Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan Kenobi was not having a good day. The separatists were winning their current battle, even against both the 501st and 212th, the council was recalling their forces back, even when it meant giving up a valuable planet, and perhaps most importantly of all, he had gotten into yet another pointless argument with Anakin—though the dark part of his brain couldn’t help but remind him that these pointless arguments of theirs were starting to pile up into big arguments, arguments so big that it made Obi-Wan question if Anakin still saw him as a friend or not. 

“Look, there he is.” 

Cody’s voice knocked Obi-Wan out of his thoughts. It was ridiculous. Here he was, crouched behind another fallen tree in another dense jungle leading another group of men to their deaths, and yet he was thinking about his former padawan, a man who didn’t even trust him enough to admit that he was married. Attachment, the voice in his head whispered, mocking him in the same way it had mocked him after Qui-Gon’s death. Clenching his jaw, Obi-Wan shoved the voice out of his mind and tried to focus on the nearing separatist forces. Dooku was with them. He could feel the man’s force presence as if he was directly next to him, that dark, swirling mass. 

“Are you alright, Sir?” Cody asked when Obi-Wan stayed silent for too long.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan replied, keeping his face perfectly blank. 

“I’m only asking because I heard the fight with General Skywalker—hell everyone at the base heard. He said some…” Cody hesitated before he added, “hurtful things.”

Hurtful was an understatement, not that either of them needed to say it. The fight had started because of the council’s sudden recall, and then it had rather quickly escalated from there. A common trend when it came to all their current fights.

“This is a valuable planet!” Anakin had insisted, his eyes burning with ire. “And here you are, running like a coward because your precious council says otherwise!”

“I don’t have time for this,” was all Obi-Wan said before he tried to shove past him. Anakin had been there for the meeting; he knew that Obi-Wan didn’t want to retreat either. 

“Typical,” Anakin scoffed, following after him. “You never have time for anything I say. Force, even when I was a padawan you didn’t have the time.”

The words stung more than Obi-Wan cared to admit. “Anakin, I hope you know that’s not true.”

“Oh don’t pretend like you care. Everyone in the temple knows that you only took me on out of obligation to Qui-Gon.” Anakin let out a horrible laugh, as if there was a twisted part of him that relished in seeing the look of pure hurt on Obi-Wan’s face. “Sometimes I even wish that—”

“General,” Captain Rex quietly interjected.

It was then when Obi-Wan noticed that every clone stationed on the makeshift base was staring at them. And yet, he barely saw them. His blurring mind could only focus on the words Anakin had said and the words that he was going to say. 

Anakin turned to Rex, blushing slightly at the scene he had caused. “Yes, Rex?”  

Rex took a deep breath. “I thought you should know—”

“Finish it.”

They both turned to look at Obi-Wan. Rex shook his head, silently pleading with him not to say anything more. Anakin, meanwhile, only paled.  

“What?” Anakin croaked. 

Obi-Wan took a step forward despite the voice in his mind telling him that it was smarter to let Rex interrupt the fight like he had clearly hoped to do. 

“Finish the sentence, General Skywalker.” 

Anakin, who usually beamed at being called his title, flinched. “Obi-Wan, listen, I wasn’t—”

“Alright, I’ll finish it then. Sometimes you even wish that I died instead of him, that I was the one who took the lightsaber to the gut. Well guess what, my dear padawan, not a day has gone by since his death where I haven’t wished for the same.”

With that, Obi-Wan turned around and instructed Cody to round up the 212th. The council had ordered them to clear the valley before the recall, and there was still another gaggle of droids on the other edge of the jungle. He wondered, absent-mindedly, if Anakin was going to follow him or head back up to the destroyer with his own men. 

Anakin didn’t follow him.

“I’m fine, Cody,” Obi-Wan repeated, shoving Anakin out of his head. “Now—I want you and the rest of the men to stay hidden unless I give my signal.” 

Cody gave him a dry look. “And what exactly are you going to do, Sir?”

“Dooku was never supposed to be on this planet. I’m going to find out why he suddenly is.” 

Obi-Wan didn’t wait for the commander to object before he crept past the fallen trees and into the underbrush of the jungle. It was reckless to go alone, but he couldn’t bear to be next to Anakin at the moment. Besides, Obi-Wan had been reckless long before Anakin was born.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Count Dooku entered the cave system alone. He wasn’t worried about the republic’s forces, even if they belonged to his grandpadawan and the Skywalker pest. Sidious had promised him that the 501st and 212th would clear out that very day, leaving no obstacles ahead of Dooku’s mission.

The force was stronger in the mountain, more rampant with every step he took. He felt it seep into his bones, guiding him forwards to the very spot that he had marked down years ago in the archives. Yoda had never understood his obsession with artifacts, and Dooku never bothered to explain it to him. There was no point in explaining the beauty of ancient mysteries being passed down through sacred objects to a puppet of the senate, after all.

Descriptions of the Jedi artifact inside the mountain were vague, more vague than most. However, every description of the artifact contained the same cryptic phrase: A single touch from a single soul creates an unimaginable shift in the force. Dooku would have to be careful not to touch it with his bare hands. He didn’t wish to use it—at least not right away—he simply wanted to study it as the scholar he once was. As the scholar he could no longer be once the war ended, the voice in his head bitterly reminded him. 

Dooku’s thoughts halted once his gaze caught sight of the artifact. A hexagonal box was resting on the surface of a stone altar, surrounded by a comforting blue glow. He took a careful step towards it, smiling despite the growing press of lightness against him. The artifact was beautiful, ethereal, a shimmering beacon of light punching through a world of darkness. Dooku had a feeling that even if he wanted to use it, the artifact wouldn’t let him. No, only a special type of Jedi, one whose force presence matched that brightness, could harness the power.

And then, the hiss of a lightsaber filled the cave. 

“Hello there.”

Dooku felt his eyes flash yellow as he turned. Sidious had promised him that he would be alone in the valley, he had practically guaranteed it. But it was no matter in the end. He would deal with Kenobi, and then he would harvest the artifact like he had intended.

(He felt the artifact tremble behind him, but he paid no attention to it.)

“You always arrive at the most inopportune times,” Dooku coldly replied, letting his lightsaber’s red light wash over Kenobi’s infuriating blue. 

Killing Obi-Wan Kenobi would be a shame. If the man had been only a little bit younger, a little more impressionable, then perhaps Dooku could have convinced him to join the dark side of the force. His powers had always been wasted on the Jedi, on Qui-Gon Jinn too.

“Actually,” Kenobi said, smirking, “I arrive at the best of times.” 

With that, he lunged towards Dooku, who immediately parried the attack. They circled each other, trading blow after blow, perfect Soresu matching perfect Makashi. After Kenobi managed to nick his shoulder with his blade, Dooku threw him backwards with the force, letting the dark side fuel him like it always did. Obi-Wan crashed into the altar and the artifact fell in his lap. 

“Now what is this?” Obi-Wan muttered to himself. 

“Don’t touch it!” Dooku shouted. “Don’t—”

But it was too late. The artifact glowed in Kenobi’s hands, consuming his entire body in a brilliant crystal blue. Dooku watched—half horrified, half entranced—as the box split open, the brush of the unifying force breathing in sync with the living. A single touch from a single soul creates an unimaginable shift in the force, the descriptions of the artifact had uttered. The words couldn’t even begin to describe the shift in the air, the impenetrable tick of gears turning. And then, almost as soon as it began, the swirling blue light tucked itself back into the artifact with a soft hiss, leaving behind a man who was nothing like the general Dooku knew.

Standing in front of him was a young Jedi Knight who looked very much afraid.

 “Grandmaster?” Obi-Wan whispered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan Kenobi was not having a good day. He hadn’t slept since the Occupation of Naboo, even after he convinced the healer’s ward to give him the highest sedatives, he was constantly put in front of the council for questioning, even when there was video evidence of the reactor core that they could watch instead, and perhaps most importantly of all, his padawan hated him. 

“Anakin, please come out,” Obi-Wan pleaded from the other side of the fresher door. 

“Leave me alone!” Anakin shouted back.

The boy had locked himself inside after Obi-Wan caught him trying to sneak out of the temple to gamble on illegal podraces. The entire situation had been beyond ridiculous. First, because Anakin had actually assumed that he could get past him when Obi-Wan wasn’t even sleeping at night; second, because it had left Obi-Wan in the awkward position of having to reprimand the boy without reprimanding him. Their relationship had been rocky to say the least. He needed to find a way to tell a nine-year-old that sneaking out to indulge in illegal activities wasn’t exactly something Jedi did, while also needing to find a way to make sure the boy didn’t feel too hurt. Of course, Anakin had managed to flip the entire situation on its head when he, before Obi-Wan could even come up with a plan of action, screamed, “It’s not fair!” and locked himself in the fresher for the remainder of the evening. 

“I made your favorite tea,” Obi-Wan tried again. “I even put sugar in it.”

“Then drink it yourself!”

He heard sobbing a moment later. Sighing, Obi-Wan left the tea in front of the fresher door and collapsed on the sofa. Obi-Wan knew that he was much too young, much too inexperienced, much too incapable to be Anakin’s master. He wished Qui-Gon was there. Qui-Gon would know what to do. Qui-Gon would be able to figure Anakin out. Obi-Wan, meanwhile… He was the failure of a Jedi who couldn’t even save his own master. Keeping Anakin as his padawan was purely selfish at that point. Qui-Gon, who had never quite trusted him with anything since Melida/Daan, had entrusted him to look after the chosen one. Besides, he had grown rather fond of the boy over the last three weeks. Anakin was smart, funny, endearing—

Attachment, the voice in his head rang out.

Obi-Wan turned over on the sofa, restless. He needed sleep. That was the root of the problem. If he could just sleep for one night without nightmares of the Sith Lord forcing him awake, then perhaps everything would be better, perhaps everything would go back to normal. Or perhaps he was only kidding himself for thinking that it would be that simple. Qui-Gon was dead. Gone. Nothing was ever going to be right again, and Obi-Wan had to live with that.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan called out, rising from the sofa, “I’m going down to the training salles. If I find out that you tried to sneak out again, then—” He hesitated. Qui-Gon’s favorite punishment was the silent treatment, but he doubted that Anakin would mind if Obi-Wan stopped talking to him. No, he needed to pick something that Anakin despised, something he loathed. “Then I’ll make you mediate with me every single day for the rest of the year.” 

“You’re always at the training salles,” was all Anakin grumbled from the other side. 

“So I can be a better fighter,” Obi-Wan tartly replied. 

“He’s already dead. Being better isn’t going to change that.” 

Obi-Wan flinched. He couldn’t even argue the point. In the end, it didn’t matter how much he had improved since Naboo. It didn’t matter how many duels he had won and how much more efficient he had become at Ataru, Soresu, and even Jar'Kai. Nothing would change the fact that his failure on Naboo had taken the person that meant the most to him. 

“That was unnecessary, Anakin,” Obi-Wan muttered.

He clipped his lightsaber to his belt and began to start towards the door when his gaze landed on the abandoned cup of tea. Sighing again, Obi-Wan picked the cup off the floor. If Anakin wasn’t going to drink it, then he might as well have some for himself.

“Last chance for the tea,” he called into the fresher. 

No response came, so he lifted the cup to his lips. He had only managed to take one sip before he went rigid. The unifying force swirled in from the ground, splitting through the floor of the temple and wrapping around Obi-Wan’s entire body. He jerked back in surprise, the cup of tea dropping as he clutched his throbbing head. 

“What the—” Obi-Wan gasped, feeling the living force sweep in from the sky. 

The fresher door flew open. Anakin appeared before him, eyes frantic, but Obi-Wan could barely concentrate on his face. He was glowing blue. His hands were glowing blue.

“Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, hold on. Don’t leave me. I’m sorry. I’m so—”

And then, he was standing in front of his grandmaster.

“Grandmaster?” Obi-Wan whispered.

Everything felt blurry, fuzzy on the edges. They were in a cave of sorts, clearly, but the force felt heavy there, tortured, as if they were standing on the edge of a warzone. Obi-Wan reached out to the force, expecting to feel his grandmaster’s calm presence shining back on him. There was nothing there, nothing but a cold, harsh darkness, the same darkness he had felt from the Sith Lord in Naboo, from the person who had killed Qui-Gon. 

“Obi-Wan,” Dooku gently said, taking a small step forward. “Don’t be scared.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t scared; he was terrified. He was terrified of the monster in front of him, he was terrified of the force, and more than anything, he was terrified that he couldn’t feel the bond that connected him to Anakin. His padawan was gone, gone just like Qui-Gon.

“Obi-Wan,” Sith-Dooku murmured, “I’m not here to hurt you.” 

“Get away from me,” Obi-Wan growled. He unclipped his lightsaber and held it in front of him, ignoring how badly his hands were trembling. The force may have felt fuzzy, but he didn’t need an otherworldly power to tell him what he needed to do.

When Dooku took another step, Obi-Wan lifted a boulder with the force and threw it at his face. The older man yelped in surprise, diving to the ground as Obi-Wan bolted down the tunnel. A feeling rang in the force, telling him that danger awaited him at the end of the cave, but Obi-Wan couldn’t understand what power could have possibly caused it. There were no living presences nearby, other than Dooku’s swirling darkness which only seemed to grow larger as he ran.

Obi-Wan tumbled out of the cave and an army of droids met him. 

The droids started firing. Obi-Wan threw himself into the first wave, recklessly, dangerously, and so very, very terrified. It was the terror that guided him to safety. He slashed through the droids, deflected blaster bolts into their heads, tossed their remains into the rocks, and prayed that the force was truly with him. Once the first wave was destroyed, he slid down the nearest cliffside, reaching into the force for anything.

Only darkness met him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anakin went rigid on the bridge of the Resolute. His bond with Obi-Wan, however faint it had become, had snapped. He reached out to the force, desperately searching for any trace of the other man. Nothing came back to him. It was almost as if—

“General!” Rex shouted.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin rasped, crumbling to the ground. “Obi-Wan, I can’t feel him in the force. Get Cody. Now. ” 

His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he waited for the commander’s blue image to fizzle to life on the holoprojector. It didn’t make any sense. All that was left in the valley were droids, and Obi-Wan could handle droids better than anyone else Anakin knew.

“Cody, what the—”

“Dooku’s here, Sir,” Cody interrupted. 

Anakin’s blood ran cold. If Dooku was on-planet, then Obi-Wan must have engaged him alone, and if Obi-Wan had engaged him alone… 

Obi-Wan was quite possibly dead, and it was Anakin’s fault for not going with him. 

And for what? A petulant argument that could have easily been resolved? He was going to lose Obi-Wan like he had lost his mother, like he had lost his padawan. He was going to lose him when his last words were something so horrendous that even his own captain had to interrupt. Anakin buried his face in his knees. He was a terrible excuse for a Jedi, for a padawan, for a friend. He was going to lose Obi-Wan. The man who had raised him, who had taught him just about everything he knew. He was going to lose him forever over a stupid, pointless argument.

“Message from the council,” one of the clones interjected. “They say it’s about Obi-Wan.” 

Anakin’s head snapped up. “How do they—” He forced himself to take a deep breath despite the horrible feeling building in his stomach. Something was very wrong. “Put them through.”

Mace Windu’s image flickered to life. “Skywalker,” he greeted, his voice strangely worn. 

“Masters, what's going on?” Anakin demanded. 

“Received this we just did,” Yoda answered from next to him. “Watch it you must.”

A new holoprojection sprung to life. A young Jedi Knight, ginger hair still trapped in the shaggy padawan’s style, was busy slashing through droids.

“Masters,” the young man shouted over the blaster fire, “this is Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. I-I seem to have found myself in another situation.” He threw three droids over the holoprojector with the force. “I’m not sure where I am or why, but the most pressing concern I have at the moment is that I can’t feel my bond with my padawan. I’m worried that something has happened to him. I can’t lose him, not so soon after Qui-Gon. I just—” His robe began to flap in the air, indicating that he was jumping down from an extremely high cliff.

Anakin couldn’t breathe. Time travel wasn’t possible, not even with the force. And yet, the proof was staring right back at him. Obi-Wan wasn’t dead; he had been replaced. Not just replaced, but replaced by a man that Anakin hadn’t seen since he was nine years old. 

 “Please send help,” Obi-Wan began again once he landed. “I need to find Anakin. I need to get back to Coruscant and make sure that he’s alright. I need to—”

“Obi-Wan, please calm down.”

Anakin stared at the holoprojector, horrified as the image of Dooku entered the frame. 

“I told you to get away from me!” Obi-Wan shouted, the same horror reflected on his face. “You’re not my grandmaster. My grandmaster would never—”

“Your older self touched an ancient Jedi artifact,” Dooku interrupted, his voice carrying an oddly gentle tone, one that would have sounded nurturing if it had come from anyone else. “You’re in the future. In a very dark future where the Jedi are at war.”

“That’s not true!”

“Search your feelings, Obi-Wan.” 

As soon as Obi-Wan paused to reach for the force, a sly smile slipped across Dooku’s face. All it took was a flick of his fingers before a medical droid wheeled itself behind the young knight and jabbed his neck with a needle. Anakin cried out at the same moment Obi-Wan choked out a gasp. Anakin needed to do something, anything to calm the anger rising in his chest at seeing Obi-Wan collapse into Dooku’s arms, at seeing Dooku gently lower Obi-Wan onto the ground as if he wasn’t a Sith Lord, as if he hadn’t spent an entire war trying to kill him. 

Dooku shook his head. “Qui-Gon didn’t deserve you.”

And with that, the holoprojector fizzled out.

Chapter Text

Count Dooku woke up to the force screaming. Again.

Blearily, he dragged himself out of bed and made the short walk to the destroyer’s medical bay, where he knew his grandpadawan would be thrashing about once again. It was unnerving for Dooku. General Kenobi’s shields were stronger than durasteel, practically impossible for even the most sophisticated torture machines to penetrate. Knight Kenobi, despite also displaying remarkable signs of shielding—perhaps too remarkable given his young age—was obviously still struggling with the effects of time travel. In the daytime, he would periodically release a heavy swirl of grief and terror into the force, and in the nighttime, his constant nightmares would consume the entire destroyer, making even the droids freeze in their paths. Dooku knew that a part of it was his own fault. He had kept Obi-Wan sedated for the last couple days—not out of cruelty, but because it minimized escape, gave the medical droids ample time to pump missing nutrients into his too thin body, and perhaps most importantly, allowed Dooku time to think.

Three days had passed and he still didn’t know what to do. The artifact, which he decided to keep for research purposes, was as dull as a brick, drained of its power. In the end, there were only two possibilities. Either the artifact would recharge and allow Knight Kenobi to go back to the past, or he was trapped in the future forever. Dooku tried not to think of the implications of what would happen to General Kenobi if the artifact never recharged—erased, wiped from the map of existence. He may have wanted to kill the Jedi Master, but it almost seemed too cruel for his life to end without a fight. Or maybe the general was kicked into a further future. Now that was a theory that gave Dooku a migraine. 

The force only grew more frantic as he entered the medical bay. As predicted, Obi-Wan was writhing in his bed, eyes squeezed shut. Dooku felt flashes of fear in the force, and below that, flashes of another unnamed emotion. A reactor core, Qui-Gon Jinn falling to the floor behind a red and black zabrak, Obi-Wan’s gut-curling scream, the shield falling down, a wave of anger rushing through him as he charged towards the Sith.

“We cannot keep sedating him,” one of the medical droids beeped. “He must wake up naturally in the morning or face consequences.” 

Dooku paid the droid no mind. Perching himself on the edge of Obi-Wan’s bed, he raised his hand to his sweaty forehead and tried to think of a different memory to replace the nightmare with. Finally, he settled on a simple one. The training salles, a young padawan with a ginger braid trading blows with an older padawan, Dooku watching from the sidelines, impressed as Obi-Wan won the duel with a sudden bout of Makashi that caught the other boy off guard. Similar to the last two nights, the mind trick worked and Obi-Wan fell back into a peaceful slumber. 

