Archive of Our Own

There’s no liberty in death. He understood it quicker than most people, in the deep sea mines of Bandomeer, where death was more common than water, than clean air, than life. Later, as everything went to the point where there were no more people left to die, Obi-Wan had understood that there’s no liberty in the Force either. The Force could only push you until you break or collapse. 

He learnt to let himself be pushed. He learnt to bend to its whims, because it was a matter of survival. The Force was a cruel mistress, yet one he couldn’t help but follow. Deep down he knew that he had been created for this: to endure. The Force made him with one purpose only and it was just it. Perseverance. He might not be “the chosen one” as the Skywalkers were (so many years and he still kept wondered which one of them the prophecy meant – maybe it wasn’t meant to mean anyone, maybe it was futile dream to keep hoping for better days), but in his bones he knew that Unifying Force made his body and his soul, Living Force gave him his first breath, and Cosmic Force made him open his eyes and his mind to things larger than himself.

He was the being of the Force and he was the one to do as the Force pleased. Simply the tool in its hands. He thought he was fine with it – there was particular responsibility that came with being the one who surrendered to the Force – but when he woke up, even though he knew he shouldn’t, he was, frankly speaking, fucking done. 

Obi-Wan was tired. It was an universal fact that everybody seemed to ignore. He was tired since he woke up in a slave collar in a mine and then offered to blow himself up, because he thought that maybe this way the suffering will end. It won’t.

He never tried to end his life by his own hand. But if, just if, one day he couldn’t wriggle out from one fucked up mission or another, well. He would join the Force contently. He was made from it and he belonged to it. But it didn’t matter. He survived everything the Force had decided to throw at him, because he desperately clung to it, to the Light. And it did not let him go. 

The Force needed Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Force needed the unwanted child who had a year and a half of a happy, safe life before his first near death experience had happened. The Force needed the child who had been rescued by the same man who would later try to kill him multiple times and yet hesitating in the last possible second, because the connection between them had been undeniable – the connection between saviour and saved, but most importantly, between grandmaster and grandpadawan (Yan Dooku, the Force knew it, was never meant to be a villain in his story, but he was blind and deaf to the needs of people who actually needed him until the only thing that was left was the illusion of choice – there never was a lesser evil for this galaxy). The Force needed the child who grew up too fast, whose life was never meant to be kind, who needed the experience before he was old enough to gain it, because it would be too late by then. The Force needed the child who knew how to be a soldier, how to be a protector. The Force needed the child who was never a child. 

The Force needed someone who was meant for failure, but who would also bear the consequences of failing. It wasn’t a kind fate. It wasn’t a kind life.

Prodigiousness comes in different shapes and sizes. You can’t fault a prodigy for not being recognised as one, it’s only the blindness of the unfaithful, untrustful, who can’t open their eyes to the truth.

The Jedi Order was lost for a long time. They were untrustful worshippers, blind in their own arrogance, their belief that they knew best, but the truth was simple. The Jedi Order didn’t seem to realise that by establishing strong laws you may have an imitation of a structure, of control, but it was so easy to forget why they needed these strong laws in the first place. What they needed to protect. What they wanted to gain. What they didn’t want to lose. What made them them.

So the Force decided to solve this farçe. So the Force created Obi-Wan Kenobi and then the Force remade him. The Force pushed him when he seemed to be at his lowest, but it knew he still had so much will to live inside him.

In truth it was more the need to atone for his sins than pure will to live. But the Force didn’t care much for details like this.

The Force pushed and Obi-Wan Kenobi endured. That was the truth of his life.

Obi-Wan Kenobi woke up quietly. This hadn’t been happening often, this peaceful transition from being deeply, restfully asleep to being awake. This content feeling in his bones and his muscles, rested in a way he hadn’t been since he was twelve. He woke up quietly and the Force caressed him, like a mother would. Crèchemasters had been wonderful people, always kind and caring, but they weren’t exactly parental towards children they took care of. Obi-Wan never missed what he didn’t have (how could he?), but in this moment, just for a split second, he wished he could remember his mother caressing him like that.

But as he tried to chase that feeling, his senses had sharpened from the pleasant lethargy of a dream, and he realised he had been sleeping in an air-conditioned room. The lights were dimmed and it was quiet, but the slow buzzing sound reminded him… it reminded him of the Temple.

The Temple had burned. Burned with the bodies, burned with all of their history, literature, art. Burned with their culture. Burned with its people.  

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, afraid to see the familiar walls, even though he didn’t know which would frighten him more – if he’d seen these on Tatooine or these in the Temple. One would indicate that he was finally as crazy as they called him, the other – that the madness had already swallowed him whole.

The walls he knew from his adolescence brought him unspeakable heartache, but Force, it was so good to see it again, even for a moment, even if the price for it was insanity. He sat up carefully, trying to notice everything within sight. Funny, how the room was a perfect blend of both Qui-Gon’s and Anakin’s interests – where greenery hadn’t threatened to occupy the room, the droid parts did the same. It looked unusually industrial and he almost longed to see his books on the bookshelf, but they seemed to be missing, just like the plaid blanket (his favourite) or mismatched mugs Ahsoka loved to bring home. By the end of the war he probably could give each soldier from the Ghost Company his own mug and it would be as unique as they were (and he’d still have some left). Suddenly, he regretted that he never did it. Such a small thing, but he knew they would appreciate it – having a place where they had their own mug, waiting to be filled with tea or caff. Maybe not a home, not exactly, but somewhere they belonged, somewhere safe, where they could be loved like they deserved to.

He flinched when he heard the door opening. And as soon as he got up from the couch, he felt his knees going soft, because right in front of him stood the only person he never thought he’d see again. Master Qui-Gon Jinn, The Maverick.

The Force cradled him softly, answering his unvoiced question with a simple: truth… truth… truth… 

How much more can he take before he’ll break?

A lot, The Force whispered, but not for him to hear.

He wanted to greet him, but he found himself speechless. He could barely breathe, afraid he’d disappear, and he’d be left alone on a dusty, sandy floor, under twin suns.

“Who are y–”, He began, but stopped, trying to get a better look of his face. He did not move, only stared silently, trying to absorb every detail he could. He looked older, more weary. There were more gray hairs in his hair, they almost swallowed up the brown; around his eyes and mouth there were more lines. He looked tired, but he also looked healthy, and oh, so alive. “Obi-Wan?”

There was something in his eyes he couldn’t exactly understand. They looked so bright, they still had the same colour of still waters on Stewjon, but there was an unexpected shimmer to them. And his whole face… if Obi-Wan didn’t know better, he’d say he looked hopeful. As if something long lost had been returned to him.

He nodded, not trusting his voice for a moment.

“Hello there,” He finally whispered, but it seemed to be so loud in empty rooms.

“Oh my Force,” He choked out and traversed the space between them in three long steps. “Obi-Wan, it is you! You’re real! How?”

He laughed wetly, feeling his Master’s hands grabbing his own.

“I don’t know,” He answered. “It seems that the Force finally granted me my wish and let me die.”

It was a very ironic thing to say in front of his Master who had been dead for so many years, it seemed he was with the Force longer than with him. 

