile time such as this. 

"So, tell me how a child who goes missing in action in the midst of a senseless galactic war might end up arrested quite by mistake by Mandalorian port authorities."

A spark of annoyance lit his eyes, and if Satine couldn't quite see it through the grainy holo projection, she could still feel it like the heat of fire on her skin. 

"Is your prisoner alone?" he asked.

"If I find Anakin Skywalker in my capital, so help me--!" 

"No no--" he seemed distracted. His hand was propped against his chin in what had always been a sure tell he was lost in thought--even before he began sporting a beard. "Anakin is with me." 

All the more evidence that Obi-wan and his partner in crime had been neither worried for their padawan's safety nor concerned about her absence: Obi-wan might place his duty over his loved ones but Anakin would not. 

"Oh. Oh no." Obi-wan seemed to arrive at a revelation that he didn't particularly like. 

"What?" Satine asked. 

"It's a captive juke." 

"A what?" 

"A ploy to evade a tail or a guard--you get captured intentionally and then either flip on your target with the captors aid or lure the mark into rescuing you so that you escape while sabotaging their own getaway. If Ahsoka's asking to talk with you she's probably floating both solutions. . ."

"And who does she want to lose so badly? Not one of your enemies surely or else you wouldn't regret her means of escape like you so clearly do." 

Obi-wan took a moment to brood. Then he looked up at her suddenly. "Couldn't you just release her? She's not interfering, not there in any capacity for the jedi or the republic." 

Satine looked at him flatly. It wasn't, in truth, a large favor to ask of her. Not from a man who had sacrificed so much and worked tirelessly without thanks to preserve her life before she had ascended to the power she now held. Not from a dear friend. But Obi-wan wasn't asking because he wanted to help Ahsoka; according to him, Ahsoka was likely to come out on top regardless of what Satine did. He was asking because he didn't want to let her in on what was happening in his life--worse, what was happening in her system . 

"We shall see," she said and turned to end the call. 

"Satine, wait--!" 

She cut the transmission and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her gown. She had a wayward padawan to flip against a mysterious accomplice. She had better hurry before things progressed beyond her control or influence. 

A few hours had passed before Satine greeted Ahsoka in what was an interrogation room by function but a receiving room in form. Pale light filtered in through the floor to ceiling window overlooking the capital of Mandolor's skyline. The concrete walls were decorated with inlaid veins of gold and framed by braka wood trim. The seats were comfortable and Ahsoka's hands and feet were free. This place was for suspects or witnesses of high rank or who needed a show of respect to open up to the arm of the law. The girl fidgeted and eyes the hidden cameras; she was a clever one. 

"I spoke with Obi-wan," Satine began, feeling no need to speak circumspectly. 

Ahsoka turned to her, startled. "You did?" she asked, then as if realizing something, paused a moment and asked, "Wait, which one? because there are several at the moment."

Satine opened her mouth and shut it. She knew of no other people by that name, nor did she think the context of her question would make her intended Obi-wan unclear. 

"Ooh." Ahsoka said, observing Satine's confusion, "you meant the usual Master Kenobi then. I can explain--but, uh, what did he tell you?" 

Satine looked to the sky for mercy. 

"I think you had better explain first."

". . .what do you know about the unifying force and the nature of time?" The girl winced as if immediately hearing how abstract and irrelevant she sounded. "I mean--something broke in time and now we have time travelers. I've met most of the ones--that we know about anyways--and there's a little Obi-wan and an old one." 

Satine leaned back and tapped her fingers against the table. It sounded insane of course, but the jedi were wont to do impossible things. Obi-wan hadn't wanted to explain who Ahsoka was trying to run away from on Mandalor, who she could have gone " missing in action" with and leave her masters unconcerned about her safety. 

"And is it the older or the younger that you want me to trade your freedom for?"

Ahsoka blushed. "He likes to be called Ben now. And he's--he's not going to help me, and he'd just chase me down if I went off by myself. I know we're not supposed to be in your system without an invitation, Duchess, but technically he kidnapped me, so I'm actually totally innocent of any breach of treaty." 

"Any other time travelers? Or just the two." 

"Someone's interfering with the timeline, and Naboo and Alderaan weren't supposed to have succeeded according to Ben. Also, Obi-wan--the one from the past--came with Master Jinn." 

Satine opened her mouth and breathed a quiet gasp. Qui-gon Jinn had been a great man, and she and her people, who now prospered in peace, were only a few of the countless lives across the galaxy who were indebted to him. Unlike most, however, Satine had known the man personally; he had shepherded her through some of the hardest times of her life and his gentle fortitude had been like that of a father. He hadn't held it against her that she had been young and foolish, that she had been in love with his son in all but title. 

Satine had grieved to hear that Qui-gon had passed only a years after she had known him. She had already resigned herself to the fact that she would see neither jedi again, but his death had been so sudden, so senseless. Now he was here, a ghost from the past. . .no wonder Obi-wan looked stressed and distrafted. 

Ahsoka was looking at her, with the knowing eyes that all Jedi seemed to have; the girl knew to wait until Satine's thoughts had subsided. Then, seeing the duchess turn back to her, Ahsoka got to her point. 

"I know you will have questions, Duchess; but I need to go to Naboo to discover what's happening there and track down the person who's changing things against the interests of the republic."

Satine tilted her head. "The elder Kenobi won't allow it because Naboo is declaring its independence then? Or will your generals subdue by force a people you cannot keep with love?" 

Ahsoka pulled back and straightened her shoulders. She held her head high, and Satine reflected on how the girl had a dignity about her, which somehow survived the weariness of war. "We aren't going to help people who don't want it, but we need to know. That and we're looking for someone the sith kidnapped. It's...another long story. The important thing is that I need to leave Ben behind; wouldn't you rather have him to interrogate rather than me?" 

Satine smiled a little. "Perhaps." She stood up and smoothed out her gown. "I will arrange the trade and transportation for you to go where you please. But Ahsoka--take care of yourself. Obi-wan will never forgive me if I've sent you into trouble, and he'd be quite right too." 

Ben watches the prison facility Ahsoka was being held in with some trepidation. He wondered if he would work this out so he came out on top. They were expecting him, however, and Ben didn't particularly want to kidnap Ahsoka, as much as she and Anakin clearly thrived off of the pretence of such. He just worried. Worry colored every line of text he read between Ahsoka and Anakin and spelled their doom in between the lines. 

He had almost forgotten that Sideous might take a particular interest in the happenings on Naboo. He worried over what the sith might do, over how deep his influence over Anakin might already run (he had missed the signs before, after all. How could he know now what needed to be done? What was already lost and what still could be won?) He had to let go, Ben realized. 

It wasn’t what he wanted, but so few things ever were. Ahsoka was almost of age. Luke was almost of age, and though Ben had thrown him into the treacherous watch of Assaj Ventress to keep him from the imagenings of Lord Vader (if that monster yet lurked in the shadows of possibility), Ben had to believe the boy would overcome. Ahsoka would find him, and Luke knew of the Emperor. Leia too, though Ben knew so little about the girl. 

Ben sighed and stepped towards the building with Ahsoka's lightsaber hilts resting visibly in his hands. It took him a minute to walk to the doors of the precinct, and by then the police captain stood in the doorway with a handcuffed Ahsoka. 

"General Kenobi?" The captain asked warily. 

"In a way." 

"You're under arrest for unlawful entry into Mandalor's sovereign territories. I’ve orders to release the Jedi Padawan in exchange for your peaceful cooperation.” 

Ben looked over towards Ahsoka, who looked at the lightsabers and comm unit in his hands with an appropriate level of embarrassment and regret. He smiled at her as he let them go and watched them clatter to the ground. She gave him a small relieved smile back. 

One thing stood out, however.

"Orders? From whom?" Ben had hoped this little matter wouldn't rise to the level of the Duchess, but--

"Duchess Satine Krez. She awaits your audience inside."

Ben gave Ahsoka a long dry look. Her mouth pulled off to the side as she widened her eyes comically large in a pantomime of a freshly realized mistake. 

"Very well captain--no those cuffs won't be necessary. Ahsoka--take care." 

She nodded. "I will, Master. I'm--" 

"Don't be. May the Force be with you, young one." 

She paused, took two quick steps towards him, and hesitated again before throwing caution to the wind and flinging her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulders. Ben froze a moment in surprise then brought his hand against the back of her head. 

"What--what's this for?" he asked at last, his throat surprisingly tight. 

"You're sad again." 

Ben blinked. Was he? He hadn't noticed--so natural was sorrow to his mind, but. . . Yes. 

"Don't mind an old fool like me." He said as he embraced her back before pulling her to an arms length with his arms. Ben wondered if, after all the changes that were being made, the darkened galaxy he had watched from exile still persisted. If so, would he be returned to resume his watch and keep the faith in the light alive? He wondered if the world had been torn into parallel worlds with diverging histories and wondered if knowing the ones he loved and lost could live and thrive in a time apart from his would ever sooth the grief he harbored in his heart. 

"Ahsoka, sometimes sorrow is born of love, and sometimes suffering produces the brightest souls. Your presence is a great comfort to an old desert hermit like me, but you mustn't worry for me. I have the force with me always, and so do you."

"Yes, Master Obi-wan" she bowed, and walked away. Ben sighed and turned to follow the police captain into the precinct. He had yet another lost friend to meet--and perhaps the key to ensuring Ahsoka survives is not in preventing Ahsoka from going to Mandalor but preventing the siege of Mandalor altogether.

Chapter Text

Satine sighed when her captain escorted the time traveling Kenobi into her receiving room. When Ahsoka had mentioned that the man had changed his name, Satine knew to expect a changed man. She knew better than to hope that Ben's life was blessed, but the lines of worry and of grief that graced the older man's face told a sad tale. 

The man himself was serine and composed as was usual for Obi-wan--no, he was more composed. He lacked the agitation that usually spurred them into arguments. She wondered if they had made peace with each other by this time in Ben's life or if he was finally old and wise enough to no longer be struck by her presence. 

Either way, he gave her a polite bow and greeting and she responded by graciously offering her hand. 

"I am told you go by Ben now." 

"I go by what I am called, but many call me by that name, yes." 

"Ha. Well, Ben, if I invite you to be my guest instead of captive, will you cease this obstinate obfuscation?" 

Ben smiled, "Perhaps." 

She waved her hand at the guards. "So be it then," she declared, "guards, bring my guest to the bath houses and find him clothes suitable for a jedi. You, my old friend, reak."

A few hours passed and found Satine appraissing Ben Kenobi's appearance once again. His white and silver hair was washed and his beard was trimmed. His skin now scrubbed clean was spotted with freckles and blotches of sun damage, but despite the signs of age, his stature and strength, which was easier to see now that the mountain of ragged robes he wore were replaced with a simple but well tailored tunic, suggested he was not quite as old as he appeared at first glance. 

"Come, let me offer you some tea, Master Jedi. How long has it been on your side of things?" 

Obi-wan sat down across the table with her and, when handed a cup of tea she knew he favored, breathed in the scent of the fragrant drink before taking a careful sip. "I'm from about seventeen years from now. You're the first to think to ask me that." 

"Perhaps I was the first to think you younger than you look." 

Ben rolled his eyes good naturedly. "I've been living for some time on Tatooine. The deserts aren't kind to a man's vanity, I'm afraid." 

Satine furrowed her brow into a slight crease of concern. "I have many questions, but let's start with what you are doing here with a kidnapped Jedi padawan--and don't you think of lying to me Obi-wan Kenobi!" she added as soon as she saw her guest hesitate a fraction and tilt his head in a sure (and evidently enduring) tell that the man was contemplating deceit of some form or other. 

"Hm. Very well, I was here to make a rendezvous with Asajj Ventress. She set the location of our meeting."

Satine pinched the bridge of her nose. "What are you doing in this time, Obi-wan?" 

Ben sighed. "I hardly know anymore." 

"Come now. You're not even sixty years old. Your absent-minded old man act can't possibly work on me." 

