Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan stood at the edge of the training yard, his arms folded inside his cloak, observing the group of initiates as they gathered around Anakin, who was, as always, the center of attention. He had long since accepted that Anakin commanded a presence that was impossible to ignore. But today, something about his former Padawan felt different—more settled, more centered. His eyes drifted to the new lightsaber clipped to Anakin’s belt.

That’s not the same saber, Obi-Wan noted immediately, his brows knitting together in curiosity. The hilt was crafted from a material that looked rough and unrefined but strangely familiar. He leaned in, studying the texture—it was sandstone. Tatooine sandstone. The realization hit him with a mix of surprise and, oddly, pride. The other material in the hilt—Obi-Wan could feel the ancient resonance of it through the Force—was kyber dragon bone, a rare and formidable creature native to Tatooine. 

Obi-Wan expanded his senses and gently probed the kyber crystal within the hilt. The crystal sang the same tune as it always had—familiar, like an old friend’s voice—but something had changed. The vibration was different, cleaner, more focused. It resonated with the clarity of a Jedi who had made peace with himself. The feeling was a double-edged blade for Obi-Wan, both beautiful and painful.

He hadn’t been the one to guide Anakin through this transformation. Quinlan had been the one to see what Anakin needed. It was Quinlan who had helped him through his physical therapy, who had recognized that Anakin needed to return to Ilum. Not me, Obi-Wan thought, a pang of guilt tightening in his chest. I am his Master. That should have been my responsibility.

Despite his disappointment in himself, pride bloomed in Obi-Wan’s heart like the first rays of sunlight breaking through the night. Anakin had grown—more than even Obi-Wan had expected. He’s come into his own.

Obi-Wan forced his focus back to the present as Anakin, ever dramatic, pulled the new lightsaber from his belt with a flourish. His confidence radiated off him, though there was a subtle shift in his demeanor. Gone was the reckless, impulsive flair of youth. Now, there was a maturity to Anakin’s movements, a control that had always seemed just out of reach. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but wonder what had shifted during Anakin’s journey to Ilum. What had changed his former apprentice in such a profound way?

With a snap-hiss, Anakin ignited the blade. A pure, blinding white light shot forth, its brilliance filling the training yard. Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat. White? He blinked, feeling a surge of awe wash over him. 

Around him, the initiates gasped and murmured in amazement. The Togruta girl, Ahsoka, or Snips—as Anakin called her, much to Obi-Wan’s amusement—clapped her hands, her eyes wide with excitement. “I knew Skyguy had to have an awesome kyber crystal!” she exclaimed, bouncing on her toes. “I mean, he fought a Sith! Of course, his lightsaber’s the coolest.”

Several other initiates chimed in; their voices filled with admiration as they gazed at Anakin with wide, star-struck eyes. Obi-Wan smiled faintly at their enthusiasm. Of course, they idolize him.

“I bet his crystal’s, like, super rare or something,” another initiate added, his voice filled with awe.

Anakin grinned, clearly enjoying the attention but in a more grounded way than usual. He twirled the saber with ease, the white blade cutting through the air in a graceful arc before he deactivated it. “Nah, it’s just a regular crystal,” he said, though there was a knowing glint in his eye. “But it’s the Jedi who makes it special.”

The teenagers erupted into excited chatter, hanging on Anakin’s every word. Snips was practically vibrating with excitement, her head-tails twitching as she beamed up at him. “See? I told you Skyguy’s the best!”

Anakin winked at her. “Takes one to know one, Snips.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile at the exchange, though the warmth of the moment was dampened by the ache in his chest. He had been so wrapped up in the war, so consumed by the Republic’s chaos, that he had missed key moments in Anakin’s growth. He had failed in ways a Jedi Master shouldn’t.

I should have seen his struggle with his lightsaber. I should have known something was wrong after Dooku. He had been too focused on the war preparations, senate meetings, the constant noise of galactic conflict. And yet, despite his failures, despite everything, Anakin had managed to evolve—he had grown into the Jedi Obi-Wan had always hoped he would be. A Jedi who understood balance. A Jedi who could walk through darkness but come out whole on the other side.

Obi-Wan swallowed the guilt and allowed himself to appreciate the moment, even if it hurt a little. He’s become something more than I could have imagined.

But as Obi-Wan stood there, watching Anakin interact with the initiates, his mind couldn't fully settle. There was a deeper sadness gnawing at him. Qui-Gon would’ve known what to say to him. Qui-Gon would’ve seen what I missed.

The thought lingered, painful and raw. It's been a decade since Qui-Gon’s death, but that loss still weighed heavily on Obi-Wan. There were moments when he felt as though he had failed not just Anakin but Qui-Gon as well—failed to live up to the promise he had made. To train Anakin, to guide him.

Dooku. The name lingered in the back of Obi-Wan’s mind like a toxin. His former Grandmaster, the one who had taught Qui-Gon, who had drilled into their linage the importance of control, patience, and honor. And yet, without hesitation, Dooku had been willing to execute him, sentencing him to death with all the cold detachment of someone discussing the weather.

Obi-Wan had endured the betrayal. It wasn’t the first, and it wouldn’t be the last. The galaxy was full of disillusioned people, and he had learned to bear that particular kind of pain long ago. But what stung more than his own brush with death was the knowledge of what Dooku had done to Anakin—cutting off his hand, and sending him into that deep Force coma.

That was harder to forgive.

Obi-Wan’s hands tightened into fists at the memory of those long days in the medbay, sitting by Anakin’s bedside. Hours blurred into days, and days into weeks as he waited for any sign of life, any flicker of consciousness from his Padawan. His mind was never far from that sterile room, even when he was physically present in the Council chambers or on mission briefings. He had felt utterly helpless. As powerful as he was with a lightsaber, as wise as the Jedi had deemed him, none of that had mattered in those moments. He couldn’t fix Anakin. He couldn’t heal him or drag him back from whatever corner of the Force his Padawan had retreated into.

