Chapter Text
Dear Qui-Gon,
The message Ahsoka left with Chirrut and Baze was easy enough to decode - Christophsis was her first mission as a Padawan, where Anakin first dubbed her Snips and they successfully brought down the Sepratist shield generator to win the battle. I did not find her there, but another message with another clue - she was being careful, ensuring that only a close friend would be able to follow her trail. In truth the messages had probably been left for Anakin, perhaps still nursing hope that he was alive, that he had not fallen as everyone believed defending the Jedi Temple, but was out there looking for her as she was looking for him.
I followed her trail to a small planet in the mid-Rim, to a small shack on a cliff braced against a tumultuous, seemingly constant storm. Inside was a single chair, a narrow cot, and a complicated-looking transmitter system with an input-output signal I could not decipher. I surmised the storm masked any transmission but that my presence had been flagged nonetheless, so folded my cloak around myself and waited.
Ahsoka arrived on the third day, cautiously entering the shack with her blaster raised. She was older than when I last saw her, her montrals high and her lekku falling down to her waist. Seeing her as a woman grown, it struck me just how young she had been during the war - no more than a child, and we had expected her to lead armies and fight to the death. At the time we had justified it by tradition - padawans always followed their master, even on dangerous missions. But no one had anticipated just how brutal and prolonged the Clone Wars would be; we had turned our children from students to soldiers, and then made them fugitives.
“Obi Wan?” Ahsoka lowered her blaster. “I saw you on the holo feed, but couldn’t be sure…is it really you?”
“It’s me,” I assured her as I rose, but the words had barely left my mouth before she flung herself across the room, arms closing around me in a tight embrace.
“I thought you were dead!” she explained as she pulled away, placing her hands on either side of my face and studying me - we are the same height now.
“Where have you been all this time?”
How much could I tell her? I had shared the truth with Vos, although in hindsight I probably should not have. But for Vos the information only held mild interest; for Ahsoka it would be deeply distressing.
“In hiding,” I said carefully. “Like all the others. Have you seen them?”
She shook her head sadly. “There are so few left, and they are scattered to the winds.”
“So I have found.” I stroked the side of my beard, unsure of how much she knew. “Hunted down by a Sith Lord, or so they say.”
Ahsoka shivered - she had no doubt heard the stories too. “Who is he, do you think?”
“Sith emerge from the shadows,” I said, studying her. “As if from nothing.”
I felt her studying me right back, and yet she had not completed her training, her skills acute but incomplete.
“I suppose you’re right,” she sighed and turned away. “He's a Sith, that's all that matters.”
“You should be careful,” I placed my hand on her shoulder. “If I can find you, the inquisitors could too.”
I felt her tense, her emotions swirling close to the surface of her mind, her pain and sorrow undiminished despite the years that had passed.
“They say some of them were younglings from the Temple, taken and twisted to hate those that were once their family.” She turned to face me, tears in her eyes. “Oh Obi-Wan, what has the galaxy come to?”
She strays too close to the truth for comfort, but I say nothing, lest it give me away. Instead I fold her into my arms, and she is a child again, seeking answers and protection and instruction from the elders she had been taught from childhood to respect and revere. She had needed to be the strong one these past years, out in the galaxy alone, cut off from all the support systems upon which she had always relied. She had survived, but it had been at a cost. The bright-eyed padawan had been lost, forged in the crucible of war into something quite different.
“I left the trail for Anakin,” she told me, chin tucked over my shoulder. “I know they say he died at the Temple, but there was something inside of me that couldn’t believe it. I thought after everything that had happened, he would surely find me.”
She took a shaky breath as she pulled away. “But he hasn’t, so he must be dead.”
My heart broke, but I dared not tell her the truth. What would it do, but cause further hurt? I had nothing that would comfort her, feeling painfully inadequate that we should meet again but I could be of no use to her.
“I see you still carry lightsabers,” I said, latching onto a safer topic.
That cheered her, and she drew the weapons, igniting them to reveal pure white blades.
“I took the crystals off an inquisitor,” she said proudly. “And purified them.”
“Really?” I had never heard of such a thing - once a kyber crystal was corrupted I thought there was no way back. It was with great relief that I had taken Anakin’s saber before he’d had a chance to bleed the crystal - it comforted me that his Jedi blade was not being further yielded in service of the dark arts.