He looked at her a long moment as if sizing her up and deciding how much to tell her. Then he shifted his weight and said, "I had a duty to protect a boy; bright and powerful in the force, he may prove the final hope of the galaxy." A distant look crept into his eyes, and Satine's heart ached for the man. The war had not gone well for him or the galaxy, it seemed. Satine had known it would not from the very start, but she felt no joy in proving right. 

"He disappeared into a rift in the force, accidentally fell through time and space--I only wanted to find him and bring him back to his home." Ben finished. 

Satine leaned back. "And you lost this boy, I take it? Padawan Tano spoke of two atemporal Kenobis, Master Jinn and an unknown Leia who's interference she hoped to stop. No mention of a boy from the future. . ." 

Ben kept silent. 

"So you didn't tell her then. Nor any of the jedi of this time, I suppose. Instead you go to a sith for help? I'm offended you didn't apply for my aid sooner than you did Ventress's." 

Of course, Obi-wan hadn't asked for her help at all, but Satine had long ago learned that men like Kenobi ask for help through their visibly sorry state rather than through their stubborn tongues. Whatever reasons this man had to hide his purposes from his own self and allies, she was being informed now and had no intention to leave room for a sith in whatever project Ben was pursuing. 

"I didn't go to her," he protested. "She found him first, and by the time I found her Anakin was-- Anakin, myself and Master Jinn were closing in on them. I have. . .reasons for keeping Luke away from the Jedi--I--" 

Satine held up a hand to silence him, pressed her lips tightly together and got up to pace the room. The hope of the galaxy, Ben had called this Luke, and he wanted him away from the jedi badly enough to prefer him with the sith. Clearly he and himself had come to a better, if imperfect, understanding of each other if Ben was now running around with padawan's padawan, but--a great chasm existed between the Obi-wan who was the Grand General of the Republic and the Obi-wan who was Ben. Satine knew what it felt like to stand opposed to General Kenobi, wanting so badly to reach past the divide but always unable to pull the warrior priest from his holy war--and unwilling to abandon her heresy of peace. She wondered if Ben, the exile (which she now clearly perceived him to be), was now twice removed from her or if the unthinkable had happened and Obi-wan Kenobi had given up their eternal debate. 

"Master Kenobi," she said at last, "I pray you indulge my endless questions regarding this strange account in due time, but tell me now what you truly wish to say to me." She half turned from the great window where she had ceased her pacing to look out from.

Ben stood up at last and walked to the opposite window where the sunset over Mandalor poured into the room and bathed him in golden light. "I always admired you for the peace and strength you brought to your people." 

"I never doubted that you did--only that your wish to keep that peace through a justified war could ever be anything but self defeating and hypocritical." Satine crossed her left arm over her chest to clasp her elbow and brought her free hand up to cover her face. 

"We were both wrong." He said at last. 

"Oh?" She asked faintly. 

"It's a cruel galaxy where you would meet a violent end, betrayed from within and without, while I--" Ben took a long breath. "I have lived while everyone perished."

Satine turned around to fully face him and let her hands hang loosely at her sides, but she let him gather his words without interruption. 

"You were always right to follow your convictions, but you do not see how evil will come to destroy you--how it cannot let you abide. . . and when you have died like a lamb upon the altar of peace, then war and suffering will return to your people. If you truly love peace, Satine, you'll have to find a way to defeat evil--even as a pacifist."

Satine did not roll her eyes; she looked up towards the heavens. "And you?" 

"The war was all a lie. I thought I was fighting for something good, but--what I thought I was protecting was already lost. You were right--you can't keep peace through war." Ben hung his head. He clearly carried a heavy burden upon his shoulders. 

Satine crossed the room and set her hand upon his shoulder. "I can accept a compromise that only asks me to avoid being murdered" she spoke with a hint of amusement. "Tell me, what is the evil we must defeat?" 

Ben turned back to face her, folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head as he considered her. "Chancellor Palpatine is the sith master. He and Dooku have coordinated this whole civil war to destabilize peace and democracy--to entrap and weaken the Jedi and lead them to slaughter before transforming the republic into his personal, tyrannical empire."

Satine felt her eyebrows creep up. "Ah," she said after a moment, "I see." 

Chapter Text

Day 1:

And God said, "Let there be light." He split the light from the darkness and made the very first day and the night. He made a sharp distinction that day--the first day of creation--but he marked that day with morning and evening--the twilight between the times of light and darkness. 

Ventress brought her ship to dock in the largest ship Luke had ever seen. He liked to think--having traveled to three very different planets in the galaxy--that he was getting a feel for the galaxy, but even if he'd studied the specs of the largest star destroyers the Empire had to offer, he realized now that no amount of fact recall could compare to seeing a proper warship engulf the viewscreen. 

She then locked him inside her little run and gun as she left to go assume command of the frigate. "I'd tell you to stay here and keep your head down till I can get you security clearance," she said, "but you're clearly beholden to neither authority nor common sense, so get out if you can and have at it." 

That was five minutes ago and Luke had just about resolved to cut his way out with his lightsaber, when Leia called on the comm she had hastily slipped him before ushering him on his way with orders to spy on the count for her. 

"Luke! Can you hear me?" She asked as soon as he answered her comm. "Nevermind. Listen, Dooku is here just like you said. Queen Jamila is furious at his show of aggression and is threatening to ask the republic in to chase him back. He's retracting the concessions Ventress was prepared to give us--he knows we want to dispose him from separatist leadership and thinks to bring us in line with threats." 

Luke frowned in concentration. "So what are we supposed to do about it?" 

"I don't know--I-- we need to stall for time. Or better yet--we need something that will stand the count down without the empire's help."

"What are the things he won't agree to?" 

"The liberation of forcibly annexed planets, the end to the slave trade within separatist space, ethics programs installed in the--"

"Okay! Okay!" Luke held out his hand to interrupt. He was used to paying by the second for comm calls; it would take him some time to adjust to Leia's long-form style of speaking. "It sounds like you're asking a hutt to give to charity."

"Well, what do you expect us to do?!" The little blue holo figure leaned forward as a small ball of anger and frustration. Luke felt his own irritation spike. Why was she taking it out on him? The dark side, ever filling the halls he walked, kindled. He felt it link him and his sister (sister!) in shared antipathy and ire. They were both trying--trying to what? Take control. Make things fit their deep desires. Change the past. The force whispered to him. 

"Leia, what do we want? Actually." Luke figured that the dark side, by definition, only had the dark truths to talk about. 

Leia froze, the lines of static ran through her image, then she curled in on herself...and started to cry. Luke was alarmed. 

"Hey--hey--" he started 

"I'm sorry--” she blinked rapidly and attempted to wipe the tears from her face with the back of her eyes. She took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t--I know you must hate me.” 

"What? I don't--" Luke started. 

"You do, and you should . I'm spoiled and out of touch and I'm ruining your life--your family . . ." Leia was pulling her tears back inside her, forcing her breaths to even her face to stiffen into composure. Luke could still feel her misery, however, and her pain when tightly wound into a small but heavy ball pulled deeper on her soul than it did when she lashed out. 

"Hey. you are my family." 

"Am I though?" 

"What's wrong with you?!" Luke shouted. 

"It's a valid question! We just met! And--Luke, look at us. Look at us! You're a Skywalker, you know your family history, you've--you've struggled with them. You found your parents and that's wonderful, but it's not like that for me. I've done nothing but make our mom miserable. I'm trying to--I'm fighting for democracy and freedom, and I. . ."  she looked down at her hands, "I didn't think about anything else; I left you behind on Moran; I used my blood relation to Senator Amidala to gather support for Alderaan when I wasn't even sure I was ready to even meet her, and I've been furious at my parents for things they haven't done yet. And--all this and I don't know if I've even made the galaxy a better place for all that. I think I've just lost everything."

Luke grit his teeth. She was being impossible . "You--you talk a big game about pulling the separatists away from the dark side for someone so full of it!”  

“ What?” Leia’s outraged cry came with a rush of static as if their holonet connection wavered with their fragile bond. 

“You heard me!”

Leia's face, so animated before with feelings of sorrow, doubt, fear and regret suddenly hardened into a cool glare. “I guess it takes one to know one, Sith. ” 

“Yeah sure.”  Luke pressed his lips together and turned his head aside. 

“Luke--” He ended the call before he could hear what Leia had to say.

Owen didn’t hide from Luke the fact that he didn’t much care for Anakin. They’d only met for a few days, and a shared mother wasn’t enough to bridge the yawning gap of the years apart, the countless lightyears, the impossibly different lives led--but he hadn’t hesitated to raise his brother’s son. Family was important on Tatooine, and Luke wondered how he was screwing things up so badly already. 

Maybe it was just because he didn’t know many girls. He paced the locked cargo hold like a caged womp rat. Beru used to tell him he could always come to her if he ever had girl problems; she’d meant if he ever fell in love with a girl or took one to bed with him, but Luke had instead used her advice from time to time when he somehow offended the girls in town or accidentally scared the slave girls at Jabba’s palace. He missed his aunt. Ventress wouldn’t help him decipher Leia’s moods--though the thought of her face if he asked her did put a smile on his face. 

On the plus side. . .Luke ignited his saber, wondering if his foul mood and wounded feelings would resonate with the screaming heart of the lightsaber. The red lit the room, and he carefully swung the sword in front of his face. He closed his eyes and reached for the saber in his hand. . . and dropped it with a yelp. His dark mood brought him into sympathy with the suffering of the bled kyber crystal--a focal point of the dark side--but the connection had merely poured the despair of the universe into his mind with a jolt almost physically painful. He found himself wiping away his own stray tears. 

He sat on the ground and disassembled his saber, pulling out the kyber crystal and holding it to the light. 

"Why is everyone so angry?" He whispered to the dumb rock. It held no answer for him. Luke let the thing drop to the ground and sat in the far corner with his arms wrapped around his knees.

Day 2:

Now, the Spirit of God hovered over the waters (for that was all there was), and on the next day he made another division--water from water. He split the world submerged from the waters above and called the great expanse between the two the heavens. 

Obi-wan Kenobi on his second day of hectic diplomatic meetings. Five other planets were considering following the example of Naboo and Alderaan. Obi-wan was trying to dissuade Mon Cala from entering formal talks with the New Succession, as the movement was now being called. It wasn't going particularly well. 

"No, of course, I don't suggest that--" Obi-wan shifted, pulling his hands away from his knees where they supported his forward-leaning pose to rest them across the back of thr long booth he had been seated at in the talks. He adopted a more casual posture then continued, saying, "Naturally, the jedi seek to preserve peace and the lawful rule of all systems that will have us as we always have, " here he directed a pointed look at the blue hologram of Padme, "--without strings attached, seeking neither thanks nor favor. I merely wish to remind his highness King Lee-Char who his proven friends are." 

If Padme felt a sting of irritation or regret at his unsubtle allusion to her own debt of gratitude towards the Jedi generally and Obi-Wan himself specifically, she didn't show it. Instead, she tilted her head slightly back and replied, "Then I am glad to hear it, and move to proceed to the formal negotiations between the crown of Mon Cala and the New Secessionist representatives without the unasked for interference of those who ask no favors and lay no claim to the governance of this sovereign system." 

"You can't be serious," Obi-wan replied easily as he rested his ankle over his knee. The more comfortable he looked in his less than cozy seat, the more he communicated that he wasn't going anywhere until he attained his objective. "Mon Cala is sovereign indeed, but has sovereignly participated as a member of the republic for a millenia; you beg the question, Amadala, to presume that the jedi or the republic is an interfering third party."

"We're having talks about whether or not we can talk! It seems to me the only presumptions here are yours, General Kenobi."

King Lee-Char raised his hand to call the debate to order before stating good-naturedly that he appreciated the goodwill of both parties here before him but made his own decisions and kept his own counsel. 

"Good! Then you must realize that the chancellor's reckless power grabs threaten your continued freedom" Padme stated with the conviction and sincerity of a true orator. 