“We cannot keep—”

“I know that,” Dooku snapped at the droid. 

He had run out of time to figure out a solution, but it was no matter. He had felt the flashes of anger and fear in the force. Obi-Wan had the potential to join him on the darkside, unlike his stubborn older self. Dooku simply had to make sure that nothing got in the way. And as for General Kenobi… There was nothing he could do but hope that the force was with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rex was having a very strange day. No, he was having a very strange week. After watching the holoprojection of Knight Kenobi nearly thirty-five times in a row, General Skywalker had locked himself in his quarters, leaving him and Cody in charge of both the 501st and 212th as they traveled back to Coruscant. Or to put it more aptly, Rex was in charge of both the 501st and 212th. Cody had taken the news of General Kenobi’s time travel rather badly and had promptly vanished as well. Rex could understand. He wouldn’t know what to do if General Skywalker had suddenly turned into a nine-year-old child and then proceeded to get abducted by a Sith Lord. Nevertheless, having both the general and the commander gone was beginning to wear him down.

“Boil, have you seen Codes?” Rex asked his fellow clone.

“I think I saw him in the hangar,” Boil replied, pointing down the corridor. Then, before Rex could walk away, the clone hastily added, “He’s uh not in the right state of mind.”

“Copy that,” Rex muttered. 

He wasn’t quite sure what Boil meant by “not in the right state of mind,” but he certainly wasn’t expecting the sight he found. Cody was sitting in the corner of the hangar, surrounded by piles and piles of datapads. He was staring at the one in his hands, face frozen in horror. 

“Codes, what—”

“Help me carry these to General Skywalker,” Cody barely gritted out. “He’s going to want to see this. And he’s going to want to see this now. ”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anakin couldn’t stop watching the holoprojection. 

“Masters, this is Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. I-I seem to have found myself in another situation. I’m not sure where I am or why, but the most pressing concern I have at the moment is that I can’t feel my bond with my padawan. I’m worried that something has happened to him. I can’t lose him, not so soon after Qui-Gon. I just—Please send help. I need to find Anakin. I need to get back to Coruscant and make sure that he’s alright…”

Obi-Wan had been sucked into the future—not just the future, but a terrible future—and his most pressing concern was Anakin. If Anakin didn’t already feel like a horrible padawan, then he certainly did now. The thing was, Obi-Wan never said how he really felt about him. He never said that he was scared of losing him, he never said that he cared about him, he never said anything. He was Obi-Wan, the perfect Jedi who held no attachments. 

Except, clearly not. Somehow this Obi-Wan was deeply attached to that Anakin. Maybe it wasn’t just time travel, maybe it was an entire other dimension, one where Obi-Wan actually said the things that he was thinking instead of making Anakin guess. Or maybe Anakin was just blind.

“Qui-Gon didn’t deserve you.” 

The last line unnerved Anakin more than anything else. He had always placed Qui-Gon on a bit of a pedestal, and Obi-Wan never bothered to correct him. Throughout his entire apprenticeship, he had wished that Qui-Gon was the one teaching him, not Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon was the Jedi who fought for his freedom, who defied the council. Obi-Wan, meanwhile, was only stuck with Anakin because of Maul. Anakin had seen the reactor core footage. He had been obsessed with it like every other padawan, begging Obi-Wan to teach him how to flip over a Sith. But that also meant that he had heard Qui-Gon’s last words. Obi-Wan didn't want him.

The holoprojection restarted just as a knock sounded on the other side of the door. Anakin guiltily shut it off—why did he need to watch it again—before he barked out, “Who is it?”

“Rex and Cody, Sir!” Rex’s voice rang out.

Anakin felt another pang of guilt. After debriefing with the council and deciding that it was better for him to return to Coruscant in order to come up with a concrete plan to save Obi-Wan, he had vanished to his quarters. It wasn’t fair on Rex and Cody, but Anakin couldn’t bear to be seen by the clones, not after they all witnessed his fight with Obi-Wan.

“Come in,” Anakin grumbled.

He was expecting the two clones to try to drag him out his quarters, but instead he was met with two horrified faces and a pile of datapads. 

“Sir,” Cody hurried to explain, “I wasn’t trying to snoop, but I—well, I figured that if we’re trying to deal with kid Kenobi—well, not a kid but a kid to us—anyway, I figured that we needed to know what we’re dealing with, you know? Like timeline wise.”

Anakin blinked at him. “I’m… sorry?”

“What the commander is trying to say,” Rex interjected, “is that he sliced the temple records for General Kenobi’s files and he found some rather disturbing mission reports.” 

“From my apprenticeship?” Anakin asked, brow furrowing.

“No, Sir, from before. ”

“Qui-Gon didn’t deserve you.” Dooku’s words rang coldly in Anakin’s head. He had a bad feeling about the datapads. He had a very, very bad feeling. 

“Give them to me,” he demanded. “Give them all to me.”

The clones didn’t hesitate. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anakin bolted up the temple steps. He hadn’t stopped running since he reached Coruscant. He hadn’t stopped to do anything since he finished reading through Obi-Wan’s mission reports. How could Obi-Wan not tell him? How could he keep the Agri-Corps, Bandomeer, Melida/Daan, and every other horrible thing he had ever been through to himself? Obi-Wan had been a slave. He had been a slave, just like Anakin, and he never once mentioned it. Qui-Gon didn’t even want him as a padawan until Obi-Wan tried to blow himself up! Anakin’s mind was reeling. It was as if in the last ten hours, his entire perception of Obi-Wan—the man who raised him, his brother, his best friend—had completely changed into something entirely unrecognizable. 

“Anakin, my boy!” Chancellor Palpatine exclaimed, meeting him at the top of the temple steps. “It’s been so long. We really must—”  

“I’m sorry, Chancellor,” Anakin managed, shoving past him, “I can’t talk now.” 

Palpatine’s eyes widened with surprise. “But, my boy—”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t.” 

He would explain it to the man later, but for now, Anakin desperately needed to see Yoda and Windu. He needed to know everything Obi-Wan had kept from him. 

(As he ran past the chancellor, he could have sworn that he felt a sliver of darkness escape into the force, like Obi-Wan had described with Xanatos, but he decided to file away the strange observation for later.)

Anakin burst into the council chambers. He pointedly ignored Obi-Wan’s empty chair, and the ongoing meeting, as he demanded, “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Windu, to his credit, managed to keep a straight face. “I thought we did tell you.”

“No, not about the time travel.” Anakin opened a backpack and dumped the pile of datapads onto the council room floor. “About everything else! About the Agri-Corps, about Bandomeer, about Melida/Daan—which by the way, what the kriff! No wonder Obi-Wan is the best general out there! He was leading an entire war by himself at fourteen!” 

“Thirteen,” Plo Koon gently corrected.

“So all of you knew?” Anakin let out a delirious laugh. “This entire time. All of you knew and yet you let me believe that Qui-Gon Jinn was a saint while Obi-Wan was just your average Jedi who follows the Jedi code and absolutely nothing else!” 

Windu arched an eyebrow at that. “Your master killed the first Sith Apprentice in decades when he was still a padawan. Was that not enough to show you that he isn’t average?”

Anakin bowed his head in shame. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Yoda rapped his stick against the ground. “Focus we must. Trouble young Obi-Wan is in. Unpredictable my fallen padawan can be.”

“The force tells me that Dooku doesn’t plan to kill him,” Windu dryly remarked. “But there can be worse things than death in this world.” 

“There’s another problem to consider as well,” Plo Koon offered. “If Knight Kenobi is here, then where is Master Kenobi? Passed into the force?”

The words chilled Anakin. He hadn’t even considered the implications of what happened to his Obi-Wan. Was he in the past? The force didn’t seem to agree with that conclusion. The future then? The force didn’t try to argue against it. 

“My feelings say that he’s in the future,” Anakin choked out.

“Then all we can do is hope that the force is with him,” Windu grimly decided. “Our priority should be focused on helping Knight Kenobi. If we can send him back, then perhaps the force will return Master Kenobi to us in one piece.”

In one piece. Anakin decided then and there that if he ever got to see his Obi-Wan again, he would never let him go. No matter how infuriating and stubborn he could be, no matter how many lectures, how many stupid scoldings, he would never leave him. Obi-Wan would be stuck with him, even if he didn’t want to be. 

Plo Koon nodded his head in agreement. “I have already spoken to Master Nu. The archives are busy looking into artifacts that could have possibly caused this.” 

“What can I do?” Anakin asked, trying not to sound desperate and failing. 

Yoda and Windu exchanged a glance. 

“Follow us you will,” Yoda said, rising out of his seat. "Private affair this is."

Frowning, Anakin followed Yoda and Windu into the grandmaster’s quarters. They each took a seat by the windows, settling comfortably in the darkness before Windu finally broke the silence. 

“Your bond has snapped, I take it?” Windu asked. 

It was suggested that masters and padawans sever their bonds after the knighting ceremony. Doing otherwise was attachment, and Anakin had spent his entire life learning that attachment was against the Jedi code. He had been surprised when Obi-Wan not only didn’t sever their bond but also continued to use it as if the rule wasn’t there at all. And now, Anakin was equally surprised that Mace Windu of all people knew and never say a word.

“I thought he was dead,” Anakin admitted. 

“Communicate with him you may still be able to,” Yoda declared. “Discussed this Master Windu and I have. Determined that if placed in deep meditation, hear you Obi-Wan may.”

“Deep meditation?” Anakin echoed. 

“It’s dangerous for a Jedi to do alone,” Windu explained. “Me and Master Yoda would be there to help you through it. Unfortunately, the process involves submerging yourself deep enough in the force to reach a familiar mind lightyears away.” 

“Why is it unfortunate?” 

“Me and Master Yoda would have to be inside your head.” When Anakin’s look of confusion didn’t disappear, Windu clenched his jaw and added, “without shields.”

Anakin’s blood ran cold. If they were in his head without shields, then the two highest Jedi in the entire order would be privy to the worst thoughts he had ever had. They would see the Tusken Raiders, they would see his marriage to Padme, they would see everything he had been trying to hide. He would be kicked out of the order. There was no question about it. 

“Difficult we know this decision is,” Yoda huffed. “Demons we all have.”

Windu placed his hand on his shoulder, and Anakin couldn’t help but flinch at the contact. “Just think it over. For Obi-Wan’s sake.”

“H-How many days do I have?”

“Sooner the better.”

Anakin managed a shaky nod. “I’ll think about it. I promise.” 

All he could feel as he marched out of Yoda’s quarters was a feeling of pooling dread. It was all his fault. If he had never said those things to Obi-Wan, then Obi-Wan would have never tried to face Dooku alone, and if Obi-Wan had never tried to face Dooku alone, then he would have never touched that horrible ancient artifact. Anakin just needed to find another way to talk to Obi-Wan, preferably one that didn’t ruin his entire life. 

He headed to the archives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan yawned as he slowly pulled himself upright. He blinked a few times, only to realize that he was in some kind of medical bay in some kind of destroyer. He ran his hand through his spikey locks of hair, trying to piece together what exactly had happened. There was a fight with Anakin, he picked up a cup of tea, and then—

Dooku.

Obi-Wan jerked out of bed. Everything that happened came rushing back to him in a flurry. The blue glowing, the sith lord, the millions of droids, Anakin being gone. He was in the future, and not just that, he was a prisoner to a Sith Lord. His fallen grandmaster, who had abandoned him after Qui-Gon's death.

“Good afternoon,” a medical droid beeped. “I will inform Count Dooku that—”

Obi-Wan threw the droid against the wall. He needed to run. He needed to do anything but stay there and let his grandmaster kill him. Obi-Wan reached out to the force and felt Dooku nearing, his force signature only slightly less dark than it was before. Cursing to himself—because honestly, why was it always him who got into these sorts of things—Obi-Wan threw on his Jedi tunics. His lightsaber was gone, as expected, but he would have to make do without it. His eyes scanned the room before they finally landed on an open vent. 

“Here goes nothing,” Obi-Wan muttered to himself.

He jumped up just as the doors to the medical bay opened. In the distance he heard Dooku shouting, but he didn’t pay the man any mind. Obi-Wan was escaping, thank you very much, and no one was going to stop him. 

The vent was dusty and miserable. Obi-wan could barely keep himself from coughing as he crawled through it. Below him, he could hear the steady whirl of droids sent to look for him, and even further than that, he could feel Dooku’s spiraling exasperation. Once he was sure that he was far enough away, he found an opening in the vent and dropped down into the office below. He found an abandoned comm on the desk and dialed the council’s frequency. When no one picked up, he set the device to record.

“Masters, this is Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he whispered. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I am currently being kept prisoner by a Sith Lord—Yan Dooku, my grandmaster. I am attempting an escape, but I’m unsure if I will be able to manage it.” 

His gaze landed on a datachip. If Dooku was a Sith Lord—a Sith Lord who owned an entire army of droids, at that—then the council would likely want intel on his plans. Before he could think better of it, Obi-Wan grabbed the datachip and plugged it into the comm, transferring the memory to the council. He watched a string of nonsensical words flash across the screen—Kamino, clones, chips, order 66—and wondered if the decision to send the datachip over to the council, instead of continuing to escape, was simply another piece of evidence proving his incompetence. It probably was. Why anyone had thought that Obi-Wan would make a good Jedi Knight was a mystery.

“I’ve sent over some files that I have acquired rather illegally,” Obi-Wan continued, shoving his thoughts of inadequacy down for later. “I’m not sure how much use it will be, but in case it is, you have all the data. You should also have my coordinates, once again.”

He sent out the recording, deleted the comm's data, and began to turn around when he felt something sharp pierce his neck. Cursing, Obi-Wan crumbled to the ground. As his vision blurred, he saw a med droid hovering over him, needle in hand.

“You certainly are a menace,” a low voice rang out a moment later. “Just like your master.” 

“Get away,” Obi-Wan slurred. 

His vision went black for the second time.

Chapter Text

The ray shields flashed in front of him, red and angry. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth, cursing himself for not being fast enough to keep up with Qui-Gon. He had begged the older man to wait for him through their bond, but he had received no response, just like he had received utter static when Qui-Gon repudiated him in front of the entire council.

Hang in there, Master, Obi-Wan sent through the bond. 

No response, again.

Obi-Wan blinked, and in the next moment, the zabrak swung his lightsaber straight through Qui-Gon’s chest. The force screeched. He watched Qui-Gon crumple to the ground, motionless, stunned, unable to even tell if the scream piercing the air was his own. Qui-Gon was dying. He was dying because Obi-Wan wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough to ever be a Jedi Knight. He had failed. He had failed and his master was paying the price.

Failure failure failure failure failure failure failure failure failure failure failure failure—

Obi-Wan jerked out of bed, throwing his blankets off himself as his ragged breaths knocked against his chest. He was too old to cry, but for once, he couldn’t help it. The wave of grief hit him again and again and again until all he could do was bury his head between his knees and sob. 

“Are you alright?” a soft voice asked.

Obi-Wan tilted his head up to see Dooku standing hesitantly in the doorway, almost entirely cloaked by the shadows. The darkness that usually bled off of him in waves was tamer than usual, as if he was deliberately restraining it for Obi-Wan’s sake and Obi-Wan’s sake alone.  

“Fine,” Obi-Wan managed, though the crack in his voice betrayed the truth. 

Perhaps it was only his imagination, but he swore he saw Dooku’s face soften as he sat down on the edge of the bed, lingering only a foot away.

Dooku stayed silent for a moment. Then, in almost a whisper, he asked, “Do you miss him?”

Obi-Wan gave a wobbly nod. 

“I miss him too, but there’s nothing we can do now. He’s dead, and—” Dooku took a sharp breath. “I’m afraid that he’s not coming back. Not for a very long time.”

Before he could think any better of it, Obi-Wan darted forwards and hugged his grandmaster. When he felt Dooku go stiff, he began to pull back, only for the older man to drag him back into his chest with a protective ferocity that sucked the air out of his lungs. 

“What do we do?” Obi-Wan whispered into his shoulder.

“Pick up the pieces,” Dooku murmured as he rubbed the hair at the back of Obi-wan’s head. “That’s all we can do.”

When the sleep suggestion eventually came—accompanied by an image of young Qui-Gon failing to bake a cake—Obi-Wan didn’t try to fight it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Obi-Wan woke up, he was wearing force-suppression cuffs. He tested the cuffs, pulling his hands back and forth in the binds, but they unsurprisingly didn’t budge.

With a hiss, the doors to his quarters slid open, allowing a droid to walk in. 

“Good evening,” the droid beeped. “Count Dooku requires you to join him for dinner.” 

Obi-Wan crossed his arms, not caring if he sounded petulant or not. “Well I’m not going.”

When the droid held up an electrocutor, Obi-Wan decided that he better go.

Besides, he thought to himself as he walked down the corridor, perhaps this would give him the opportunity to finally understand why Dooku was so intent on keeping him hostage—or if nothing else, understand what events had led his grandmaster down such a twisted path. Perhaps Obi-Wan could even change him. He certainly owed it to Qui-Gon to try. 

The dining room aboard the destroyer was of the utmost luxury—chandeliers, tropical plants, gorgeous murals. At the very head of the ornate table was Count Dooku, sprawled out on the chair like it was his personal throne.

“Don’t worry,” Dooku drawled when he saw Obi-Wan eye the food funny, “nothing is poisoned.” 

“Ah yes. Because Sith Lords are known for their trustworthiness.” 

Dooku’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t lie.”

“How can I tell if you put these cuffs on me?” Obi-Wan challenged.

Sighing, Dooku motioned the droids to guard the doors before he used the force to take the cuffs off of him. Obi-Wan let out a long breath as the warmth of the force rushed back into his body. To Dooku’s credit, he could feel no deception in the force. 

“If you’re a Sith Lord, then why haven’t you killed me yet?” Obi-wan asked. 

If Dooku noticed how Obi-Wan had taken the farthest seat from him, then he didn’t care to comment on it. “You’re part of a greater plan, Obi-Wan, a plan that has been in the works for a very long time.” 

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I plan to overthrow my master, and once I do—”

“Master Yoda?”

“No,” Dooku snarled, “Darth Sidious, my Sith master. It’s a Sith custom to overthrow your master in order to take on a new apprentice. A better apprentice.”  

“What’s the point of having a Sith master if you’re just going to overthrow them?” Obi-Wan questioned. “I mean, if I was Sidious, I wouldn’t even take an apprentice on. That’s like a guaranteed death sentence, I would think.”

“That isn’t the point,” Dooku coldly interrupted. He looked like he was on the verge of a migraine. “The point is, I plan to overthrow my master and take you on as my apprentice. We would rule the galaxy together, bringing a new order to the Republic.” 

Obi-Wan pretended that the words didn’t chill him to the core. “But… I’m a Jedi? I didn’t think that was allowed.”

“Well obviously, you would have to turn first.” 

Obi-Wan blinked at him, far too innocently. “Turn?”

“To the darkside, you fool!” Dooku growled. “Can this conversation get any more infuriating? Qui-Gon wasn’t lying when he said that you were a menace.” 

Obi-Wan didn’t bother to hide his smug grin. “You’re the one who forced me to come down here. What did you expect?” 

“Let’s eat in silence,” Dooku stiffly decided. “We can talk about logistics later.” 

Obi-Wan pouted. “But I was going to ask you all about the future! Do you have spaceships that—”

“Silence,” Dooku repeated, his eyes narrowing. 

For a moment the only sound in the room was the clink of forks and knives; but then, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and broke the silence. 

“You’re wasting your time by the way. I felt the darkside on Naboo after Qui-Gon died. Once I killed the Sith, I decided that I would never touch it again.”

Obi-Wan could have sworn that Dooku’s face paled when he said that he “killed” the Sith, but in the next second, his face schooled itself. 

“There’s more forceful ways to make a Jedi turn,” Dooku replied.

“So torture?”

He met Obi-Wan’s eyes coolly. “If it comes down to that.” 