“What are you talking about, lad? You’re alive,” There was a strange emphasis on the last word. “I know that Master Yoda likes to say that all is possible when the Force is with you, but I did not in my wildest dreams expect it could return people that joined it so many years ago.”

And like that, Obi-Wan Kenobi learnt that there was a world where he did not live to see the genocide of his people. He felt relief, in a strange, dissociative way, but it looked like a small mercy given what was happening right now.

“Oh,” He said, trying to gather all the thoughts that had been moving through his head. He almost felt dizzy from his attempts to connect the dots as quickly as he could. “I must say I don’t exactly know what is happening right now.”

“Does it matter? You’re here, you’re so real, and you have a beard! Heavens, I never thought I would see you not clean-shaven by your own wish.” He chuckled, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel a small discomfort. Maybe it was just a shock, but this Qui-Gon was a little bit different from the Master he had remembered. Or maybe it was the case of different dimensions? Because if he died – what obviously hadn’t happened in his past – then the only remaining possible (if anything could be called possible in this circumstances) explanation was that it wasn’t a time travel, it was interdimensional travel.

And the Force once again answered with a simple: truth… truth… truth… 

Before he could reply to that strange not-accusation, there was a pull in the Force, coming from the Temple’s hangar. He stood up before he realised the movement.

“Obi-Wan, where are you going? You can’t just leave!” Qui-Gon called after him, but that didn’t stop him. The Force pushed, so he followed. And Qui-Gon followed him.

They passed two Senior Padawans and even though Obi-Wan tried not to focus on the fact that he had been in the Temple, the Temple that still stood firmly in the middle of Coruscanti space, he couldn’t help but overhear them talking about “strange venator-class ship” and how “it looks like a Republic ship, but all of our venators are in the Outer Rim right now”. He took a sharp breath. Could it be…? Was it truly possible…?

“Obi-Wan, wait–” He heard Qui-Gon’s voice calling him again, but he once again ignored him, because there were first transporters in the Temple’s hangar. They had golden strips painted in the middle of the cold steel. Obi-Wan knew these transporters. Knew these colours.

Oh.

The thing was: the Force might not grant him his wish and didn’t let him join it, but it did grant him a vision. He was in a really low place, half dead from dehydration, wandering the dunes of sand, trying to separate what was going in his mind from what was happening in the real world. He was mostly failing, but when he saw Cody, his beloved Commander, in front of him as if he never left his side. As if he never shot him down.

His sad, honey-like in colour, eyes were regretful and pleading him to listen. Oh, how he wanted to cradle his face between his hands – almost as much as he wanted to turn around and run away as fast as his legs could take him.

When he spoke, Cody’s voice sounded just like he remembered it, but it was also magnified in a way that made him feel a cold shiver at the back of his neck. 

“We were never only soldiers. With slave chips in our heads he made us all his slaves. And then he made us like droids, obedient, without free will, without our own thoughts.”

Obi-Wan wanted to throw up. He felt the bile rising in his throat with every word he had heard.

“We became whiteboards for him to write on, and everything that had mattered to us the most simply vanished from our minds.”

He didn’t know when he started to cry.

“Sidious took everything from us, our dreams, our wishes, all the things we used to love, and in the end, he even took our ability to feel.”

The last thing he heard before he collapsed was: “Help us, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re our only hope.”

When their eyes met he remembered every detail from that vision. He forgave him the very second he learnt that they were victims of Palpatine’s plan as much as the Jedi Order was. But Cody didn’t know that.

“These aren’t our soldiers, nobody in the GAR wears gold.” He heard someone behind him saying, maybe it was Qui-Gon, but he didn’t care. Cody moved towards him as if on a string; he was alone but he knew in the transporter was the rest of the Ghost Company. He could feel their distress, almost taste his tears. All of them were afraid. He was a bit afraid too, because he started to realise that they had a second chance to change it all. They couldn’t fuck it up.

“Commander.” He whispered, the tiniest sound he let himself make. Cody was in his armour, but without a buy’ce in sight so he saw the despair on his face and tears in his eyes. He moved to hug him before he could stop himself.

“General. Are you– are you real?”

He laughed wetly. Oh, how he wanted to never stop hugging him and never let him go. All of them really.

“Everyone seems to be in awe of this fact today, Commander, including me. Strange things have happened and it looks like the past is not as dead as we thought. Do you mind if we take this inside?” He asked just as Qui-Gon, apparently having enough of this heavy suspense, came closer and demanded answers to his questions.

“Who is this, what’s going on, why are there these unfamiliar clones and a venator-class ship on the orbit?” He blurted out on a single breath and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but remember Anakin as a child. He also felt Cody stiffen, hearing the word “clone”; Obi-Wan shared that sentiment. This is why he wished to continue this conversation in a more private place. They already draw enough attention as it is. Obi-Wan sighed.

“I guess we’re in for a Council meeting,” He heard Cody blowing air out of his nose, which was as good as a laugh when they were in public, and also in a tense, delicate situation. “Master Jinn, would you mind getting ahead and making the necessary arrangements? Please, it is of the highest importance that we speak to the Council immediately.”

Qui-Gon didn’t look particularly happy, but he actually did as Obi-Wan asked. It was giving him very unpleasant cognitive dissonance, but he pushed it away for now.

“General, I don’t know what happened, but I wanted to tell you that we’re safe. I’m safe. Helix made sure of that.” Cody tried to reassure him without telling anything in the presence of strangers – Qui-Gon undeniably was one if it all was true, and 212th didn’t exist in this, well, in this dimension. His eyes were begging him to catch up, to believe him, but they didn’t need to.

“I know, Cody,” He answered softly. “But I’m starting to think that there’s a lot more going on than this. Let the boys come in with us, I suspect they’re hardly comfortable in that transporter.”

“You– you know?” His relief was overwhelming. They waited for the Ghost Company to catch up with them and after a brief greeting, they moved in the direction of the Council Chamber.

“I do, my dear. I lived through it,” Cody paled visibly, but Obi-Wan continued to speak. “But it doesn’t matter now. I think we’re in a completely different dimension and I think I’m already dead here. At least I assume as much, given that my old master is alive and he had spoken of me joining the Force many years ago.” The Vode behind him gasped. To think there was a world where Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t exist was simply unimaginable.

“I still think I should apologise, General. We all should.” Cody sounded so mournful, he took a pause to hold his hand reassuringly, even if only for a brief moment.

“Do not fret, Cody. You shouldn’t apologise for something that wasn’t your fault.”

“How could you know it wasn’t?” 

Obi-Wan smiled.

“All is possible in the Force. Now, come on, we have councillors to irritate.”

Obi-Wan was compartmelising almost everything in his life. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but at some point pushing some problems away to deal with those things he had a bit of control over became just another matter of survival. Healers notoriously reprimanded him for it, but it wasn’t something he could change.

He pushed away a lot of things right now. The fact that the last time he walked through these hallways there were bodies everywhere; that they were going to the place their youngest meet their end from the hand of one of their own; that they probably were going to meet said man in the Council chamber (Obi-Wan had no idea if in this dimension Anakin had been found, but if he was, then Qui-Gon must’ve trained him); that Qui-Gon was alive; that he was dead; that the Vode were alive and de-chipped; that maybe history won’t repeat itself; that he couldn’t live through it again.