Force, Obi-wan hated politics, or rather, he hated playing a part in politics. He was used to arbitration; participation was an unseemly job. Nonetheless, it had to be done. Obi-wan pulled his focus back to what had been said. This was the second time in this debate she cited Chancellor Palpatine as a reason for leaving the republic.

Obi-wan wasn't surprised the relationship between the former queen and the man who used to mentor her (and whose current position as chancellor was enjoyed only because of her doings) had soured. Palpatine was fond of encroaching on senatorial authority, and most senators, eager to abdicate responsibility for hard, politically difficult decisions, were all too happy to go along with him. Padme and Bail had headed one of the few coalitions that held executive power in check--and it was precisely from that coalition that they sought to draw additional secessions from. Obi-wan privately wondered if more than any material or strategic losses, the New Secessionist's most fatal blow to the republic would be that it ripped the backbone out of the body politic of the republic. 

"Well?" The Mon Calamari senator sitting beside the king asked, and Obi-wan suppressed a wince. He shouldn't lose focus. 

"If it is Palpatine you take issue with," Obi-wan began, hazarding to guess that the topic had not already passed from issues of the chancellor. "Then make use of your representative power within the senate to call him to check. Palpatine holds no power that the Senate hasn't first given to him, and I assure you, the jedi will ensure he releases wartime powers once the senate asks to make it so." 

"You speak with a great deal of confidence, General Kenobi," Padme said and she leaned forward and strived to make eye contact with him despite the holographic barrier between them.  

Damn it all. Obi-wan recalled that Ben had spoken to Anakin of the Vod betraying the jedi. Obi-wan didn't particularly trust Ben to give him the unfiltered truth to things, but he was now corroborated by Padme's oracle, the mysterious Leia. If Padme feared that the Jedi were endangered, that would also explain why she had asked Anakin, Ahsoka and him to join her. 

"If you have reason to doubt our ability, then by all means--I am eager to hear the warnings of such a close friend of the jedi." 

Padme narrowed her eyes at Obi-wan and gave him a fully exacerbated glare. "This is hardly the time for personal grudges, Obi-wan!" she snapped, and Obi-wan was uncharitably pleased to see that he wasn't the only one on edge. 

"I'm not certain I know what you mean," he replied easily. He did know what she meant, but the Qui-gon had always taught him to be certain of nothing. 

"Master Kenobi," she said, standings--the king and his advisors and officials were staring at the two with trepidation. "Might I have a word with you in private?" 

Obi-wan sighed. "Yes, I think we had better." 

Obi-wan got up, and prepared to make his apologies to the Mon Calamari, when an urgent message emerged. Grievous, emboldened by recent events was striking out against Corellia.  Already two lesser systems nearby had fallen to the Separatists. Their distress signals blocked, only now when the refugees began arriving at safe ports did the news of the attack spread. "You must forgive me, an urgent matter has come up that requires my immediate departure.  Padme--I'm sure we'll speak soon. Your Highness--I hope you take my counsel to heart and have the utmost faith you shall do your best for your people." He bowed and hurried off before anyone could respond. 

Day 3:

And God split the water from the land and made the land and seas. There in the barren ground, he planted seeds and brought forth new life, and the earth was green and living. 

Qui-gon, Deppa Billaba and Caleb Dume held their lightsabers aloft as they looked about the inner temple after trekking deep into the center of the Moran caves. 

"The natives haven't entered this sanctum for some centuries, it looks like," Deppa mused. 

"The high religion has been subverted by the lower cults," Qui-gon said. "The assassination--Yan's assassination of the high priest will have made that transition complete." 

"So is Dooku the one who broke in?" Caleb asked as he walked to the next stone door and ran his fingers along the smooth polish where a stone seal that held the doors locked used to be; a silvery patina that only a lightsaber could leave shimmered in its place. 

"What do you think, Caleb?" his master asked neutrally. 

". . . Not Dooku if you're asking me that . . .Ventress?"

"What makes you think it was her?" Billaba asked. Qui-gon watched the pair with some nostalgia. Padawan Dume was only a few years younger than Obi-wan, but it still seemed like ages ago when Qui-gon would teach his own student so explicitly in the field. 

"She was also on the planet, and why traipse through all this guano yourself when you have an evil minion to do your dark bidding?" 

"Caleb, be careful what you say--Master Jinn is still heartbroken over his old master's fall." Deppa delivered the reprimand serenely as Qui-gon glared at her and the padawan looked uncertainly between them. 

"I assure you, Padawan, it is quite all right. However--Yan will not have been the only one to give missions to this acolyte: Obi-wan, the eldest iteration, claims he required her for a crucial task that might determine the fate of his time." 

"So which sent her hither?" Deppa asked, genuinely this time and without a lesson attached. 

"Why does it matter? I thought we were going to save Ma--I mean Padawan Kenobi." Caleb said, finally giving voice to a question that had clearly plagued him for some time now. "He's not even with Ventress, unless she's rendezvoused back with her master." 

While Caleb spoke, Qui-gon gently called upon the force to open the doors for the second time in as many centuries. He cut the black darkness of the room beyond with his lightsaber and looked at the small library of brittle paper and vellum texts it contained. There in the center of the room was a pedestal of disturbed dust. Missing texts--a stolen book. 

"To find my Obi-wan," Qui-gon spoke at last, "we must understand the man who took him." He pulled a book off a nearby shelf and carefully opened it; it was in a language he was unfamiliar with, but the force hummed with the wisdom it contained. These books held truth, not ancient superstitions or false spirituality. 

"And of all the jedi, perhaps I understand Yan the least. . . ." Qui-gon took a deep breath and centered himself. "We must know why he was here and why my padawan and I are here now. Did Dooku summon us? If not, what forces lead us down this path." 

"I thought--" Caleb paused as he considered the possibility that what he was about to say might be foolish, but then decided to say it anyway. "--Isn't the Force the force behind this? How else would you pass through the years like a hyperspace jump?"

“Say that again, Padawan,” Qui-gon asked, turning to the young man. 

“How else would you pass through time?”

“--no, you mean ‘like a hyperspace jump’” Deppa commented. She rounded the room to face Qui-gon. “Obi-wan mentioned that he believed Moran was a linchpin in the Unifying Force: that somehow Dooku used the planet to warp our fleet into the winds of hyperspace and that the same warps in spacetime might explain the. . . paradoxical temporal phenomena.” 

Qui-gon furrowed his brows. “When did he tell you this? He mentioned no such theory to me.” 

“I already told you that Kenobi also sulks when you fight.” Deppa smiled, and in the harsh light of her lightsaber, the light amusement that graced her face turned into an impish grin. “Or perhaps he knew that if he received one more lecture to focus on the Living Force from you, he’d be finally forced to acknowledge that you really are alive. He wouldn’t be the first Jedi in times such as these to struggle to accept good news.” 

That did sound like Obi-wan. “And you Deppa?” Qui-gon asked, not at all shy about changing the subject. “Do you also struggle to see the light?” 

Deppa sighed and looked up to the ceiling of the stone chamber. The light from their sabers barely touched it and it lay grey and cloaked in shadow. Padawan Dume looked up to his master with respect and admiration. He hung on her every word, and Qui-gon wondered if his Obi-wan ever looked at him like that. He’d never thought to look, Qui-gon realized suddenly. 

“Not anymore,” she said at last. “But Qui-gon--I had lost my way once--There was a time when I’d lost sight of. . .everything. Mace brought me back.” She set her hand on her apprentice and looked Qui-gon in the eyes. “We will all fall, Master Jinn--one way or another. But that’s the trick of flying as we do--to fall and miss the ground.”

Day 4:

Only now did God create the sun, the moon and the host of all the stars. He made the times and the seasons when he spun the earth around the sun as if winding a marvelous clock.  

Anakin leaned heavily against the command board as he surveyed the battle. About five thousand troopers were stranded behind separatist lines after the disaster on Moran sent them careening into inopportune hyperspace lanes. He was finally back with the 501st and his own flagship, but Rex took Obi-wan's admonition to keep him out of active combat to heart. Anakin could pull rank, but even he wasn't foolhardy enough to fight a Rex and Kenobi alliance. 

“Kappa squad, pull back,” he ordered into his comms as he surveyed the cascade of lights projected onto the space above his command. “Draw the clankers up 46, -31 by 15 degrees or about there. Fowler and Toady pinch them from the sides."

The battle was hard--more and more lights were blinked out. Anakin felt more than saw it. He wished Dooku was around to impale him again. It would be kinder than the constant loss of his brethren, but the line had to be broken or five thousand Vod would perish, and no amount of Anakin's spilled blood would clear the Critalin system so that the remnants of his fleet could jump through it to republic space. 

"Redwing 2, watch your right flank!" Anakin shouted as if his voice alone could carry through the absolute barrier of nothingness that kept him from his men. The comm warning came too late, the pilot's fighter hull was breached, the pilot flung into space at a dizzying turn leaving him tumbling and turning as he careened without purchase or friction through the battleground of a hundred miles. Anakin turned to the viewport in desperation--the pilots had emergency air and space-ready suits. He could be revered. He--

Only the force could guide Anakin's eyes to the speck in the fury and flurry of battle. A droid ship detoured to fire on the man, killing him instantly. 

Anakin clenched his jaw and set his hand upon his lightsaber. He turned back to his bridge with a violence of motion that sharply pulled the grafted flesh on his wound. 

"Skywalker to all points! Square up! Stay off the zero plain and I want you to form lines running perpendicular to our bow and two and a half clicks apart. Captain, bring us to high impulse and pull starboard hard. Cut power, I want us barrel rolling through this whole front, all guns firing!"

"Sir?" 

"On a circular rotation, our fire will be sinusoidal--miss our lines and bust through the droids." 

"You'll expose our lower hull--" 

"Do you think I care? Do it!" 

The star destroyers had state of the art inertial dampeners. Anakin missed the punch in his gut that a move like this would pull in a starfighter, but as he watched out the viewport as all of space spun around him like a kaleidoscope of neon blaster cannons,  debris and stars, Anakin wondered if he finally had a true view of the galaxy as it was.

Day 5:

There is a pattern to creation, do you see it yet? Where God split night from day on the first day, he fills the night and day with celestial bodies on the fourth. Where he split the seas from the skies on the second day, he fills them with birds and creatures of the sea on the fifth. Separation to creation.  Beauty in the empty spaces. 

"Obi-wan, what's wrong with you? Your prevarication and passive-aggressiveness the other day isn't like you." Padme spoke as soon as she appeared in the room before him, and Obi-wan blinked. Perhaps his allusion to whatever relationship she had with Anakin was hitting below the belt, but he knew himself well enough to know that this, and everything else he had said was fairly common for him in hard negotiations. 

"Perhaps you and I have never crossed wits and dueled at cross purposes before, but--" 

"But you're supposed to trust me ," she interrupted. "We're on the same side, can't you see that?" 

Obi-wan crossed his arms over his chest. Anakin insisted as much, since discussions with Ben had made it obvious Padme was acting on the fortune telling of the second visiter from Ben's bleak future, but Obi-wan knew his old padawan better than most, and the young man's heart was breaking every moment he couldn't find a distraction. Blast it all, this was why jedi weren't supposed to form romantic entanglements. 

"No, I do not see that, Padme. I see you destroying a republic you once fought to protect--"

"I have every reason too! Every reason in the galaxy." 

Obi-wan raised his eyebrows and drew his head slightly back. "So Anakin didn't count as a reason to stay, then?" 

It was hard to tell through the soft blues of the holo but it looked like Padme flushed, though whether it was of anger or of shame remained to be seen. "Don't you dare," she grit out. Anger then. "Don't you dare speak to me of love. Do you know how badly Anakin wanted to tell you? How much he hated lying to you? But he feared you would reject him--" 

"Reject Anakin?" he scoffed. He had known of Anakin's love affair with Padme for ages, suspected even longer. He thought Anakin knew that he knew and that they both were leaving things unspoken so that Obi-wan could turn a blind eye. "I would never." 