Obi-Wan shivered at the words. He needed to escape Dooku—that much was clear. He refused to let the monster in front of him turn him into a Sith apprentice, even if refusing would mean his death. Obi-Wan’s eyes settled on a med droid standing guard by the door, needle ready in case he tried to sprint again. Reaching for the force, Obi-Wan felt for the wires inside the droid. He tugged on one, plugging it into a different port. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the droid slowly jut forward. 

“What are you thinking?” Dooku prompted, suspicion wavering through the force. 

Obi-Wan plastered on the most innocent smile he could manage. “I was only wondering why you decided to join the Sith, despite the fact that they murdered your padawan.” 

Dooku’s eyes flashed yellow. “Qui-Gon would forgive me. The Jedi have become corrupted, tied to the senate for their every beck and call. Starting this war was the only way for the Republic to be restored back to its former glory. I can promise you that.”  

Obi-Wan let out a sharp laugh. “Hold on. Your side started the war?” 

“I fail to see the humor.”

“The Jedi were peacekeepers before this. By starting this war, you’ve practically guaranteed the senate’s ownership over the Jedi.” Obi-Wan grinned. “You’re the problem, grandmaster.”

“They were bad before,” Dooku spat.

“You’re being dramatic.” 

“Dramatic?” Dooku hissed.

“Did you even try to reform the council?” Obi-Wan dryly asked. “Or did you run as soon as it got hard? To me, it seems like all of this stems from anger management problems. Perhaps if you talked to a temple mind healer—”

Dooku slammed his silverware against the table. “Why you little—”

Before he could even finish the sentence, Obi-Wan tugged hard on the med droid, forcing the needle into Dooku’s thigh. His grandmaster let out a gasp as he crumpled in his chair, eyes burning with dark betrayal.

Obi-Wan cheekily bowed. “Farewell again, grandmaster.”

“Menace,” was all Dooku could grit out before he collapsed.

Obi-Wan used the force to reclaim his lightsaber. Then, he promptly sliced through the droids and bolted down the corridor of the destroyer, searching for the hangar. Droids began firing at him as soon as he burst into the loading dock, but he was ready this time. Deflecting the shots with his lightsaber, he managed to clear a jagged path to one of fighters. 

“Force do I hate flying,” Obi-Wan grumbled to himself as he powered on the engine. 

The fighter took off with a jerk, speeding through the hangar and into open space. Not even a moment later, a beeping noise began to echo in the spacecraft. Obi-Wan glanced down at the fuel gauge, only to see that it had less than an eighth left and multiple engine failure warnings. Cursing to himself, he set the navigation to the nearest populated planet. 

He only hoped that they had a spaceport he could use. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ahsoka Tano was restless. 

The force had been acting strange lately, elusive almost. That morning she had woken up with a strong feeling of paranoia, as if her entire life would be over if she didn’t get out of orbit that very day. She had tried to explain it to the Martez sisters at the spaceport—this feeling building up deep inside of me, this horrible horrible feeling—but they didn’t understand. How could they when Ahsoka didn’t even understand herself? Now, she was sitting in a rusty old spacecraft as small as the Twilight, staring into the black void of space with utter disdain. If Anakin was there, he would call her Snips and tell her a joke to cheer her up, but he wasn’t. Ahsoka was alone, and she had left the last two people in her life who cared about her. 

“That’s it,” she muttered to herself. “I’m going back to the spaceport. This is idiotic.” 

“I’m afraid that’s not an option.” 

Ahsoka whirled around. She instinctively reached for her lightsaber, only to remember that she had given it to Anakin. 

“Who’s there?” she demanded, pathetically raising her fists. 

A cloaked figure slowly stepped out of the shadows. Ahsoka reached for the force, expecting to feel the sharp tug of the darkside. Only lightness met her. Not just lightness, but a familiar lightness that made her chest tear into two.

“M-Master Kenobi?” she barely managed.

The cloak fell backwards, revealing Master Kenobi—except, that wasn’t quite right. Ahsoka blinked in confusion as she took in Obi-Wan’s short ginger hair and youthful features. The man in front of her looked nothing like the general she had left behind. He must have been a decade younger. In fact, he must have been not much older than she was. 

The eerie copy of Obi-Wan grinned. “I take it that you know my older self then?” 

“O-Older self?” Ahsoka stammered. 

“Sorry, let me explain.” Running his hand through his hair, Obi-Wan began to obsessively pace the ship. “I have time travelled from the past to this horrid future where everyone is at war and my grandmaster is a Sith Lord. Now I’m trying to escape said grandmaster because he wants to turn me to the darkside, which is why I deemed it necessary to sneak aboard your ship in the first place. Utterly ridiculous, if you ask me.”

Ahsoka could only stare at him. What he was implying wasn’t possible; and yet, all the evidence in front of her pointed otherwise. Somehow Obi-Wan had time-traveled, and somehow, he had managed to stumble into her of all people when Ahoksa was actively trying to avoid his older self. The entire idea hurt Ahsoka’s head so much that she would have fainted if Obi-Wan hadn’t expertly guided her to the pilot’s seat before she could. 

“That’s a lot to process, Master Kenobi,” she croaked out. 

“Knight Kenobi,” Obi-Wan corrected.

“Right.”

Obi-Wan plastered another friendly smile on his face. “Anyway, as I was going to say, I am in desperate need of a ride back to the Jedi Temple. Would you mind dropping me off?”

And like that, Ahsoka needed a drink. 

“I-I don’t think that’s possible.” 

Obi-Wan frowned. “Did something happen to the temple?” 

“No,” she muttered, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s just that I kind of left the order.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan didn’t look as surprised as she expected. “Why’s that?”

And like that, Ahsoka needed two drinks.

“I was wrongly accused of committing a crime,” she finally said. “My innocence was eventually proven, but…” For some reason, she couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“It shook your faith,” Obi-Wan offered.

“Exactly.”

She didn’t know what she thought Obi-Wan would do—lecture her on the morals of the Jedi, on how she had made the biggest mistake in her life—but she wasn’t prepared for him to gently sit down next to her in the co-pilot’s seat, face utterly without judgement. 

“I left the order once too.”

Ahsoka’s head jerked up. She must have misheard. Obi-Wan Kenobi, high general of the Grand Army of the Republic, member of the Jedi Council, had left the order? It wasn’t possible. Anakin would have told her if it was. Obi-Wan himself would have told her. 

“When?” was all she could ask. 

Obi-Wan shrugged. “When I was thirteen. Me and my master were sent to a planet called Melida/Daan. There, we met a group called the Young…”

Ahsoka stared at Obi-Wan with a strange mixture of horror and wonder as he told her the story of Melida/Daan—how he was left there by Qui-Gon, how he was forced to lead the Young to war, how the Young slowly began to turn on each other and disintegrate—and by the time he finished, Ahsoka was trembling.

“That’s awful,” she whispered. 

Obi-Wan placed a hand on her shoulder. “I tell you all of this to show that I understand your predicament, and because I believe that the Young’s experience may relate to you.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’m not sure what Master Kenobi would say, but if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that in times of darkness and uncertainty, good people make bad decisions. You’re at war with an evil power that has managed to turn even the most Jedi-like people into monsters. Of course the council would react terribly to the evidence of you committing a crime. Any sane person would. It doesn’t excuse the council for their actions—especially since it sounds to me like they didn’t apologize for their mistake afterwards—but it does provide a logical explanation for why they acted that way. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Ahsoka let his words sink into her head. She hated that she was agreeing with him, that she was actually considering forgiving the Jedi council, the very people that had ruined her life. She supposed that if Master Kenobi had that negotiating effect on people, then his younger self did as well. In fact, Knight Kenobi was somehow even worse than his older version. Anyone could be charmed by his dimples, easy grin, and oh boy did Ahsoka refuse to let her mind wander down that path any further. 

“You’re wise for a newly knighted padawan,” she finally settled on saying. 

Obi-Wan blushed. “Thank you, but I would hardly call myself wise. I simply follow the will of the force, like everyone else.” 

An understatement, Ahsoka thought, considering the time-travel. 

She crossed her arms. “I’m still angry.” 

“And you should be. I was angry that the Jedi refused to come to the Young’s aid. I was angry that I was so casually left behind. But in the end, I knew where I belonged.”

Ahsoka felt her eyes begin to blur. “That’s the problem. I don’t know where I belong.”

Obi-Wan squeezed her shoulder. “Search the force.”

Closing her eyes, Ahsoka reached out to the warmth, letting it envelope her like it always did. She saw Obi-Wan teaching her Jar'Kai, Rex and Cody letting her win at Sabbac, Plo Koon playfully lifting her in the air with the force, and Anakin smiling down at her, his flesh hand steady against her shoulder. I’m proud of you, Snips, he would murmur. So proud.

She saw home.

Ahsoka didn’t realize that she was crying until Obi-Wan offered her the hem of his cloak. She took it gratefully, wiping the tears off her face. 

“Maybe I do want to go back,” she croaked. 

Obi-Wan gave her a soft smile. “I think that’s a good decision.”

“You really are wise for your age, Knight Kenobi.”

He blushed again, and Ahsoka couldn't help but wonder if that was why he had grown the beard.

“So,” he began again after a moment of comfortable silence had passed, “how exactly do I know you in the future?”

Ahsoka raised an eyebrow. “Am I… allowed to tell you?”

“I’m not sure.” Obi-Wan’s mouth quirked into another grin. “I haven’t done this time traveling thing before.”

“Well, unless the force intervenes, I guess there’s no harm then.” Ahsoka managed a wobbly smile. “I’m Anakin Skywalker’s padawan and your grandpadawan.”

Obi-Wan gaped at her. “What?” he stammered. “You’re my—he’s your—” He shot to his feet, his mouth grinning so much that it looked like his face would split into two. “I can’t believe it. I really can’t believe it. I actually saw him through to knighthood.” He grabbed Ahsoka’s shoulders and frantically shook her. “I actually saw him through to knighthood!” 

Ahsoka couldn’t stop herself from laughing. Young Obi-Wan was frankly adorable.  

Obi-Wan sat back down in the co-pilot’s seat. “Tell me everything about him. What is he like, what does he like to do, what—” He let out a bright laugh. “Just tell me everything!” 

“Well,” Ahsoka began, grinning as well. “He’s the best pilot in the galaxy, for starters, and he’s incredibly passionate about—” 

Her words died in her throat as the overwhelming feeling of darkness surrounded them. Above them, a destroyer formed, and along with it, the familiar presence of Count Dooku. 

“Well kriff,” Obi-Wan muttered. “He put a tracker on me.”

Chapter Text

Ahsoka couldn’t understand how Obi-wan could be so calm as the tractor beam pulled them into Count Dooku’s destroyer. Master Kenobi, sure, but this wasn’t a Jedi Master—this was a newly knighted padawan. And yet there Obi-Wan was, standing next to her, carefully fishing a tracking device out of his lightsaber, still the same unflappable High General of the Republic despite the years lying between them. Anakin had been so wrong. He had always painted younger Obi-Wan as this boring, uptight stick, but all Ahsoka saw in front of her was a young man with the wisdom of a Jedi Master and the cocky fire of a Jedi Knight. She couldn’t help but wonder where that fire went, and more than that, she couldn’t help but wonder if Anakin ever truly met that version of Obi-Wan.

“I don’t believe you ever told me your name,” Obi-Wan remarked, bringing her thoughts back to the present.

She held out her hand. “Ahsoka. Ahsoka Tano.” 

He shook it with a grin. “A pleasure to meet you, my future grandpadawan.” 

“Likewise, Knight Kenobi.”

The spacecraft thudded against the loading dock of the destroyer, grimly reminding Ahsoka that she was about to face Count Dooku with no lightsaber and no Master. She tried her best to calm the fear inside of her, but it was nearly impossible with the feeling of darkness pressing in on all sides of the spacecraft.

“What do we do now?” she whispered. 

For some reason, Obi-Wan’s grin only grew. “Negotiate.”

“They call you that in the future—the negotiator, that is.” 

He tested it out on his tongue. “The negotiator… I like it. In fact, I think that it’s a thousand times better than being called the Sith-Slayer all the time.”

Ahsoka frowned. “You don’t like the fame?”

The fire burning in Obi-Wan’s eyes faltered. He glanced at his feet, not meeting Ahsoka’s gaze. “I’m not worthy of the praise. What’s the use of killing a Sith Lord when you can’t even save your own master?” 

Whatever Ahsoka had planned to say next was sharply interrupted by the door of the spacecraft being yanked open. 

“Surrender,” a battle droid commanded, holding a gun to both of their faces. 

Obi-Wan held his hands up. “We surrender!” he replied rather cheerfully. 

The droids took Obi-Wan's lightsaber and ushered them out of the spacecraft, where Dooku was already waiting for them. Perhaps it was Ahsoka’s imagination, but she could have sworn that she felt the smallest bits of light sparking against the darkness.

“I was stupid for not checking the lightsaber,” Obi-Wan declared without preamble. “Next time, I won’t make such a mistake.”

Dooku, however, wasn’t looking at him. He was looking straight at Ahsoka, a sliver of cruel smile slipping across his expressionless face. 

“If it isn’t Skywalker’s little pest,” he drawled.

“You’re the only pest here,” Ahsoka bit back. A moment later, she felt a wave of calm brush over her from Obi-Wan. She could almost hear his older self saying, patience, young one.

Dooku’s eerie smile didn’t fade. Instead, it only grew as he lit his red lightsaber. “You asked me how I was going to turn you to the dark side, Kenobi. Well, this seems like a wonderful opportunity to teach you how powerful the feeling of anger can be.” 

Obi-Wan dragged Ahsoka behind him before she could even comprehend the fact that Dooku was planning to murder her in front of him.

“You have two options, grandmaster,” he sneered, his voice sounding almost like Anakin’s. “Either you kill her and I spend every waking moment of my life trying to run away from you. Or, you let her go and I promise to stay with you unless forcefully taken away.”

Ahsoka gasped. “Knight Kenobi!”

He gave her a sympathetic smile. “It’s the only way, I fear.”

“But you would be sacrificing your freedom!”

Obi-Wan let out a peculiar sort of laugh. “Ahsoka, I’ve strapped myself to bombs, joined children in warzones, and let myself be tortured to help strangers. Saving my future grandpadawan from being murdered is certainly a trade that I’m willing to make.” 

Ahsoka didn’t know what to say—actually, she did know. I love you. I love you for coming back for me, I love you for standing up for me, and I love you for being the brightest presence in my life. But those types of thoughts weren’t Jedi-like, so she kept silent.

“What do you say, grandmaster?” Obi-Wan asked, turning his attention back towards Dooku, who looked both touched and disgusted by the whole exchange. 

“Fine,” he scoffed. “Be off.”

Ahsoka couldn’t help but fling herself into Obi-Wan’s arms and hug him. He seemed a little surprised at first, but when she didn’t let go, he returned the hug just as strongly. 

“I don’t want to leave you with him,” she breathed into his shoulder.

He hugged her a little tighter. “Go back home for me, alright?” When she nodded, he leaned forwards and whispered, “Besides, I promised that I wouldn’t leave unless forcefully taken away. I never specified what constituted that.”

Ahsoka laughed. “You truly are the negotiator.”

“I have to live up to the name somehow.”

Finally, Dooku coughed into his fist and Ahsoka reluctantly let Obi-Wan go. She began to board the spacecraft again when Obi-Wan called after her.

“Oh, and Ahsoka?” He hesitated, his cheeks coloring slightly. “When you see Anakin… can you tell him that I’m proud of him?”

Her heart clenched. “I will.”

I’m coming back for you, she wanted to add. Even if it’s the last thing I do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anakin stared at the datapad Windu had given him.

“This is horrible,” he whispered, barely able to keep his anger from bubbling to the surface. “The clones have been enslaved by these control chips the entire time.” He sharply met the Master’s eyes. “Rex could have killed me. Cody could have killed Obi-Wan.”

“Dire situation this is,” Yoda said. He looked older than usual, which was saying something, considering that he already looked ancient. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Anakin managed. “I-I’m not on the council.” You also don’t trust me, he wanted to bitterly add, not that the words would have held much weight in Yoda’s private quarters. 

“Your time-traveling master sent this to us,” Windu replied, his face just as exhausted as Yoda’s. “This boy has been in the future for less than a week and he’s already managed to save the entire future of the order. He should be given the rank of Master, honestly.”

“Focus we must,” Yoda declared, tapping his gimer stick to the ground. “Find a solution to the chips we must. Or perish we will.”

“A frequency might knock them out, but it could also shatter their brains in the process,” Anakin offered, forcing his thoughts away from the anger. He was a mechanic; he could fix this.

“Surgery then,” Windu grimly decided. “It will take forever, but it might be the only way.”

“Discreet we must be,” Yoda added. “At large, the Sith still are.”

The door to Yoda’s quarters slid open. 

“I’m sorry,” a familiar voice quietly rang out, “am I interrupting anything?”

Anakin jerked to his feet. His head spun as he turned around to see his former padawan standing awkwardly on the threshold, arms crossed over a blue shirt. She looked older than the last time he saw her—straighter posture, longer lekku, a stronger presence in the force—but she was undeniably still the little girl that he had trained.

“A-Ahsoka?” he stammered.

Yoda arched an eyebrow. “Young Tano, returned have you?” 

She bowed. “For good, I hope, if the council will have me back.” 

Anakin’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t believe the words that had escaped her mouth. Ahsoka was returning for good? Was he dreaming? Did he hit his head? He desperately searched the force, clawing for any sign of deception. There was none.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where did this all come from?” Windu asked, obviously just as surprised as Anakin was.

Ahsoka forced herself to meet the Master’s eyes. “I recently came to the realization that in times of darkness and uncertainty, good people make bad decisions. I still believe that I deserve an apology for how the trial was handled, but I understand now that I shouldn’t let the politics of the Republic dictate my relationship to the Jedi as a whole. Besides, the force tells me that I’m meant to be Master Skywalker’s padawan and Master Kenobi’s grandpadawan.”

She met Anakin’s gaze head on, and happiness, a feeling that had been missing since she left him, spread through Anakin’s heart. 

“This is my home, and I will not abandon it for any longer,” she strongly finished.

Yoda hummed. “Come up with that yourself, you did not.” 

She blushed. “I might have run into your rogue time traveler.” 

“Young Obi-Wan convinced you to return?” Anakin’s head only grew more dizzy. “But he doesn’t even know you exist yet!”

“I think not knowing me made his advice more meaningful,” Ahsoka replied. “He’s remarkably wise for his age, Masters. I was caught off guard.” 

She pushed the memories of young Obi-Wan into the force for all of them to see—grinning, smart, cocky, facing Dooku like it was nothing at all. Anakin’s heart swelled, and almost immediately afterwards, it grew dim at the reminder that his Obi-Wan was still lost in the future. The force told him that the older man wasn’t dead yet, which was just about the only glimpse of hope that Anakin was clinging onto by that point.

“Accept you back in this order, we do,” Yoda announced. “Apologize to you, we also do.”

“I apologize as well,” Windu drawled to everyone’s surprise. The older man must have felt the feeling in the force, because he stiffened. “I am aware that I make mistakes as well.” He waved a holopad with Obi-Wan’s Agri-Corps designation in the air. “Re-reading this mess of a report was enough for me to remember that.”

“What’s that?” Ahsoka asked, brow furrowing.

“A stupid decision,” both Anakin and Windu said at the same time. 

They stared at each other for a moment—Yoda and Ahsoka both stifling laughs—before they silently agreed to never mention it again. 

Ahsoka turned to Anakin. “Master… Do you accept me back as your padawan?”

Not caring who else was in the room, Anakin wrapped her in a hug. “As if I would have anyone else by my side, Snips,” he murmured into her head. 

They held each other less like master and padawan and more like brother and sister, basking in the glowing warmth of each other’s company. Anakin never wanted to let her go ever again.

“I’m sorry to interrupt this wonderful display of attachment,” Windu dryly interjected, “but where exactly is Knight Kenobi at the moment?”