Since Qui-Gon’s death, Anakin had become the anchor in Obi-Wan’s life. It was Anakin who gave him purpose. There was no greater pride than seeing him surpass the other Padawans, watching him grow into the prodigy everyone had expected him to be. Obi-Wan had even allowed himself a rare indulgence—gloating about his apprentice’s achievements, silently basking in the knowledge that he had helped shape the Jedi who would one day be the Order’s greatest.

But with that pride came an overwhelming guilt.

Obi-Wan had never been able to reconcile it fully, but his attachment to Anakin—his love for him—was plain as day to anyone who knew them. The way he lit up when Anakin was in the room, the way he defended his Padawan even when the Council was less than forgiving. That connection had deepened over time, morphing from the playful, nurturing affection of a master for his apprentice into something more guarded. He had become stricter with Anakin as the years passed, holding back the casual warmth he once offered so easily, because he knew that his love for Anakin was becoming too personal, too dangerous. Attachments led to fear, and fear led… well, Obi-Wan knew where that path led. He couldn’t afford to let his feelings slip into attachment, even though everyone in the Temple could see it.

The truth was, Anakin was his favorite. He had always been. And that scared Obi-Wan more than any battle, more than any Sith Lord.

But did Anakin know that? Did Anakin realize how much he meant to Obi-Wan? Or had he misinterpreted Obi-Wan’s stricter behavior as a lack of affection? The thought gnawed at Obi-Wan. He remembered sitting by Anakin’s bedside, wondering if he had ever told Anakin how proud he was, how much he truly cared for him. But when Anakin had finally woken from that coma, everything had changed.

Anakin had come back… different. Whatever he had seen in the Force while unconscious had altered him spiritually. Obi-Wan had wanted to sit down with him, discuss it, try to understand what had happened, but there hadn’t been time. Anakin had practically exploded back into action, confronting the Jedi Council with a maturity and confidence Obi-Wan had never seen before. And then the war had demanded their attention, pulling them in separate directions.

We never got that conversation, Obi-Wan thought with a pang of regret.

The galaxy was spinning faster and faster, leaving little room for personal reflection. His duties had shifted. The Senate’s demands were endless. Kamino, the clones, the constant threat of the Separatists—it was all-consuming. After Vokara Che had been brought in to manage Anakin’s recovery, Obi-Wan was left with even more political obligations than time to actually be there for the one person who mattered to him.

And then there was the Chancellor.

The thought of Palpatine brought a flash of fury and guilt so intense it nearly staggered Obi-Wan. Every time he thought of the Chancellor’s close relationship with Anakin, a knot of unease coiled in his gut. Palpatine had taken an unusual interest in Anakin. The Chancellor had a habit of getting too close, of meddling just enough to keep Anakin under his influence without drawing suspicion. He had practically groomed him for greatness since he was a boy. And while that might seem flattering on the surface, it was now proven that something was off

Why had he let the Chancellor get so close? Why hadn’t he done more to keep Anakin away from Palpatine?

Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched as the familiar wave of guilt washed over him. Anakin deserved better. Better than Dooku’s betrayal, better than Palpatine’s manipulations, better than a Jedi Master who had been so busy dealing with the chaos of the galaxy that he hadn’t noticed his Padawan was struggling.

Obi-Wan took a slow breath, forcing himself back to the present. Anakin was still with the initiatees, his white blade deactivated but the awe of the initiates still palpable. He was laughing now, that easy grin back on his face as he ruffled Snips’ head-tails and made some comment that sent the teenagers into another round of giggles.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile, though it was tinged with sadness. Anakin was so full of life, of light. And yet, the shadow of what could be always there, lurking in the corner of Obi-Wan’s mind.

I’m proud of you, Anakin, he thought, though the words remained unsaid. I just hope you know it.

Anakin’s head lifted, his gaze cutting through the noise of the initiates and locking onto Obi-Wan. It was as if, in that moment, Anakin saw everything—the swirl of emotions Obi-Wan had been trying so hard to bury, the guilt, the pride, the worry that always sat like a shadow on his heart. Anakin’s expression softened, and then came that smile. That smile.

Radiant and effortless, the kind of smile that lit up his entire face, making his blue eyes shine like the twin suns of Tatooine. It had been years since Obi-Wan had seen that look, and the sight of it hit him like a thermal detonator to the chest. His heart ached and melted all at once, tangled in a mess of nostalgia, relief, and something else he couldn’t quite name. 

Obi-Wan had spent so long blaming himself for the loss of that light. He had convinced himself that somehow, in his efforts to mold Anakin into the perfect Jedi, he had taken away the joy that had once burned so brightly in his Padawan.

I should have seen it sooner, he thought bitterly. I should have done more to protect him from the Chancellor’s grasp.

But then Anakin turned back to the initiates, his smile still in place, and Obi-Wan’s worry was momentarily overshadowed by a surge of pride.

“Alright, Snips,” Anakin said, addressing the young Togruta who had been following him around with starry-eyed admiration for weeks now. “I will take all the praise humbly,” Anakin joked, making the initiates laugh. However, Anakin soon lost that sly smirk, and it was replaced by a serious expression. “But you all need to keep something into account. About my confrontation with Count Dooku.”

The initiates fell silent, their wide eyes fixed on Anakin. Snips especially looked ready to burst, her excitement barely contained as she awaited what she clearly thought would be an epic war story.

Anakin’s tone becoming more serious. “My pursuit of Dooku shouldn’t be something you celebrate, nor to praise.”

Snips blinked, her excitement dimming as confusion crossed her face. “But… you fought a Sith! That’s, like, the most Jedi thing ever!”