He walked, his head high (and his knees blessedly young again), his robe had been fluttering behind him reassuringly. He had his men behind him. He’ll do what he must.

When he came into the chamber, somehow, people who had been on the Council and present in the Temple already managed to take their seats. Qui-Gon was waiting nervously near the window, so it was Yoda who spotted him first – his green ears lifted up as his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He couldn’t blame him, if the situation had been reversed he would be more than suspicious.

“I must say that reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” Obi-Wan said, as a greeting. He could hear a couple of undignified splutters, and a bit of choking on a saliva once the Councillors realised who had spoken to them in such an insolent manner. He also heard a very quiet snickering from behind him – he didn’t aim for entertainment, but let’s say it was an exceptionally stressful time for all of them, they all could use a bit of his sarcastically biting comments as a relief.

“Obi-Wan? Padawan Kenobi, is that you?” Master Koon said. Oh, what a pleasure it was to see him again. He smiled at his blue hologram, bowing respectfully.

“Master Kenobi, actually. It’s nice to see you, Master Koon.”

“You died,” You could always count on Master Windu to deliver a blunt punch right to the point. “Ten years ago we burned your body and your lightsaber was all that was left of you. We even knighted you, posthumously.” He was sure they gave Mace, who actually had been in the Temple right now, flesh and bone, quite a nasty migraine. Well, Mace will need to deal with it, Obi-Wan thought, we have worse problems than this.

“Oh, that’s kind of you. I assume it’s because I killed the first Sith in a thousand years? Well, that also might have been greatly exaggerated, but we’ll see to it.”

“You don’t remember it? Maybe you aren’t Obi-Wan Kenobi at all?” You could always count on Master Piell to add a sprinkle of a doubt over someone. How supportive of him.

“You are free to check my Force signature, I will lower my shields, so you can see for yourself.” It was almost a forcible effort to unravel all the walls he built around himself so the Empire wouldn’t find him, but he managed to do it. 

The Force pushed. Councillors present in the chamber gasped. So did Qui-Gon. 

“Now that I have your attention,” Obi-Wan ignored the look of concern, mixed with awe, Master Fisto was sending in his direction. “We might as well get to the more important matters. I know the identity of the Sith Lord who is responsible for this war. I know his name and I know he is playing both sides like an enormous game of chess. We cannot make a move to have a check-mate until we won’t kill the player.”

The Council had been uncharacteristically silent. Amazing that it took him dying and getting back to life from another universe to be heard and his worries not brushed aside. Or maybe it was just Obi-Wan who for once unleashed his full authority simply because he stopped giving a flying fuck. After all, he couldn’t imagine many worse scenarios than his first life.

“And your pawns were never meant to aid your forces.” Cody added and Obi-Wan could trace the bitterness in his voice. “There are some, let’s say, security problems we need to resolve, but I’ll be contacting each of your commanders, it would make things quicker. The Jedi Council will have enough to deal with, so we can help with that.”

“Now wait a minute, we cannot kill anyone,” Master Piell has spoken again. “It’s against the Code!”

“You should have said so before you knighted me for killing a Sith Apprentice,” Obi-Wan rebuked. “But we’ll get to that either. Right now, we need to make a plan. Luckily for you, I had a lot of time to think about it.”

Qui-Gon was unusually patient the whole time they were in the Council chamber, but when they finally decided to take a break and mull over some things that had been said or done during that meeting, he pretty much grabbed his arm and dragged him to his rooms. Cody,  albeit reluctantly, decided to go and organise some rooms for the Ghost Company that arrived with him planet side – Obi-Wan advised him to tell Quartermaster that Mace sent him and if he asked why, he had full permission to hide behind the top priority mission or something. He promised Cody to talk to him first thing in the morning and then the door behind him closed.

It felt strange: to be in these rooms again, to have his men back, to have a more active purpose than just guarding the galaxy’s last hope from the Empire. To see Qui-Gon alive and not just talking to himself, imagining he had been talking to him, but without any answer on his part. He didn’t know if these last lessons from Yoda were meant to keep him sane (if so, they spectacularly failed) or if it was just a poor attempt of comfort, but he never interacted with his late Master. 

They sat down, each with a cup of tea, on a familiar (even if ugly) green couch. Oh, how he missed good quality tea, and it was even his favourite one. Obi-Wan sipped his tea in an attempt to regain some peace, but Qui-Gon’s patience ended some time ago.

“Oh, Obi-Wan. Explain this madness to me.” He said.

Well, Qui-Gon always wanted the impossible from him.

“I don’t know, Master. I know that when I fell asleep I was in a completely different time, a different universe. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it.”

But Qui-Gon’s curiosity wasn’t satisfied by this vague answer.

“There was war in your universe too, am I right? And you were a general?” He lifted his eyebrow, but Obi-Wan wasn’t moved by this, not anymore. He had no power over him and certainly he had no moral high ground to stand on. He wouldn’t be swayed by his judgments.

“Yes. The High General, even,” Qui-Gon pulled a face after hearing it and Obi-Wan almost smiled. He suspected this kind of reaction. “I was in command of the whole Third Army, that included the 212th Attack Battalion. You had a pleasure to meet the Ghost Company; only the best of my men were a part of it.” He knew that The Vode in 212th used to joke that if you could keep with General Kenobi on your first day of service then you were born to be a part of the Ghost Company. He personally brushed aside these jokes, because if he couldn’t keep up with him that only meant he was ahead of them to protect them.

“A Master and a Councillor, so young. I’m very impressed, young one. Do I know my grandpadawan by any chance?”

Well, he preferred not to answer that question. 

“I am not aware of all your acquaintances, Master. Everything is possible with the Force. It would be better if you told me your story and then I could accommodate it.”

And like that, Obi-Wan learnt that he died in a reactor room on the Naboo, duelling the Sith Apprentice. He couldn’t quite describe his feelings on this matter. For so long he wished he was the one who died there (and he was perfectly aware that when Anakin began his rebel phase – and he never outgrew it – he shared that sentiment), but now, learning that he did, his feelings were quite complicated.

So Obi-Wan died, Anakin was Qui-Gon’s shiny new Padawan, then nothing important happened (now, Obi-Wan knew that this was a major understatement), then Dooku went bad, Force knows why, Anakin lost his hand (good to know that something seemed not to be Obi-Wan’s fault for once), war happened, and here we were.

He could feel the migraine coming. 

He wanted to meet with The Vode, eat something and then cry for an hour or two, because it just hit him: it wasn’t a fever dream. He wasn’t on Tatooine anymore. He was in the past and in a different dimension and that meant everyone he had loved and had lost was alive and well.

So, of course, this was a moment when everything needed to become ten thousand times more complicated.

“Hi, Master, I’ve heard the strangest thing in the hangar today, you won’t believe it,” A cup fell from Obi-Wan’s lax fingers. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t meet the eyes of the man who now came into the rooms, so flippantly happy and still so light. “Someone said that– who are you?”

Obi-Wan acted on a pure instinct. At that moment, it was simply too much. 

He ran away.