Ahsoka’s smile fell as she stepped back from Anakin. “Count Dooku caught us, Masters. He was going to kill me to try to turn Obi-Wan to the dark side, so Obi-Wan made a bargain with him to exchange his freedom for mine.”

Anakin was beginning to love Knight Kenobi. He cared about Padawan Anakin more than his own self, he saved the Jedi from being betrayed by the clones, and now, he had been the most instrumental force in bringing Ahsoka home safely to him. Of course, the dark part of his mind reminded him that he had in fact lived with Knight Kenobi in the past; he had just been too bitter and spoiled to see what was in front of him. 

Never again, he promised himself. Never again will I overlook you, Master.

Yoda shook his head. “Communicate with Knight Kenobi, we must.”

“Did he leave a message for you to give to us?” Windu asked.

“Actually, he had a message for Anakin.” Ahsoka gave him another grin. “Obi-Wan wanted me to tell you that he’s proud of you.”

And like that, all of Anakin’s joy vanished. Obi-Wan wouldn’t have said those words if he knew how blatantly Anakin had defied the Jedi Code. He wouldn’t have said them if he knew about the Tusken Raiders and his marriage to Padme. No, if Obi-Wan knew the truth, then he would have gone to the Jedi Council and kicked him out himself. 

Or maybe Anakin was wrong about that too. Obi-Wan had left the order at just thirteen, he had told Anakin that he loved Satine before her death, and while he never admitted it out-loud, there were rumors that he had touched the dark side when he fought Maul on Naboo. Maybe Anakin owed it to Obi-Wan to do the one thing that he had always been too much of a coward to do. Maybe he owed it to everyone who had ever cared about him.

A ping sounded from Anakin’s comm. He glanced down and saw the Chancellor’s name flash across the screen. Ignoring it, he turned his attention back to Yoda and Windu.

Anakin took a deep breath. “Masters, there’s two things that I need to confess.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late in the evening when Anakin returned back to his quarters—his and Obi-Wan’s, given that he never had the chance to move out before the war. He let his master’s lingering force presence wrap around him, giving him strength as he rounded the corner. 

Ahsoka was sitting at the kitchenette counter, lightly dozing, when she felt his presence and bolted upright. “How did the meeting go?”

“Better than expected, actually,” Anakin admitted, taking a seat across from her. 

He was thankful that Windu had the foresight to send Ahsoka out of the room before Anakin proceeded to tell him every shameful detail about his mother’s death and his marriage. It had been an ugly few hours, mostly because of the spikes of shock that pierced the air from both of the Jedi Masters, but now that it was over with, all Anakin could feel was pure relief. 

“Did they—”

“No, Ahsoka, they didn’t kick me out.”

In truth, they really couldn’t kick him out due to the war effort. They were already missing the 212st’s general, and they couldn’t afford to lose the 501st’s too. But, as Windu put it, they would have to revisit both of the confessions once the war ended. 

“You aren’t going to call an emergency council meeting?” Anakin had asked.

“If Master Kenobi was here, then he would have been at that meeting championing very hard for your fate in the order,” Windu had replied with a shake of his head. “It doesn’t seem fair to put you in front of the council when your glorified lawyer isn’t present.” 

“And until then?”

“Mind healer, you will see,” Yoda had interjected. “Turn to the dark again, you will not.”

They avoided talking about Padme—though Anakin could have sworn that he heard Windu tell Yoda that perhaps they could make an exception for him as long as he learned to distinguish the difference between attachment and love. Anakin knew that he wasn’t supposed to hear it, but he took the advice to heart anyway. Maybe if he proved to them that he could distinguish between the two, then they would grant him it. Of course, he wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to prove that when he always saw them as one and the same.

Anakin took another deep breath. “Ahsoka, if you don’t want me after—”

“With all due respect, Master, shut up,” Ahsoka interrupted. 

“Alright,” Anakin conceded as he reached over and squeezed her shoulder. 

They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a moment before Ahsoka finally spoke up again. “If Master Kenobi was here, he would be so proud of you for confessing.”

A small smile crossed Anakin’s face. “I think he would too, Snips.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sheev Palpatine watched the empty holoprojector with hawk eyes. He had been waiting alone in the Coruscant works for ten minutes already and his patience was wearing thin. Finally, just as he was beginning to plot the bounty hunter’s demise, the holoprojector flickered to life. 

“Well?” he snapped at the lizard-looking man.

The bounty hunter scoffed. “Don’t use that tone with me. Do you know how difficult it was for me to sneak aboard a separatist destroyer?”

“Just get on with it,” Palpatine hissed.

He needed answers and he needed them fast. Everything had been going perfect. Skywalker and Kenobi were splitting apart, Dooku was almost in a position to be killed, and soon the entire galaxy would bow before him. Everything had been going perfect—that is, until a few days ago, when the entire plane of the force shifted. Palpatine wasn’t sure what happened, but what he did know was that this mysterious shift in the force was enough to make Dooku start lying to him and Skywalker to stop confiding in him, both of which were ruining his plans. 

“You’re right,” the bounty hunter gruffly replied. “Dooku is not engaged in battle like he told you he was. He’s off running after some kid.”

Palpatine arched an eyebrow at that. “I find that hard to believe.”

The bounty hunter sent forwards a holo-image. Palpatine observed the grainy blue Jedi Knight that popped into frame. He looked awfully familiar, too familiar, as if he was someone Palpatine had despised for years, someone he had wanted to kill over and over again.

“He goes by the name Kenobi.”

Palpatine’s blood chilled. Countless Sith had tried and failed to harness the power of time travel, and he knew that if the dark side couldn’t manage such a feat, then the light side couldn’t either. And yet, the holo-image told a vastly different story. Jedi Knight Kenobi had somehow found a way to weasel into the future and ruin Palpatine’s plans, plans that had been in motion since even before the stupid Jedi Knight was born.

“What should I do now?” the bounty hunter asked.

A cold smile slipped across Palpatine’s face. “Abduct him. And when you’re done with that, find whatever nuisance brought him here in the first place and bring it to me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The bounty hunter’s image flickered out.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan felt sweat trickle down his forehead as he parried Dooku’s vicious attacks. They had been at it for hours already, trading blows up and down one of the circular storage bays. He was exhausted—half because his arm hurt and half because he just knew that all his grandmaster could think about was that Master Kenobi was a better duelist. It wasn’t Obi-Wan’s fault that he was younger and more inexperienced; and yet, it still felt like it was, just another failure he could add to the growing list of other failures.

“You’re not angry enough,” Dooku snapped as he circled Obi-Wan. 

“Listen, grandmaster,” Obi-Wan sighed, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Anger might make you stronger, but it’s only ever made me weaker.”

“You’re wrong,” Dooku hissed. “The dark side makes everyone stronger. Try the exercise again.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but grin. “I would, but—Do or do not, there is no try.”

“Shut up!” Dooku’s eyes flashed yellow as he pounced on Obi-Wan, who was barely able to block the brutal hit in time. 

Dooku had been desperately trying to turn him to the darkside for the last few days. It didn’t matter what the older man tried to do; Obi-Wan always seemed to stick to the light. His grandmaster’s newest plan was to try to get him to channel the darkside through sparring by pushing him to the point of collapse. Obi-Wan couldn’t say that he was the biggest fan of that particular plan.

Finally, Obi-Wan unignited his lightsaber. “I’m sorry, grandmaster, I really am, but I can’t do this anymore.”

Dooku observed him for a moment, looking for something that Obi-Wan couldn’t see. Then, with a twisted sort of scowl, he raised his hand. Obi-Wan sucked in a breath as he felt Dooku’s sheer darkness begin to break through his mental shields. 

“What are you doing?” he gasped.

The older man gave him a cold smile. “Finding what makes you angry.”

“W-Wait,” Obi-Wan stammered, trying to push Dooku out of his mind. “Trust me, you don’t—”

But it was too late. Obi-Wan stood there, helpless, as Dooku sunk his claws deep into his mind. Flashes of bitter memories echoed in the force—Qui-Gon throwing him away for Anakin in front of the entire Jedi Council, his master’s last words being about the chosen one and nothing else, Anakin despising him for every little thing he did wrong, Dooku abandoning him even when he had no one else left. For some reason, that was the memory that sparked the most anger in the force. Obi-Wan, sitting in his darkened room after Qui-Gon’s funeral, staring at the millions of unanswered calls he had sent to Dooku, wondering what exactly he could have done to deserve a grandmaster who simply did not care. It had made him angry, so angry that he had thrown the comm against the wall, letting it shatter against the wallpaper. He knew that Jedi weren't supposed to hate, but in that moment, he hated his grandmaster. He hated, hated, hated—

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Dooku staring at him from afar, face drawn in barely constrained horror.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan muttered, blushing bright red. “You... weren’t supposed to see that.”

“We’re done for today,” was all Dooku said as he pointedly avoided his eyes.

Obi-Wan gave a short nod and fled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan was lying in his bed when he heard the door slide open. Dooku’s shadow loomed over the entire room, but he was too tired to feel terror anymore. 

“If you’re here to inspire anger in me, then I’m afraid there’s no point.” Obi-Wan let out a strangled laugh. “I don’t get angry. I just get depressed.”

Grimacing, Dooku slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. “That’s not why I’m here, actually.” 

“Oh?”

“I’m here to apologize.” 

Obi-Wan sat up on the bed, a small smile forming on his face. “That doesn’t sound very Sith-like.”

Dooku simply rolled his eyes. 

They lapsed into silence for a moment before Dooku spoke up again. “Me and Qui-Gon were never very close. I cared about the boy deeply, but…” He took a deep breath. “We had many differences that made it difficult for us to connect in the later years. By the time he died, we weren’t speaking at all. I blamed the Jedi for his death. If they weren’t so enslaved by the will of the Republic then maybe they would have never sent the two of you to Naboo in the first place, maybe they would have realized that the Sith weren’t actually extinct before it was too late.” 

“So, it was painful for you to come back to the temple?” Obi-Wan offered.

“Part of it was that. The other part…” Dooku ran his hand through his hair. “I was scared, Obi-Wan. I was scared that you would be exactly like Qui-Gon. I was scared that the two of us wouldn’t get along, that I would manage to screw up yet another relationship in my life. But at the same time, I was scared that you wouldn’t be like him at all. I was scared that you would be more like me. I was scared that I would become attached, only for you to die as well. I can’t… I can’t really explain it.”

“Am I like him?” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but ask. 

“No,” Dooku answered, honestly, “but you aren’t like me either. You’re something different, something better, perhaps.” 

With that, he squeezed Obi-Wan’s shoulder and rose to his feet. Obi-Wan watched him leave, stunned into silence. You’re something different, something better, perhaps. Dooku was the first person in his entire life who had ever bothered to tell Obi-Wan that he had managed to do something right. 

Someone was…  proud of him?

Maybe it was the praise that clouded Obi-Wan’s judgement, or maybe it was the exhaustion, but whatever the reason was, he didn’t sense the bounty hunter until he felt the needle jab his neck. He tried to struggle against the alien’s slimy arms, but it was futile. As his vision began to black out, all he could hear was a gruff voice whispering, “Stupid Jedi scum.”

Then, he saw nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Commander Cody prided himself on never being scared. He was bred for battle; in fact, he was bred specifically to be a commander in the greatest army ever. War didn’t scare him. Blood didn’t scare him either. Even when his general—a man he was programmed to die for—was turned into a child and abducted by the enemy, he managed to keep his cool. But this?  This very much scared him.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” he forced himself to say. “Are you implying that there’s a control chip in my brain? One that might make me murder  General Kenobi?” 

General Windu looked ill. “Yes, Commander, that’s exactly what I’m implying.” 

Cody’s gaze darted to Rex, who was sitting as stiff as a wooden plank next to him. “Does he have one of these murder contraptions too?” he growled.

“Codes…” Rex whispered, barely meeting his eyes. “You heard the general. We all have these. Every last one of us. Fives—he tried to warn me.” Rex looked away, horrified.

Fives. Just hearing the name made Cody want to vomit.

“It’s going to be alright,” General Skywalker interjected. “We’re going to discreetly remove the control chips before the Sith can use this to their advantage. I promise you that.” 

“Alright?” Cody hissed, shooting to his feet. “I have a kriffing murder chip in my head, my general is a karking child, and you think that this is alright?” 

Skywalker blanched. “Cody, I didn’t mean—”

“This isn’t alright!” Cody shouted. “None of this is alright!” 

“Codes, calm down.”

Rex tried to place his hand on his arm, but Cody jerked away. His entire head was spinning. It was as if he could suddenly feel the chip in his head, this horrible steel circuit that was plugged straight into his brain. He wanted it out. He wanted it out now.

“Have you tried the surgery yet?” Cody demanded.

“That’s the problem,” General Skywalker answered. “We don’t know if it’s safe.”

His uncharacteristic calmness was beginning to irritate Cody to no end. He usually despised Skywalker’s brash self and the pain it would cause General Kenobi, but for once, he was desperate for someone else in the cramped room to act just as delirious as Cody felt.

“Test it on me then.” 

Rex’s eyes widened. “Cody!” he exclaimed. 

Cody ignored him, keeping his eyes solely on Windu and Skywalker. “You need a test subject, don’t you? I’m stationed here anyway until my general turns back.”

“Are you certain?” Windu asked, obviously uncomfortable. “We can’t guarantee your safety.”

“I was born to die,” Cody tartly replied. “Might as well do it for something good.” 

“Then I want to go through the surgery with him,” Rex inisted, also rising to his feet. “The two of us were born together. We’ll die together as well.”

Cody couldn’t help but smile at his brother.

Both Windu and Skywalker looked even more ill than before. Come to think of it, all four of them probably looked very ill at that moment.

“It’s settled then,” Windu managed. “We start the surgery today.”

Skywalker buried his head in his arms. “Are you sure about this?” he quietly asked them. “I need you to be completely sure, or I don’t think that I’ll ever forgive myself.” 

Cody gave him the biggest grin that he could muster. “Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.”

“What does that mean?” Windu asked.

A small smile curved up Skywalker’s face. “It means—Today is a good day for someone else to die.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anakin was in the middle of sleeping when he received a ping from the council. Groggily, he sat up on the couch in Obi-Wan’s quarters and tried not to dislodge Ahsoka off his chest. To pass the time, they had decided to watch a crappy holomovie about the Jedi, one that Anakin had jokingly bought for Obi-Wan on his thirtieth birthday. Neither of them could stay awake past the first ten minutes, which, if Anakin recalled correctly, was exactly what had happened to him and Obi-Wan when they tried to watch it.

“Kark,” Anakin muttered on his breath when he saw a blue icon appear on his comm.

“Master?” Ahsoka slurred.

“Shh go back to sleep,” was all Anakin said as he carefully moved her off of him and pulled on his robe. 

Ahsoka obliged.

As soon as he stepped out of Obi-Wan’s quarters, he bolted down the hall of the temple, searching for the turbolift that would take him to the Jedi Council. A blue icon was code for only one thing—they had intel on where Obi-Wan was. And because of that, Anakin didn’t knock on the council door. He simply barged in, mouth already opening to demand answers, only for—

He froze. 

In the center of the council chambers was the image of Count Dooku.

Anakin felt a surge of anger roll through him. “What did you do to him?” he hissed at the holoprojector.

“I did nothing,” Dooku drawled, unimpressed. “I was hoping to learn what you did to him.”

“Why?” 

“Because, believe it or not, Skywalker, I care about his safety.”

Anakin just scoffed.

“We don’t have him either,” Windu interjected from his chair. He rubbed his temple, as if he was on the verge of a massive headache. “Maybe he escaped on his own.”

“We made a deal,” Dooku countered. “He wouldn’t break it.”

That was the difference between Anakin and Obi-Wan. No one doubted that Obi-Wan wouldn’t have broken a deal with a Sith, while everyone knew that Anakin wouldn’t have cared.

“The reason I called to verify is because I have reason to believe that Kenobi may be in trouble,” Dooku continued. “My droids have informed me that a bounty hunter has been sneaking into my ship. There is a chance that he took him, for whatever reason.”

Anakin’s blood boiled. He hadn’t liked that Obi-Wan was captured by Dooku, but at least he knew what to expect with the older man. A rogue bounty hunter… Obi-Wan could be anywhere!

Windu met Anakin’s gaze. “We might have a way to communicate with him directly.” 

They had been practicing deep meditation for the last few days. Anakin wasn’t very good at it—he never truly got the hang of mediation in the first place—but he was slowly improving. He had been surprised to find that Windu wasn’t a terrible teacher. He was cold and collected, but also incredibly knowledgeable about the force. Anakin had already learned more than he had expected from the older man. 

“Update me if you do.” Dooku clenched his jaw. “I am also willing to declare a temporary alliance with the Republic if you require my assistance to bring him back safely.”

“Surprised I am,” Yoda huffed. “Sith-like this is not.”

Dooku crossed his arms. “I abandoned him once. I won’t do it again.” 

Before he could move to turn off the holoprojector, Yoda held up his hand. “Update you we will, if uphold one condition you do.”

Dooku arched an eyebrow. “And what exactly would this condition be?”

“Tea we must have.”

Anakin didn’t know what to say to that. He could tell from the council’s reactions that they didn’t know either.

“Your condition is to have… tea?”

“Tea,” Yoda repeated, smacking his gimer stick on the ground. “Alone. Old times it will be.” 

Dooku looked like he wanted to do anything but have tea with Master Yoda, but he forced himself to nod anyway. “Tea it is,” he spat, shutting off the holoprojector. 

“Tea?” Windu dryly asked Yoda. 

Yoda simply cackled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All Obi-Wan could feel was pain shooting through his chest. When the force lightning finally stopped, he struggled up on his bruised arms and spat out a clump of blood. 

“For the last time, what brought you here?” the cloaked figure demanded. 

“I told you,” Obi-Wan gritted out. “It was the artifact.” 

The darkside of the force wrapped around him, pulling him up from the cold ground and pinning him against the wall of the dungeon. The cloaked figure stepped forwards, his cruel smile the only part of the man’s face that Obi-Wan could make out in the shadows. 

“You lie,” the Sith sneered. He held his hand out and the bounty hunter dropped the artifact—dull and drained of its energy. “These are supposed to activate for any force user. As your stupid Jedi eyes can see, there is no activation when I touch it.” 

“Maybe you just don’t have many midichlorians,” Obi-Wan bit back. 

He regretted his words as soon as the Sith sent another wave of force lightning at him. He had heard of force lightning, of course, but he had never expected to be so heavily on the receiving end of it. Obi-Wan wasn’t prepared. He didn’t know what to do other than scream. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but your older self was more tolerable,” the Sith drawled once he lowered his arms. “But don’t fear, Knight Kenobi. I will find out what you brought you here. And when I do, I’ll make sure to take over both this universe and yours.” 

He threw Obi-Wan against the dungeon wall, hard enough to crack his ribs. Obi-Wan curled in on himself, desperately clinging onto the light side of the force.

“I must leave now, but this has been an honor.” 

“A shame,” Obi-Wan spat. “I’ll miss your delightful company.”

The Sith Lord let out a sickening laugh. “Oh, trust me, you won’t be alone. I'll have my guards send in one of the separatists' most faithful soldiers to teach you some manners.”

“And who’s that? My grandmaster?”

“No.” The Sith’s smile twisted. “His little pet—General Grievous.”

Chapter Text

Anakin knew that he was dreaming, but to call it a dream didn’t seem quite right. He could move around, he could breathe, but he couldn’t escape the haze that distorted everything into a milky, static white, and more than that, he couldn’t escape the loud tick of a clock hidden somewhere behind him, a tick that seemed to only accelerate. 

“Hello there,” a soft voice rang out.

Anakin turned around to see Obi-Wan standing a few feet away—his Obi-Wan. His weathered, battle-hardened master who had seen horrors that Anakin would never see. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin choked out.

At a closer glance, the older man looked even worse than usual, as if just looking at Anakin was sending a wave of insurmountable grief hurtling towards his heart. 