Anakin smiled softly, shaking his head. “No, it’s not. What I did wasn’t brave or heroic. It was arrogant.” His gaze drifted momentarily, as if remembering the duel, the searing pain of his severed hand, the humiliation of being bested. “I went after Dooku because I thought I could take him down on my own. I didn’t listen to my Masters, and I paid the price with my hand.”

Obi-Wan watched as the initiates’ faces shifted from awe to something more thoughtful, their young minds soaking in Anakin’s words. Anakin continued, his voice kind but carrying the weight of a lesson hard-learned.

“Had it not been for Master Yoda and Obi-Wan, I wouldn’t be here. I could have died, all because I thought I could handle everything myself.” He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. “But that’s not what being a Jedi is about. The strength of the Jedi comes from working together, from supporting one another. The Sith work alone, always trying to gain power for themselves. That’s why they fail.”

Obi-Wan’s heart swelled with pride, his Padawan had grown so much. He wasn’t the brash, headstrong boy who had thought he could take on the galaxy by himself. He had learned humility, teamwork, and the value of the Jedi way. And to see him now, passing those lessons on to the next generation of Jedi, it was all Obi-Wan could have hoped for.

Anakin stood up again, his expression more serious as he looked over the group of wide-eyed younglings. “The Jedi are only strong because we stand together. Never forget that.”

Snips, her face scrunched in deep thought, finally nodded, though the look in her eyes suggested she still thought Anakin was pretty awesome for fighting Dooku. “Okay, Skyguy,” she said with a small grin. “But you’re still the coolest Jedi I know.”

Anakin chuckled, nudged her playfully. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

The initiates giggled, the tension easing, and from his place at the center of the training chamber, Anakin shot Obi-Wan a sly grin as if to say, See? I’ve still got it.

Obi-Wan shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Modesty was never your strong suit, Anakin.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up in that familiar, mischievous way. “I learned from the best.”

Obi-Wan let out a long-suffering sigh, though the amusement in his eyes gave him away. “Clearly, I’m a terrible influence.”

Anakin snorted, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the nearest pillar. “Come on, Master. You love it.”

Obi-Wan tried for his best disapproving glare, but it was a lost cause. Seeing Anakin like this—relaxed, confident, and teaching the initiates with such grace—it filled him with an overwhelming sense of pride that he couldn’t suppress. The warmth in his chest wasn’t just the pride of a Master watching his apprentice succeed. It was deeper than that. Anakin had become his family, and in this moment, Obi-Wan realized just how much he had come to rely on his presence.

“Alright, initiates,” Obi-Wan said, stepping forward with his usual calm authority. “Time to get back to training. We can’t have the next generation of Jedi falling behind because they’re too busy idolizing one Padawan.”

Anakin grinned, stepping aside with an exaggerated bow. “After you, Master Kenobi. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your superior wisdom.”

Obi-Wan gave him a look. “Yes, well, perhaps one day you’ll understand the value of modesty, Anakin.”

Anakin shot him a cheeky grin. “Not likely.”

Obi-Wan sighed again, though his heart felt lighter. As the initiates rushed towards for their next lesson, he couldn’t help but glance back at Anakin, who stood with his arms crossed, watching the young Jedi with a mixture of amusement and pride. Obi-Wan straightened his posture, preparing to continue their banter. But Anakin had other plans.

Without hesitation, he closed the distance between them and threw his arms around Obi-Wan, pulling him into a tight embrace. Obi-Wan let out a surprised huff, clearly not expecting the sudden show of affection, but his surprise quickly melted into laughter, warm and unguarded. He returned the hug just as tightly, his arms wrapping around Anakin. Their bond, always strong, pulsed with joy, the Force between them singing in harmony, a bright and shared love that couldn’t be denied.

"I missed you, Master," Anakin confessed, his voice quieter than usual, but full of warmth.

Obi-Wan tightened his hold, his chin resting lightly on top of Anakin's head for just a moment. "I missed you too, Anakin," he admitted, his tone full of the affection he rarely allowed himself to show. "More than you know."

They stayed like that for a moment longer, the world around them falling away. It was rare for them to let their guards down like this, especially with the war, the Council, and everything else that had kept them both on edge. Eventually, they parted, both feeling lighter for it.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and suggested, “Why don’t we take a walk? It’s been some time since we’ve had a moment to just… be.”

Anakin grinned, the brightness of his earlier smile still lingering. “Yeah, it has. And you know, it’s been ages since I’ve been to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. I could use the break.”

Obi-Wan nodded, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Then let’s go. I’m sure it’ll be just as peaceful as you remember.”

The two of them walked side by side through the winding halls of the Jedi Temple, the silence between them comfortable. There was no need for words—just the quiet companionship of two people who understood each other better than anyone else. The soft hum of the fountains greeted them as they entered the room, the sound of water cascading down the various levels filling the air with a calming presence.

Obi-Wan led them to one particular fountain, pausing when they reached it. He looked at Anakin, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Do you remember this one?”

Anakin looked at the fountain, the soft spray of water creating a misty glow in the sunlight filtering through the high windows. It took him a second, but then he laughed. “Oh no… this fountain?”

Obi-Wan grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Yes. Your favorite, if I remember correctly.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the fondness in his expression. “I was trying to count all the fountains in this room. Thought I’d figured out how many there were by the time I was halfway through.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, picking up where the story left off. “Except, you didn’t realize you were walking in circles and had counted this fountain three times.”

Anakin shook his head, unable to suppress his grin. “I was so sure I had it right. Until you pointed out that I’d been counting the same fountain over and over.”

“I let you get to three before I said anything,” Obi-Wan said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I figured I’d give you the chance to realize it on your own.”

“You loved letting me make a fool of myself,” Anakin retorted, but there was no bitterness in his voice—just the easy warmth that came from years of shared history.

After another brief silence, Obi-Wan’s expression grew more serious. He turned to Anakin, his eyes thoughtful. “There’s something you need to know. Your idea—the one you brought to the Council about using legal action rather than war—it worked.”