The Vode weren’t all that surprised to see him. Maybe some of them were, still feeling unbearable guilt, as he himself did, but right now he just wanted to be away from judgemental eyes and overbearing people.

“General! Are you alright?” Wooley spotted him first, standing by the doors of the large rooms the Quartermaster must have assigned to them. It was a bit crowded, but they already moved the furniture from the shared space and put mattresses, blankets and pillows to fall asleep together in a pile. Obi-Wan easily could imagine them doing the same on The Negotiator. Oh, he truly missed them. The years between Utapau and his vision were filled with doubts and regrets, and asking himself again and again why did they do that? When he understood that none of it was his fault personally, but they also weren’t given any choice, because their free will was taken away from them…

He wished he could turn back time, but that wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.

“Don’t call me that, please. After all we’ve been through I think we should all be on a first-name basis, like I’ve been telling you for years.” He grabbed Wooley’s hand, unable to ignore the deep sadness in his eyes.

“I don’t think we are worthy of calling you by your name, sir,” He whispered, bowing his head in shame. Obi-Wan understood the weight and importance of identity and names in his troopers’ culture; the very thought that they thought themselves unworthy of simply speaking his name instead of a title he didn’t even want in the first place broke his heart. “Pardon my language, but we fucked up royally. To put it bluntly.”

“Now, none of that bullshit, dear. You weren’t at fault and I don’t blame you for anything that happened that day. Look at me, Wooley, please,” Hesitantly, the young trooper did as was asked of him. “You don’t need my forgiveness,” Obi-Wan looked around, speaking to all of his men, not only Wooley. “But if you want it, then you have it.”

“Only if you’ll have ours as well,” Cody, his bright, clever Commander knew him better than anyone else. “Because if we weren’t at fault, then you weren’t either.”

He came closer and Obi-Wan could only nod, speechless.

“Come inside, Obi-Wan,” He said, extracting his hand towards him. “We’ve missed you.”

They spoke for hours. He found talking to them as easy as it always was; free of any expectations, only filled with quiet sort of determination all of them carried inside. They wanted revenge – and Obi-Wan couldn’t blame them for their wants – and they wanted to free their brothers from the shackles the Chancellor put on them. Cody told him that he wanted to start contacting his batchmates, to warn them about the chips, but something compelled him to do a bit of digging first. What he had found wasn’t particularly… warming: the 212th simply didn’t exist here. Cody had been decommissioned when he was eight years old – probably just after the accident that gave him his scar – Waxer and Boil’s entire batch was claimed to be “inconsistent with standards” which was fancy wording for having an unwanted genetic mutation; Barlex died in training, as did Threepwood; Wooley was simply stated “deceased” with no further comment. Many of his men weren’t even in the system – nobody had their numbers. It was as if they never existed.

“I think we could use this to our advantage,” Obi-Wan said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. He was falling asleep where he stood (or rather sit, tucked between Needle, who acted as CMO since Helix stayed on board of The Negotiator, still de-chipping troopers, and Wooley, who still didn’t quite bounced back; other troopers hovered closely, worried, but reassured by his very presence in the room), but he wanted to make some plans, establish a course of action. They hadn’t had time to waste, not if they landed in the middle of the war. “But of course, it creates a whole new problem: how can we persuade your brothers to trust you? Who would believe this insane story? We need to de-chip the whole GAR and we need to do it quickly and quietly, but we can’t do this on our own. We need their help.”

“We’ll think of something, Gene– Obi-Wan,” Waxer resolutely said, half-asleep behind Boil. “But now: sleep.”

“He’s right, you know,” Needle agreed. He didn’t stop holding Obi-Wan’s left wrist, as if he was still trying to get proof that he’s there, that he’s alive. “There’s so much going on right now, but we need a solid eight hours of sleep first. We’ll look at it with clear heads and with full stomachs, hopefully.”

“But–”

“Sleep, Obi-Wan.” Cody said and he couldn’t not obey his soft, pleading voice.

He slept.

He woke up with a loud gasp.

The remains of the dreams plaguing him were still close enough to touch them with the tips of his fingers. He hadn’t dreamt of Mustafar for a while and he didn’t miss it. He tried to untangle himself from the pile without waking anyone, because he needed air, he needed space to curl in the corner like a wounded animal and howl pathetically without an ounce of care, because nobody would hear him in this desolate wasteland anyway. He knew his tries were for nothing when he spotted Cody’s eyes, watching him from afar. Obi-Wan didn’t know if he was keeping guard or just couldn’t sleep. Maybe he was as plagued by nightmares as he was.

When he finally disentangled himself from his men, Cody was already in the kitchen, stirring something, probably caff, in a mug. It was a basic one, quite uncomfortable to handle with one hand, but it was in a warm pastel yellow colour. Second mug, baby blue in colour, had a tea bag in it, and while Obi-Wan once liked to have his tea leaves loose, after so many years on Tatooine, where tea was unthinkable sanctity, he was just glad he could have a cup to enjoy it in peace. 

“So. We need a plan.” Obi-Wan said quietly, after a moment of silence. Cody smirked and sipped his caff.

“Straight to business, huh? Let’s wake up the boys for breakfast first, alright?” Always a pragmatic mind, his Commander. He was quite nervous and the situation they had found themselves in didn’t exactly help his anxiety. There was so much at a stake. So much to lose. 

He couldn’t lose again.

“What about that former Master of yours, what he’s like?” Wooley appeared out of nowhere, but judging from his wet hair, Obi-Wan could safely assume where he’d been. “He dragged you away so fast yesterday, we couldn’t even introduce ourselves.”

“It wasn’t very polite.” Peel, blinking away sleep, tried to steal away a sip or two of Cody’s caff. Everyone knew that Cody without the full dose of caffeine in the morning was ready to roundhouse kick in the face anybody who breathed in a wrong way. Brave lad he was, that’s for sure. Cody moved away fluidly, to stand next to Obi-Wan, but he sent Peel stare cold enough to kill.

“No,” Obi-Wan laughed. “He never was a very polite person, especially when he was in the Temple. I think he was quite shocked to see me in his rooms. I certainly was shocked to see him.”

Cody muttered something noncommittally, but Obi-Wan didn’t try to pry. Instead, he said, “I think we should go eat something, right, Commander?”

Later, as they ate in the smaller refectory – it was still early enough for them not to catch any attention from any Jedi – they realised that planning the very sudden demise of the Chancellor wasn’t a piece of cake. Apart from the very obvious fact of treason, it was a PR nightmare. Not that the Chancellor didn’t work very hard to ruin the public image of a Jedi Order with his backhanded comments that were meant to be supportive, but it was obvious what he was doing, if you had two braincells to connect the dots.

“What if we were aiding random Jedi Masters as, let’s say, shadow operatives? You have those, right?” Gregor asked, between the bites of his sandwich. At least he swallowed before talking. “It might be harder to explain why the other Vode doesn’t know who we are, but I bet Peel and Trapper would be able to spin a credible tale. This way we could spread the words of chips and thwart Sidious’ plans, at least as much as we can.”

“That might work,” Obi-Wan said, already thinking about the pros and cons of that approach. “But we need to stay as far from the Chancellor as it’s possible. He can’t suspect anything. And you won’t like it, but I think we need to get in touch with Count Dooku.”