“I’m not a knight, Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka deactivated the blades and reattached them to her belt. “But I remember everything I learned. From Anakin - and from you as well.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“We are fighting back,” she pressed on, suddenly alight with purpose. “There are few of us now, operating alone or in small rebel cells. But more are joining us every day.”
“Yes,” I said carefully. “Bail is doing well.”
Ahsoka gave a pointed look. “We could use your help.”
How could I tell her? Ahsoka would never agree with the plan Yoda, Bail, and I had agreed on - naturally she would want to know the children of Anakin and Padme, and very likely would shoot off for Tatooine for Luke the moment the words crossed my lips, enticing him away with tales of his father, offering him a chance to escape to the stars he longed for.
I had seen him at twilight waiting for the moment the universe opened up to him, the sky changing from the monochromatic blue of day, to the kaleidoscope of sunset and fading to the black of night punctuated by the light of a thousand other worlds. He was his father’s son, the boy who had once dreamed of visiting all the stars in the sky, and had all too soon found that dream came at a bitter cost.
Luke’s place was not with the Rebellion - not yet - and perhaps the selfish part of me simply does not wish to share him with anyone. He is my charge - my hope to protect.
“I cannot,” I said, the words painfully crossing my lips. “I’m sorry.”
Her brow furrowed. “Then why did you come?”
“I…” There was no answer I could give her, no explanation that would satisfy.
“I don’t understand you, Obi-Wan,” she shook her head in disbelief. “You are the most honourable Jedi I have ever known, and the last I would have expected to give up.”
“I have not given up,” I defended myself. “I have been in communion with Yoda-”
“Oh.” Ahsoka cast her eyes down. “I have not heard from him. I suppose because I am not a Jedi.”
I put a hand on her shoulder. “That is not the reason.”
“Is he in hiding too?” Ahsoka asked with a sharp edge to her voice.
“Yes,” I said, squeezing her shoulder lightly. “Or rather - exile.”
“What is the good of that?” Ashoka pulled away, sharpness turning to steel. “Punishing yourselves won’t save any lives, it won’t stop the rest of us from being hunted down and killed. You’ll really stand by and allow the Empire’s power to grow beyond the point it can be challenged? What hope will there be then?”
It was an impassioned speech, and I was moved to question my own choices - was it reasonable to pin my hopes on Luke and Leia, to succeed where so many of us had failed, and facing much worse circumstances? Was it fair to either of them? To Ahsoka and the rest who remained, to the rebels she fought with, who would fall while waiting for the twins to grow into their great destiny?
But I remember your teaching, Qui-Gon, that the flow of water will work upon a rock but slowly. Time, and pressure, will always win out no mater the strength of the force that stands against it.
“I know it’s difficult to accept,” I said, keeping my voice very soft. “I am playing my own part in the rebellion, but I cannot tell you what. I must ask you to trust me.”
She looked hurt. “But you will not trust me ?”
“I…”
How to answer? Ahsoka was brave, and loyal, and true, and yet I did not feel I could trust her with the knowledge of Luke’s existence. She was an active member of the rebellion, and no spy network was impenetrable. Information had a way of leaking out no matter how many precautions had been put in place and the risk to Luke was too great. If Bail had not told her the truth, how could I?
Ahsoka stared at me, and then gave a deep sigh. I could not help but feel that I was stealing something precious from her.
“Keep your secrets, Obi-Wan,” she said without malice. “I hope whatever it is you’re protecting is worth it.”
She held out her hand and I took it with both of mine and squeezed it lightly, hoping to convey all of my wishes for her success and regret that I could not stand beside her.
“I hope so too.”
I wish we had parted on better terms.
I wish I had given her some way to contact me, but I fear it would tempt away from my responsibility - away from Luke, away from the path I had chosen. I know that once drawn into the rebellion I would not have the strength to extricate myself, to return to Tatooine where I feel useless and alone.
Perhaps that is what I have been out here searching for. A reason to leave, to rejoin the fight, to feel I am doing something worthwhile against the Empire - more than being a guardian surplus to requirements on a desert world so far removed from the struggle. And yet when presented with the perfect opportunity I demurred, even though it made Ahsoka think less of me, even though I desperately wanted to join her, to see Bail and Sabé and Leia again, to do whatever I could to destroy the cankerous rot that grew at the heart of the galaxy.
Because I know in my heart - it’s time to go home.
Obi-Wan Kenobi