Anakin blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “It did?”

Obi-Wan nodded, his tone steady but filled with a quiet pride. “Senators Amidala, Bail Organa, and a few others—Mon Mothma among them—pushed the case to the High Court. They used every legal avenue available, and the greed and ambition of the Senate did the rest.”

Anakin’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The Senate… turned on itself?”

Obi-Wan’s expression darkened slightly. “Yes. Once it became clear that the case had traction, the senators began turning on each other, trying to preserve their own power. Before anyone fully realized what was happening, nearly half the Senate had lost their seats. Many were sentenced to prison for fraud, embezzlement, murder… even slavery.”

Anakin’s eyes widened. “Slavery?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “It was worse than we knew. Much worse. The corruption had rotted the Senate to its core. The courts did what the Senate could not—they dismantled the corrupt infrastructure from the inside. And with the Senate in disarray, Palpatine had no choice but to allow the Separatists to leave the Republic.”

Anakin stood there, stunned, as the gravity of Obi-Wan’s words sank in. “So… no war?”

Obi-Wan smiled faintly. “For now, at least. The war that seemed inevitable has been avoided. And it’s because of you, Anakin. Your refusal to blindly follow orders, your willingness to question what others would accept without a second thought—that’s what made the difference.”

Anakin stared at Obi-Wan, processing what he’d just heard. For so long, he had been fighting—literally and figuratively—against the tide of war, against the constant push to accept that conflict was the only solution. But now, because of the path he had chosen, there was a chance for peace. A real chance.

“Guess I should start wearing a politician’s robe instead of this,” Anakin joked, though his voice was quieter, more introspective.

Obi-Wan chuckled softly. “I don’t think you’d last a day in the Senate, Anakin. You’re far too honest for politics.”

Anakin grinned, his usual bravado returning. “Honesty? What a concept. Don’t tell the Council that—I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, though there was clear affection in his gaze. “We could use more honesty in the galaxy. You’ve always had that in spades, Anakin.”

For a moment, they stood there, the sound of the fountains filling the air as the weight of everything they had been through, everything they had fought for, settled between them. Anakin had always been a force of nature, unpredictable and passionate, but he had also always been someone who sought truth, no matter the cost.

Obi-Wan reached out, placing a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “You did well, Anakin. You saved lives, more than you realize.”

Anakin looked down for a moment, taking in Obi-Wan’s words. When he finally met his Master’s eyes again, there was a softness in his expression, a vulnerability that only Obi-Wan ever really saw.

“Thanks, Master,” Anakin said quietly.

Obi-Wan smiled, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “You’re welcome, my friend.”

“Anyway, if there’s one thing, I am sure of, is that Count Dooku and the Sith are going to love that,” he remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.  Anakin leaned against the edge of the fountain, his arms crossed, a glint of mischief already sparking in his blue eyes. “All their grand schemes, all that plotting, and now the Separatists are free to leave without a fight. I bet they’re thrilled.”

Obi-Wan’s expression grew somber, his gaze distant as he considered Anakin’s words. “You’re right, Anakin. The Sith certainly won’t be pleased. This war wasn’t just about fighting or conquest—it was about sowing discord. Gaining traction. Dooku and his master wanted to stoke the fires of indignation in the Separatists, to make them feel wronged and oppressed by the Republic.”

He paused, his voice taking on a quieter, more reflective tone. “But the truth is, the real reason for the conflict was always about their desire to separate from the Republic. That’s what the people of the Separatist systems wanted—independence. And now that they’ve achieved that goal through legal means, continuing the war would only make them look like the aggressors.”

Anakin let out a low whistle, pushing off the fountain’s edge and pacing in a small circle. He smirked, unable to resist adding, “Can’t say I feel sorry for them.”

Obi-Wan huffed, folding his arms. “For now, the Sith are stalled. They’ll have to regroup and rethink their next move.”

Anakin tilted his head, that trademark mischievous look crossing his face. “Oh, I’m sure Count Dooku’s somewhere, sulking in a dark corner, contemplating his life choices.”

That earned him a raised eyebrow from Obi-Wan. “Anakin…”

“What?” Anakin spread his hands, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying, if I were in his shoes, I’d be throwing a tantrum right about now.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite himself. But his expression sobered as he continued. “It’s not just the Sith, though. There are still voices within the Senate calling for war, insisting that we can’t trust the Separatists, that they’ll attack the Republic once they’re more established. They’re blaming the Sith, of course, and using the Separatists’ droid army as a convenient excuse.”

Anakin snorted. “Typical. Always gotta have something to blame when things don’t go their way.”

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan agreed, his tone more serious now. “But then Bail Organa pointed out that the Republic has its own army—the clones. Not to mention the Jedi. His argument was that if the Republic wanted peace, it had more than enough means to maintain it without plunging into war.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess, that didn’t exactly sit well with the warmongers.”

Obi-Wan gave a small, knowing nod. “No, it didn’t. But then the Senate called upon the Jedi Council for their official stance, and Grand Master Yoda made sure to remind them all that the Jedi are peacekeepers, not soldiers. He emphasized that the Jedi will never wish for war. The Sith, Yoda said, were an issue between the two orders—the Jedi and the Sith. The Council would never want the people of the Republic to suffer because of their ancient conflict.”

Anakin stopped mid-step and stared at Obi-Wan, his eyes wide with shock. And then, without warning, he burst into laughter—a loud, unabashed sound that echoed through the chamber, catching Obi-Wan off guard.

Obi-Wan blinked, taken aback by Anakin’s reaction. “What’s so amusing?” he asked, though a knowing suspicion crept into his voice.

Anakin wiped away a tear from laughing so hard, his grin wicked as he replied, “Yoda just grabbed the Senate by the—” he paused, making a squeezing motion with his hand, “—and gave a nice, hard squeeze.”