Padme paused. "Then help me save him. That's all I'm trying to do." 

"You've a funny way of going about it, then," Obi-wan bated. He knew she had been told of the jedi falling by a guest from Ben's future; he supposed Padme was trying to take steps to subvert that fate, though how seceding to the separatists accomplished this was anyone's guess. But he didn't know enough, and it was high time he did. Obi-wan considered Padme a friend; he didn't want to squabble with her like petulant younglings, but if Anakin was the hidden chink in the formidable statesman's embroidered armor, then he would needle and provoke like the best of younglings. 

Padme favored him with a tight frown, but instead of going on the defense, she calmed her ire and switched to the offense. "How did you hear of Leia?" 

"Why do you trust her?" Obi-wan countered. 

"We both have questions; let's not hide so much from each other."

"Ah, but you asked first and expect your answers first, I take it?" Obi-wan smiled lightly as Padme raised her eyebrows in silent assent and expectation. "Very well. We encountered a rogue jedi with a peculiar history of coming from the future--or a future--as things may be. He was quite surprised to hear of your leaving the republic. He seemed to believe that history had been altered and was certain that such changes could only be the doings of one Leia, likely carried back in time at the same time he had been."

"That was all he said?--oh don't you start with it being your turn for questions now, Kenobi. You didn't give a complete answer." 

Obi-wan was sorely tempted to argue he had given a fair account of how he had learned of Leia, and that what things he learned was indeed the matter of a different question, but he knew it would do him no good. "He seemed reticent to say much. Only that she was not our enemy and we should leave her alone." 

"A wise man, this rogue jedi. Who is he? Have I heard of his younger counterpart?" 

"Padme--"

"I know, I know." Padme took in a deep breath and lifted her chin. "I trust Leia because she is my daughter, Obi-wan. Mine and Anakin's. She's come with her brother, Luke, to stop the end of democracy and freedom within the republic, and Obi-wan--I would stop the galaxy from spinning if it meant I could save my family and the liberty of my people." 

Obi-wan closed his eyes and took a long breath. An uncomfortable silence fell between the pair, but Obi-wan paid it no heed. It was. . . something to think about, to say the least. 

"Obi-wan, say something," Padme spoke up at last. 

". . .he lied to me. He looked me in the eyes and--" he fucking lied to me . Obi-wan bit down on the words and clenched his teeth. 

Padme opened and closed her mouth then said "Anakin has no idea! Obi-wan, we don't have kids yet ; I promise Ani doesn't know--" 

"What?" Obi-wan asked, turning back to Padme from his pacing with his hand propped on his chin. "Oh, oh no--I don't mean Anakin. I'm talking about--" Obi-wan gestured at the air vaguely, "myself. I mean me from force only knows how far off in the future." 

"Oh." Padme appeared to walk a short distance to a bench of some kind and sat on it. 

"Oh indeed," Obi-wan mused. 

". . .so then. Can we agree that sooner or later, we're on the same team?" Padme had a teasing glint in her eye, but the offer was forceful and genuine. 

"Have you convinced your new friends in the sith to institute democratic governance and the rule of law?" Obi-wan retorted easily, and just like that, they were opposing diplomats once more, trading barbed remarks and witty rejoinders as they quibbled over fate--the fate of the galaxy and that of Anakin Skywalker. 

Day 6:

To complete the cycle God filled the land he had made on the third day with all manner of creatures--beasts of burden, things that crawl or howl in the night. God made the earth wild, and then he made mankind--a husband and wife. Well--he had one last division: he planted a garden on a hill surrounded with high walls and fed by deep rivers. He separated man from beast, the garden from the wild earth. And he said it was Good. 

“Obi-wan!” Anakin shouted happily as he jogged up to where the battle-weary general sat on a crate and sipped watery tea. “Force, I thought I’d never catch up to you. How’d the Corellian campaign go?” 

Obi-wan looked at Anakin with exhaustion. It seemed that Anakin always bounced back from his injuries faster than Obi-wan recovered from a poor night's sleep. "We pushed the CIS back at least, but this I'm sure you already know."

Anakin pulled a barrel next to Obi-wan and sat on it, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees and his hands clasped lightly in front of him. “Okay, I did already know that, but more importantly--! Padme told me yesterday that she’d talked to you and you already know about us . And--” here Anakin shifted back and scratched the back of his neck with a very deserving level of hesitation, “well, she said you weren’t mad and that I should talk to you about it.” 

“Ah. Well, yes--if you’d like. . .but you’re still on speaking terms with Amidala? You’re still--a couple?” 

Anakin furrowed his brows and frowned, slightly. “Why in sith hells would you think otherwise? We already know she’s only trying to stop a particularly shitty future from happening. And she’s my wife.”

“She’s your what.” Obi-wan had tolerated the sudden return of Qui-gon Jinn to life. He had tolerated hearing that his old master brought himself as a padawan and tolerated the unfortunate kidnapping of said younger self with admirable composure, Obi-wan thought. It took him some time to come around to the reality Ben represented, but this too Obi-wan adapted too. He was, admittedly, still musing over the claims Padme had made about Luke and Leia, but he didn't think he could suffer overmuch from that absurd set of circumstances until he was faced with the children himself. 

No the complications of war and the vagaries of a twisted unifying force were gut punches he could roll with, but-- "Your wife ? When in the midst of all this war could you have possibly gotten married ?" 

"Ooh." Anakin winced. "You meant you knew about us--as in you only knew we're in love.. not that you knew we were married."

"Anakin," Obi-wan snapped, "stop stating the obvious and answer my question." 

"Okaay. We got married on Naboo. Before the war started, I'll have you know. And I don't want to hear any lectures about it, Obi-wan! I love her, and I married her, and you can kick me out of the order for all I care. Just finish Ahsoka's training yourself and let her visit us." At some point in Anakin's spiel, he got up and started pacing agitatedly. 

Obi-wan also stood up, and he felt himself growing red in the face. "I'm not going to kick you out of the order, Anakin! Just--" He paused and ran his hand through hair. "Force you two only knew each other for weeks when you married each other. Couldn't you just have. . . taken each other as lovers? At least you could have a pretext of non-attachment." 

Anakin looked at Obi-wan incredulously. " Somebody always taught me that to sleep with people without loyalty or commitment was to, and I quote , 'use their bodies as a means to the end of selfish pleasure.'" 

Obi-wan laid a hand across his eyes.  "Yes I know, I know, but I didn't mean--" 

"Is that what you and Satine get up to, Master?"

" No, Anakin! It's not . Satine and I have a strictly professional relationship, and any tender feelings we might harbor for one another are only that-- feelings ." 

Anakin rolled his eyes and threw down his hands. "Well, I don't see why not! Clearly you don't care that much about the rules--as insane as that sounds--if you've been quietly letting me break them with Padme this whole time and won't even kick me out now that you know we're married!"

Obi-wan spluttered. "That's-- entirely different. Turning a blind eye to your indiscretions is one thing, but--" 

"Oh--ha. I know this one, Master. That's a 'distinction without a difference--and you thought I never paid attention to your lectures on rhetoric." 

Obi-wan clenched his jaw and squeezed his right hand into a tight fist and released it. He took a deep breath and released all his stress into the force. "Clearly." He said at last as he squinted suspiciously at Anakin. "Since you're obviously a master of the red herring." 

Anakin smiled smugly. "I know you'll never believe me, but I really mean it. You're like some kind of crazy un-hypocrite; you hold yourself to higher standards than you do everyone else, and maybe you shouldn't." 

Obi-wan heaved a great sigh. "Think what you like Anakin, but we had best get some sleep now before the next emergency comes." 

Anakin nodded thoughtfully, and he looked at the ground and furrowed his brows as he only just began to process what had really happened just now. Obi-wan looked at his apprentice with a soft, sad smile. Anakin felt things so deeply, and he was so young. Obi-wan wished he could protect him, but Anakin would make his own choices and indeed his own mistakes. He had to accept that. 

Obi-wan turned away to go to bed with a nagging feeling as though he'd forgotten something nagging at the back of his mind. 

Day 7:

"On the seventh day, God rested," Luke read aloud. "Huh. . . that's it? I thought there'd be more to the story." 

Ventress snapped the datapad from Luke's hand and looked it over. "Kid, this is a transcription of fragments surviving some old religious war the Morans had back before their planet unified--it's totally useless . Nothing about the force. They only put it here as a historical curiosity, and you and I aren't historically curious sith." 

"Well, maybe I am!" Luke protested. 

"Okay, I'll finish the story for you--'On the eighth day, the man and woman found God sleeping after all that hard work and killed him. They were very smart to do so because now they could be gods instead. The end."

"Har har. Well, I don't know what we're supposed to be finding anyways. We've been at it almost a week." 

"Oh, I found what I wanted in this blasted tome three days ago. I've just been making you read it so you don't single-handedly dismantle my entire army." 

"That was one droid!! He was missing an arm. I was fixing--you know what? Never mind. What did you find?"

Ventress flicked through the datapad. "Hmmph. According to the ancient Morans. . .you didn't time travel." 

". . . What?" 

"Oh I mean practically you have, but they call it an... ecthon val draigh." Ventress pronounced the harsh words carefully, tilted her head and evaluated Luke. "Even my holocron struggled to translate that one. Literally, it means something like a command: 'blind the blinkered eye.'" 

Luke swallowed. "What's that got to do with anything." 

"Do I look like a schoolmarm to you?" 

Luke looked at her and shrugged. 

"Okay kid here's the deal,” Ventress responded with a flat expression and lidded eyes. “You and your lightsaber beat one battle droid with a stun blaster and we'll have a lovely chat about how the Morans thought of time, deal? One droid. You're good at wrecking droids." 

"Are you just encouraging me because you think I can't do it?" 

"Prove me wrong," she drawled as she waved over a reluctant battle droid. Luke ignited his lightsaber and looked back at the droid's strangely emotive blank stare. It shuffled from side to side and asked if Luke's lightsaber would also be put on low power. It would not. 

The droid lifted its blaster, Luke lifted his blade in what he'd hoped was a defensive form. He'd learned a lot about the force in the past week or so---but just about none of it was going to help him deflect blaster fire with a weightless beam of light sprung from a weighty hilt in his hand. He sized up the droid.

"Okay. Let's go," he said and broke out into a sprint towards his opponent. 

"Rodger rodger!" It spoke and lifted its arm. Luke reached for the thin thread of the light side--

His awareness of the room expanded, he felt  the hum of the grav engines holding his feet on solid ground. He felt his flickering bond with Ventress, like the shadow of a flame dancing in the light. He felt the blaster, humming with energy and waiting for release. 

The droid fired. Luke knew he would just a moment before it happened. He knew where the stun bolt would strike and where he needed to place his saber. He--

Luke blinked, dazed on the ground. He twitched his fingers and his joints ached, legs cramped. Ventress peered down. 

"Knowing is different from doing, isn't it?" she said dryly. 

"I've been trying to get the saber to be an extension of my will like you said." 

"It's a thing, not a person. You don't have to 'get it' to be anything. You just put it to use. Get up." 

Luke made a move to get up but his muscles-- all of them-- seized . He hadn't thought that a stun bolt would hurt like that. 

“Any day now.” Ventress sighed. 

“Um. I don’t think I can. . .”

" Get up! " Ventress insisted with a mental shove and Luke somehow found the will and the means to scramble to his feet. His teacher paced around him with a fire in her eyes that wasn't there just a moment before. "Luke Skywalker, she said slowly and menacingly, "When you fall down, and you will --when you are shot or injured, which you will be-- and I tell you to get up, you get up ." 

Luke opened and closed his mouth. So much of this--partnership? apprenticeship?--had been built on careful defenses of sarcasm and snark, blunt words and joking truths. But though she had knocked him down all too many times, he'd never seen this before. He supposed he never failed to stand before. 

"I don't--why are you so angry? I screw up all the time." 