Anakin took a hesitant step forward. “Is the future that bad?” he tried to joke. 

Obi-Wan flinched. “Bad is an understatement, I’m afraid.”

The clock began to rapidly speed up.

“Master—”

Without warning, Obi-Wan dragged him into his arms. Anakin tried to pull away, but Obi-Wan’s hold only tightened. The older man was clinging onto him like he would crumble if Anakin let go, and Anakin, always so pathetically desperate to feel even a glimpse of love after his mother’s death, let out a pitiful whimper and hugged him back with double the ferocity. When Obi-Wan’s hand came up to cradle the back of his head, ever so gently, Anakin started sobbing.

“Oh padawan,” Obi-Wan croaked as Anakin buried his face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like tea, like the temple, like home. “We don’t have much time left before we both get sent back.”

“I’m going to get you out of there,” Anakin wetly promised. “No matter what it takes.”

As soon as the words escaped his mouth, he felt Obi-Wan begin to vanish. Anakin tried to cling onto him, but it was as hopeless as trying to stop sand from falling through his fingers. 

“I love you,” Obi-Wan breathed. “Just remember that. Whatever happens—I love you.”

“No,” Anakin choked. “No, don’t leave—”

He woke up alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ahsoka decided that it was all Yoda’s fault.

Everyone knew that the troll was a meddler above all else, and everyone also knew that the only reason why she was even assigned to Anakin in the first place was because Yoda wanted her to help rein the Jedi Knight in (which had clearly failed). But as she stood in the emptied hangar of the Resolute, waiting for Count Dooku’s ship to secretly dock, she wondered how many poor decisions Yoda had to have made for Ahsoka to end up in what could perhaps be considered the most dysfunctional lineage in all of existence.

“We’re not that dysfunctional,” Anakin huffed. 

He had severe bags under his eyes, and when Ahsoka had tried to prod him about his sleep, Anakin had shut her down.

“Alright, then name one pairing in this lineage that isn’t,” Ahsoka challenged.

“Us!” Anakin exclaimed, looking a little more alive than before.

“I returned to the order less than a week ago, Master.” Before Anakin could reply, Ahsoka swiftly added, “And don’t you dare say yourself and Master Kenobi, because according to the clones, we wouldn’t even be in this mess in the first place if it wasn’t for the two of you arguing.”

Anakin scowled. “What about Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan then?”

Ahsoka gave him a dry look. “Really?”

“What?” Anakin looked genuinely confused. “I know that there were a few… bumps in their apprenticeship, but they sorted all that stuff out before he died.”

Did Anakin not know? The thought struck Ahsoka. There was no way, not after a decade of being Obi-Wan’s padawan, that Anakin didn’t know. Everyone at the temple knew.

“Snips, you’re scaring me,”

“Master…” Ahsoka took a deep breath. “Qui-Gon repudiated Obi-Wan.”

Anakin’s entire face drained. “What?”

“That day you were brought in front of the council. Qui-Gon repudiated Obi-Wan so that he could take you on as his newest padawan.”

“No, that’s not—” Anakin jerkily ran his hand through his hair, his eyes growing wider and wider the longer the thought churned in his mind. “Oh force.”

“How do you not know this?” Ahsoka demanded. “You were there. In person.”

“I was nine!” Anakin protested. “I wasn’t thinking clearly!”

Ahsoka crossed her arms. “Well, I clearly won this argument.”

“And what argument would that be?” a cold voice drawled.

They both turned to see Count Dooku stepping off the ship’s ramp, his expensive cloak flaring behind him as he walked. Anakin’s hand immediately rested on Ahsoka’s shoulder, protective.

“That our lineage is the most dysfunctional lineage,” Ahsoka weakly answered.

Dooku considered it for a moment before simply replying, “I wouldn’t argue that point.”

Anakin frowned. “Wait, were you and Qui-Gon—”

“Don’t,” both Dooku and Ahsoka snapped at the same time.

Ahsoka scowled. She didn’t like being in sync with a sith lord. From Dooku’s reaction, it was clear that he was just as disgusted. 

“How does my padawan know more about my lineage than I do?” Anakin muttered under his breath as they led Dooku to the briefing room.

“Because you’re self-centered,” Dooku coolly remarked.

“Says you,” Anakin snapped. “You cut off your great grandpadawan’s arm!”

“And I obviously should have aimed higher.”

“Can you two please behave civilly?” Ahsoka interjected, desperately wishing that Rex or Cody were there at that moment. “Remember—we’re here to save Master Kenobi. We can go back to trying to murder each other after we save him.”

“Fine,” Anakin grumbled.

Dooku bristled but kept silent.

Ahsoka, meanwhile, had a feeling that it was going to be a long day.

The three of them stepped into the briefing room—Dooku and Anakin immediately taking opposite sides of the room while Ahsoka awkwardly stood in the middle. Anakin pressed a button and the blue image of a fortress appeared on the holotable. 

“When I established a bond with Obi-Wan, he was only strong enough to send this image back to me.” Anakin clenched his jaw, practically vibrating with anger. “They were torturing him for information. I can still feel his pain.”

Ahsoka tried to send him a wave of calm, like she remembered Obi-Wan always doing. Anakin gave her a grateful smile.

Dooku leaned forwards on the holotable, brow furrowing. “Odd.”

“What?” Anakin demanded.

“This is an abandoned operations base in highly classified separatist space. A simple bounty hunter wouldn’t have been able to find this on their own.”

“Then who told the bounty hunter?” Ahsoka questioned.

Dooku’s face went cold.

Ahsoka turned to Anakin, expecting to see her own look of puzzlement reflected back on his face, only to be caught off guard. In that moment, with the way her master was thoughtfully appraising Dooku, he almost looked like Master Kenobi.

“He knows, doesn’t he?” Anakin quietly asked.

Dooku gave a short nod. 

“Who knows?” Ahsoka was nearly too afraid to ask.

“My master.”

Those two, simple words shivered down her spine. Ahsoka had spent the entire war hearing rumors about the mysterious Sith Lord that was controlling the separatists, but the figure had always seemed imaginary, almost spectral. To hear that this monster had their hands on her grandmaster… the thought was more than horrifying.

Dooku’s hands gripped the holotable. “My involvement in this can’t be leaked to anyone, or I will pay the consequences. Severely.” 

“You’re powerful,” Anakin countered. “Can you not hold your ground?” 

“Not with him. No one can beat him.” 

Ahsoka was beginning to feel ill. Not beginning—she was ill. “Then what do we do?”

Dooku’s eyes narrowed. “New plan. We need to send Kenobi back as quickly as we possibly can. That is our priority.”

“But I thought you wanted him as your apprentice.” Anakin spat out the last word like an insult.

“You don’t understand. If my master has gone through all this effort to abduct Kenobi, then he won’t stop until he destroys that boy and his world.”

“We can’t let that happen,” Ahsoka gasped.

“We won’t let that happen,” Anakin harshly corrected. 

Dooku crossed his arms. “Agreed.”

Ahsoka’s gaze darted between her master and Count Dooku. For a moment, she imagined their places switched—Dooku the Jedi general; Anakin the Sith Apprentice. She wondered if it was a bad thing that both of the images came so easily to her mind.

She really missed Obi-Wan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anakin was struggling not to strangle his grandmaster. 

The man was infuriating to be in a cramped ship with, and even more infuriating than that was the fact that Dooku seemed to be trying to bond with his padawan.

“As you already know, Makashi is an elegant form,” Dooku drawled as he lightly fought Ahsoka up and down the ship. “It’s precise, and its attack can be deadly.” 

“Like this?” Ahsoka asked, as she forced herself to copy Dooku’s attacks.

“A little more to the—there you go.” 

Ahsoka beamed once she managed to counter one of Dooku’s attacks.

“Padawan,” Anakin interjected. “Why don’t you get some rest before we land?”

Ahsoka arched an eyebrow, but she didn’t bother to argue the point. Once she left, Dooku took the co-pilot’s seat next to Anakin.

“Are you jealous?” Dooku asked, his face stoic like always.

“What? No, of course not.”

The smallest hint of a smug smile slipped across Dooku’s face. “You would have had a stroke if you saw me and your master sparring then.”

Anakin wanted to protest—to say that he did not care about Dooku, thank you very much—but the image of Dooku and Obi-Wan doing anything but fighting each other as enemies made him want to murder the older man. So maybe he was jealous. Just a little bit.

“Why do you care about Obi-Wan all of a sudden?” Anakin decided to ask. “Before he touched that artifact, you were perfectly fine with killing him.”

Dooku shrugged. “He was too old to be converted then.”

“That’s really it?” Anakin demanded, trying and failing to keep his anger in check. “You value his life based on whether or not he’s convertible to the darkside?” 

The older man didn’t meet his eyes. “You forget the nature of the darkside, Skywalker. It doesn't just make you powerful; it consumes you until all you can think about is gaining more power. It’s difficult for me to see those who aren’t Sith as actual beings anymore. That’s what makes killing Jedi so easy, so natural. Seeing young Obi-Wan—it reminded me of Qui-Gon. So, for his sake and my late padawan’s, I try my best to be a better man.” 

Anakin was caught off guard by the honesty. He tried to imagine the feeling that Dooku described, the feeling of all-consuming power coursing through his veins. He found that it was easy to imagine—he had felt it before, after all, when he slaughtered the tusken raiders. That same darkness had consumed his mind then, cracking slowly at his soul until all that was left was a hunger that he could never satisfy. A hunger for more.  

Dooku arched an eyebrow. “You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?” 

Anakin refused to meet Dooku’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Well, if you ever reach the crossroad again, I wouldn’t turn if I were you.”

He glanced up, shocked that Dooku of all people was telling him that. “What? Why?”

Dooku didn’t answer right away, but when he finally did, his voice came out hoarse. “Because you have a master who actually cares, and we both know that it would break his heart.” 

Anakin wanted to argue that it had broken Yoda’s heart too, but he had a feeling that Dooku didn’t want to hear him say that.

A beep brought both of their eyes to the console. Anakin tugged on the weak bond connecting him and Obi-Wan. A small pulse of relief echoed down it. 

“Ahsoka!” Anakin called to the back of the ship. “We’re here!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anakin landed the ship in a dense forest just outside the fortress. Dooku’s clearance codes had worked exceedingly well so far, his master obviously not expecting that his wayward apprentice had figured out the location of the bounty hunter.

“Is this really the plan?” Anakin dryly asked as he inspected the cloaks that Dooku had handed him and Ahsoka. 

Dooku gave him a venomous glare. “Do you have a better plan, youngling?” 

“Youngling?” Anakin scoffed. “I am not a youngling. I am a—”

“Then listen to my instructions like your infinitely better behaved padawan,” Dooku snapped. 

To Anakin’s chagrin, Ahsoka let out a giggle.

The ramp to the ship lowered and Dooku stepped out into the fading sunlight. A droid quickly met him at the landing pad.

“Count Dooku,” the droid greeted with a mechanical voice. “Your visit was unscheduled.”

“A recent change of plans,” Dooku smoothly replied. “I have business here with two members of the Banking Guild. Now, please lead us to the prisoner.”

The droid turned around. “Roger roger.”

“It can’t be this easy,” Ahsoka breathed. “It’s never this easy.”

What Anakin—and he had a feeling Dooku too—refused to say out-loud was that it was only this easy because the three of them were working together. He wondered what the war would have been like if Dooku was on their side. Obi-Wan, Dooku, and Anakin could have blasted the sepies into smithereens their very first year if they were all on the same team. Instead, the war just seemed to drag on with no end in sight, forever and ever. He shook the thought out of his head.

As the droid led them through the forest, Anakin turned to Dooku and whispered, “I thought you didn’t want your presence known?”

Dooku straightened his own cloak. “I don’t. This will be the same droid that has to check us out for our ascent. I plan to dispose of it then.”

“And your master?”

“Thinks I’m systems away.”

If Anakin was forced at gunpoint to give Dooku a compliment, then, and only then, he would have to admit that the older man was rather intelligent for a Sith apprentice.

Dooku smirked. “I heard that.”

“You heard nothing,” Anakin gritted out. “In fact, I think that you’re a karking—”

“Can we be civil?” Ahsoka begged. “Please.”

“Oh I’m perfectly civil,” Dooku replied, not bothering to wipe the smirk off his face.

Anakin had to restrain himself from punching the man.

They stepped into the fortress, which was clouded in a heavy darkness. Anakin reached through the force, desperately searching for Obi-Wan. He felt his presence, but it was small, flickering. They needed to get him out there. Now.

“The prisoner is down this hall,” the droid informed them. “Cell D-84.”

“What’s his condition?” Dooku barked out.

“Unstable,” a new voice snarled. 

Swiftly igniting his lightsaber, Anakin whipped around. His blood ran cold when saw the looming figure of General Grievous in the doorway of the adjoining hall. 

“Kriff,” Ahsoka whispered.

“Anakin Skywalker,” Grievous sneered. “I was expecting someone with your reputation to be a little—” The cyborg froze when he finally noticed Dooku. “What—what is the meaning of this?”

Dooku stepped in front of Ahsoka. “I should be asking you the same.”

But Grievous wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was looking straight at Anakin and Ahsoka. “I received orders from you to torture the boy, Dooku.”

“I gave no such order,” Dooku spat.

“But he’s a Jedi scum!”

Dooku’s eyes flashed yellow as he raised his lightsaber. “He’s my grandpadawan!”

“I see,” Grievous rasped. “I see that you have betrayed me. You have betrayed me for the Jedi!” 

“Get Kenobi and send him back!” Dooku shouted right as Grievous flung towards him.

Anakin grabbed Ahsoka’s arm and dragged her down the hallway. The sounds of lightsabers clashing together echoed sharply behind them.

“What was the number again?” Anakin shouted. 

“D-84!” Ahsoka shouted back.

They found the cell at the very end of the block, and Anakin wasted no time in plunging his lightsaber through the door. The metal came down with clang, revealing a sparse, windowless cell with nothing but a shivering body curled up in the corner. 

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin exclaimed, running over the young Jedi Knight.

“A-Anakin?” Obi-Wan slurred. 

A surge of anger rose deep inside Anakin as he surveyed the extensive damage that Grievous had done to Obi-Wan. It didn’t help to see the man so young, so completely helpless compared to the hardened high general that Anakin knew. 

“I’m here, Master,” Anakin murmured, cradling Obi-Wan’s limp body in his arms. “I’m here.”

“You’re so… tall,” Obi-Wan rasped, his hands clutching Anakin's tunics like he would vanish otherwise.

Anakin couldn’t help but let out a watery laugh. “And you’re so small.”

“Hello again, Grandmaster,” Ahsoka beamed, giving Obi-Wan a little wave. Then, with a more serious look, she turned to Anakin and asked, “Where’s the artifact?”

“The Sith Lord took it,” Obi-Wan croaked.

Anakin felt the air leave his lungs. “The Sith Lord was here? Are you sure?”

“I have the burn marks to prove it.”

Anakin switched from wanting to murder Dooku to wanting to murder his master. As if Anakin had summoned him with those very words, Dooku appeared in the doorway of the jail cell, a nasty lightsaber burn on his shoulder. His face softened when he saw Obi-Wan alive, only for it to harden again when noticed the bruises on his face.

“Where’s Grievous?” Anakin demanded.

Dooku cringed. “I disposed of him.”

“You disposed of a separatist general?” Anakin hissed. “Whose team are you even on?”

“Now is not the time to play politics,” Dooku snarled. “Now, before anyone else shows up to this force-forsaken place, let’s get Kenobi back to the ship.”

Anakin bit down his pride and helped Obi-Wan to his feet. The young knight was shaky, but with both him and Dooku supporting him, they managed to hobble out of the cell. Ahsoka led the way back to the ship, and by the time they reached it, the sun had completely gone down. 

“Do you know your injuries?” Dooku asked, settling Obi-Wan down on one of the beds. 

“Nothing too bad,” Obi-Wan weakly replied. “You really don’t have to—”

“Master, the med droid says you have multiple fractured bones,” Anakin snapped. “Now, sit down and let the droid fix you up, alright?”

Obi-Wan grumbled something under his breath, but he relented when Anakin gave him another venomous glare. For the first time, Dooku looked impressed.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Dooku declared after enough silence had passed. He smoothly guided Ahsoka out of the room with him. 

It felt too strange to look into the eyes of a man who both wasn’t and was his master, so Anakin opted to keep his gaze pointed on the med droid. He wondered if there was a version of Anakin in the future that was keeping an eye on his Obi-Wan. He hoped so.

“Thanks,” Obi-Wan quietly said, “for coming for me,”

“It’s the least I could do,” Anakin admitted. “This whole mess is my fault.” 

Obi-Wan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We were arguing—me and your older self, that is. I should have gone with him to deal with Dooku, but instead I chose to hide like a coward.” Anakin had to bite his lip to keep his voice from wavering. “I-I’m not the person you wanted me to be.”

“Oh, Anakin.” The sad expression on Obi-Wan’s face cut through his heart. “I’m sure he doesn’t blame you for any of this. I know that I certainly don’t.”  

“You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Obi-Wan managed a small smile. “If I’m being honest, as scary as all of this has been for me, it’s a welcomed break. Do you know what time I come from?”

“Sometime during my early padawanship?” Anakin guessed.

“The very beginning of your padawanship.”

“So Qui-Gon—”

Obi-Wan refused to meet his eyes. “Three weeks ago.”

Anakin felt sick. The thought that Obi-Wan would rather be tortured and harassed by Sith Lords than live in a world where Qui-Gon had just passed away broke him. Anakin tried to imagine what his younger self was like then, only for him to cringe inside. He was never kind towards his master during those early years. He was heartless, angry, and had somehow managed to put the blame on Obi-Wan for every bad thing that had ever happened in his life. Anakin wanted nothing more than to reach through the folds of time and space, just so he could take his younger self by the shoulders and shake some damn sense into him.

“Interior and exterior surveyed,” the med droid beeped. “Sleep is required.”

“Rest up, Obi-Wan,” Anakin ordered. “You heard the droid.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “If you insist, Padawan. ”

Anakin couldn’t resist ruffling Obi-Wan’s hair, just to see him roll his eyes again.

After he joined Dooku and Ahsoka in the cockpit—who were, to his irritation, playing sabacc to pass the time (seriously, why was his padawan bonding with a kriffing sith lord?!)—Anakin tried to imagine the warmth of the hug that his Obi-Wan had given him the night before. It was a quiet promise, a promise that if he ever returned, things would finally be better between them.

I won’t let anything bad happen to your younger self, he thought to himself in the hope that Obi-Wan could somehow hear him, decades away. I promise.

Nothing but the stars answered.

Chapter Text

It had been three days, three days of Anakin having to suffer through Count Dooku of all people trying to infiltrate his life. Watching him spar with Ahsoka was already terrible, but watching him make tea and discuss literature with Obi-Wan? Now, that was entirely unbearable.

Knight Kenobi was apparently every bit of the nerd that Master Kenobi was, and Dooku, to Anakin’s complete disgust, shared all the interests that he could never connect with his master on. The famous authors, the lessons in diplomacy, the love of the archives and the never-ending information that it held—all of which had been lost on Anakin as a padawan, all of which Dooku loved as well. Anakin often walked in on Obi-Wan sitting upright on his bed, caught in the middle of a passionate debate with the very man who had tried to turn him to the darkside.

Anakin had never, not in a million years, expected to be replaced by a Sith Lord.

(He was very much not bitter about this fact.)

That evening he sat in the back of his private hangar, fiddling with the wiring of one of the x-wings in an attempt to pass the time. They were finally back on the Resolute. Obi-Wan was moved to a recovery room, Ahsoka spent most of her time catching up with the clones, and Dooku was hiding in the small section of the ship that they had blocked off for him. Anakin was glad that they were only a day out from Coruscant. He was restless to get rid of Dooku, if not for his bitterness then for the fact that keeping his presence a secret from the clones was beginning to wear him thin. He could tell that they all knew something was up, just not what.