Obi-Wan’s face immediately flushed with scandalized horror. “Anakin!” he scolded, his voice sharp, but the way his mouth twitched betrayed his amusement. He was scandalized, yes, but he couldn’t deny the humor in it. “You cannot say things like that. Especially not about Grand Master Yoda.”

Anakin just grinned, shrugging as he leaned back against the fountain again, his arms crossed. “What? I’m not wrong. He basically told them that the Jedi aren’t their personal army and that if they wanted a war, they could fight it without us. The old man’s got guts.”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, trying and failing to maintain his composure. “That’s not exactly how Grand Master Yoda phrased it, Anakin.”

Anakin smirked, clearly enjoying the fact that he had gotten under Obi-Wan’s skin. “Sure, sure. But we both know what he meant. Yoda just casually reminded the entire Senate that they’ve been relying on the Jedi to clean up their messes for centuries and that maybe—just maybe—they should start handling their own problems.”

Obi-Wan sighed, but there was a trace of a smile on his face. “You know, it’s moments like these when I wonder if there’s still a bit of that reckless boy I once trained.”

Anakin’s grin widened. “Come on, Master. You love it when I speak my mind. You just said that!”

Obi-Wan gave him a long, measured look, though his Force presence radiated affection. “That’s… debatable.”

“Admit it,” Anakin pressed, his voice dripping with mock confidence. “You missed this. Me being here to shake things up. Don’t pretend you don’t appreciate my... candor.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “There are moments, Anakin, when I miss the quiet.”

Anakin laughed again, a light sound that somehow felt more genuine than before. “You mean when I was a kid running through the Temple halls, trying to count every fountain without realizing I was lost?”

Obi-Wan chuckled, shaking his head. “Exactly.”

Anakin’s smile softened then, and he looked at Obi-Wan with a mixture of affection and nostalgia. “Yeah… but I’m not that kid anymore, am I?”

Obi-Wan’s gaze turned thoughtful, his expression warming. “No. You’re not.” He paused, his tone growing more serious. “You’ve grown into a Jedi far beyond what I could have imagined, Anakin. I’m proud of you.”

Anakin shifted slightly, clearly not used to such open praise from Obi-Wan, but the sincerity in Obi-Wan’s voice left no room for deflection.

Anakin cleared his throat, his grin returning, though it was softer now. “Well, don’t get all sentimental on me, Master. You’re going to make me blush.”

Obi-Wan smiled gently. “I’ll leave that to you, then.”

Anakin’s easygoing grin slowly faded, he crossed his arms, his expression hardening as the reality of the situation sank in. “I’m glad there’s no war… for now,” he muttered, clearly still riding the high from their small victory. “But what about the clones? The Senate didn’t just forget about them, did they?”

Obi-Wan’s smile faltered as he let out a quiet sigh, the tension in his shoulders evident. He had been dreading this part of the conversation. “The Senate, in all its infinite wisdom,” Obi-Wan began, sarcasm thick in his voice, “ordered Kamino to stop producing any more clones now that war is off the table. They even suggested discontinuing the current batches still in training.”

Anakin’s face shifted from mild amusement to barely contained fury in the span of a second. His arms dropped, fists clenching at his sides. “Discontinue? What does that even mean, Obi-Wan? The clones aren’t droids you can just shut down!”

Obi-Wan placed a calming hand on Anakin’s shoulder, squeezing it with a mixture of reassurance and concern. He could feel the anger radiating from his former Padawan through the Force—intense, like the crackle of lightning before a storm. “Anakin,” he said softly, his eyes steady. “It won’t happen.”

Anakin’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t pull away. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because we won’t let it,” Obi-Wan continued. “Senators like Bail Organa, Amidala, and Mon Mothma have stepped in. They’ve offered their home planets to house the clones. Naboo, Chandrila, and Alderaan have already committed to providing them with homes, education, and the support they deserve.”

Anakin’s shoulders slumped, the anger draining from him, replaced by a heavy sigh of relief. “So, they’re safe?” he asked, his voice quieter now, though still edged with tension. “The clones… they’ll be treated like people, not just soldiers?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “They’re officially recognized as sentient citizens of the Republic now. They can’t just be discarded. And the Senate realized, far too late, that they’d be losing 200,000 highly trained men—men skilled in medicine, combat, piloting, mechanics. Men who are now primarily loyal to the very senators who showed them respect.”

Anakin leaned back against the fountain wall, his arms crossed, but there was a noticeable drop in his tension. “I guess that’s the beauty of politics, huh? Make the right people look bad, and suddenly everyone wants to do the right thing.”

Obi-Wan allowed himself a small, knowing smile. “It’s not always about lightsabers and blasters, Anakin. Sometimes the pen really is mightier than the sword.”

Anakin snorted, but there was a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’d still rather have a lightsaber in hand if it came down to it.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

The moment of levity was short-lived as Anakin’s expression grew thoughtful again. His eyes flickered with a darker curiosity, and after a pause, he asked, “How did we get the Senate to back down? You said they were set on discontinuing the clones. How did it shift from that to de-chipping them?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes sparkled with the barest hint of mischief. “Well… once the word ‘discontinue’ was tossed around, the Jedi Council became aware of the situation. Mace Windu and Plo Koon may have, let’s say, accidentally leaked the news to a few reporters.”

“They took into account my advice?!” Anakin’s lips quirked into a vicious smirk. “I thought that was too fast for the usual Senate foot-dragging.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan continued, a sly smile on his face. “The public didn’t take too kindly to the clear act of genocide from their Senate. The outcry was enormous, and once the people got wind of the clone chips—well, the Senate was left with no choice but to comply. The public demanded action, and the Senate’s own hypocrisy was exposed.”

Anakin’s smirk deepened, satisfaction oozing from him. “Good. For once, the Republic’s people didn’t just sit back and let the politicians run them into the ground.”