There was a dead silence at their table.

“You’re right, I don’t like it,” Cody finally rumbled, frowning. “But I can see what you want to gain.”

“You think he’ll turn back? And we can de-evilise him or something?” Wooley commented. From the tone of his voice he doubted this plan would ever work.

“I don’t think “de-evilise” is an adequate term, but yes, I do think he’s not completely lost to us. And, hm. My lineage is known to be quite dramatic,” Some of the Vode snorted, because that was an understatement of the century. “I think Count Dooku might turn out to be, well, quite petty if he learns that he also is only a tool in a grander scheme.”

Threepwood laughed. “So you want to say that we are building this plan over Count’s hurt feelings? What if this backfires on us?”

Cody shrugged. They hadn’t had many ideas to begin with.

“We’ll plan along as we go. At worst, we’ll kidnap the Jedi and say “fuck you” to the Republic.”

“Cody!” Obi-Wan exclaimed.

“What? Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it either. And it was the very first plan we came up with when we appeared here. I think it was Helix who proposed it.”

“That’s treason, but so is killing the Chancellor,” Obi-Wan sighed. The truth is, he stopped giving a flying fuck about treason when he became a traitor himself. After all, what’s one more sin on the list of his faults? “Let’s hope it won’t come to it. We’re going to treat it as a backup plan, the last resort, okay? No kidnapping the Jedi before it’s absolutely necessary.”

Waxer, Boil and Gregor had the audacity to look disappointed. Obi-Wan graciously didn’t comment on it. He wanted to change the topic to ask if any of his men contacted Helix lately, but before he could say anything, a loud scream interrupted him.

“There you are, Obi-Wan! Where were you and what were you thinking, disappearing like that?” Qui-Gon Jinn strolled into the refectory like a storm cloud. The Vode looked alert while the few Jedi that had been scattered around the room quickly left. Obi-Wan couldn’t blame them; he wanted to leave too.

“Oh, I am sorry, Master Jinn. I thought I am an adult human being, capable of making my own decisions, but I guess I was wrong, how presumptuous of me.” He replied, his voice carrying an ounce of sarcasm, because he wasn’t a Padawan anymore. In fact, he had been a Knight, a Master even, for a longer time than his padawanship had lasted, but it looked like Master Jinn’s perception of him had stopped in time.

“You shouldn’t speak to your Master like that, Obi-Wan. This sarcasm is unbecoming.” He chasited him again, trying to grab his arm again, but Needle was quicker and stopped his hand.

“I have no Master,” He spoke calmly. “I am a Master myself, Master Jinn. I earned my Mastery and I’d really like it if you would stop trying to undermine it with such comments. Furthermore, I am not your former Padawan either. He died on Naboo. I did not. Let’s agree that this is a major difference between Padawan Kenobi, who has been your student, and myself. Now, is there something pressing that requires my attention, perhaps?”

Qui-Gon Jinn visibly bit down any comments he could have; his jaw clenched in anger, but he collected himself quickly.

“Yes, I wanted to introduce you to Anakin.” He said, trying to grab him again, but once more, Needle didn’t let him.

“I thought I said “pressing”. I have a meeting in twenty minutes with Master Windu concerning the war effort and how my men and I could aid the Jedi Order with our experience. I don’t think I’ll be able to meet your Padawan.” He didn’t want to meet him. Yesterday was hard enough and he didn’t have time to meditate on this madness that had been happening to him. And he needed to meditate badly.

“Then we’ll go with you.”

Now that was a bad idea.

“Are you a General yourself, Master Jinn?” Cody, god bless his soul, distracted the older man with his question. Obi-Wan was also quite interested with an answer; he didn’t mention any of his involvement in the war when they talked yesterday.

“No, I refused to take part in this vile war. But Anakin is a General, and I’d be very happy to join him in this meeting.” Cody didn’t look impressed, and Obi-Wan must admit that his bitch face was something of a work of art. He wondered what arguments he used to withdraw himself from the war. He wondered what he was doing in the Temple instead.

“You are free to do that, of course. But there are certain things that I won’t be saying in the presence of a barely knighted member of the Order. This is a meeting with the High Council, not a private chat.”

Qui-Gon looked even more angered than before, but at least he stopped being condescending. Obi-Wan thought about it for a moment. It was a familiar sight, in a way, but for the first time it was aimed at his person and that was… weird.

Qui-Gon Jinn was a complicated person with complicated motivations. It took him a long time in the desert to understand him better and he had this advantage over him. Master Jinn didn’t know who he was or who he became after his padawanship had ended, but Obi-Wan had the time to reflect on his knowledge of Qui-Gon. Of course, one might argue that the years that had passed might have changed the man, but from his observations, he hadn’t changed a bit. He was still obsessed over things he couldn’t have, to the point of being unbearably annoying – and that usually resulted in either everyone bending to his whim or simply, well, dying, to avoid his obsessive attention. He saw it with Xanatos: Qui-Gon wanted someone who didn’t want him anymore, ignoring the better judgement of everyone involved with the drama and ignoring Obi-Wan’s desperate need to be a good Padawan for him. To be seen for who he was. The same pattern repeated with Tahl, who might have loved the man once, but she was focused on other responsibilities she had, the duty to the Order and the galaxy. But Qui-Gon hadn’t understood that, he only focused on the fact that she refused to be his, that’s why he pushed everything aside every time she was in danger, trying to win her over. And she didn’t appreciate it, but the damage was always already done. The last time Obi-Wan saw it was when it all began: with a small boy from Tatooine.

“Fine. But you should know I am not happy with this.” He said, and left as rapidly as he came.

“No, I wouldn’t expect that.” Obi-Wan muttered under his breath and downed the rest of his tea.

The Council, surprisingly, agreed to their ideas. They didn’t quite approve their secrecy, but they stated that the flexibility of aiding help where it had been needed and not where the Chancellor said it was was wanted. Maybe this way they could avoid “the leaks”. 

Obi-Wan thought ahead and left Mace the letter, on old fashioned paper (so it could be burned afterwards) with his thoughts on security and other necessary measures of safety of the Order. Mace looked at him, raising both his eyebrows, but Obi-Wan simply left with the rest of the masters. It’s not paranoia if they were out there to get you, right?

So that’s how the 212th found themselves in different parts of the galaxy every week, wrecking havoc and making Palpatine grind his teeth in frustration. Obi-Wan was more than sure that he was trying to get some information from Anakin – that was one of the reasons why he didn’t want to meet him. He was sure that young Knight was listening to the rumor mill, as well as whatever Qui-Gon had told him, but it was still better than getting information first-handedly. Obi-Wan tried to be as mysterious as he could be, a true shadow, but well. He was through it once and the second time was just as shitty.

Qui-Gon, on the other hand, still tried to order him around when he could, but his prodding stopped in intensity when they happened to be on the same planet – Obi-Wan and his men were aiding Knight Secura on Felucia, Qui-Gon were doing Force knows what. Probably being lost or something. Obi-Wan hadn’t cared at that moment, he just wanted to eliminate the droids and then go home, but Master Jinn was quite surprised, to the point of stopping in the middle of the battle, that Obi-Wan Kenobi, a man who wore the face of his third Padawan, but wasn’t quite him, used Soresu as his form of favour and used it splendidly. Obi-Wan later thought that this could be the moment when he truly realised the situation they found themselves in: they were different people than what they assumed each other to be, and they hadn’t taken the precious time to get to know each other. 