Ventress rolled her eyes and turned away, but Luke shuffled over to stay in front of her, legs still stiff with the after-effects of the stun bolt. He caught her gaze with his eyes, and concentrated on carefully reaching through the bond they had. It felt like he reached a wall--he tried to gently knock. 

Eventually, Ventress released some of her anger in a low hiss. She glared at him, but he felt her relent, as she said, "I'd been like you--picked up by a man who knew the force--A Jedi, I think, but he didn't talk much about them or their teachings. He gave me a basic introduction on the force then went and got himself gutted by some pirates he'd been set on avenging. I'd been stun blasted then too.” She sneered at the memory. “he told me to get up and run, and I didn't." 

Luke wanted to ask what happened next, but he knew he couldn’t. It was clear enough anyways that she never failed to get back on her feet again, and Luke felt a newfound respect spring up where previously he had only a healthy estimation of the threat she posed. He looked to the ground. He figured Ventress wouldn’t really care, but he felt like he needed to repay the nearly miraculous level of openness and vulnerability she had just displayed (miraculous, for Ventress anyways). 

“I was supposed to coordinate with Leia from this ship, but I’ve been blocking her calls all week. I’m--we had a fight, and I was so angry with her. . . it didn’t make me powerful like you say it should; It made me stupid, and now I don’t know how to ask her how she’s been this last week.” 

Ventress stared at him, and the two stood awkwardly in silence for half a minute. 

At last, Ventress crossed her arms and said, “You know, kid. Making yourself a pitiful creature doesn’t make me feel any better about you pitying me.”

“Well, if you tell me about how I haven’t time-traveled, then maybe I won’t pity you anymore.” 

She smiled sharply and jabbed a finger in his chest. “That’s good. Use whatever leverage you’ve got.”

“So you’ll tell me?”

Ventress turned on her heels and began to walk out of the room. “Once you can beat a measly battle droid, my dark apprentice.” 

Luke grimaced, waited till she left the room and let his shaky legs collapse. He crawled over to the corner of the room, stretched out on the cool duristeel and closed his eyes with every intention to sleep off the twitches and jitters that lingered from the stun bolt hit. In but a few minutes, he was deeply asleep.

Chapter Text

Obi-wan wondered what it said about him that his grandmaster only took interest in him and his potential when he became a sith. Not simply a fallen jedi, a full blown sith lord. He closed his eyes as once again the images of his master collapsing under the agony of force lightning, of knight Skywalker impaled in Ahsoka's arms flashed into his mind. Those memories hadn’t bothered him before he was thrown alone into the for suppressed cell. Now they haunted him and his thoughts clamored loudly in his mind. He missed tapes—the voice to keep him sane in it all. He missed the force. He’d been asked once by a kid around his age, whom Obi-wan and Qui-gon had met in their travels, what having the force was like, and Obi-wan couldn’t for the life of him answer the question.

That was some years ago, and Obi-wan had since returned to the question frequently in the long and quiet moments of his life that filled the gaps between the thrilling missions and high stakes struggles. In the hours of morning meditation with his master before the day or on a ship lulled by the thrum of a hyperdrive, Obi-wan would close his eyes and try to place what being force sensitive was like. It had been like describing the taste of air. Non-jedi, he found, tended to think of it as a sixth sense or an invisible hand that one could control to move objects at a distance, but it was never so corporeal. The force was like—a sense of purpose—like the belief in your own name.

And now it was gone.

Surely this couldn’t be what most of the galaxy lived like. Maybe the jedi were the weak ones—so used to operating with the life force of the galaxy in their unusual way—so easily stripped away. Time passed slowly, blurred together, and Obi-wan wondered if he had slipped into eternity. The malaise of time blindness that had hovered around his temples and the back of his head since finding himself cast out into this twisted future—had—no it couldn’t have gotten worse. He couldn’t feel the wrongness of time anymore, couldn’t connect to time like he had, wouldn’t it be fixed without the force to tell him otherwise? What was he thinking again?

A blood-red saber sliced through the lock on the ceiling hatch which provided the only entrance to the dungeon. Obi-wan started awake at the abrupt sound and flash of light (had he fallen asleep again? Wakefulness and slumber were just one more distinction he was loosing, Obi-wan thought). This was no time for a slow and progressive breakdown, however. Obi-wan swallowed hard and hoped his heart, which leaped into his throat, would return to its post. He sat still as stone and waited quietly. There was nothing else for him to do.

A rather large sack was dropped down, and it hit the floor with a bang and clatter that suggested metal parts. A rope was next then-- a boy about his age, with bright yellow hair and a thick black poncho. The sith lightsaber hung clipped to his side. 

Obi-wan held his breath, unsure if this was Dooku’s rival apprentice. If Obi-wan had been sent here in order that Dooku might hide him from his current apprentice, wouldn’t his discovery precede a swift execution? He eyed the large bag of metal parts that lay on the ground. The acolyte was stooping down to open it.  Perhaps this was simply a dark acolyte sent to torture him—not that Obi-wan knew anything about this war.

The boy ignored him and set to the bag, laying out an oilcloth and a series of tools on the ground and dumping a pile of broken droid parts off to the side. He then unclipped his lightsaber and set it on the cloth before deftly disassembling it. Obi-wan was utterly mystified, what was the meaning of doing this in front of him? It didn't appear to be a kind of intimidation. 

When the saber was opened to the kyber crystal chamber, the darksider withdrew the corrupted crystal and turned it about in his hands. Obi-wan had never seen a bled kyber crystal before, and even if he could not sense the dark side which the thing resonated to, he was revolted by the sight of such a precious and living stone turned from the light and life of the force. The acolyte took one last look at it and--popped it into his mouth. 

Obi-wan gasped in shock and horror. The other boy jumped at the sound, gagged with wide eyes, and lurched over as he coughed the kyber crystal out onto the ground.  “Ack--Jabba’s ass! I almost swallowed--oh shit.” He turned fully to Obi-wan and stood up hurriedly from the ground before digging through his tools. He turned back to Obi-wan with pair of laser sheers in one hand and the other held up as if to calm a trapped animal as he approached him slowly. “Hang on. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m just going to cut you free, okay?” Obi-wan kept silent and still as he warily watched the acolyte as he cut through his chains. What was the meaning behind this? Was Dooku testing him? 

The last manacle clinked off and Obi-wan was on the boy before it hit the ground. He grabbed the wrist that held the sheers and twisted it back to force the potential weapon out of his opponent’s hand. The boy also had to step back to rebalance has his torso jerked back with his arm to prevent a break. As soon as his foot left the ground, Obi-wan swept his feet out from beneath him and the other boy toppled to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Obi-wan, still grabbing the boy’s wrist pinned it to his back and put his knees down over his shoulders and small of his back. 

“Who are you and what do you want?” He said firmly.

“Ow--ge’off!” Obi-wan did not get off. “Luke! I’m Luke. . .Lars. Sheesh, man.” 

Obi-wan didn’t know what to make of the acolyte. He looked at the rope leading up the hatch and to freedom. The boy--Luke tried to turn his head to the side so he could get a look at him. “You can try to escape but we’re on a ship the size of a city, like, full of droids.” It sounded like a threat but was delivered like he was offering helpful advice. Maybe it was. 

Well. Luke’s lightsaber lay in pieces on the ground, spit covered kyber crystal discarded and almost forgotten on the dirt floor. Obi-wan got off and quickly grabbed a hefty spanner to use as a club if needed and stood in the far corner of the dungeon. Luke sat up with a groan and rubbed the back of his neck as he glared at Obi-wan. He leaned over and retrieved the kyber crystal and started buffing it clean against the fabric on his shoulder. If he was preparing to put it in his mouth again, Obi-wan was going to lose his mind. 

“What are you doing here?” Obi-wan asked suspiciously. 

“‘Thanks for the rescue, Luke! My name is __?’” Luke said instead of answering his question. 

“I won’t ask again.” Obi-wan wasn’t exactly sure what he was threatening or how he wound up in the role of the interrogator in this situation, but his visitor shrugged and relented. 

“I’m--making training droids out scrapped battle ones.” he gestured vaguely at the pile of droid parts and tools strewn across the room. “I didn’t realize they’d put somebody down here.” 

Obi-wan wasn’t sure if the answer raised more questions than it answered or simply neglected to answer any question at all. “Fixing droids. In a prison cell.” They hadn’t even touched on the sith lightsaber yet.

“Yeah. I know--weird. But it’s peaceful here, and I’m also trying to fix my lightsaber.” 

“What.” 

“This laser sword?” He gestured to the parts of the hilt and held out the crystal. “Hates me. I can’t do anything with it, so--I’m trying to calm it down? And make it like me.” 

Obi-wan sat down. “By holding it in your mouth. In a room barred from the force.” 

“The force isn’t here? Huh. I guess that’s why it can’t channel the dark side here.” 

“Can’t you feel it?” Obi-wan was certain that somehow, this utterly baffling boy was force sensitive. 

“Well, yeah I mean it’s quiet here. I just didn’t realize that that was also the force. Or, you know, not the force. . .” 

“But you aren’t a sith?” 

“I don’t know. Ventress says there’s only two, but I’ve counted four and, uh, I guess I’m fighting with half of them against the other half. Or training to fight. I mean--it’s...complicated.” 

Obi-wan nodded softly. That was the first thing this guy said that he understood.

A week. It'd been a week since Dooku came to Naboo and Luke had been swept away to orbit. Leia had been blocked from the actual negotiations with the count. She'd been blocked by Luke for questioning if she belonged in his family or not. Honestly, she understood the reasons behind it all; her parents were protective and Luke--well. She really shouldn't be surprised if he didn't think much of her. 

So, to fill her time, Leia had begun to record her secret history of the Empire and the Rebellion. She'd told her parents--Organas and Amidala--about Palpatine's betrayal, the Jedi purges and not much else. Leia was no fool; she knew what trouble intelligence divorced from proper context could bring, what misinformed decisions could arise from learning details without first seeing the big picture. What if she told her father a trusted ally from her old life could be relied upon only to find the changes of this new time had turned him or her against them? 

 She hadn't worried about screwing up the timeline when she first began to interfere months ago, for how could things possibly get worse? But now that the deed was done and the rebellion was born anew in the form of the new secessionists--now that the future was open--the stakes were high. Leia had victory in her sights and she would not see it snatched from her grasps, nor would she settle for merely a different brand of tyranny. 

She didn't really know how the Emperor had controlled the clone army, but it was widely held among the rebellion that there had been some foul play at work. Propaganda claimed the Jedi plotted against the republic and the clones stayed true, refusing to follow their generals into treason, but this was ludicrous to all who still maintained a memory of the jedi, and Bail had made sure she knew it. 

Of course, until she and her proto-rebellion knew how to prevent the purges, there was little they could do to make the Jedi aware. Telling them of Palpatine's plans or identity as Darth Sideous would certainly lead to open conflict between the chancellor and the jedi--a conflict that Sideous would win unless his trump card over the clones was dealt with first. 

Just today Padme had told Leia and the Organas that she learned several days ago the source of the jedi's information, slim as it may be, on Leia was from none other than the future Obi-wan Kenobi himself. Her father and mother looked immensely relieved that somewhere out there an adult and high ranking Jedi could confirm Leia's story and clearly arrived at the same conclusion as she had regarding keeping intelligence about Sideous under wraps. 

As much as that annoyed her, it made sense, Leia supposed. The story her parents had told her of her adoption was that General Kenobi had brought her to them shortly before the purges, but now she knew that her biological father had been the man's apprentice and famed partner in battle--and that she had a twin who was placed with Anakin's relatives on Tatooine. Kenobi had a hand in her fate from her infancy to her present, it seemed, and Leia didn't know if she should thank him for giving her the family she loved or hate him for taking her from the family she lost. 

Only now was she free to add that information to her secret history. Leia locked the door on her bedroom, swept the room for bugs or surveillance equipment as was her custom, then got on her belly and reached under her bed. Her flimsy was tucked just inside a hole she had cut into the box spring of her bed. She felt a little like the silly girls at court in Alderaan with their gossip and diaries. 