Obi-Wan gave a slow nod, his gaze lingering on Anakin’s face. The younger man’s sense of justice had always been fierce, sometimes dangerously so, but in this moment, it was tempered with something wiser, more patient. “Your idea made all the difference,” Obi-Wan added, his voice filled with quiet pride.

Anakin chuckled softly but then grew more serious. “There’s one other thing I need to ask. Healer Vokara Che. She’s been... different. What’s going on?”

For a moment, Obi-Wan tensed, his grip tightening ever so slightly around the hem of his robe. He glanced down at the Padawan braid. He raised his hand to loop it around his fingers, the small beads catching the light—yellow for lightsaber combat, orange for languages, red for piloting, blue for mechanics. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he twirled the braid between his fingers, a fond memory surfacing.

“Four beads,” Obi-Wan murmured, almost to himself. “A remarkable achievement for a Padawan. You were always ahead of the others.”

Anakin snorted, a smirk creeping onto his face. “Yeah, well, it might have been easier if you’d just stopped making me read those boring council reports.”

Obi-Wan laughed softly, shaking his head. “Council work never was your strong suit. No matter how hard I tried, I could never quite convince you that diplomacy was as important as saber technique.”

Anakin grinned, his eyes flashing with mischief. “I mean, you tried, but you were fighting a losing battle there, Master.”

Obi-Wan sighed dramatically. “Yes, I’m aware. It was the one area where I truly failed you as a teacher.”

“But hey, maybe after today I might earn a green bead, too. My plan did save the galaxy!” Anakin chuckled but then tilted his head, waiting for Obi-Wan to address his question about Vokara Che.

Obi-Wan released the braid, his fingers lingering over the beads as if reluctant to let go. His expression grew more serious, and Anakin could feel a shift in the Force—something heavier, more somber, settling between them. Obi-Wan finally spoke, his voice quiet but laden with emotion.

“Healer Vokara Che discovered something during the Force meld,” Obi-Wan began, his gaze drifting to the fountains as if the flowing water would somehow make this conversation easier. “Something… deeply troubling.”

Anakin tilted his head, his brow furrowing in concern. “What do you mean?”

“There was a bond,” Obi-Wan said, his voice steady but full of quiet dread. “A one-sided Sith apprentice bond, deep within your core. It had been manipulating your emotions, pushing you in directions that weren’t entirely your own.”

Anakin stared at Obi-Wan, his mind racing. A Sith bond? He’d suspected something was off—he had felt emotions that didn’t belong to him, urges that had never quite fit—but he hadn’t imagined it went this deep. And to hear it from Obi-Wan, to hear the regret in his voice, made it even worse.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, his tone suddenly raw with guilt. “I should have noticed it sooner. I should have seen what was happening. You’ve been manipulated, and I didn’t protect you from it.”

Anakin blinked, he could feel the guilt radiating from his Master through the Force, like a deep wound that Obi-Wan was desperate to heal. But instead of anger or blame, all Anakin felt was understanding. 

“Obi-Wan…” Anakin started, his voice unusually calm. He could see how much his Master needed forgiveness, not because Obi-Wan had done anything wrong, but because that was who he was. Always carrying the weight of everyone else’s burdens.

He gave a small smile, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

Obi-Wan looked up, his expression a mixture of confusion and surprise. Anakin let out a low, humorless chuckle. “I mean it. You’ve done more for me than anyone could have. I know you feel like you should’ve seen it sooner, but I didn’t even notice it myself. And it’s me. You can’t protect me from everything.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to argue, but Anakin cut him off with a raised hand.

“No, seriously, Obi-Wan. You don’t have to carry this.” Anakin’s eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at his lips. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to ask… have I ever thanked you?”

Obi-Wan blinked, clearly not following. “Thanked me? Anakin, you don’t have to—”

But Anakin shook his head, cutting him off again, his smile fading into something more serious, more heartfelt. “No. I do.”

He took a breath, the words tumbling out before Obi-Wan could interrupt again. “Thank you, Obi-Wan. For taking me in when you didn’t have to. You were barely out of being a Padawan yourself, and you were still mourning Qui-Gon. But you took me in anyway.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly in surprise. Anakin continued before he could speak, his voice filled with an uncharacteristic vulnerability.

“And thank you for offering to leave the Jedi Order for me, back when the Council wasn’t sure about accepting me. I didn’t get it back then—I was just a kid who didn’t understand the weight of that gesture. But I get it now. And I’m grateful for it. You would’ve left everything behind for me.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes began to glisten, but Anakin pressed on, his voice growing quieter, more introspective. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. I spent so long trying to push you into being a father figure for me. But that was never who you were. You weren’t supposed to be my father… you were supposed to be my brother.”

Anakin’s voice cracked slightly, but he didn’t stop. “And you’ve been the best big brother I could’ve asked for.”

By the time he finished, Obi-Wan’s eyes were brimming with tears, and he looked like he was struggling to find the right words. Anakin had always known how to push his buttons, how to test his patience—but this? This was something Obi-Wan had never expected. This boy—no, this man—whom he had raised and guided, whom he loved like a brother, was standing in front of him, giving him the one thing he had never thought he needed: appreciation.

Without a word, Obi-Wan pulled Anakin into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around him as if he might never let go. Anakin hugged him back just as fiercely, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. 

Obi-Wan’s tears finally spilled over, but he didn’t care. In all his years as a Jedi, he had never felt more seen, more appreciated, than he did in this moment. He had always loved Anakin fiercely, but to know that love was returned, that Anakin understood just how much he meant to him—it was overwhelming.

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan’s voice was choked with emotion as he pulled back just enough to look at him, his eyes red and wet with tears. “You saved me. You saved me from drowning in my grief after Qui-Gon died. You gave me a reason to keep going, to laugh again, to love again.”