“Care for some company?” a soft voice rang out. 

Wiping the grime off his face, Anakin popped his head out from underneath the ship and faced his master’s younger self, who was busy hiding his arms underneath his brown robe. 

Obi-Wan looked significantly better than before, but Anakin could tell that he was still recovering from the torture. There was the slight tremor as he walked, the bit too much pink in his cheeks, and the million other little cues that he had picked up over the years. It didn’t matter that this was a different Obi-Wan—Anakin still knew him better than anyone. He knew him better than his mother, his padawan, his men, hell, even his wife, considering that their time together was not even half of his and Obi-Wan’s. Besides, in the little time they did spend together… Well, having his master taken so abruptly had made him realize that there was a sizable difference between spending time with someone in the hazy luxury of Coruscant and spending time with someone in a constant, merciless fight for survival.

“I thought you were supposed to be resting,” Anakin dryly remarked, shaking the thoughts of his lost master out of his head.

Obi-Wan smirked. “Is my older self more cooperative with the healers?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Then this should be standard.” 

Before Anakin could object, Obi-Wan took a seat next to him, wincing slightly as one of his chest wounds puckered. 

“I mean it though, Master,” Anakin tried again. “The medics want you to rest.”

Obi-Wan flinched. “Please don’t call me that. It feels… strange. Just Obi-Wan is fine, or if you prefer it, you can call me Knight Kenobi instead.”

Anakin thought back to the beginning of his apprenticeship. It occurred to him suddenly that it wasn’t Obi-Wan himself who had told Anakin to start calling him master; it was a padawan in one of his classes. The boy had looked disgusted when Anakin referred to Obi-Wan by his name instead of his title. You’re the Sith-slayer’s padawan, the boy had sneered, show him some respect. Anakin had made the abrupt change after that class, though for those first few months, Obi-Wan had always looked a little ill when Anakin called him that, like just hearing the word reminded him of Qui-Gon.

“Obi-Wan then,” Anakin decided. “Knight Kenobi just sounds wrong.”

Obi-Wan gave him a grateful smile. “I’m sorry. I know how unnerving this must be for you.”

“Says the man who traveled to the future!” Anakin exclaimed. “Honestly, Obi-Wan, if I were you I would have completely busted my head open ages ago.”

“It’s not that impressive,” Obi-Wan muttered under his breath. Then, before Anakin could insist otherwise, he asked, “Any bets on what they’re up to?”

Anakin’s eyes darted to the hallway just in time to see Ahsoka slip into Dooku’s quarters. And like that, all of Anakin’s good mood slipped away. 

“Should we see—”

“No!” Anakin shouted, not caring how desperate he sounded, how clingy. “No, we should stay here. Me and you, together.”

“Are you sure?”

“You know,” Anakin clumsily began before he could think any better of it, “I, uh, read somewhere that the author Charum Bexlon was trying to use the color red to symbolize bloodshed and how that’s, like, bad for…” He waved his hands, aimlessly. “People.”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed. “Anakin, what are you even—”

“And, and,” Anakin barreled on, “in his poem there was… water to symbolize water. And then in another poem—”

A warmth on his shoulder stopped Anakin mid-sentence. He forced himself to glance up, tears already forming on the edges of his vision. Even he knew that half of what he said was garbage. Obi-Wan was surely disappointed in him for his clear lack of intellect.

“Anakin, why would I be disappointed in you?” Obi-Wan softly asked, his warm hand steady on Anakin’s shoulder like he was ready to catch him if he fell.  

Kriff, Anakin thought to himself, stupid leaky shields.

“Anakin.” Somehow Obi-Wan’s tone turned even more gentle. “Padawan.”

That single word was what broke the dam. Suddenly Anakin was sobbing, and Obi-Wan, despite not knowing him in the same capacity that Anakin knew him, had dragged him into his arms like he was still the nine-year-old he left behind. Anakin clutched Obi-Wan close to his chest, craving the love that he was never truly given as a padawan.

“I’m scared,” Anakin whimpered into Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I’m scared about being abandoned, about being left behind. I’m scared for your future self. I’m scared that I will lose him the same way I’ve lost everyone else. I’m scared that it’s my destiny to fall. ”

The last word came out with an awful, awful croak.

“Oh padawan,” Obi-Wan murmured, somehow pulling him even closer. “It’s not your destiny to fall, just like it isn’t mine or Ahsoka’s or even Dooku’s. I know that it might seem like we’re all pawns in some inescapable game, but the reality of the matter is that even the force can’t stop us from making at least some of the choices we want to make.” Obi-Wan pulled back to brush the hair out of Anakin’s face, his cloudy eyes so familiar in their softness that Anakin felt like his own master was there. “And from what your padawan has told me, you’ve already made some of those choices, choices that show your true character as nothing less than a Jedi.”

“Really?” Anakin sniffled.

“Really.” 

“Thank you,” Anakin whispered. “I’m not sure what would have happened if you didn’t get sent to us, but I don’t think—I don’t think it would have been good.”

He could tell that Obi-Wan wanted to protest, but they both knew, just from the slight tremor in the force, that Anakin’s words held more weight than either of them could grasp.

“By the way,” Obi-Wan said, finally letting go, “as much as I’ve somehow grown rather fond of my evil grandmaster, you, Anakin, will always be my priority. That will never change, not even if you never find the same passion that I do in discussing ridiculous old authors.”

Anakin managed a small smile. “That was pretty awful, wasn’t it?”

Obi-Wan shook his head with a fondness that Anakin wasn’t quite sure he deserved. “Water to symbolize water. How eloquently put.”

Before Anakin could blush in further embarrassment, Obi-Wan called a wrench into his hand, along with the rest of Anakin’s toolbox. 

Anakin’s brow furrowed. “What are you—”

“You like mechanics, don’t you?” Obi-Wan asked, giving him a large grin. “Well, believe it or not, but I’m not completely incompetent at such things.”

“Y-You’re going to help me fix the x-wing?” Though what Anakin really meant was— you actually want to spend time with me?

“Not unless we keep sitting here.”

Letting out a strangled whimper, Anakin couldn’t help but dart forwards and hug Obi-Wan again, hopelessly catching the young man off guard.

“What is this for?” Obi-Wan squawked.

“Everything,” Anakin whispered, hugging him tighter. “Literally everything.”

They spent the rest of the night busy fixing the fighter, tossing tools with the force, laughing at crude jokes, and discussing the Jedi Code, with Obi-Wan patiently explaining the difference between love and attachment to him. It was the most fun Anakin had since the beginning of the war, and according to the clones, they had lost track of so much time that when daylight finally broke, the maintenance crew had found Anakin slumped against the wall with Obi-Wan slumped right next to him, both fast asleep.

And if Anakin missed a few comm calls from the chancellor, then he didn’t notice. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ahsoka wiped the sweat off her brow as she took a seat on the floor. Dooku wasn’t sweating at all after an hour of saber training, but he still humored her and did the same.

“I just like reverse-grip better,” Ahsoka grumbled.

“We all like what we’re the most proficient at,” Dooku countered.

Ahsoka shook her head. “Force, you sound like Master Kenobi lecturing Sky—” She quickly caught herself and corrected it to, “Master Skywalker,” knowing that Dooku was a little too pompous to approve of the casual nickname.

Dooku considered that for a moment before replying,  “As a matter of fact, those two always did remind me a little of myself and my padawan, though Qui-Gon at least had the decency to trek mud instead of oil into our quarters.” 

“I wonder if that’s why you and Master Kenobi became neat freaks, to off-set them.”

“Oh I’ve always been like this, but Obi-Wan…” A small smile curved up Dooku’s face. “I have a feeling that if Qui-Gon was more like me, then Obi-Wan would have been more like Anakin. He was rebellious like that, always doing the opposite of what Qui-Gon wanted.” His smile fell. “It worked well though—at least, until the end.”

“Why did he repudiate him?” Ahsoka barely managed to ask. “Master Kenobi is… awesome.”

Dooku sighed. “I’m not sure, but all I know is that he probably regrets it.” 

They lapsed into a sad but comfortable silence.

“I know why you’re doing this,” Dooku quietly said after another moment had passed. “There’s no need to pretend what your intentions are.”

“I’m here to spend time with my great-great-grandmaster,” Ahsoka cheerfully replied.

“Or to find out who he is.” 

Blushing, Ahsoka diverted her eyes away from him. “I heard a rumor that you tried to tell Master Kenobi once, on Geonosis.” 

“That isn’t a rumor.” 

“Then why—”

“He was too blinded to heed my warning,” Dooku growled. “Too blinded by his utmost faith in the illusion of goodwill that is the Republic.”

Ahsoka forced herself to meet his piercing gaze. “Well, I’m not blinded by the Republic.” 

“Is that so?” Dooku tilted his head and no more.

A ping from Ahsoka’s comm broke through the charged silence. She frowned when she didn’t recognize the frequency. 

“Should I?” she asked. “We both know that curiosity has never killed a tooka.”

She counted Dooku’s smile as a victory.

“Let them leave a message,” Dooku instructed. 

Ahsoka nodded and let the comm ring aimlessly until she received the alert for a message being left. Exchanging a glance with Dooku, she pressed the play button. 

An achingly-sweet voice rang out, one that someone would expect from a grandfather.

“Good evening, Padawan Tano! This is Chancellor Palpatine, simply calling as a friend. I heard that you were recently accepted back into the Jedi Order and I wanted to personally pass on my congratulations. Also, if you would be so kind, please ask Anakin to call me back when he has the chance. I haven’t heard from in quite some time. Thank you, dear.”

“Aw, that’s nice of him.” Ahsoka looked up, expecting Dooku to be sneering at the sound of the Chancellor of the Republic, only to be met with a stone-cold expression.

“He seems desperate to hear from Skywalker,” Dooku muttered under his breath.

“They’re friends,” Ahsoka explained, not quite grasping why Dooku was acting so strange. “My master told me that he would be regularly called over to Chancellor Palpatine’s office when he was younger. I think the Chancellor wanted to thank him for saving Naboo.”

Dooku only grew more wooden. “They call your master the Chosen One, don’t they?”

“Well, I guess so, but Master Kenobi always says that we shouldn’t bring it up. You know, in case Anakin has self-esteem issues from the title.”

Without even looking at Ahsoka, Dooku rose to his feet and began pacing the room. “He always wanted someone powerful, someone young and fit that he could control like his little pet. I’m too opinionated, too old, too composed to ever be the right hand of the empire. And he knows that, and I know that, so why would he even take me on in the—”

Dooku froze. 

“This is a test,” he whispered, horrified. “A test for him. ”

“What’s going on?” Ahsoka demanded, rising to her feet as well. “You’re… you’re scaring me.”

Despite the way his entire body was trembling, Dooku managed to let out a bitter laugh. “And here I thought you weren’t blinded by the Republic, Padawan Tano.”

Ahsoka’s mouth opened and then clamped shut.

Dooku took a step closer, his mouth curving into a twisted grin. “I ask you, Padawan, who do you think the Sith Lord is?”

“I don’t know,” Ahsoka croaked, stumbling backwards.

“Think, Tano, ” Dooku hissed.

“I don’t—” 

“Think.”

Ahsoka felt herself begin to cry. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t—” Her eyes fell on the comm she had left on the floor, still open to the Chancellor’s message. A cold feeling of dread washed over her, nearly sucking the air out of her lungs.

“Chancellor Palpatine,” she whispered. 

Dooku’s face lit with pride.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan knew that he was a councillor, but that didn’t mean that he was excited for the reunion.

Mace Windu shook his head. “You’re so… tiny. ”

Obi-Wan blushed, reaching for the padawan braid that wasn’t there. “Well it’s nice to know that I’ll grow a few more inches then.”

Plo Koon let out a thundering laugh as he clapped Obi-Wan on the back. “It’s good to have you back, Knight Kenobi. We were all very worried.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, brow furrowing. “I’ve dealt with worse torture before.”

The two Jedi Masters exchanged a weary glance that Obi-Wan couldn’t quite grasp. It was true though. He had dealt with worse torture before. Much worse, in fact.

“Where are the others?” Windu asked, sparing Obi-Wan from stuttering more.

Obi-Wan winced. “Last night held a few revelations… It wasn’t as shocking for me, but for the others—well, let’s just say that it took something out of them.”

That was an understatement, considering how Anakin locked himself up for the rest of the day, refusing to even eat the ration bars that Obi-Wan had left out for him. At the time, he hadn’t known what to think about the fact that his older self had apparently agreed to let such an older man have regular visits with his padawan, only to remember, rather guiltily, the massive number of thank-you gifts that he had already received from the Chancellor. 

Obi-Wan had been bought by that man’s fake kindness. It made him sick.

“Revelations?” Plo Koon questioned.

“I suppose you’ll find out soon enough,” a tired voice rang out.

They turned to see Dooku striding up to the transport ship. Behind him, Anakin and Ahsoka followed, though there was a certain tremor in both of their bodies now that they were carrying the weight of multiple worlds on their shoulders. Obi-Wan felt a pang in his heart as he took in Anakin’s bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair. He tried to send the young man a wave of calm through the force, but Anakin kept his shields high.

At the sight of Dooku, Windu and Plo Koon immediately placed their hands on their lightsabers. Dooku simply held out his hands, entirely unfazed.

“I assume you’ll want to force cuff them,” he offered.

“You’re agreeing to all of this?” Windu asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his voice.

“I made a deal with my former master. I don’t intend to break it.”

Windu and Plo Koon exchanged another glance. Nevertheless, they still stepped forwards to cuff Dooku and bring him aboard the transport ship. 

“How are Rex and Cody doing?” Anakin rasped. At a closer glance, he only looked more pale. Obi-Wan placed his hand on his shoulder, protectively.

“The surgery was a success,” Windu informed him with a slight smile. “They’re in recovery at this very moment.” 

“Wait, how did you—” Dooku’s eyes drilled into Obi-Wan’s head. “You really are a menace.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “I live to serve, Grandmaster.”

Dooku groaned.

“So, what are these revelations then?” Plo Koon lightly asked as he piloted the ship towards the temple.

Both Anakin and Ahsoka flinched.

Dooku gave the Jedi Masters an eerie sort of smile. “It’s time I tell you all a story, a story about a man named Darth Sidious and his master, Darth Plagueis the Wise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The darkside of the force loved to lie, but Palpatine knew, just from the slight tremor in the air, that his plans had been foiled. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know why—all he knew was that the pieces that he had been delicately playing for years had decided to turn against him. They had decided to ruin everything he had ever worked for.  

There was only one last option—destruction.

“Commander Fox?” Palpatine called from his desk chair.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Execute Order 66.”

It was perfect. The Jedi didn’t know, the clones didn’t know, and Darth Sidious would win.

All that was left was figuring out how to turn on Kenobi’s artifact.

Chapter Text

The force jerked.

Plo Koon lost control of the steering, Anakin and Ahsoka went tumbling into the back of the ship, Windu and Dooku fell on top of each other, and Obi-Wan, who was starting to think that he was the only sensible one left, threw his hand out, barely keeping the ship from crashing straight into a senator’s building. 

“Kriff!” Anakin shouted, struggling to get back on his feet. “Does that mean—”

Windu shoved Dooku off of him and reached for his comlink, setting it for the global frequency. “Everyone! This is Jedi Master Mace Windu. Begin protocol for Plan Kenobi. I repeat—begin protocol for Plan Kenobi.”

“Plan… Kenobi?” Obi-Wan squeaked. 

Windu shrugged. “You’re the one who found the order. It seemed only fair.” 

He turned away, desperately trying to hide his blush. 

“Masters, what does this plan even do?” Ahsoka questioned. 

“Simple,” Plo Koon breezily interjected. “The plan is a list of protocols for what to do if Order 66 was to be prematurely activated. After we read through the list of orders, we secretly informed all the generals of it in case we weren’t able to finish the surgeries in time.”

“You fools are smarter than I thought,” Dooku mused.

“Thanks,” Windu dryly remarked.

“So,” Obi-Wan began again, “is the temple…?” 

“The doors are all heavily bolted, and all the younglings and initiates have been relocated to the very lower levels of the temple. I suspect the masters are all standing guard inside, ready to fight for the future of the order.” 

A wave of pure relief washed over Obi-Wan. He reached into the force, searching for the sea of bright lights that usually met him. Terror rang in the atmosphere, but the light persisted.

Windu’s face sombered. “Of course, not everyone will be saved. Those who are surrounded by clones with no escape will succumb to their blaster fire. But all we can hope now is that it will be enough.”

The heavy silence that followed was only interrupted by a ping from Windu’s comm. He pressed the button and Yoda’s image wavered into existence.

“Retrieved our guests, have you?” Yoda asked.

Obi-Wan stepped forwards. “I’m right here, Master Yoda.”

His great grandmaster smiled. “Glad to see you, I am. Alone you are not, hmmm?” 

With a pointed glare, Windu nudged Dooku in the ribs. 

“I’m here too,” Dooku sighed.

“Where are you, Master Yoda?” Obi-Wan ventured to ask. “That doesn’t look anything like Coruscant to me.”

Yoda cackled. “On route from recent battle I was. Hiding in destroyer ventilation system from clones I am. Find me they will not.”

Anakin palmed his head. “So Yoda’s not helping us defeat the slimeball. Karking great.”

“Speaking of which,” Windu grumbled as he moved towards the back of the ship. “Dooku just informed us of who his master is, and you’re not going to like it.”

While Windu and Yoda spoke in hushed tones, Plo Koon parked the transport on the roof of one of the buildings overlooking the temple. Obi-Wan craned his head, only to feel a pool of dread overcome his entire body. Surrounding the temple from all directions was the entire Coruscant guard. The clones were laying charges by the temple doors, attempting to detonate the walls when they were unable to breach the front doors.

“Oh,” Ahsoka breathed, her hand coming up to cover her mouth in horror.

Plo Koon gave her shoulder a soft squeeze before he moved to join Windu.

“Happy now?” Anakin sneered at Dooku. “We should have killed you when we had the chance just for the suffering you put all of us through.”

Before Obi-Wan could interject, Dooku met Anakin’s eyes coolly. “I suggest you calm yourself, Skywalker, or you’ll end up no better than I am.”

At the reminder of the looming darkness within him, Anakin deflated.

“What do we do now?” Ahsoka croaked.

Another ping sounded, only this time, it was from Anakin’s comm. 

“Is it—” Obi-Wan began, alarmed.

“No, it’s not the slimeball,” Anakin reassured him. “It’s from Senator Organa.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but perk up at the sound of his friend’s name. Out of all the people he expected to encounter in the future, he would have never expected the newly-appointed senator from Alderaan to make an appearance. Then again, he hadn’t expected a lot of things that had happened. In fact, he hadn’t expected most things.

A wry smile slipped across Anakin’s face. “You should probably step back, Obi-Wan. Seeing a deaged version of you might startle him.”

Obi-Wan obliged.

“Knight Skywalker,” Bail Organa politely said, though his voice was obviously strained. “I’m glad that I was able to get in touch with you. Obi-Wan isn’t answering his comms. Is he—”

“Alive and well,” Anakin confirmed, shooting Obi-Wan a grin.

Obi-Wan easily returned it. 

Bail let out a breath of relief. “I’m calling to warn you and the rest of the Jedi that Vice Chair Amedda is planning to hold an emergency senate session to determine whether or not the Jedi are traitors to the republic, considering that the clones seem to think so. The argument right now is that you have been abusing your men to the brink of insanity.” 

“That bastard,” Anakin spat. “Palpatine’s the real abuser. He’s the damn Sith Lord!”

“Skywalker,” Dooku hissed. “Control yourself.”

“I am controlling myself,” Anakin hissed back. “I am perfectly calm right now.”

Bail froze. “I’m sorry. What? Also did I just hear—”

Kriff it, Obi-Wan thought to himself, this boy has absolutely no diplomacy skills.  

“Can you stall the session?” Obi-Wan interjected, stepping forwards. 