She opened her chapter on known force sensitives, the two sith, known inquisitors--and the tragically short list of light siders: 

--Kanan, unknown purge survivor, and Ezra, his apprentice; both members of Hera Sindula's rebel cell, based in the Loth system. 

--Fulcrum, identity and past unknown. Rebel organizer. (Leia wished her father had let her meet Fulcrum, but she hadn't worked her way up high enough in the rebel ranks yet, and he refused to give her nepotistic advantages.) 

Now she could add a third entry: Obi-wan Kenobi, purge survivor, activities unknown. 

She sat back on her bed and absently bit at her thumbnail as she examined the list. She furrowed her brows, then carefully took up her stylus again, writing in after the elder jedi: "Leia Organa, untrained. Luke Skywalker, sith trained." She took a deep breath then locked her flimsy before turning it off. 

She was moments from returning the thing to her hiding spot for it when she froze--something was wrong. Leia shoved the flimsy under her pillow and stood up, alert and straining her ears to hear anything. 

There was a soft click outside of her door as if the locked door was being tried from the outside. Leia was at her desk in two steps and pulling her stun blaster out of her drawer. A lightsaber punched through the locking mechanism on the door. Leia swore and made a dive for the floor on the other side of her bed as she scrambled to pull out her comm while keeping hold of her stun blaster. 

It was too late; the door opened with a whoosh and the comm was snatched from her grasp by an invisible force. Leia grit her teeth and lifted her head over the edge of the bed, already opening fire in the direction her comm had flown off in. She caught sight of a hooded figure darting across the room and deflecting her bolts with ease. Leia's eyes widened and she ducked her head back under cover just in time to avoid taking one of her own stun bolts to the face. 

She had just moments to consider if screaming for help would be worth the cost to her internal sense of dignity when her assailant leapt over her bed, tackled her and seized her wrist to twist her weapon out of her hand.  Leia grunted in pain as she hit the ground, then she was pulled back up into a sitting position against her bed, green lightsaber against her neck, and a torguta glaring at her menacingly a single finger lifted against her lips with a clear message. Be silent or else. 

"Are you jedi?!" Leia shouted with outrage, taking a gamble based on her assailant's lack of red blades. "Unhand me this instant! This is a neutral system well out of your jurisdiction--mmph!" 

The torguta clamped her hand over her mouth with her free hand and moved her lit blade a little further from Leia. "You Leia?" she asked. 

Leia glared poisonously.

"You're a lot younger than I expected," she said after a moment, then waved her hand and commanded her to sleep. 

Leia blinked furiously as a sense of exhaustion overtook her like a wave. Hell no--the power force sensitives held over other minds was a well known source of terror galaxy-wide in Leia's time. Children taunted each other that Vader would sense their darkest thoughts and come for them; courtiers--even those most loyal to the empire--censored their thoughts when approaching the imperial center; rebels practiced willpower exercises in hopes of not being overcome in face of inquisitors. But Leia had attended events of state with Vader himself, her mind was hers and hers alone. She bit her tongue hard enough to taste blood and screamed against the hand that covered her mouth. 

The maybe jedi jerked her hand back in surprise. Then her eyes flicked over to the stun blaster that lay on the ground. Taking the risk that her assailant wouldn't cut her down with the threatening lightsaber if she was looking for non-lethal ways to subdue her, Leia jumped up and dashed for the door. She managed to dodge one bolt from the blaster before being hit by the second. 

Leia collapsed to the floor and tried to breathe through clenched teeth and ride out the assault on her nervous system. 

"Force! You're as stubborn as Skyguy." She heard as her kidnapper, no less slight than Leia in stature, threw her over her shoulder as easily as one might a knapsack. Then Leia lost her battle with unconsciousness. 

Okay, so maybe Ahsoka felt a little bad about the way her search and capture scheme went down. She hadn't been exactly sure what she would find when she found the person responsible for single-handedly turning the tides of a galactic war against the republic, but it wasn't a teenaged girl, no matter how keen with a blaster or strong willed she appeared to be. 

Of course, Ahsoka knew she was was a teenaged girl. The jedi order was filled with teenaged girls, dangerous and wise, commanders of the Grand Army of the Republic, healers and scholars. But Ahsoka had such limited experience with civilians--or really anyone who wasn't a Jedi or a clone.

Leia had long hair twisted and braided into an elaborate crown, she wore makeup, which made her large eyes seem larger, and a simple white dress--all to the effect of conveying innocence and youth even as she had glared at Ahsoka with murder in her eyes. 

Ahsoka was already out of the palace and her hidden speeder before she noticed the small trail of blood her captive was leaving behind. Kriff . It was just a few drops every meter or so, but when had she been cut? Ahsoka set her unconscious prisoner down in the back of the speeder and frowned to see the bleeding coming from her mouth. She carefully pried the girl's mouth open with both hands and poked at the obvious bite marks she found on her tongue. Well. That explained the screaming when she was shrugging off the sleep suggestion. Ahsoka winced. Fortunately, the bite didn't seem too--

Leia snapped to awareness without warning and shrieked and struggled out of Ahsoka's grip on her jaw, acting on instinct to push her assailant away and curl up defensively. Ahsoka snatched her hands back and thanked the force that the other girl clearly didn't first think, as Ahsoka would have, to bite the offending fingers off. 

"Unhand me--!" She began with the same air of self import she'd demonstrated when Ahsoka first took her captive.

"Easy, easy! I'm a jedi--I'm not going to hurt you." Okay so maybe she was going to take her captive as a prisoner of war, but Leia brought that down on her own head when she decided to help the separatists over the republic in a time that she had no business being in. 

The girl cast her eyes about to take in her situation, and seemed to decide against making a break for it despite their still close proximity to the Naboo palace and unbound hands. She could tell it was hopeless. Smart kid. 

"You're a padawan right?" She said, eyeing Ahsoka's padawan beads as she got up off the floor and onto the back seat of the speeder, straightened her posture and swallowed the blood in her mouth. "Do you have any idea how illegal this is? I'm a diplomatic courtier with the sovereign system of Alderaan--" 

"Is that the title they gave you for telling them the republic isn't worth fighting for?" Ahsoka said as she vaulted with one hand over the door to the driver's seat and hit the gas for all the speed this engine could give her. That blood trail was likely already raising all kinds of alarms, and she had no time to spare to make her getaway. 

"Where is your master? This brazen assault can't possibly be condoned by the jedi council I demand to speak with them." 

Ahsoka glanced over her shoulder to look back at the girl. A politician. She had to be. Nobody got the ear of the entire council these days, not even the chancellor or the time-displaced younger version of a sitting councilmember. Only a politician could think herself entitled to speak with them. 

"Master Ben said you weren't my enemy and that we needed to leave you alone. Care to explain why he's so keen on supporting you?" She watched the girl carefully (the force would let her know if she was on a collision course with anything). No recognition crossed the girl's face. "Ben Kenobi? Obi-wan?" she tried again, and this time the girl caught on. Interesting. She didn't know the Master Kenobi of her time by his newly chosen name. 

"He's supporting me because he knows I'm a friend of the jedi and of liberty," the girl spoke with confidence. "Why didn't you listen to him? He's your general." 

"Yeah, but you both are from some kriffed up time where we lost the war, right? But you blew that history to sith hells and now it's anyone's game. I'm not giving up on the republic even if you and Ben have." Leia opened her mouth in outrage, but Ahsoka cut her off preemptively. "So I'll ask again; how does Ben know you?" 

Now she shut her mouth with obvious intent to say nothing at all. Ahsoka rolled her eyes and looked to her speeders sensor array. Almost there. 

"You said General Kenobi agreed that my identity and the time from which I hail ought to be kept as quiet as possible," Leia said suddenly leaning forward like she found some kind of leverage. 

"Yeah."

"So how is it he told you this? Is he your teacher in this time?" 

Ahsoka looked at her nav again and smiled. She set the autopilot with a merry wild goose chase programmed in, and moved to the back of the speeder, crouching on the side of the door next to the fourth time traveler she'd ever met. 

"Nope--my grandmaster. I'm Ahsoka Tano-- Master Skywalker's apprentice." Ahsoka smiled sharply at the surprise that crossed the other girl's face before seizing her arm and, with some aid from the force, hauling her out of the moving speeder and tumbling with her to the ground. 

For a politician, Leia took the manhandling and rough tumble to the ground surprisingly well. Ahsoka had tucked the girl's head against her shoulder and wrapped her left arm around the back to keep her head from hitting anything, and while she did hear a muffled cry of alarm, Leia seemed to have the presence of mind to wrap her own arms tightly Ahsoka's back and hold on for dear life. 

Ahsoka had to laugh a little as she finally tumbled to a stop and rolled off the temporal interloper. Stretching out on the ground and enjoying the view of the Naboo sky for a moment. Maybe the brief adrenaline high she enjoyed was why she didn't see the elbow coming for her solar plexus before it was too late. 

Ahsoka wheezed and spluttered a moment, before sinking herself back in the force and shoving the fleeing captive off her feet with an absent flick of her hand. She sat up and absently felt at the impressive bruise that was rising on her chest as she looked to Leia. 

The proud courtier of Alderaan was sprawled on her stomach and propped up by one elbow as her other hand wiped the blood from her mouth. She was covered in dirt, her hair was escaping her braids at every opportunity. Ahsoka sighed. She stood up and offered her hand. 

"Ha nice one. Friends?" 

Leia got up without the offered hand and wiped her hands on her ruined dress. "Take me back to the Naboo palace." 

"Uh, no. At least, not until I figure out your angle." 

"Then we're not friends. I must speak to your master." 

"Listen--this is definitely not an on the books sort of mission, as you might have guessed--"

"Does he not know you're doing this?!"

"There's knowing and then there's knowing. . . "

Leia looked at her with naggingly familiar exasperation and said nothing. That was fair; Ahsoka wouldn't really be friendly with someone in the act of kidnapping her either--even if that person was a jedi. "Come on," she said as she grabbed Leia's wrist and tugged her over to where she'd hid her sleek mandolorian gun ship, tragically stripped of its guns. Leia jerked her hand back when she saw the ship. 

"Just where do you expect to take me? How did you even slip past the Naboo and CIS ships?" 

Ahsoka reclaimed her hold on Leia and shoved her into the co-pilot seat of the ship, before hopping into the pilot seat and snapping the hatch shut with a decisive click. 

"Master Skywalker has codes." 

Leia looked surprisingly exasperated and mumbled something about " of course he has port codes here " whatever that was supposed to mean. 

"To answer your question--Dooku's flagship. He has something of ours that just might be kept on that monstrous ship. Ventress does too if I can swing a twofer." 

Leia sat up at that. "You have to be joking! Do you have any idea how sensitive our negotiations are at this late stage? We're a day away from the separatists outright invading Naboo or from the liberation of about seven separatists controlled systems!" 

"And here I thought you were afraid I'd die in my daring mission," Ahsoka teased good naturedly. She received no reply other than a glare. "Look, Leia," she continued more sincerely. "Ben trusts you, so I'm going to trust you too for now. I need you to get me on that ship." 

Leia drew herself up. "Even if I could, I wouldn't."

Ahsoka swerved to bring her craft on a vector that would take her ship into the far side of one of Naboo's smaller moons where it could lie in wait before approaching Dooku's monstrous flagship. Then she turned back towards Leia and hissed out, "Listen. You may think you're some great friend of the jedi and freedom. You might think you're stopping all the bad shit that you read about in your history books at school, but you know nothing about the wars your meddling in and nothing of the sith you're dealing with. Now. I know you've a right to be pissed at me for kidnapping you and all, but I have captive friends and family whose lives are actually at risk and who may very well be on that there ship. So you are going to hail that ship with your lovely diplomatic credentials, Ms. Alderaani courtier, and you are going to get me in there."