Anakin’s expression softened, his own eyes growing misty. “You didn’t need saving, Obi-Wan. You’ve always been stronger than you think.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, smiling through his tears. “No, Anakin. You don’t realize it, but you brought me back to life. After Qui-Gon… I didn’t know who I was. I felt lost. But then there was you. This bright, stubborn, reckless boy who made me laugh when I didn’t think I could anymore. You gave me a reason to be better. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.”

Anakin’s throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. “I guess we’re even, then.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, a sound thick with emotion, as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I suppose we are.”

Anakin chuckled, pulling away from Obi-Wan’s embrace with a grin that was half playful, half reluctant. Obi-Wan pouted in that subtle way only he could, arms reaching out as if he were about to drag Anakin back into another hug. “Don’t think you’re getting away that easily,” Obi-Wan said with mock seriousness, though his eyes twinkled with warmth.

Anakin raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Alright, alright, no need to get clingy, Master.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, his tone deliberately dry. “I seem to recall someone refusing to let go a few minutes ago.”

Anakin smirked, sidestepping Obi-Wan’s attempt to guilt-trip him. “That was a momentary loss of control. Completely different.”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms, clearly trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“Call it what you want,” Anakin said with a shrug. “But I’ve got something that’ll really blow your mind.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. “Oh? And what revelation are you about to drop on me this time?”

Anakin’s grin softened into something more thoughtful. “I saw Qui-Gon.”

Obi-Wan blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. “In a vision?”

Anakin shook his head, and for once, his voice carried no trace of sarcasm. “No. Not a vision. A real Force ghost. On Ilum.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open slightly, his usual composure slipping as the words sank in. “A… Force ghost?”

Anakin nodded, his face serious. “Yeah. He talked to me. And… he wanted to apologize.”

Obi-Wan’s expression turned confused, his brow furrowing. “Apologize? For what?”

Anakin sighed softly, his gaze steady on Obi-Wan’s. “For not being the Jedi Master you deserved. But he also said he was proud of you—proud of the Jedi you’ve become.”

Obi-Wan froze, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes glistened with emotion, the shock of Anakin’s words sinking deeper than anything he could have expected. Qui-Gon—his beloved Master, his guiding light—had reached out from beyond the veil of death, and the words he had always needed to hear but never knew he wanted were finally delivered.

And once again, the tears began to flow freely.

Obi-Wan turned his face away, trying to collect himself, but it was no use. His heart was full, torn between the grief of losing Qui-Gon and the overwhelming relief that his former Master still watched over him. Still cared. Still believed in him.

Anakin, noticing Obi-Wan’s struggle, stood by silently, allowing him the time he needed. After what felt like an eternity, Obi-Wan wiped his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. “He… he said that?”

Anakin nodded. “Yeah. And you know what? He’s right. You’ve been a better Jedi than anyone gives you credit for—including yourself.”

Obi-Wan’s lip quirked upward, but his eyes were still glassy with unshed tears. “I suppose I should thank you for passing on the message.”

Anakin shrugged again, though there was a softness in his expression. “No need, is the least I could do.”

Once Obi-Wan had composed himself, he cleared his throat and turned back to Anakin, his voice more steady now. “There’s something else I need to tell you. About that Sith bond…”

Anakin’s eyes darkened slightly, but he remained calm. “You know who created it, don’t you?”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, his expression somber. “I do. And I think you deserve to know.”

Anakin, to Obi-Wan’s surprise, shook his head. “No. I don’t need to know, Master. Not yet.”

Obi-Wan blinked, surprised by the response. “But… Anakin—”

“I trust you,” Anakin interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “I trust you to do what’s right, whatever that is. Knowing won’t change anything for me. You’ve got this. I believe in you.”

For a moment, Obi-Wan didn’t know what to say. Anakin was placing his full trust in him, without question or doubt. It was something Obi-Wan had longed for, but never quite expected. And now that it was happening, he felt both pride and a deep, humbling sense of responsibility.

“I… thank you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Anakin just smiled, his usual cockiness tempered by genuine warmth. “Yeah, well, don’t get too sappy on me, Master. You’re still stuck with me, after all.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Then, with a sudden shift in the atmosphere, Obi-Wan’s face grew thoughtful again. “You know… I think you’re ready, Anakin.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow, curious. “Ready for what? Another lecture on patience?”

Obi-Wan smiled, though his next words were heavy with meaning. “Ready to be knighted.”

Anakin’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a look of surprise. “Knighted? Me?”

“Yes, you,” Obi-Wan replied, his tone both gentle and firm. “Not because of your fight with Dooku, or because the Council is pushing for more Jedi Knights during these troubled times. But because you’ve proven you’re ready in ways that matter more than combat.”

Anakin’s confusion deepened. “What do you mean?”

Obi-Wan stepped closer, his voice soft but full of conviction. “You’ve shown humility, Anakin. You’ve learned what it means to trust in others, to be part of something larger than yourself. You taught those initiates about teamwork and responsibility today—about being a Jedi, not just fighting like one. That’s why you’re ready.”

For a long moment, Anakin just stared at Obi-Wan, expressionless, as if processing his words. And then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—genuine, soft, and uncharacteristically humble.

He reached up and pulled at his Padawan braid, the beads clinking softly in the quiet of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He held it out toward Obi-Wan, his eyes gleaming with something deep and unspoken.

“I don’t need a ceremony,” Anakin said quietly, his voice steady but thick with meaning. “I don’t need the Council, or some grand speech. All I need is you, Obi-Wan. All I ever wanted was to make you proud.”

Obi-Wan’s heart clenched at Anakin’s words. His throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. All the years of training, of struggle, of pride and frustration—it all led to this. His little brother was standing before him, offering his braid not with arrogance or defiance, but with trust and love.