“Obi-Wan!” Bail exclaimed, only for him to go completely stiff. “Um… what the actual kriff.”

“Long story,” Obi-Wan sighed. “I promise that I’ll explain later. Right now we need to focus.”

Bail managed to collect himself. “I can stall the session for maybe twenty more minutes, but in order for this to not go through, I need a Jedi representative here, and according to the reports of the clones attacking the temple, there probably won’t be.” 

“We’ll get there,” Obi-Wan promised. “Just stall for a little bit longer, Bail.”

Bail managed a small smile. “May the force be with you, Obi-Wan. Or should I call you kiddo instead, because you look like a padawan to me.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Goodbye, Senator.”

His image flickered out just as Windu and Plo Koon returned from the back of the ship.

“We heard, young one,” Plo Koon declared before Obi-Wan could explain.

“Kit Fisto, Saesee Tiin, and Agen Kolar are waiting on the temple rooftop,” Windu informed them. “They’re going with us to defeat Palpatine.”

Anakin’s face immediately turned cold. “I better be going with you.”

“Skywalker—”

“No!” Anakin snapped. “That man groomed me. I deserve to be there to see his downfall!”

“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t be there,” Dooku countered. “He will use your weaknesses against you, and he will pull you straight into his trap.”

“And I assume you want to go in my place?” Anakin snarled.

“No, I don’t.”

For once, Anakin was caught off guard. “I—Really?”

Dooku shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. I won’t let that man sway me for any longer.”

Windu arched an eyebrow. “You’re acting oddly Jedi-like, Dooku.”

Dooku scowled at him. “Don’t you dare start now.”

And like that, everyone began to bicker. Ahsoka begged to go to the senate, Anakin bellowed at her to stay back. Plo Koon, Windu, and Dooku started arguing about logistics, with Dooku citing his Separatist attacks as proof that he was a superior general than them. None of them noticed how Obi-Wan slowly retracted himself from the circle to think.

Despite everything he had gone through, Obi-Wan still felt like an inexperienced kid. He wasn’t Master Kenobi. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be Master Kenobi. But maybe he didn’t have to be. Maybe Obi-Wan could at least be General Kenobi. 

The Clone Wars wasn’t the first war that Obi-Wan had fought in. He had been one of the high generals on Melida/Daan, and for a thirteen-year-old, he had been ruthless. There were even reports of some of his military tactics being outlawed after the war ended.

After he returned to the order, Obi-Wan had been determined to never let Qui-Gon or the order down again, which meant that he had followed every rule in the book, had made sure to show his deference to every single Jedi Master he passed by, even those who were obviously wrong. He went from being a general who had to constantly think on his feet to a meek follower. Where did that fire go? he had heard Ahsoka thinking while the tractor beam pulled them into Dooku’s ship. Where did it all go?

Obi-Wan took a deep breath.

The Jedi would have their high general, deaged or not.

“I have a plan,” Obi-Wan announced, breaking through the arguing. 

Everyone paused, startled, perhaps, to see the reemergence of a man that was supposedly in the distant future. Obi-Wan ignored their surprise, tucked his hands behind his back, and began to pace, just like he did in the bunkers on Melida/Daan.

“You are all forgetting that there are three points of attack. First, Palpatine in his office. Second, the emergency senate meeting. Third, the Jedi Temple.”

Obi-Wan whipped around. 

“Windu, Fisto, Tiin, and Kolar will take Palpatine. Me and Anakin will take the emergency senate meeting. Ahsoka, Dooku, and Koon will take the transport ship back to the temple after dropping us off. The clones will have blown through all the outer defenses by then, and in order to prevent them from blowing through the middle walls as well, the three of you will create a distraction to split up the Coruscant Guard. Understood?”

The reactions were mixed. Anakin was gaping at him, Ahsoka was grinning, Dooku was staring at him like he was a puzzle to be solved, and both Windu and Plo Koon were looking at him with mutual looks of sadness, as if they weren’t seeing Obi-Wan at all, but the traumatized kid giving the council a military-style report about his time on Melida/Daan, because in that short span of time, he had forgotten what it was like to give a normal mission report.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been keeping up with the katas," he had apologized to the council when they asked if they could test his skill levels. “But perhaps I can make up for it with my blaster aim. I’m really good at shooting moving targets. I can get them right in the head.”

Qui-Gon had looked like he wanted to vomit.

Later that day, after Qui-Gon walked in on Obi-Wan changing his myriad of bandages, he had actually vomited.

“Don’t feel bad,” Obi-Wan had reassured him. “The first time I saw a decapitated child on the field I vomited too.”

For some reason, that had made Qui-Gon vomit again.

“I find his plan reasonable,” Dooku managed. “A little too reasonable, in fact.”

“As do I,” Windu said, giving Obi-Wan a knowing nod of approval as Plo Koon and him moved to the cockpit of the ship. 

Anakin said nothing, but as the ship took off again, Obi-Wan noticed him move an inch closer, as if he was trying to protect Obi-Wan with his shadow alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Kriff, you really are young.”

Obi-Wan smiled at Bail Organa’s shock. “Perhaps you’re just old.”

Bail turned to Anakin. “Is he him or is he—” 

“Time travel,” Anakin supplied. “Force shenanigans.”

Bail ran his hand through his hair. “This day could not get any stranger. Also, I should say now before I forget—Knight Skywalker, Senator Amidala sends her regards. She’s still on Naboo for the treaty signing and is sorry to have missed you again.”

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow. “I really failed at raising you as a Jedi, didn’t I?”

Anakin’s cheeks flamed bright red. “W-Well, I, uh…”

Obi-Wan arched his eyebrow even higher.

“Satine!” Anakin blurted out.

“Oh, I told you?” Obi-Wan muttered, surprised by the revelation. “Did I tell you about Siri too?”

Anakin stared at him. “I’m sorry. WHAT?!”

“Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” Bail interjected before they could go any further. “There’s a lot of people. More people that you’re probably used to.”

Obi-Wan plastered on the most confident grin he could manage. “Well, Bail, they must call me the negotiator for something, right?”

Bail clasped his arm. “They certainly do, Obi-Wan.” 

As they stepped into the senate chambers, Obi-Wan held up his comm. “Ahsoka, are you in position?”

“Affirmative.”

“Master Windu?” 

“Affirmative, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin with a grin. “Ready, Padawan?”

Anakin grinned back. “I’ll follow you until the end, Master.”

They walked into the belly of the beast together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ahsoka huddled beneath her cloak as her, Plo Koon, and Dooku crept through one of the secret passages leading into the temple. The walk would have been more pleasant if the air wasn’t so dry, or if Plo Koon hadn’t unlocked Dooku’s force-cuffs on the ship. Her great-great-grandmaster’s dark presence was more than a little suffocating to be around. 

At the end of the tunnel, two familiar figures met them.

“Rex!” she exclaimed, immediately darting forwards to wrap her arms around him.

“Good to see you, kid,” Rex murmured into her montrals. 

When she finally unlatched from him, her eyes locked on Cody.

“Commander,” he offered, holding out his hand.

Ahsoka shook it, unable to stop herself from grinning at the sight of the two of them healthy and untouched by Palpatine’s darkness. A moment of peace before destruction.

Of course, the calm quickly disappeared as soon as they noticed Dooku.

“Calm yourselves,” Dooku sighed. “I’m on your side now.”

“It’s true,” Ahsoka interjected before either of the clones could protest. “He told us who the Sith Lord is and everything.”

Neither of the clones seemed to trust him, but they lowered their blasters anyway. 

“Ahsoka, are you in position?”

She held up her comm. “Affirmative.” 

“How’s my kid-general?” Cody asked. He tried to look nonplussed, but she could see a glimpse of barely constrained worry in his eyes.

“Safe,” Ahsoka reassured him. Then, in a whisper, she added, “The kid’s a bit of a badass as well, just in case you wanted to know.”

A small smile slipped across Cody’s face. “Guess some things don’t change then, huh?”

No, she decided as she once again prepared to charge into battle with Rex and Cody at her side, there are some things that never do change.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anakin knew that Obi-Wan was excellent at diplomacy, but he wasn’t quite expecting him to be that good at playing politics. In about five minutes, he had the entire senate, minus Palpatine’s cronies, wrapped around his finger. It was going so unreasonably well that Vice Chair Amedda had even considered letting the senate vote without Palpatine’s presence. 

And then, they felt the force plunge.

“Kriff,” Anakin hissed. “Should we—”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan snapped back. “Yes, we need to go. Now.”

Neither of them waited for the pod to return to the docking point. They simply used the force to catapult themselves back into the hallway. Rushing past the senate aides, they sprinted across the red hallways, searching for the Chancellor’s office.

“I don’t sense anyone but Windu,” Anakin barely managed as the horror of the situation slowly dawned on him. “Oh force, I don’t sense anyone but Windu.”

Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched. “Focus on the here and now, Anakin.” 

“This is the here and now,” Anakin spat.

Their bickering quickly stopped once they skidded to a halt in front of the office. Anakin threw his foot into the door, flinging it open. He completely froze when his eyes landed on the three dead bodies lying at the entrance of the room. Kit Fisto, Saesee Tiin, and Agen Kolar were all dead. Three Jedi Masters were dead.

“Anakin, my boy,” a horrible, grandfatherly voice rang out. 

Goosebumps crawled up Anakin’s arms as his eyes finally drifted to the window. Palpatine was cornered at the wall and Mace Windu was in front of him, lightsaber to his throat. It was instinct for Anakin to ignite his own lightsaber, but for some unfathomable reason, he didn’t point it at the Chancellor. He pointed it straight at Windu.

“You can’t!” Anakin shouted. “He must stand trial!” 

“Skywalker, what are you doing?” Windu growled. “Stand down.”

“Good, Anakin,” Palpatine crooned. “I can show you things that the Jedi will never be able to show you. I can give you a life where you won’t have to hide your wife, where you will be truly accepted for who you are.”

“Anakin, don’t listen to him,” Obi-Wan pleaded. “He just wants to use you.”

“No,” Palaptine snarled. “It’s the Jedi who want to use you, my boy.”

The darkside coiled around Anakin, pulling at every wound. His mother, slavery, bullying, the Tusken Raiders, Rush Clovis, Rako Hardeen, his wife…

“Anakin, please look at me.” 

It was the please that did Anakin in. He met Obi-Wan’s kind eyes, struggling to hold his gaze from the tears that had begun to build up behind his eyes.

Obi-Wan cupped his cheek. “You’re like a brother to me,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Dooku’s words rang in his head. Because you have a master who actually cares, and we both know that it would break his heart. He was right. It would break his master’s heart, and he could never do that to him, not in a thousand million years.

Maybe for once, it wasn’t a bad thing for Anakin to be too attached to Obi-Wan Kenobi. Maybe for once, it would save both of their lives.

“Obi-Wan, I'm—”

A cry sliced through his voice.

Anakin screamed as he watched Palpatine throw Windu out the window with a blast of force lightning. Palpatine rose to his feet, his grandfatherly face replaced with the yellow eyes of a Sith Lord. With that, all of Anakin’s hesitation was gone. 

He would stay a Jedi. And he would kill this man as a Jedi.

Obi-Wan’s lightsaber lit beside Anakin’s, a pillar of warm blue. They stepped forwards together, and Anakin felt a small thrum of fear shiver through their bond from Obi-Wan.

“It’s so soon,” Obi-Wan croaked. “So soon since—”

“I know,” Anakin tried to reassure him, though his voice came out just as shaky. “I know.”

“At least I have a 100% success rate,” Obi-Wan tried to joke.

He decided it was better to not tell Obi-Wan that Maul was actually still alive, that they in fact did not have anywhere close to a 100% success rate.

“I really did hope that you would join me,” Palpatine sighed, eyes flashing. “You really have such wasted potential as a Jedi.” 

“And you have such wasted potential as an asshole,” Anakin bit back. 

Growling, Palaptine threw himself at them. His attacks were fast, fierce, impossible to block in time. Anakin knew they were doomed once he realized that both him and Obi-Wan were on the defensive. They weren’t going to last long. 

They were both going to die.

Palpatine reached his hand out and threw them against opposite walls. While Anakin had a soft landing, he heard Obi-Wan’s head hit the wall with a crack. Palpatine must have heard it too if his sole attention on Anakin was any indication. 

Anakin raised his lightsaber in time to block a wave of force lightning.

“Join me, my boy!” Palpatine shouted. “Join me or die!”

“Never!” Anakin screamed.

The force lightning finally became too much for his lightsaber to handle. Anakin’s skin burned as the lightning consumed him, tearing through every fiber of his skin.

Obi-Wan, he begged through their bond. Please, Obi-Wan.

The lightning stopped, and Anakin could barely sit up in time to see the clashing of a blue and red saber. Obi-Wan’s head was bleeding significantly. The young man wasn’t going to last more than a minute against Palpatine. They both knew it.

It was luck that Anakin happened to tear his gaze away from the fight and focus on Palpatine’s desk. There, sitting above a stack of papers, was Obi-Wan’s artifact.

And it was glowing purple.

With the last of his strength, he called the artifact into his hand. It didn’t open for Anakin, not that he was surprised. The entire box was thrumming for one Jedi only.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin shouted. “Obi-Wan, the artifact!” 

Palpatine threw Obi-Wan into the wall with the force and dived towards Anakin, but Anakin was faster. He chucked the artifact with everything just as another wave of lightning hit him. He knew the very moment that Obi-Wan caught it, if not for the shift in the force, then for the brilliant glow of purple that had consumed the entire office. 

Obi-Wan levitated into the air, his entire body glowing with light. Then, with the crack of a thunderbolt, the light faded and Obi-Wan promptly collapsed on the ground.

The artifact had failed.

Palpatine’s smile twisted. “Foolish Jedi.”

“No,” Anakin whimpered. “No, no it was supposed to save him.”

“Nothing will save him now,” Palpatine sneered.

Before Anakin could reply, the force began to cackle. The entire office plunged into complete darkness, two sabers—one red, one blue—spouted to life in the center of the room, mechanical breathing filled the rest of the air, and a familiar presence that Anakin had missed so, so dearly flooded his mind with a wave of calm and affection. 

It wasn’t possible. 

And yet, it was.

Standing in the center of the room was Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, and next to him, was a black-suited cyborg that Anakin couldn’t for the life of him recognize. 

“Oh dear,” Master Kenobi drawled, as if they were simply discussing the weather, “it seems like we’re going to have to do this all over again.”

“Allow me,” the black-suited cyborg declared as he stalked towards Palpatine. 

“What kind of trick is this?” Palpatine hissed, utterly terrified for the first time. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

The black-suited cyborg simply wrenched the lightsaber out of Palpatine’s hands and lifted him in the air. Anakin watched, stunned, as he kept marching towards the open window despite the force lightning that must have been killing him.

Obi-Wan’s familiar face appeared in front of him. Anakin clambered for him like a child, clutching him as close as he could possibly get. Obi-Wan let him.

“W-Who’s that?” Anakin weakly whispered.

“Don’t worry about it, dear one,” Obi-Wan murmured into his hair. “You’re safe now.”

Anakin started sobbing, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. They were going to die, and now, Obi-Wan was back, his Obi-Wan, and everything was going to be fine, everything was going to be fine because the greatest person in the world was back.

“I love you too,” Anakin choked out, desperately. “I love you so much.”

Obi-Wan gave him a soft smile. “I know you do, Padawan mine.”

He didn’t see the black-suited cyborg throw Palpatine out the window because he was too busy slobbering over Obi-Wan’s robes, but he knew when Palpatine died. He had a feeling that every single Jedi in the galaxy could feel it, the way the deep shroud of darkness covering the universe had suddenly lifted and fizzled away. Anakin let out a shaky breath of relief as he buried his head further into Obi-Wan’s chest.

“Unfortunately, me and my younger self cannot cohabit the same plane for very long,” Obi-Wan quietly warned him, his eyes drifting to the artifact by his younger self’s fallen form. “I sense that I will be sucked back into the future very soon.”

Anakin rapidly shook his head. “Don’t leave me, Obi-Wan,” he whined, not caring how childish he sounded. “Please don’t leave me.”

Obi-Wan pulled back to brush Anakin’s hair into place. “Do your best to hold on, dear one. The force will bring me back for good when it’s ready to bring me back.”

“No,” Anakin choked, scrambling for him, “no, please, no —”

Obi-Wan turned into wisps of dust.

Anakin’s eyes darted to the black-suited cyborg, who was gradually fading as well. The cyborg looked him in the eye, steadily. He could tell that the man underneath the armor was smiling at him, even with the mask covering the majority of his face. Who was this strange man?

“You did good,” the cyborg rasped. “I’m proud of you.”

He disappeared before Anakin could find his voice.

Anakin took a few shuddering breaths before he managed to pick himself off the ground. The artifact was no longer glowing and instead laid limp next to Obi-Wan. Anakin brushed his hand along the young man’s pulse. He sighed when he felt his heartbeat.

The force, suddenly so much more unclouded and bright than ever before, eagerly nudged him towards Palpatine’s desk. Frowning, Anakin searched the drawers until he found a contraption at the very bottom, one that would have been impossible to find unless someone had the force guiding them to its very location. 

Clone Chip Override. 

With a trembling hand, Anakin pushed the button. 

A moment later, his comm chirped.

“I’m not sure what you did, Skyguy, but whatever it was worked like a charm,” Ahsoka’s voice rang out. “The clones all stopped fighting!”

“That’s great, Ahsoka,” Anakin croaked, savoring the knowledge that she was alive.

“Is everyone—”

“No, just me and Obi-Wan.” He glanced out the window, hearing the sounds of sirens in the very distance. “Maybe Windu too, if they get to him in time.”

Ahsoka went silent.

“Are you alright?” she finally managed.

“Fine,” Anakin lied. “I’ll call you back later, alright?”

Once Ahsoka hung up, he laid down on the ground next to Obi-Wan, overcome by exhaustion. His skin ached from the force lightning and his heart ached from a lot more than that, but for the first time in his entire life, Anakin felt like the weight on his chest had been lifted.

He no longer needed to be the Chosen One.

Chapter Text

Voices reverberated through every room in the temple.

The first holocron recording came from the council. They explained the Clone Wars, the rise of the Sith and the end. They came up with a long list of solutions to make sure that the present would never happen in Knight Kenobi’s past. 

The council must do better, they implored their younger selves. We all must do better.

Then, they let everyone else record a piece.

In the healer's wing, Mace Windu, who was still attached to a million and one tubes, instructed his younger self to always follow the will of the force, even if that resulted in him having to stray from the Jedi Code from time to time. (He also told himself to smile more.)

Yoda gave himself infuriatingly cryptic advice, followed by a large amount of cackling.

Luminara Unduli told herself to be a better master to Barriss Offee.

Depa Billaba did not need to tell herself to be a better master, but she still gave her younger self a few pointers along with a warning about the Riftwalker gang that she would encounter in the near future. She decided not to drop Caleb Dume’s name, trusting that the force would bring them together once again without her interference. 

They somehow managed to track down Asajj Ventress. Bursting into tears, she provided them detailed instructions on where Master Ky Narec crashed his ship so that the Jedi could save him. She then proceeded to flirt with Knight Kenobi until Knight Skywalker dragged him away.

Yan Dooku submitted the longest recording of them all, totalling five hours and fifteen minutes. He was told to cut it down by an irritated Mace Windu. That order was ignored.

Ahsoka Tano was one of the few padawans who were granted permission to submit a recording. She used the opportunity to pass down all the lessons the clones taught her, knowing that they wouldn’t exist in her younger self’s timeline, a fact she tried not to think about.

Anakin Skywalker was the only person who was given permission to submit two recordings—one for himself and one for his time-traveling master. His justification was that if Master Kenobi was in the present, he would be the very first person to submit a recording. Knight Kenobi agreed to listen to it at the same time as everyone else.

Obi-Wan’s recording came easily to him. Anakin warned him about missions that went wrong during Anakin’s time as a padawan, about freeing his mother, about Satine, about Maul being still alive. Anakin decided to end the recording by telling Obi-Wan that he was the greatest master that he could have ever asked for. 