Leia set her jaw and tilted her head back and to the side in a show of stubbornness and pride. The moment Ahsoka finished, Leia unleashed her retort, saying, "Don't you dare presume to think you know what I do and do not understand, Commander Tano! I may not be the warrior you are, but I know the costs of war, the risks taken, the pyrrhic victories and the cut losses every bit as well as you must--and perhaps even more. I may not have met the sith in battle, but I know them. Know what they are capable of, the world they would create. You have no idea-- no idea --"  Leia blinked a few times as she reigned in her temper, shut her mouth and looked out the window at the moon with a frown. 

Ahsoka realized she might have judged this stranger more quickly and harshly than she should have. Yes, she spoke with the typical confidence and arrogance of a politician, and her pale skin and soft hands spoke of a life without toil. However, Ahsoka's quick and intended surprise attack had been met with blaster fire from behind makeshift cover. Leia had bit into her own tongue to shake off a sleep suggestion (and Ahsoka had been practicing those on the 501st for months). 

Ahsoka thought about how burdened Ben had been with losses Ahsoka didn't even want to think about. She had figured that she and many others had died by then, but Ahsoka wasn't particularly afraid of death and had been more focused on saving the day. She was so focused on the losses and the ways she might prevent them that she hadn't realized that Leia, who was surely too young to have known the republic Ahsoka treasured, would still have lived a very real life in its absence. 

"Who are you trying to rescue?" Leia asked quietly, shaking Ahsoka from her thoughts. 

"You'll help me?" Ahsoka asked, surprised. She'd managed to do just about everything in her power to piss off and alienate Leia; she didn't think she would be offered an olive branch so quickly and without doing anything to deserve it. 

Leia sighed. "I might have someone on the inside…" 

"Hah! I knew it was a good idea to kidnap you!" 

Leia scowled. "I said I might have someone. He's shut me out for the last week or so ever since I--well, we had an argument." 

"You? Fight with someone? Can't see it," Ahsoka teased. Maybe she’s acting like she and Leia have more rapport than their fragile understanding truly afforded, but Ahsoka was in a good mood and eager to push boundaries. 

She didn't dwell on it, but losing so catastrophically to Dooku--and letting the youngest Obi-wan pay the price for it--had weighed on her. As soon as she arrived at Naboo and saw the Invisible Hand hanging in orbit, the prospect of returning the favor and rescuing her friend and one day mentor had lit a fire in her heart and lifted her mood.

Chapter Text

It felt like the twenty years it was in fact since Qui-gon and his apprentice had come to Moran to resolve a dispute with the Republic, but Qui-gon hadn't forgotten how their government demanded the Republic's proposals to be submitted for consideration--written by the negotiator's hand in triplicate. He had had to learn calligraphy for the task; he had been rejected twice before his penmanship was considered sufficiently identical in each copy. It was an ancient Moran tradition, he was told, so Qui-gon knew without a doubt that the texts stolen by Dooku's sith apprentice still held copies in the temple system.

They had spent the rest of the day cataloging all the books that were present in the old subterranean library and the day after that finding and traveling to a second temple complex, this one carved in a high mountainside in the other hemisphere. Sure enough, there was a library with the exact same collection of texts--but one extra. It took six hours to make a complete scan and holo-copy of the book, then they were off, slipping discreetly out of the system and en route to Coruscant. 

Almost two days later, Qui-gon was stepping out in the temple's flight bay--identical in form to the one he knew but greatly altered in spirit. Gone were the calm comings and goings of Jedi teams set to bring order to the galaxy. Now the bay was filled with clones bustling about and mechanics patching up starfighters stripped of their outer bulwarks by vulture droids. Nobody gave Qui-gon as much as a second glance, and he took both some well-needed comfort and humor in the anonymity. He looked over to Depa, who was busy already with a clone trooper that could only be the second in command that Caleb had praised to the high heavens over the course of their journey. 

"We've kept this affair with the time travel to a need to know basis." Qui-gon turned his head at the frank greeting and was relieved to find Mace Windu unaltered by time. "You're not forgotten, old friend, just not looked for." He finished and his stern exterior cracked into a slight but fond smile. 

"I'd prefer it that way," Qui-gon mused, "I don't expect to stay." 

Depa broke off from her debriefing with her captain and walked up to her old master. "Our reconnaissance on Moran confirms Kenobi's theory that the Count is involved with the mysticism of the system's old religion, but the text requires Jocasta's ministries to translate. Force willing, we will finally understand what we are dealing with and learn of the count's plans." 

Mace nodded and sent Padawan Dume off to deliver the records. Qui-gon crossed his arms and studied his old friend carefully. 

"What aren't you telling me, Mace?" he said at last. Master Windu sighed. "You know where Yan is, don't you."

"Master Jinn--" 

Qui-gon clenched and unclenched his jaw. "You sanctioned me to rescue my padawan, Master Windu--how can I complete my mission if you refuse to convey such relevant information as where my old teacher had resurfaced!" 

The relative privacy the group had enjoyed amid the hustle in the bay evaporated at Qui-gon's exasperated tone (he wasn't shouting. He was not. It wouldn't befit the dignity of his position. So he wasn't). Whispers and stares spread out like a shockwave across the transport bay. Mace looked tired. 

"Qui-gon," Deppa said, laying a hand on his arm, "We received intelligence that Dooku was negotiating with the succeeding systems at Naboo some days ago. I made the decision to withhold it from you. Our work on Moran was important--both for Padawan Kenobi's recovery and for anticipating the count's next move."

"And you thought I would run off blind into hostile territory at the first hint of where they might be?" 

Mace began to walk out of the bay and ushered his companions to follow him. "The council thought it likely. Master Billaba acted under our advisement as you were wont not to do in years gone by." 

Qui-gon took a long breath and released his mounting anger into the force. A moment of peace and he could think more clearly. "'The council thought it likely?' Obi-wan should know me better--I would not have allowed attachments to blind me to the best course of action, but I would act in the best interests of my padawan instead of your war efforts. I needed all the information to make that choice." 

"Kenobi told us just the same thing," Mace replied, "his was the minority position in your favor." 

Deppa fell in lockstep with Mace and continued serenely, "He also told me he'd warned you that I would act for the sake of the republic even over the welfare of himself. He said you might be a little paranoid because of that." 

"But was he correct? Would you place war over the wellbeing of one of our own children?" 

"A hypothetical has no grounding in the force to make it true or false; there is only that which is and that which is not," Deppa replied serenely. 

"But your current priorities are very real." Deppa blinked and her eyes slid to the side a moment as she hesitated ever so slightly to come up with a snappy rebuttal. Qui-gon sighed. “We have the texts Yan was interested in now--with any hope they shall enlighten us all, but I don’t need to be here for that anymore. I need to be at Naboo.”

“I know you do, old friend,” Mace spoke softly. A pensiveness hung about him, and Qui-gon remembered that this was the system in which he had (or would) perish to the sith.

“The situation with the seceding systems is tenuous,” Deppa started. “The Chancellor is pushing us to take them back, and most of the senators who wish to respect the freedom and independence of the systems are being courted themselves by the new secessionists. Naboo and Alderaan have put themselves in great danger by stepping out of the Republic, but the Jedi are not conquerors. We help those who ask it of us.” 

“Will they accept a Jedi delegate to participate in these negotiations with the separatists?” Qui-gon asked. He didn’t have answers for his friends, and his brief time in this war was making his inadequacy blindingly clear. 

“Are you asking to enter peaceful talks with the Sith ?” Mace asked. “I know you’ve witnessed the corruption of Dooku firsthand.”

Qui-gon pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s clearly capable of peaceful talks, since that has been what has been doing for a week, and Yan made it quite clear the last time around that he was disinterested in killing me.”

Mace looked at him incredulously, and Deppa tilted her head. “Let us leave aside the likelihood that these tentative talks between separatists and new secessionists are likely moments away from devolving into a separatist invasion,” she said. “Master Kenobi has been on a grueling diplomatic gamut to prevent more disintegration of a republic frayed by centuries of corruption and years of war. He has been in talks with the former senators of the wayward systems, but not once has he been invited to visit Naboo. I don’t believe we could get you there--not until Dooku himself grows impatient of talking and seeks to bring them in by force.” 

“Then you come in with force yourself, hm?” 

“If they ask our help.”

Qui-gon furrowed his brows and looked at the marble tiles that passed beneath his feet. “If I can get an invitation to Naboo, will the council support my decision to go?” 

Mace smiled and shook his head. “Qui-gon Jinn. Keeping you in check has always been like lassoing the wind; by now the council has given up the project.” 

“Well. Now, I know things must be dire.” Qui-gon replied with a twinkle in his eye, and for the first time since losing his place in time, Qui-gon felt like he was coming home. His padawan was out there, and he would find him; his friends and the temple were here, worn by war and a moral crisis in the galaxy, but here and full of light despite it all. 

Luke watched Dax pace the cell a moment before, shrugging and putting his kyber chrystal back in his mouth and setting to his repairs. He though about how for several days now, he'd been coming to the adjacent cell, never dreaming that someone was wallowing in misery the next wall over. Luke never imagined his unfailing intuition about where people were, whether someone was approaching, leaving or sitting the next room over, might also be the result of the force. Everyone else also talked about feeling someone's eyes upon them and the like. Luke just thought people were like that, so it hadn't even occurred to him that a place like these cells that were quiet could hold people quietly. 

"Listen," Dax said at last, "I have to get out of here; I know I can't get off this ship as it stands, but I have to get out--I-- I'm going to lose my mind if I have to stay here much longer." 

"'ow long 'ave y'been 'ere?" Luke spoke around the chrystal in his mouth. He knew he looked and sounded ridiculous--knew his kyber crystal (maybe he should name it. . .) was literally and profoundly upset at being disconnected from the dark side of the force and stuck with him of all people--but he didn't really care. 

"I'm not sure--they droids stopped giving me meals at regular intervals, and without the force my sense of time is shot." 

"Ah'm s'ry." Luke said. 

"Please." The other boy croaked. "I'll do it with or without your help, but--"

"No--" Luke paused to take his kyber crystal out and slip it into his pocket. "I meant I'm sorry that happened to you. Of course I'll help you." 

The other boy gaped at him, then eyed him with suspicion again. "Are you Dooku's apprentice? Is this some kind of trick? Because if so, he already told me you'd try to kill me, and playing nice and harmless is pointless." 

Luke raised his eyebrows. "...why would Dooku's apprentice want to kill you?" he asked, then, realizing how ridiculous he sounded asking why Ventress might want to kill...anyone really, he added, "--besides you maybe being a real jedi that is." 

"Um. No reason." Dax winced as if surprised at how unconvincing he sounded. "I mean--I'm a part of Dooku's jedi lineage. And the sith have issues with sharing teaching lines." 

Interesting. "I think that's just for sith. I didn't know Dooku used to be a jedi though. He doesn't seem the type--uh, not that I've actually met him yet, but Ventress talks about him a lot. She's the one Dooku told you to look out for--his real apprentice." 

"And you're his fake apprentice? No offense, but you don't seem like much of a sith." 

"It kind of sounds like a compliment, honestly." Luke smiled sheepishly. "But naw--Ventress is teaching me. Is it true what she said about the jedi not having natural families?" 

". . . We forswear attachments. Why do you ask?" 

Luke did want to know if his father would be happy to meet him. 'No attachments' didn't particularly sound like a vow a married man was following anyways, so he hoped Anakin Skywalker would be willing to break that rule again. But he could have waited to interrogate Dax on the ways of the jedi. In truth, he was looking for a way to calm the uneasy desperation and fractured sense of trust that the captive exuded. Solitary confinement, in the dark and without the force, for long enough to lose sense of time was hard on the soul. Someone was trying to break him, and the first thing to go was always trust of strangers. 

"Well, I was just wondering, because you talked about being a part of Dooku's lineage like its family." 

". . . Not exactly. . . " 

"Because that means we're cousins then, huh? Maybe once or twice removed?" 