But Obi-Wan didn’t know if they’ll have that time. There was still so much to be done and so little time. They tried to be one step ahead, but the truth was simple: Obi-Wan, despite the knowledge of the past (or in this point in time – the future), wasn’t familiar with how deep or far Palpatine’s plans went. They planned along as they went, because they didn’t have much choice, but they all started to realise that as soon as the GAR was fully de-chipped, they would have to take extreme measures. Measures they might not get alive to see if they succeeded.

Obi-Wan was ready to die once. But as he found his men again, as he found his family, both the Jedi and the Vode , things weren’t so simple anymore. 

The desires he felt in the past and pushed them away that were reappearing now were not helping either.

During the long hours they spend on The Negotiator they reacquainted with each other. While he couldn’t do that with Qui-Gon, due to his constant refusal to take part in the war, nothing stopped him from making friends with Cody again. They already were on the same ship, after all.

Getting to know each other, who they were after these long years under the Empire, was both the easiest and the most difficult thing they had ever done together. Deep in the core of their very beings, they were the same people, but years of solitude, both physical and psychological, had taken its toll on them. They needed to learn who they were as much as who they were to each other. 

Obi-Wan had loved once. He didn’t know if he could bear it again: the loss, the suffering, the crushing realisation that you were the last one standing. Despite his newfound lust for life, he’d rather die than go through this again. He never minded being on his own when he had the support of his people, his family, to whom he could always go back if needed, to feel their presence again. He never was truly lonely, no Force user, especially a trained one, was. They were all connected to each other, they made a network of sorts where they all felt each other. Living without it was an unimaginable kind of hell. He knew that now, if he only asked, he’d have Cody in his life, but that also scared him. How does one learn to be with someone when he was alone for so long? How do you mold into someone and still have your own shape?

He couldn’t answer these questions then. He couldn’t answer them now.

Even the evitable things become inevitable once they meet a determined force. That force was one and only Anakin Skywalker, Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn and the General of 501st Legion. Obi-Wan was aware that they couldn’t put it off much longer – 501st needed to be de-chipped before they’ll make an attempt on the Chancellor’s life. 501st and Coruscant Guard as well – without them everything might go wrong faster than it took them to board Resolute.

The mood on the transporter was tense, to put it mildly. Obi-Wan in his own anguish hadn’t thought that meeting familiar faces with knowledge that they wouldn’t recognise brothers in people who were just about to lend them a hand in beating Separatist forces would be the hardest thing they had done since they came up with this insane plan. Cody’s shoulders were stiff and his back was straighter than ever. He, as Obi-Wan, tended to fall back on familiar formality when he found himself in stressful situations. There was nervous tapping and muttering, quiet and very discreet, but nonetheless magnified by many hands and feet performing the motion. Obi-Wan couldn’t blame them. He was also nervous. They needed to gain enough trust to be believed when they stated that dangerous brain operations were immediately needed to healthy, well behaved soldiers, but they couldn’t do anything spectactuarily out of line so they wouldn’t attract unwanted attention. Given Anakin’s closeness to the Chancellor, and thanks to smartly done slicing (“researching”, Crys said) they had enough proofs to confirm his suspicions that in this universe everything went exactly the same when it concerned Anakin (and yes, that included his marriage with Senator Amidala, because why, a mechanical genius should be smart enough to not put his marriage certificate under his and his wife’s names especially when one of them was a Senator and the other one formally still underage in the eyes of the organisation that was basically raising him, and, for legal reasons, had the parental rights over him) – only Obi-Wan’s fate was different.

During long, sleepless nights he wondered if maybe his fate was a kinder one.

They were welcome with a beaming smile and Obi-Wan wanted to die right where he stood. He looked just the same as he did when he left him, with a last proud goodbye, with a last shy smile, before he went to Utapau. For so long he wondered how things could go wrong so fast, so unexpectedly. This was the face of his child, but he was his own man – a different person, changed by his padawanship under a different man. He needed to respect that and learn who he was now. But to do that, he needed to find courage he thought he had lost a long time ago.

“Obi-Wan! It’s been so long since I’ve met you! Master Jinn told me so much about you, how good you are at Ataru – I bet it’ll be amazing against my Djem So, it’s my form of favour – and making reports, and researching,” Anakin prattled without letting anyone say a word of greeting. He even hugged Obi-Wan, who couldn’t bear to reciprocate it, but also it ended as quickly as it began. Someone behind him, Cody probably, drew a sharp breath, but it was largely ignored. “You were basically perfect in his eyes! I was sad we didn’t spend too much time together, but that’s about to change now, right? We’re basically brothers.”

Wasn’t it all fucking hillarious? That irony, of being the perfect Padawan in Master Jinn opinion once he was dead, so he couldn’t make any more mistakes, objections, voiced any more opinions or, Force forbid, bad feelings he had. And that comment about them being “brothers”, it made him want to retch. For a single moment he felt the smell of a burning body, but Cody’s hand, discreetly touching his elbow, brought him to the present.

“I’m not.” That was all he managed to say before he swallowed, trying to calm himself, wore The Negotiator’s mask, so helpful during endless hours of political work. He could do it.

“You’re not what?” Anakin replied, an aura of foolish happiness still lingered around him, laughter was almost trapped in his throat, begging to be let out.

“I’m not the Obi-Wan Kenobi you met, nor am I perfect in anyone’s eyes, nor am I your brother,” Obi-Wan stated bluntly, watching Anakin’s smile falling from his face. “And Ataru wasn’t my form of favour for many years. We’re basically strangers therefore I would be most grateful if you refrained from making any assumptions about me. I am told that simply talking is effective enough.” He tried being friendly in the end, but from the look on Anakin’s face he knew he failed.

“Force, no need to be that colder than Hoth towards me, you know.” There it was, the spark of anger. Was Obi-Wan testing him on purpose? Probably. He wanted to save one that once was his child, but to see him, being like he wanted to always remember him, was simply too overwhelming.

“Apologies, Knight Skywalker. It was not my intention to offend you in any way. I’d like to get to know you, but I’d like to do so without any expectations or prejudices you might or might not have only because Master Jinn shared the knowledge of his late Padawan with you. I don’t know how much he had told you–”

“Only that there were some Force shenanigans or something like that.” He interrupted him, but Obi-Wan graciously didn’t comment on it. Honestly, this boy.

“– but as I previously stated, I am not the man you had met. We might share some history, but at one point our lives went very differently. It’s important you remember that.”

Anakin actually looked contemplative. He nodded, and then he put on a familiar face. He no longer had Knight Skywalker in front of him, but General Skywalker. Back to business.

“Right. So, shall we?”