Obi-Wan melted at the confession, his eyes brimming with tears once more. “Anakin,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Anakin’s forehead. “I’ve always been proud of you. From the very beginning.”

Anakin’s smile softened, his eyes glistening with emotion, and in one swift, decisive motion, Obi-Wan ignited his blue lightsaber and gently sliced through the Padawan braid.

The braid fell into Obi-Wan’s hand, and for a long moment, he just stared at it, his thumb brushing over the beads—each one representing a milestone in Anakin’s journey, a symbol of everything he had achieved. He held the braid in his palm for what felt like forever before, with a small, tender smile, he tied it around his wrist.

Anakin’s breath caught as he watched the gesture, his eyes filled with gratitude and love. Obi-Wan smiled, the warmth of their bond glowing brightly in the Force. “Welcome, Anakin Skywalker,” he said softly. “You’re no longer my Padawan. You are a Jedi Knight.”

Anakin grinned, his usual swagger creeping back into his voice. “Does this mean I get to call you old now?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, though his heart was still too full of love and pride to be properly annoyed. “If by ‘old,’ you mean ‘more experienced and wiser than you’ll ever be,’ then yes.”

Anakin snorted, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ll still take that as a yes.” The two of them shared a quiet laugh, the heavy emotions of the past few hours finally giving way to the lightness of their usual banter. Anakin, with that familiar mischievous grin plastered on his face, slung his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders as if they hadn’t just shared the most emotionally charged moment of their lives. “Well, now that I’m officially a Jedi Knight and all that, I’ve got the perfect new Padawan for you,” he said, his voice dripping with false sincerity.

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow, already sensing the trouble behind Anakin’s words. “Oh? And who might this ideal candidate be?” he asked, his tone lightly mocking.

Anakin’s grin widened as he tilted his head towards the training yard where the initiates had been practicing. “Snips, of course. She’s exactly your kind of chaos. I mean, let’s face it, she’s got enough attitude to keep up with you and the trouble magnet you apparently are. Perfect match.”

Obi-Wan burst into laughter, the sound light and genuine. “Oh, please,” he said, nudging Anakin in the side. “The last thing I need is another chaos gremlin following me around, stirring up trouble wherever we go.”

Anakin feigned shock, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. “Obi-Wan, you wound me! I’ll have you know that my chaos brought a certain… charm to our missions.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes, well, if by ‘charm’ you mean ‘near-death experiences on a weekly basis,’ then you’re absolutely right.”

Anakin let out a snort of amusement. “You know, if you can’t handle the heat, you could always retire to the Jedi Archives. I hear Jocasta Nu could use an assistant. Someone to fetch her tea, maybe?”

Obi-Wan shot him a look that was equal parts mock offense and genuine amusement. “Oh, yes, because that would be a far more peaceful life than keeping you out of trouble for the past decade.”

Anakin grinned, enjoying every second of getting under his old Master’s skin. “Admit it, you love the excitement. Besides, without me, who would you blame when things explode?”

Obi-Wan waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll manage, I’m sure. Though, I will say—Snips does have potential. She could make a fine Jedi under the right guidance.”

Anakin nodded sagely. “See? I’m always right.”

Obi-Wan gave him a sidelong glance. “Let’s not get carried away, Knight Skywalker.”

Anakin puffed out his chest dramatically. “Knight Skywalker. Wow, that does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? I mean, not as nice as Master Skywalker, but I’ll get there.”

Obi-Wan sighed, clearly regretting this entire conversation. “Force help us all when that day comes.”

Anakin, undeterred, let out a low chuckle. “You know, Obi-Wan, I can already picture Snips driving you just as crazy as I did. It’s practically destiny.”

Obi-Wan smirked, crossing his arms as he looked at Anakin with that familiar mixture of exasperation and affection. “I think I’ve earned a little peace and quiet after dealing with you. If Snips is half as wild, I might actually retire early.”

Anakin opened his mouth to fire back another quip, but Obi-Wan’s expression suddenly turned more serious, though his smile lingered. “Speaking of chaos,” Obi-Wan said, his tone shifting back to that of the seasoned Jedi Master, “I have your first mission as a Jedi Knight.”

Anakin’s grin faltered slightly, the shift in tone catching his attention. “Wait—already? I was hoping for at least one day off. You know, maybe a celebration?”

Obi-Wan gave him a dry look. “Celebration? Anakin, the galaxy doesn’t pause just because you’re ready to throw yourself a party.”

Anakin’s lips twitched with amusement, but there was a flicker of genuine curiosity behind his playful demeanor. “Alright, alright. Hit me with it. What’s the mission?”

Obi-Wan’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment, before a teasing glint flashed in his eyes. “You’ll be escorting Senators Amidala, Bail Organa, and Mon Mothma to Kamino, alongside Knight Aayla Secura.”

There was a beat of silence as Anakin processed the mission. His eyes widened slightly, and then, without missing a beat, he blurted out, “Oh, well, shit.”

Chapter Text

Hey, everyone! 😊

I’m thrilled to announce that Part IV of the Branching Out series is now live, and it’s called The Yellow Path! 🎉 I can’t wait for you all to read this next chapter of the story. I hope you enjoy this part as much as the previous one. Thank you for all your support and for coming along for the ride!

Happy reading!

Chapter Text

Hey, everyone! 😊

I'm thrilled to announce that Part V of the Branching Out series is now live, and it's called The Red Mission! 🎉 I can't wait for you all to read this next chapter of the story. I hope you enjoy this part as much as the previous one. Thank you for all your support and for coming along for the ride!

Happy reading!

Chapter Text

Hey, everyone! 😊

I'm thrilled to announce that Part VI of the Branching Out series is now live, and it's called The Purple Circle! 🎉 I can't wait for you all to read this next chapter of the story. I hope you enjoy this part as much as the previous one. Thank you for all your support and for coming along for the ride!

Happy reading!