Everyone Needs Luck, But Not Us - Koschei_the_Hunter (krayters) (2024)

Chapter 1: The Force Wakes Up and Chooses Therapy

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan woke up to the Force feeling immensely pleased with itself, which was never a good omen. He had a bad feeling about this.

The Force had been feeling suspicious for the last few standard rotations, building with tension like a rubber band waiting to snap, or to be sent flying at some poor unsuspecting soul. He had briefly consulted a few other Jedi on it, Master Yoda and Mace had told him simply that meditate on it, he should, or that he’s finally going Sith-spitting mad from sleep deprivation, respectfully. (Mace was a hypocrite, if his use of expletives was any indicator.) Anakin had agreed with him that the Force was hinting that something was on its way, but even the Chosen One couldn’t quite grasp what it was.

Obi-Wan couldn’t place it, either, despite how it had been escalating his perpetual headache and been insisting its infuriating presence be known. Something was coming, and he didn’t like it. Master Jinn would have said whatever comes, it’s the will of the Force, and probably chastise him for getting so worked up about it.

Ah. There was a red flag. Amongst all the chaos in the war against the Separatists; battles, campaigns, negotiations and warfare non-stop, he hadn’t thought about his old Master in a very long time. Why was he thinking about him now?

So now the tension was gone, and in its wake the Force was practically preening with pride. There is a job that needs to be done, the Force said to him clearly, without the use of words. All will be returned to as it was before when the job is done.

What a lovely, ominous start to the day.

His half-asleep trailing thoughts were interrupted with the shrill tone of his alarm- his second alarm, he realised with a start. He didn’t usually sleep long enough to be woken by his first alarm, instinctively rousing himself by force of habit and getting some extra work done before the day’s schedule starts up. Those were the nights he bothered to sleep at all, at least. But he had virtually collapsed into his cot last night, and he had slept in too, apparently. Wonderful.

He would be late to his meeting with Commander Cody now, probably- he’d have to skip breakfast to get there on time. That was fine.

He flailed out one hand in an attempt to silence the alarm, and frowned when his arm did not respond in the way he expected. All his muscles felt like they had been sent through a trash compactor. His whole body felt very very wrong. In a moment of alarm, he sat up and swung himself off his bed, crashing to his knees when the floor was rather a lot further away from the edge of the bed than he expected.

Well, this was quite the development, he thought ruefully to himself, staring at his small, bruised fingers that peeked out from pooling, too-long sleeves.

The alarm was still beeping, and it put him on edge. He went to reach for it again but tripped over the trailing end of his trouser leg and ended back on the floor again, his shoulder colliding painfully against the corner of the desk. His ears were ringing. His vision swam. He groped at the surface of his desk, knocking aside datapads and flimsi sheets, not trusting his balance to try standing yet. The beeping was still going, and his heart thumped hard. His hand finally met the holo-chrono but his small, uncooperating fingers couldn’t hit the off button.

He hurled it against the opposite wall, and the beeping stopped. He was breathing fast and erratic, on the verge of hyperventilating, he realised, so he tucked himself under the desk until his back met the wall and he put his head between his knees.

It took a very long moment, but with careful counting and with a controlled release of emotions into the Force, Obi-Wan managed to regain his composure enough to take stock of the situation properly. He felt a vague tug on his old Master-Padawan Bond with Anakin, a quick ‘You okay?’ from the other end. He sent back a quick wave of reassurance, before bringing up his mental Shields, hard.

Pulling himself out from under the desk that wouldn't have harboured him in such a way last night, he used the table-top to pull himself upright, pleased when his knees didn’t buckle, and he managed to adjust to the change in balance. He only came up to the desk as far as his chest, which was the first indicator of the issue. His whole room seemed far bigger than the last time he had seen it. He examined his hands properly, taking stock of pale fingers that were much smaller than they ought to be, mottled with bruises, burns and split knuckles. He probed at his hair, feeling short locks, grown shabbily out of a classic Padawan cut, yet with the tell-tale absence of a Padawan braid.

There was a mirror in the ‘fresher attached to his quarters, and Obi-Wan shuffled in that direction, scuffling over the hanging tunic-legs and attempting to roll up his sleeves as he went. There was a small mirror on the back of the ‘fresher’s sliding door and he stood on his tip-toes to look into it.

The face that looked back at him confirmed his suspicions. Young, absent of beard, with a rounded jaw too gaunt for any lingering baby-fat. An old, half-healed split cut through his bottom lip. There were dark circles under bright blue eyes.

If anyone was going to be randomly turned into a pre-teen overnight, naturally it would be him. For some reason, Obi-Wan realised he wasn’t even surprised anymore.

The Force snickered.

x+x+x

The logical order of business, now that he knew the what was to find out the how which might just lead to the why. Infuriatingly, he had a feeling that the latter two had somewhat the same answer; this elusive job that the Force wanted him to do. What that might be, he hadn’t the faintest.