If Qui-Gon Jinn came back today, he whispered, I would still choose you.

Anakin found that his own recording was a little harder to make. He pinpointed Jedi padawans that his younger self should spend time with instead of the bullies that he ended up being stuck with the first time around. He explained the difference between love and attachment and begged his younger self to seek out a Mind Healer before his anger got the best of him. He also made sure to remind his younger self to be patient with Obi-Wan.

He’s still grieving Qui-Gon’s death. He’s not going to be perfect.

And lastly, Anakin told himself the most important thing of them all: 

You’re not alone, even if you feel like you are.

He hoped that Padawan Skywalker would end up being a better man than he was. 

Anakin technically broke Dooku’s time, but Dooku insisted that it didn’t count because Anakin was allowed to submit two recordings while Dooku only had one. Anakin, very begrudgingly, conceded to that point. With a little prodding from Ahsoka, at least.

The only person who didn’t make a recording was the Jedi Knight who had the responsibility of carrying them a decade into the past.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dooku tried not to fidget as he sat down across from Master Yoda. He couldn’t help but wish that they had chosen any other place in the temple to have their tea, not the private chambers of a troll he had been trying to kill up until recently. Dooku even had a feeling that the location was a setup from Yoda himself, just so that he could lure him into feeling like he was a padawan again.

Yoda levitated a cup of tea towards his hands. “Try this, you should. New batch, it is.”

Hesitantly, Dooku took it from the air and forced down a sip. He immediately doubled over, coughing uncontrollably into his fist. 

“Force,” he rasped, “it gets worse every time.”

With a harumph, Yoda whacked him with his stick. “Ungrateful you are.”

“Terrible tea, you make,” Dooku mocked.

He expected Yoda to berate him further, but instead, he smiled. 

“Best duelist in the order, you are,” Yoda remarked rather suddenly. 

“I believe I got bested by my own grand-padawan,” Dooku countered.

“The force, Obi-Wan had.”

“I have the force too.”

Yoda thumped his stick. “Loves you, the force does not. Cherishes you, it does, but loves you, it cannot. Special young Kenobi is.”

“Why?” Dooku couldn’t help but scoff. “We all care for him, but why that boy?”

Yoda’s eyes gazed into the distance, as if he wasn’t seeing Dooku at all. “Sense, I do, that in another life, clouded Kenobi’s future was, clouded with great suffering.”

Dooku reached his own senses into the force, searching for the bright flickering presence of Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was in the temple gardens, meditating. The force wavered around him, and like Yoda said, a ripple of helpless sadness, one that was barely noticeable unless prodded, floated around him.

“I feel it too,” Dooku murmured. 

“Feel it on all of us, I do,” Yoda added, quieter. “Fallen, we would have.”

Dooku was tempted to joke that he did in fact fall, but he knew that Yoda didn’t mean it that way. He meant the destruction of all good, the extinguishing of the entire Jedi Order. Perhaps that thought would have filled him with joy only a month ago, but Dooku had changed. He wasn’t fully light—that much was certain—but the sea of darkness that had followed him wherever he went had rescinded, no longer consuming the molecules of his soul.

All thanks to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Smiling to himself, Dooku reached into the force and found Obi-Wan’s presence again. He sent a small burst of fondness towards him and Obi-Wan’s presence flickered with amusement, as if to say, I’m not bailing you out of having tea with Yoda.

“Position to teach dueling, there is.”

“Me?” Dooku gawked, entirely caught off guard.

“You, my old padawan.”

A small smirk crossed Dooku’s face. “I thought you didn’t call me that anymore.”

“Changed that did,” Yoda huffed. 

“Perhaps I will consider it then,” Dooku murmured, only to laugh at the thought of Master Kenobi coming back to see him as the temple’s dueling instructor. “Force, how are we going to explain any of this to the high general of the republic?”

“Know already he might,” Yoda pointed out.

“Nonsense,” Dooku scoffed. “Skywalker speaks of fantasies.” 

He didn’t care that time travel was real—General Kenobi and a cyborg monster appearing out of thin air to save the day was simply too much for him.

(Though he wasn’t particularly surprised that Kenobi had managed to win over another villain.)

Yoda gently placed his claw on Dooku’s leg. “Glad to see you again, I am.”

Dooku pretended that the words didn’t make his heart warm.

“Glad to see you too, Master,” he conceded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anakin wiped the sweat off his brow.

“Good spar, Snips,” he said, smirking, “but I win again.”

“Solah,” Ahsoka grumbled, unigniting her lightsabers. “Next time I’ll get you, Skyguy.”

She was barely injured from the fight with the clones, which Anakin was internally grateful for. He had even begrudgingly thanked Count Dooku for protecting her after he finally returned from the chancellor's office. As much as he loathed the odd connection between his padawan and his ex-Sith-great-grandmaster, he had to admit that he was happy that Ahsoka had an outlet other than him and Obi-Wan to talk to, especially an outlet that had left the Jedi Order for an extended period of time. The two of them—and he supposed Obi-Wan too—had a shared experience that Anakin would never be able to understand. Anakin just needed to work on not being bitter.

“You did very well, Ahsoka,” a soft voice called out.

Anakin turned to see Obi-Wan leaning against the doorway. His face was still a mess of scars, but the rest of his body had mostly healed from their fight with the chancellor.

“Care to have a go, old man?” Anakin taunted.

Obi-Wan gave him a small smile. “Actually, do you mind if we go on a walk?”

At that, Anakin arched an eyebrow.

Ahsoka pushed him forwards. “Go on, Master, I have class anyhow.”

Anakin flashed her a grateful smile and headed into the hall with Obi-Wan. They fell into a pleasant pace with each other, chatting about random, aimless things—though Anakin could tell from the tension in Obi-Wan’s shoulders that the conversation would drastically shift at some point. After a few turns, they ended up in the Room of One Thousand Fountains, Obi-Wan lowering himself on the ground by one of the more secluded fountains and Anakin following.

“So what’s on your mind, Obi-Wan?“ Anakin asked.

“You hate me,” Obi-Wan blurted out.

Anakin let out a horrified protest. “What? Obi-Wan I don’t—”

“I meant that your younger self hates me,” Obi-Wan swiftly corrected. “You don’t like talking with me, you don’t like spending time with me, you don’t like anything about me, really. So tell me, Anakin, what would you change about your padawanship? The force is giving me a chance to improve it, and I intend to use it.”

Anakin gaped at him. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. As a padawan, he couldn’t count how many times he had begged the force to change the parts of his apprenticeship he loathed, to change Obi-Wan , even. And yet, now that he actually had the chance to change everything, he found his mind stalling. Everything—the fun parts and the grueling parts—had led him to the Jedi Knight he was today. It occurred to Anakin suddenly that many of the things he wanted to change as a padawan weren’t the things he wanted to change as a knight.

But there was one thing he did want to change.

“I just… I just wanted to feel wanted,” Anakin choked out.

“But I do want you,” Obi-Wan managed, his voice so gentle that it made Anakin’s heart clench.

“I didn’t know that,” Anakin whispered, horrible memories of his first days at the temple flooding back into his brain. “I saw the reactor core footage, I heard Qui-Gon’s last words—”

“And I would have taken you on regardless.”

Anakin felt tears begin to prickle at the edge of his eyes, and he forced himself to take a deep, unsteady breath. “I wish you had told me that.”

“I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan winced. “Qui-Gon never, you know…” 

And Anakin did know. He knew because he had told Ahsoka the same thing about Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan’s face steeled with determination. “But I’ll try to be better than that.”

“Thank you,” Anakin croaked.

At that moment, Ahsoka burst into the gardens, destroying their peace.

“Masters!” she shouted, lekku flying. “The council summons you both. Now. ”

Anakin froze. He turned to look at Obi-Wan and saw the same fear reflected in his own gaze.

“Do you think?” he whispered.

“Definitely,” Obi-Wan murmured. “It’s definitely today.”

By the time they arrived, the entire council, plus Dooku, was patiently waiting for them. In the center of the room, propped up on a pedestal, was the artifact. Anakin sucked in a breath when he saw the box glowing a steady blue, just like it was the first time Obi-Wan picked it up.

“Ready to go home, Kenobi?” Windu asked, amusement coloring his tone. 

He was still in a hoverchair, but he was slowly regaining his ability to walk, which Anakin was happy about, despite their many differences. 

Obi-Wan bowed. “If the force wills it, then yes, Master.”

Anakin stifled a laugh at the diplomatic answer.

With a cough, Dooku stepped forwards and held out his hand for him to shake. “We started this adventure together. I am pleased to end it that way, Knight Kenobi.”

“Likewise, grandmaster,” Obi-Wan replied, grinning as well. “And I should also say—”

He was interrupted by the council doors slamming open. Cody and Rex rushed inside, both clad in civilian tunics rather than their usual battle armor now that the war was over.

Obi-Wan’s face lit up with surprise. “Cody, Rex, what in the blazes—”

“Commander Tano commed us,” Rex explained.

“Ahsoka!” Ahsoka corrected.

Rex shot her a grin. “Sure thing, Commander Tano.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes.

“But why—” Obi-Wan started.

“Like we would miss you leaving,” Cody scoffed. He immediately pulled Obi-Wan into a big hug. “You were brilliant out there, General.”

“Thanks, Cody,” Obi-Wan mumbled, his voice muffled by the man’s arm.

When they pulled back, Rex held out his hand. “Best of luck out there, General.”

Obi-Wan shook it. “As with you, Captain.”

(Anakin had noticed that the clones stopped calling Knight Kenobi “Kid-General” as soon as they heard the full details of Melida/Daan.)

“Do I get a hug, Knight Kenobi?” Ahsoka asked, her eyes already dropping into what Anakin liked to call her loth-cat look.

Obi-Wan shook his head as he wrapped her in his arms. “Of course, Ahsoka.” Whispering into her montrals, he added, “You’re going to be a great Jedi one day.”

“And you a great Jedi Master,” Ahsoka whispered back.

The last person Obi-Wan turned to was Anakin. 

Anakin gave him a wobbly smile as he held out his hand. “I guess this is goodbye then.”

“Oh please,” Obi-Wan huffed before he dragged Anakin into his arms. Anakin let out a squawk, but in the next moment, he fully gave into the hug.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” Anakin murmured into his shoulder. “You’ve done so much for me, Obi-Wan. So kriffing much.”

“You are a joy in my life, Anakin,” was all Obi-Wan said in reply, though Anakin could hear the crack in his voice when he said his name.

When they let go, the artifact began to hover.

“The holocron,” Plo Koon said, delicately handing it off to Obi-Wan. It looked small in his hands, but Anakin knew that with the push of one button, hundreds of holocrons would appear, his two recordings included with the rest.

“I would like to profusely thank everyone in here,” Obi-Wan said, his gaze darting across the council chamber before finally landing on Anakin again. “Believe it or not, this little time-travel adventure was exactly what I needed after—” He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Well, enough said. I suppose it’s time for me to go back home.”

Anakin squeezed his shoulder one last time. What he didn’t say was that he wished that he could have both Knight Kenobi and Master at the same time. 

Obi-Wan stepped forwards, took a deep breath, and grasped the artifact. His skin grew bright blue, shimmering like a beacon lighting up the night sky. Then, in a brilliant flash, a different man stood in front of him, a man with a familiar ginger beard.

“Master!” Anakin choked out.

He lunged towards Master Kenobi, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Obi-Wan hugged him back immediately, his hands trembling around him as if he couldn’t quite believe it. Distantly, Anakin felt the presence of the council trickle out of the chambers to give them space, but he couldn’t care less.

“Padawan?” he whispered. 

“Yes, Master,” Anakin confirmed, his voice tearing up on the word.

Obi-Wan managed to pull him even closer, and Anakin started sobbing before he could stop himself. In that moment, nothing else mattered, not the council, not the politics, not even the problems that still laid between the two of them. Obi-Wan was back for good, and no artifact was going to take him away from Anakin ever again.

“How was the future, Master?” Anakin weakly joked.

“Horrible,” Obi-Wan murmured into his hair. “I don’t plan to ever go back.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Obi-Wan pulled back and Anakin was surprised to see tears pricking the edge of his eyes, a look of pure misery shining back at him. He was tempted to question him about what horrors he saw in the future, but there was a pleading quality on Obi-Wan’s face that begged him not to. 

“Just promise me one thing, Anakin. If you ever feel bad, if you ever feel anything at all, please tell me. Please just tell me.”

“I’ll promise it if you promise it too,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan gave him a shaky smile. “That sounds like a good deal to me.”

He finally turned around, only to freeze.

“Ahsoka? You’re…” He trailed off, speechless. 

It took Anakin a second to remember that the last time Obi-Wan saw Ahsoka wasn’t pleasant.

Ahsoka let out an awkward laugh. “So fun fact, your younger self actually convinced me to rejoin the Jedi Order. Hilarious, right? So funny.”

Obi-Wan only looked more baffled. “H-How did he manage that?”

Ahsoka cringed. “He might have mentioned something about your own experiences with leaving the Jedi Order.”

“Yeah, Master, what the kriff!” Anakin shouted before Obi-Wan could splutter out a reply. “Why didn’t you tell me anything about your terrible apprenticeship with Qui-Gon?”

Obi-Wan looked affronted. “I can’t be back for five seconds before you start—”

“Me ? Let’s talk about how you kept the fact that you were a karking slave—”

“For a measly amount of time compared to you!”

“It was still something!” 

“Force, Anakin, and how would that conversation have gone? Terrible like all of our—”

“So I’m back now,” Ahsoka interrupted. “No need to bicker on my behalf.”

Anakin and Obi-Wan turned back towards her, blushing. With a deep breath, Obi-Wan stepped forwards and squeezed her shoulder, his eyes fixed on her lekku. 

“I’m glad you're back, Padawan,” he said with an infinite warmness in his voice. “And I’m sorry for how things ended between us before you left.”

Ahsoka scrubbed her arm across her watering eyes. “I’m sorry too, Master Obi-Wan.”

“Would you like to spar later?”

A peace offering, Anakin realized. 

Ahsoka’s smile made his heart melt. “I would like that very much.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes then landed on Dooku, who had been staring at all the displays of affection with a cold look on his face until then. The two men stared at each other, unmoving.

“You tried to kill me,” Obi-Wan drawled.

“I failed,” Dooku pointed out.

They stared at each other some more, clearly communicating through the force, until they finally, with tense jaws, shook each other’s hand. No more was said for the moment, and Anakin found himself wishing that he could have heard what the internal conversation had been like.

“General,” Cody quietly said, stepping forwards.

“Cody!” Obi-Wan’s face was almost a copy of his younger self’s a moment before. “What in the blazes are you and Rex doing here?"

“Well, we—” Rex began.

“We came to apologize for not protecting you from Dooku or the artifact, Sir,” Cody interjected with an ultra-seriousness that made Anakin laugh. “It was our duty.”

“Thank you for that, Commander,” Obi-Wan replied, his mouth quirking into an amused smile, “but I don’t blame either of you. It was my own reckless decision that put me in the clutches of Count Dooku and the artifact. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Even me?” Anakin croaked.

“Even you, my padawan.” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened in a way that seemed to say, I forgive you for what you said about me and Qui-Gon. Anakin clung onto it.

A small smile slipped across Cody’s face. “In that case, welcome back, Sir. You’ve missed quite a lot of action—Should we schedule a briefing?”

Everyone started laughing, and Anakin found himself feeling an emotion he hadn’t truly felt in a long time. 

Happiness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One moment, Knight Kenobi was holding the artifact. In the next, he was tipping over on his feet, straight into the arms of a familiar presence. 

“Easy there, Kenobi,” Mace Windu dryly said, setting him back on his feet.

Delirious, Obi-Wan’s eyes darted across the council chambers, taking in the younger versions of the Jedi Masters he had just left. He reached into the force, simply to double check that he wasn’t hallucinating. All he felt was home.

“I’m back,” he whispered, still in half-disbelief. “I’m back!”

At that very moment, the doors to the council chamber were wrenched open with the force, nearly breaking on impact. A young sandy-haired boy scurried inside, his eyes blown wide and his hair a wild mess. 

“Obi-Wan!” he screeched.

Before Obi-Wan could manage a response, the young boy crashed into him, sending the two of them plummeting to the floor. Anakin clinged onto him like he was a liferaft.

“Good grief, Ani,” Obi-Wan chuckled, overcome with a level of fondness that was most likely still frowned upon. “It’s good to see you again, my dear padawan.”

“I’m sorry for sneaking out,” Anakin whimpered.

Obi-Wan stroked his hand through the boy’s hair. “It’s alright, Anakin. I sneaked out when I was your age, you know. In fact, I sneaked out a lot better than you.”

Anakin let out a watery laugh.

As much as Obi-Wan was content to live in the moment, Knight Skywalker’s words echoed in his head like a warning. I just wanted to feel wanted.  

No, Obi-Wan decided. He wouldn’t make his older self’s mistake. He would make sure that his relationship with Anakin never became the twisted mess he had witnessed.

Obi-Wan pulled back so that he could look Anakin in the eyes fully. “I do want you, by the way. I would have taken you on even if Qui-Gon never said it, and if the old man was still alive, I would have fought him over you.”

Anakin’s mouth hung open. “R-Really?”

“Really.” He tried to put as much fierceness in the word as possible.

“Thank you,” Anakin croaked as he buried his face back into Obi-Wan’s chest. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

A cough from behind them was the only reason why Obi-Wan remembered that he wasn’t in his private quarters. He was in the council chamber, a council chamber filled with Jedi that saw him as solely an inexperienced knight and not the younger version of one of their best.

Obi-Wan untangled Anakin from his tunics, making sure to ruffle the boy’s hair afterwards as proof that he didn’t want to have to choose the council over him.

“I traveled about a decade into the future,” he said without preamble, handing the holocron over to Master Yoda. “Everything in here should make sure that their future doesn’t happen here. You need to listen to your older selves carefully or we will witness the destruction of the Jedi Order and the universe as you know it.”

A ripple of shock swept across the council chamber, but Obi-Wan kept his eyes fixed on Yoda, who was regarding him with an arched eyebrow and a flicker of amusement.

“More confident you are,” Yoda declared.

“Am I?” Obi-Wan genuinely asked. He hadn’t noticed.

“Suits you well, it does.”

Obi-Wan blushed. “Thank you, Master.”

A wave of exhaustion suddenly swept over him, nearly knocking him to the ground. He turned to go, without thinking, only for Windu to bark out, “And where do you think you’re going, Kenobi? We haven't dismissed you yet.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan felt himself blush even more. “Sorry, I forgot where I was for a second.”

Windu and Yoda exchanged a look.

“Do you think it’s possible to move the rest of this council meeting?” Obi-Wan asked. “I’m feeling rather exhausted and could use some sleep, believe it or not.”

“You want to postpone your time travel debriefing?” Windu hissed.

Yoda thumped his stick. “Go you should. Meet tomorrow we will.”

Windu’s eyes flew open. “The boy just time traveled, Master Yoda! We can’t just—”

Obi-Wan gave them both a deep bow. “Thank you, Masters.”

With that, he fled the chambers.

“That was wizard!” Anakin shouted as soon as the doors shut behind them. “What are we going to do now, Master Obi-Wan? Are we going to train or pilot or—”

“I meant it, Anakin,” Obi-Wan gently interrupted him. “I need sleep.”

“But you never sleep.”

He shrugged. “Time travel is… wonky.”

“Wonky,” Anakin snorted.

As soon as they reached their quarters—not Qui-Gon’s quarters; their quarters—Obi-Wan collapsed on the couch. A moment later, he felt Anakin nudge his way under his arm until the two of them were lying like two puzzle pieces finding each other again.

“Are you okay?” Anakin quietly asked.

Obi-Wan hugged him close to his chest and tried to tether himself to the brightness of the world, away from the Sith and Qui-Gon.

“I will be.”