As it turned out, it was a pretty usual situation they found themselves in. Well, usual for their past lives – Dooku was scheming, Ventress was Force knew where doing Force knew what (Obi-Wan just hoped she wasn’t doing Quinlan), droids were… droids. They managed to establish some kind of a plan, but Obi-Wan wasn’t truly happy with it. He didn’t mind being underestimated, he often was treated as such, but being placed with the offensive forces, even though he clearly stated he wasn’t using Ataru, was a bit inefficient. Anakin’s plan wasn’t stupid, but it showed that he has no idea how to Obi-Wan experience to his favour – of course, it was because they didn’t work with each other how they used to in his past.

Hopefully, they’ll manage to use an element of surprise. Obi-Wan still hoped to have a conversation with Count Dooku – maybe it was foolish to hope a man with such pride and self-importance would be able to forgo his newly found believes, but Obi-Wan thought that if he were a Sith, then he would be absolutely furious to learn that his Master wants to change a man of his knowledge and skills for someone younger only because they will be a better puppet. And Dooku already didn’t think very highly of Anakin. It would only add fuel to the fire. Besides, maybe a political argument could be useful – Obi-Wan didn’t care if Serenno and other CIS planets would gain independence, he only care about killing Darth Sidious. It was a bit sordid thinking on his behalf, but this was reality. Some threats needed to be eliminated by all means, but CIS wasn’t one of them. Only it’s very leader, one that was hiding behind the shadows.

“Hey, I forgot to ask earlier,” Anakin said as they were landing on the ground on a planet Dooku had been trying to incorporate into CIS. Obi-Wan was already sick with the Republic’s self-righteousness and propaganda. Best to be done with it and go back on The Negotiator. “You said you aren’t favouring Ataru anymore. Which form did you choose then?”

“Soresu.” He answered absent-mindedly, too busy checking his armour. Cody would have his ass otherwise.

Anakin snorted. It wasn’t a dignified sound. “Seriously? That’s a bit… boring, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan shot him a look. “Just watch. Commander, it’s time!”

And then he ran, hoping to get to his grandmaster before Anakin. There was a conversation in order to have.

Obi-Wan’s work wasn’t ending on battlefields. Contrary to his first attempt at war, he actually took time to try and draft reforms for the Order, because they couldn’t function like they were before. The Jedi Order hadn’t been reformed for a thousand years – no organisation should live in a stagnation like that. The times were changing, the galaxy was changing, and so should be its servants. He was sure he had been driving Mace mad, but it had to be done – he wasn’t so cruel as to put it only on him, he had been sending messages to most of the more influential Masters (or ones who were the most likely to agree with his ideas), and he tried to do it in a nice and accessible way. He didn’t have to take part in the Council meetings, or try to micromanage a whole army, so he had time to spare; he could do presentations (actually, his troopers were doing it, Cody said it was a good punishment for some of men and Obi-Wan didn’t oppose), short pamphlets and audio informations – he planned to flood the Jedi with informations that could be possibly life-saving. He didn’t even care for Yoda’s opinion (he was stubborn as a mule, no wonder the rest of his lineage was exactly the same); he wouldn’t stop pressing for changes.

He also tried to recultivate his old friendships. It wasn’t easy, he couldn’t refer to shared history anymore, but he could make new one. Or at least he could try and find a common ground over political views. Apparently, he was interesting enough in his messages that Bail Organa was kind enough to send him an invitation to lunch, any time he’ll be on Coruscant or Alderaan, whatever will be closer and more compatible with their schedules. He was happy to read that – Bail was a good friend, his support and unwavering faith helped him through the worst. And it was good to have an ally in their corner.

The knocking on his door distracted him from his thoughts. It was Cody, holding two mugs and a datapad under his arm.

“May I?” He asked, even though the doors already opened for him. 

“Cody. Yes, of course, do come in. How can I help you?”

Cody smiled, put down his mugs – one of them was with his favourite tea, Force bless this man – and sat down. He was calm and secure in a way he didn’t look for a long time, but there was something very determined in his eyes.

“Nothing pressing, don’t worry. I just wanted to ask about your chat with a Count. Any luck on that front?”

Obi-Wan grimaced and sipped his tea carefully. 

“I haven’t got the faintest idea. I told him I was a child he once found on a river bank on Stewjon, and that he was my grandmaster once. These are two most important bonds we have in the Jedi Order, besides the Master/Padawan one, and maybe a true Force dyad, but those are very rare. I told him there were larger things at stake. I even managed to tell him about Sidious’ plan, but I don’t know what effect it had on him, since Anakin appeared, waving his lightsaber around and antagonising Dooku. Maybe it’ll work – maybe not. At least I tried.”

Cody hummed noncommittally. Then he sighed, and took a sip of his drink.

“I guess you did. But I don’t want to talk about work today,” He maneuvered his chair for a bit, to sit in front of him in a tight space in his room. “I was fighting with myself whether to tell you this or not, because so many things had happened and yet so many things hadn’t happened, and I guess I just don’t want to be wishful thinking about certain things anymore. I love you and that order broke my heart. I thought I could never tell you this, that I could never earn your forgiveness. But somehow, by some wild miracle that I certainly didn’t deserve, I am here now, with you, and I do not wish to waste another second. I want you to know that you don’t have to do anything with this knowledge – I respect you and your culture. I wish to work with you even though you do not share my feelings. But I will go to hell and beyond with you, because I don’t want to lose you ever again.”

He listened to him, speechless, but Cody wasn’t done.

“May I?” He asked, raising his hands towards his face. Obi-Wan nodded. He kissed him, softly, delicately, as he was something precious, something worth protecting, worth loving. Obi-Wan hadn’t expected this in a million years, but oh, it was so freeing to kiss him, to feel his hands on his skin, to be close to him. To have him.

He didn’t even know when they moved when Cody asked for the third time: “May I?”

It was obvious what he was asking of him at that moment. Obi-Wan didn’t even have to think. The answer was yes.

He fell down on his bed with Cody in his arms and it turned out to be the easiest thing he had ever done.

In the end, everything happened very quietly. In his last life, it was like a loud bang – overwhelming, overpowering, threatening to swallow him whole with sheer power of what was happening. In this life, it was more like a whisper, a ripple in the waters or rather a flap of a butterfly’s wings which caused a storm. Obi-Wan once was accustomed to being in the centre of the storm. It was never as calm as they said, but it was rather powerful. It required endurance and perseverance – these Obi-Wan had in spades.

Obi-Wan looked at the head lying at his feet, feeling absolutely nothing at all. Perfectly in the middle of a Chancellor’s forehead had been an wound from an old fashioned slugthrower – Obi-Wan would call it an uncivilised relict of a dark age, but at this moment, he understood why Mandalorians had been so effective at killing Jedi, no matter which side they were on. The killing shot and sai cha happened at the same time. One was done by Cody. The other one by him.

“Oh, child,” The deep rumble of Dooku’s voice appeared from behind him. “You just became a traitor.”

The Vode admitted it very reluctantly, but Obi-Wan was right: Count Dooku was as dramatic as the rest of his lineage and was deeply disappointed to learn of his Master’s betrayal. Obi-Wan didn’t want to assume, but it looked like when in his past, Qui-Gon’s demise had been the final straw for him, in this life the same could be said about Obi-Wan’s death. Having him alive, learning what kind of man he could become, what a pride of his lineage he once was – that probably made him realise that his only loyalties should be to people he cared about. But he still was a bit too late to deliver a killing blow himself. And maybe this way, he wouldn’t become a Master himself. Perhaps this time a Line of Bane will end for good, he thought absent-mindedly. Dooku was more interested in knowledge than sheer power anyway.