"I--that's… Dooku taught my master too." 

"First cousins then!" Luke smiled. "Where I'm from that means we help each other." 

"Are you actually insane?" 

"Of all the things we've been talking about, 'cousins helping each other' is where you draw the line?" 

"You're a darksider." 

"Not really. C'mon. I'll sneak you into my cabin." 

Luke didn't need to offer twice. his new companion walked quickly to where Luke's dismantled lightsaber was carefully laid out and took the focaliser as security. Luke climbed out first and told the droid sentries to fetch him a body bag. An unusual request, he thought, but the droids didn't question if, skittering off instead with a simple 'Rodger rodger.' 

Luke turned back to the black pit and motioned for Dax to follow. No sooner had he scampered out of the cell then he was visibly shivering, nearly gasping for air, eyes unseeing. Luke swore and kneeled beside the boy, hoping his plan to hide the young jedi in a body bag wasn't depressingly prophetic, but then, as if gathering his dissipated soul back within his body, Dax seemed to regain his presence of mind and spirit. A bright light took up host within him, and it reminded Luke a bit of Ben--the only other jedi Luke had ever met. 

"How do you do that?" 

"Do what?" The boy frowned at luke and seemed to look right through him with the prescient eyes Luke had grown accustomed to in Ventress when she was trying to read his soul. 

"You--" Luke furrowed his brows. It was hard, always so hard, to explain what he sensed through the force. No one had taught him a vocabulary for it and all his life Luke had taken his experiences for granted. Fortunately, he'd spent a week reading the holy texts of one people and discussing its relation to the force with a sarcastic yet honest teacher. "You put yourself so far into the universe and pull so much of it into yourself--how do you not let it consume you?" It burned Ventress, this Luke knew, and it burned him whenever he tried. 

The captive jedi looked at him with confusion a moment--then-- "You're untrained" he concluded softly, with some wonder. 

"Yes," Luke replied simply, suddenly self-conscious that the two or so weeks he had spent with a fairly unstable sith assassin must look like nothing to someone raised since infancy in a mythic order, which in Luke's time was only whispered of in hushed voices--speaking of nearly deified holy warriors or monstrous traitors. 

"You have to get out of here--they'll corrupt you and--"

"Look, Dax--I know the sith are an evil death cult. And I get that I'm just as liable to go bad as the next guy, but I want to save my dad and--"

"And they always promise you power. Always tell you you can keep the people and things you love, but--"

"Then why don't you teach me the light side of things?" Luke interrupted again. He was beginning to think the force really was orchestrating affairs for him. 

"I can't teach you! I'm just a padawan."

"What the hell is a padawog?" 

The other boy opened and shut his mouth. Before he could think to say anything the soft clank of droids returning down the hallway was heard. Luke turned to see them lumber around the corner and quickly looked back to the jedi boy; he'd meant to tell him to play dead or something but he had already leapt back into the pit. Luke was honestly a little surprised he would willingly go back there; he certainly wasn't going to ask him to. But he took the body bags from the droids and waved them off with a jaunty salute. 

Luke was growing to love those stupid droids. Even when Ventress had him test his skills against their stun blasters. He'd actually managed to beat one today--which was why he was looking to fix it up even better this time.  He got down on his hands and knees and gave the all-clear. Dax scrambled out again with a shudder. 

"Does it really not bother you in there? You're still force sensitive." He asked as he crawled into the body bag.

"It probably would if I was trapped in there. But--I don't think the force and I are as close as you are. Maybe someday when--"

"No no," came the muffled interruption from the black plastic bag. Luke grabbed some straps attached to the end and began to drag the jedi boy. "It shouldn't be your level of training. Just because you don't recognize it for what it was you said the place was quiet. You felt it."  The boy talked a lot for someone hiding in a body bag. Luke frowned as he contemplated what his new friend was saying. 

"It's so dark here," he replied at last. "Like the temple, but . . .sometimes I need a break." 

"You need to center yourself. Meditate on the light. What your doing now is like killing yourself to stop a headache." 

Luke grimaced but the metaphor did make sense in its own way. Whatever his reasons for claiming he couldn't teach, they sounded more like a formality than a point of fact. 

"And how--" Luke cut himself off and stood at alert. Ventress was coming down the corridor. Their private quarters were in the same wing and level. He stopped dragging the other along and hoped the boy could shield himself well enough. "Oh hey, Ventress." Luke greeted awkwardly as she came into view. Ventress paused a moment, narrowed her eyes, and stalked closer like a vulture that caught the scent of fresh blood. 

"Luke." The question was implied; Ventress didn't believe in asking obvious questions--or at least, that was what she'd told him when he'd pestered her too many times with his own obvious queries. 

"It's--easier to carry the droid parts in one of these?" Luke winced at the unconvincing excuse. In truth, the bag was mostly a guise to stop droids from questioning them and possibly reporting up the chain until Dooku learned of both Luke's presence on his ship and that he was aiding his jedi prisoner. The guise was never intended to keep his nosy mind-reading mentor at bay. He glared at Ventress and made sure that she knew it was her own damn fault if his excuses were so sub-par. 

"Mmhmm. Tell me this, Luke. You go hiding in our force suppressor cells --against my wishes mind you ." She loomed over him. Luke blinked. He recalled her saying that he 'shouldn't use artificial crutches to make up for his own pathetic shields,' but not until this very moment did Luke suspect her general pronouncement of disdain was an actual command to avoid the force suppressors. "And then? You come out of the prison cells with a warm body bag." 

Luke felt the slightest shift from the bag. Dax was going to make a break for it. He was moments away from making some kind of rash move, but Luke could salvage this. He would. He kicked his heel back slightly and lightly bopped the restless escapee in a sign to stay. Then he stood to block Ventress's view of the bag. 

"Do you trust me?" Luke asked, unsure if he was addressing Ventress or Dax. 

"...what kind of ridiculous sentimentalism--?" Ventress asked, almost bewildered at the very notion, and waved her hand. The bag flew up over Luke's head towards the woman who called it forth, and no sooner had it reached her than a well-placed kick from within the bag struck out at her head. She ducked and dropped the bag with a thud. Dax hastily crawled out, jaw set and muscles tense for a fight. 

"My my," Ventress smirked as she placed her hands on her hips by her lightsabers. "That is one warm corpse you have there."  Dax took the opportunity to flip himself in a somersault landing on his feet a few feet away from the sith. Luke wasn't sure he'd ever witnessed someone pick himself up with such alacrity. His eyes darted about as he sized up his opponent. Ventress also looked him up and down, and her eyes narrowed with confusion. Luke got the impression that she was trying to place his face. 

"What have we here?" She asked as her left hand reached slowly and with great care not to spook her quarry for the longish lock of hair that hung loosely behind his right ear. Dax didn't make any sudden moves, but when her hand got close enough to his face he batted it aside.

"Don't touch me," he spoke firmly. 

"I don't meet many padawans in battle." She mused as she brought her hand back to her hip. She tilted her head and smirked. "The Jedi keep most of them well away from fronts where they know me to be--but you. You look familiar." 

Luke knew she was attempting to intimidate the boy--a default strategy Ventress favored when she encountered a new and unknown set of circumstances. She was pretty good at it too. Therefore, he was as surprised as his master when the young Jedi's only response was neither one of fear or of uncowed courage but rather an exasperated groan and a longsuffering eye roll.

Chapter Text

Ventress folded her arms as she sized up the naggingly familiar padawan Luke had dragged out of Dooku's dungeon. She wondered how long the pale and sallow boy had been squirrled away and why the devil the sith hadn't killed or ransomed the jedi. She made a note to dig around in the droids' memories. 

And here she'd been bored out of her mind all week. It was painfully obvious that she couldn't drag Luke along for one of her normal missions yet--he was handy enough with a blaster or in a pilot's seat--but he needed some proficiency with a lightsaber and the force. As it stood, the jedi would eat him alive; they'd capture him in an instant, and Ventress had come to like teaching the kid. She enjoyed his company and the challenges he presented daily to her. The only problem was that he was undeniably a good soul, and the dark side promised it's followers no good thing. The jedi, who hoarded all good things and jealously protected their treasures, wouldn't train him, but they would let her mentor him either. 

Ventress turned her eyes back to the padawan with the severed braid. Not a new knight--no, far too young for that--but--perhaps her old master maintained some of his old Jedi selfishness. . .

"Tell me, Padawan," she said after her long silence had set both boys to fidgeting anxiously. "Who is your master?" The boy visibly clenched his teeth and lifted his chin in insolent silence. She rolled her eyes. "Come come. No need for such stubborn silence. If I choose to interrogate you--you'll know it, boy." 

He kept silent. She turned to Luke. "What name did he give you?" Luke looked over to the other boy for permission before telling her his name was Dax. Well. That was total bullshit. She couldn't place the teen's face iust this moment but she knew that that was not his name. 

"Okay Padawan Dax. Lets try an easier question. What the devil is Dooku doing with you?"

She was met with silence again, but this time Ventress went out on a limb and waited patiently--yes patiently . The boy like Luke was capable and well past his childhood but not yet a man. He had been in true isolation, cut off from the force, for at least a week and who knows how long Dooku held him before that. Ventress was willing to bet he would find a prolonged and pointed silence torturous. 

Luke bounced awkwardly on the balls of his feet but followed her lead so far. He would probably turn on her again if she tried to hurt someone he was obviously intent on protecting, but things didn't need to come to that. Not yet anyways. Now was not the time for that.

"Well what does it look like he's doing?" the padawan broke at last. Ventress smiled.

"Luke?" She looked over to her apprentice, clearly prompting him to take on the role of detective and prove his intellect. Ventress herself would have jumped at the chance to prove her worth when Dooku had first taken her on, but Luke pressed his lips together in a tight frown, unwilling even in this the mildest of tasks to seemingly betray his new friend. Ventress glared back. 

"It's okay, Luke," the boy interjected. "You can speculate and answer her, I don't mind." The padawan wanted Luke to avoid punishment, which was--something. Ventress felt anger spark inside her chest. 

Luke's loyalty was paying dividends, and Ventress hated it. She hated that her pupil could do everything wrong, make every naive and good-hearted mistake and still find success. Oh, she didn't blame Luke for it all, but she knew the force loved him more than it did her--and knew that everyone else would start to see it soon enough too. A feeling of profound inadequacy gnawed at the lining of her stomach, painfully different from the usual cocktail of shame and defensive anger that would spur her to reach ever higher goals and pull off near impossible missions for the ever elusive approval of her own master and teacher. 

Her bond with Luke was different from that which she shared with Dooku. Luke didn't pronounce her failings, but he lived them out every time he refused the dark side and all the wisdom and secret knowledge she had to offer about it. Dooku was proud of her when she earned his praise; she knew he liked her and thought her well worth training. But Luke had no real use for her--not when all was said and done--and he stuck around anyways. 

"Okaay," Luke replied at last after pondering things a moment. "Well. Um. The empire wouldn't--" he trailed off as he looked to the padawan, "well, you know. So, I don't think Dooku would have a problem killing a kid. He's not been tortured, which is good. Maybe he's a hostage. The count is keeping leverage over his master." 

"A sensible theory, but for one problem--" Ventress opened the palm of her hand and called into her grip the padawan braid she'd sensed tucked carefully within the folds of the padawan's robes. The boy yelped in outrage and took a half a step forward to reclaim the trophy but Ventress already had a lightsaber out and pointed at his face, halting him mid-step. 

"What is it?" Luke asked cautiously, peering at the slender braid hanging between her thin, grey fingers. 

"A padawan braid. A symbol of the jedi apprentice's bond to his master. Lots of sentimental value here, no? If it was the master Dooku wanted he would have cut the braid and sent it along as proof of capture--but instead he let you keep it." Ventress pushed her saber further into the boy's personal space and loomed over him. Luke's protests rang clearly over their bond, but he knew she wasn't going to kill the padawan. Yet. 

"He just cut it off to be cruel." The boy said softly.