Finding out if this had ever happened before was naturally the next step. Ideally, how it had previously happened, and how it had un-happened. When it came to the Force, the Archives in the Coruscant Jedi Temple were the place to look, but getting there would rely on him exiting his quarters, going all the way to his vessel the Negotiator’s bridge, and giving orders for her to be turned around back to Coruscant which was a very long way away, rather than continuing on to their assigned campaign-destination on an outer-rim Separatist-occupied planet. Currently, talking to anyone in this state, even one of his Clone troopers, was something he would rather avoid. If he could fix it by himself, he would do so, and nobody would be any the wiser. He specifically did not allow himself to listen to any opinion the Force had on that plan, ignoring how unusually vocal it was being.

There were some Archive files he could access remotely (there seemed to be at least a few perks to being a Jedi Council Member,) and he spent a good long while at his desk, feet not reaching the floor, scrolling on his datapad through an overload of completely irrelevant information. As far as random acts of the Force went, he couldn’t find anything about anyone’s physical age regressing by a decade-and-a-half.

If he couldn’t go to the Archives, Obi-Wan sighed to himself, he would just ask the walking, talking version instead. It had been a while since he had a chat with Jocasta Nu.

Obi-Wan retrieved the cracked holo-projector from the floor, wincing at the fractured lens and smacking it against the heel of his palm until it came back to life. The beeping resumed, delighted in its resurrection and determined to go back to making Obi-Wan’s day additionally unpleasant. He stabbed the off-button hard enough to break the machine again. The holo declared it was 6:42 AM Corscanti-time, and he hoped he wasn’t waking the older woman by calling. Desperate times and all that.

He kept his audio and video decidedly off.

She picked up quickly, which in all honesty didn’t surprise Obi-Wan that much.

“Master Kenobi, always a delight.” Madame Nu’s blue holo form bowed. He typed his response.

[Likewise, Madame Nu. I apologise for calling at such an hour, but I am in rather urgent need of your assistance.]

“Of course. Why is your video off? Is everything alright?”

[Yes, just a broken transmitter.]

A half-truth. She paused, expression unreadable.

“If you say so. Well, what can I do for you?”

[I’m looking for any information on a very specific hypothetical topic; random acts of the Force. Potentially ones that might alter oneself physically.]

“Of course, that’s not suspicious at all.”

[I assure you, everything is alright on my end. As I said; hypothetical.]

“Sure. Well…. There are some examples of this, undoubtedly, though you would have to be more specific in what you’re looking for.”

She paused, waiting. He didn’t take the bait. She continued, and Obi-Wan saw her brow twitch in a way that would be an exasperated eye-roll on anyone else.

“There are some reports on vaguely similar topics, Force-given miracles such as the Force miraculously generating a child without conception, or old legends of Jedi spirits lingering after death with minorly altered forms from when they were living. I cannot think of anything else off the top of my head, but I can research and send through any information that may be useful to you?”

[Please. Thank-you, Madame Nu.]

“Anything for a friend. As long as you assure me you are okay; I cannot help but be suspicious, especially with your reputation of trouble.”

[Trouble? Me?]

[I appreciate the concern, but everything is fine. You needn’t be worried. Thank-you again for your help.]

“Anytime, Master Kenobi.” Then she hung up.

Obi-Wan sighed hard. He had a feeling the Archives would be a dead-end, no matter how hard Madame Nu searched.

There was a solid knock on the door a good while later, startling Obi-Wan from where he was attempting to modify his robes into something that wouldn’t hang off his slim frame as much, through a combination of tying and tearing of fabric.

Obi-Wan knew who it was immediately, alerted to the presence that he really should have noticed coming down the hall. It was Commander Cody, sun-bright in the Force as always, rippling with carefully controlled concern.

“General?” Cody called, muffled by the durasteel door. “Are you awake?”

Ah, Force. Cody would probably override the lock if he didn’t get an answer, but Obi-Wan certainly didn’t want to involve Cody in this if he could avoid it. Scrambling for a response, he replied, lowering his voice as far as he could in an imitation of a thirty-seven-year-old’s.

“Yes, thank-you.” It sounded comically stupid. What was he doing?

Obi-Wan could feel the commander’s frown through the door even without the Force. Curse Cody and his innate sense of knowing when there was something wrong with his General. “I figured I’d let you sleep in, when you didn’t show up to the briefing. Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, I’m just feeling a little under the weather.” This was a terrible idea.

“I’ll call a medic-”

“No, no! That’s not necessary, everything’s fine.” his voice cracked, betraying him. Curse it all.

“General.” Cody was not stupid. Obi-Wan could feel the worry and suspicion rolling off him in waves. “If you don’t give me a valid reason not to right now, I’m coming in.”