“It wouldn’t be the first time. At least right now I did something to earn it.” He felt strangely disconnected from the world. He doubted it was a shock – it wasn’t his first killing, he didn’t even feel remorse this time – but he couldn’t stop staring at Sidious’ head. It was Cody’s hands who distracted him. He looked worried, he could see his face, his buy’ce had been abandoned somewhere.

“You’re covered in blood, cyare,” He said, stroking his face tenderly. “Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan nodded mutely. He couldn’t believe that after half a year of work it all finally ended. The whole GAR had been de-chipped two weeks ago – they had been getting ready to strike at the right moment, and bless Commander Fox, he made an opening for them. He leaked thousands of documents, video and audio recordings, bank statements and evidence of more crimes they had been able to count. And then, “miraculously”, there was another leak, this time from Serenno, which exposed Chancellor Palpatine as a schemer who was responsible for constant stagnation and who basically had been directing both sides of the war. It was probably the largest crisis in the Republic since the Ruusan Reformation.

Obi-Wan was done.

“Obi-Wan,” Dooku grabbed his arm, before he had the chance to leave. His grip wasn’t strong, but rather reassuring. “I know my grandpadawan and you are different people, but from my point of view, you are exactly the same to me. You are a bright young man and I am honoured I was able to meet you. To see you as a grown up man, even for a moment. I am going to tell them that I killed Palpatine. I am not asking for forgiveness nor seeking compensation for my wrongdoings, but let me do this. If not for you then for the bright-eyed child I meet on a river bank on Stewjon.”

He was stunned. He nodded and then bowed respectfully.

“May the Force be with you, Master Dooku.” He said quietly. Behind him, Cody might not bow like Obi-Wan did, but he nodded to him. It was a sign of respect, because in the end, his actions were honourable.

Yan Dooku nodded in return.

“Now, go, grandpadawan mine. Go.”

Their arrival in the Temple was pretty much ignored. By the time they landed in the hangar, the whole Coruscant had been roaring with news of Chancellor’s malversations. Obi-Wan shouldn’t really be that surprised that the first person they stumbled on had been Qui-Gon Jinn.

“Force, what happened to you, Obi-Wan?” He exclaimed loudly. “You’re covered in blood, please tell me it’s not yours. Where have you been, haven’t you heard about the Chancellor’s death?”

“I have. I’ve been there,” He said, not even bothering to stop on his way to the Council chamber. “And it’s not my blood. Anyway, I need to speak with the Council.”

“What do you mean you’ve been there? Obi-Wan, what’s going on?”

“I’m going to meet with the Council. Go with me or go away, I don’t care.”

The High Jedi Council was… disturbed to put it mildly. They were all speaking over themselves, trying to understand what was going on and how they could react to it. Obi-Wan cleared his throat loudly, and when he had their attention, he said one thing only.

“The war is over.”

“What do you mean it’s over? We don’t– is that blood?” Master Gallia asked.

“I’m still formally a High Jedi General – I’ve signed a ceasefire act with a High General of Confederacy of Independent Systems. It was implemented with immediate effect.”

“But the Chancellor–” Someone interrupted him, but he didn’t even bother to check who it was.

“It was signed after the Chancellor’s death. Therefore, I was the highest member of the GAR forces present. So was the High General of CIS.” Mayhaps they did a bit of a forgery when it came to the precise date of the ceasefire act – it was signed in blanco, meant to be filled with the date of publication and it was done so on their way to the Temple – but who could fault them for doing everything to ensure that bloody war would finally end. They even published an act of granting citizenship for The Vode, but that actually was signed by Commander Fox. Force knew he had enough experience with signing various documents for Palpatine. Commander Fox was probably the most overworked soldier in the whole GAR.

“But–”

“Granted, that was after the Chancellor had been killed. But you can’t make an act of war if you’re already in the middle of the war,” Obi-Wan continued. The Council had been silent – he could see Mace connecting the dots. He already knew what happened in the Senate. “Speaking of which, I think it would be a nice gesture if we send Master Dooku a lawyer. Or even just visit him. Maybe he has something to say to the Jedi. We’re still his family.”

That caused another wave of outrage, the loudest from Qui-Gon, who in the end decided to follow them to the meeting. This time it was Master Windu who silenced the room.

“Did Dooku kill the Chancellor?” Qui-Gon asked, visibly trying to calm himself.

“Officially, yes. Unofficially, it’s hard to say what was first: a lightsaber or the bullet to the head.”

Mace just needed a second. After all, he suspected it might happen from the day he walked into the Council chamber and declared himself very much not dead.

“Obi-Wan, what have you done?”

Obi-Wan straightened his shoulders. This might be the end, but the depth of his relief was unmeasurable, because maybe, just maybe, his child, or rather a man that once was his child, his brother, but here and now was just a stranger – maybe he could live a happy life, a life he deserved. He just didn’t give a fuck about anything else anymore.

“Only what needed to be done. I saw it all happening once. It’s still sailing through my mind sometimes – you can’t stop seeing the bodies of our youngest lying on the ground, unmoving, no longer alive. There was a higher stake than my own life: the future of the Jedi Order. The Chancellor was a Sith Lord we’ve been looking for this whole time. Manipulating public opinion, grooming our children, tightening the leash around our necks to the point we would hang ourselves in a poor attempt to please him. I saw it all.”

“Obi-Wan…” Qui-Gon came closer and held his hands. His next words were meant to him, even though he still said them to the Council.

“I told myself that no amount of pleading or begging could undo what happened. Because that was the truth. No laws of time could change it. The Force isn’t merciful. It doesn’t bring you death when you ask for it so why would it undo the past? And yet, I didn’t die, you didn’t die either, and as we’re alive as is the past that is happening again right before my eyes. There’s no future. There’s no past. There’s only the will of the Force.”

There was heavy silence in the Council room. Obi-Wan simply turned away and left.

Obi-Wan Kenobi woke up quietly. The stars and the moon were a familiar sight. So bright without any pollution, shimmering in a sky so dark it was almost black. Solitary points of light, once bringing him cold comfort, because it meant no darkness was powerful enough to vanish all the lights – even if the stars were dying, or maybe dead already, their light still travelled through the empty void of a space. It was there. There was hope.

He woke up quietly in a place he once fell asleep, but woke up somewhere else. These were the sands of Tatooine, flowing through his hands as he grasped them in his hands. Instantly he knew he was in the same place he had been for almost one third of his life.

For a brief moment he thought he could stop the time. Undo what was happening. But he woke up in the middle of the night, in the same place where it all had started and he… he… 

He didn’t know if what happened was real. If it truly happened, if they managed to save one universe, to ensure that there was a one place when the Jedi Order was doing good for the galaxy, like it should have been doing.

He stood up and drew his robes closer around himself. In the end, there was no past or future, or even laws of time. There was only the Force.

The Force pushed and Obi-Wan Kenobi endured. That was the truth of his life.