“You don’t need to do that, Cody.” Of course his famed ‘silver tongue’ had to leave him at the worst possible time.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if you’re ill or otherwise, you’re not in the position to be giving out orders.” The code-panel on the wall outside the door was beeping as Cody punched in the override.

Blast.

With no time nor means to hide, Obi-Wan pressed himself to the wall, watching Cody carefully as the door hissed open to reveal his Commander, clad in his -battle-worn, yet- polished plastoid armour, sans helmet. He looked stressed, as he always did these days. At first, the Commander’s gaze swept the room, undoubtedly noticing the uncharacteristically unmade bed and the deplorable state of the room, as well as the distinct lack of a General Kenobi.

His gaze then landed on the kid next to him.

“Ah, kriff. Don’t tell me the Jetti have pulled another Commander Tano situation.” Cody sighed. “Where’s your Master, kid?”

Obi-Wan blanched. Cody thought he was Obi-Wan’s own surprise Padawan? “I’m not a kid, at least I wasn’t last night-”

“You’re a Shiny.” Cody wasn't looking at him, looking for clues around the room for the apparent location of his ‘missing’ General. Naturally, he found nothing. “Listen, Commander. I don’t know what you’re doing here…” he frowned again, taking in the ‘kid’s’ modified robes and dishevelled, bruised appearance. “...but I need to see the General, now.”

Obi-Wan sighed, relenting. “It’s me.”

Cody huffed. “You’re a little ways off being a General just yet. And I’m a Marshall Commander, I still outrank you. And with that rank, I have the responsibility to protect my General, and I don’t appreciate not knowing his location. If you know where General Kenobi is, you will tell me now. That is an order.”

“Dammit, Kote, it’s me.”

That got the Commander’s attention. He stopped, looking critically at the child in front of him. Cody’s expression was completely neutral. For someone who wasn’t Force-sensitive, Cody had excellent instinctive Shields. There was silence for a very, very long moment.

“I apologise, General.” Cody said, very slowly. “I didn’t recognise you without the beard.” Then he turned on his heels and marched back out the door. Obi-Wan watched him go, before cursing under his breath and running after him.

Cody didn’t look at Obi-Wan as he caught up, having to half-jog to keep up with Cody’s far longer stride. “What are you doing?”

“Getting a medic.”

“That’s unnecessary.”

“You can tell me that when you’ve returned to your correct age, sir.”

Obi-Wan sighed hard. As per usual, Cody didn’t ask any questions. He already had already been told just about as much as Obi-Wan knew; that he simply woke up like this- and in Cody-fashion, he knew that he would receive an explanation when it became relevant. Obi-Wan couldn't have been more grateful for that, now.

They passed a few other Clones in the halls, and Obi-Wan addressed them by name in greeting as if nothing was amiss. Cody nodded to them. He watched them falter in their steps down the hall, turning to watch them go in utter confusion.

When they reached Medical, it was thankfully empty. With no conflict for several weeks, any injured had been since discharged. Flim, the 212th’s CMO, was there anyway, as per usual. He seemed to be going through reports or such, turning to see Cody walk inside.

“Oh no, what happened to the General now?” Flim sighed. Wow, rude. He wasn’t that bad. Okay, maybe Flim was a little right. Despite escaping it whenever he could, Obi-Wan had spent altogether too much time in Medical over the past few years of the war.

Cody just waved a vague hand at the child beside him.

Flim choked.

“I’m not paid enough for this,” He drawled, monotone.

“We aren’t paid at all, vod.”

“Ne’johaa.”

What proceeded was a full medical checkup, much to Obi-Wan’s extreme annoyance. It was over three hours later that Flim cleared him to leave, despite him being begrudging about it. Fim was relatively laid-back like that, at least outwardly. Through the Force, Obi-Wan could hear him panicking internally, almost perpetually. His fault? Probably.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Flim asked, bedside-manner an ingrained habit- or a facade.

He was going to regret this. “Of course, Flim.”

“For a kid, you’re entirely karked, sir.”

Obi-Wan sighed.

The following report was a long one. Deplorable levels of malnourishment, clear signs of insomnia, (that was nothing new,) faded scarring on his neck, bruised ribs that Obi-Wan hadn’t even noticed, and a plethora of minor (blaster) burns.

“...even signs of untreated minor internal bleeding, sir! If you don’t mind me asking, what the kriff happened?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, a look perfected even as a child.

Flim huffed. “Aside from the obvious.”

Now it was Obi-Wan’s turn to shrug. “Not sure. Must have tripped.”

The Look that Cody and Flim shared over the top of his head was expressionless but simultaneously incredibly expressive. Their General clearly didn't want to elaborate on the origin or extent of his injuries, (also as usual,) but the excuse of not-knowing due to being de-aged by many years was not exactly one they could fault.

It was another half-truth. Obi-Wan wasn’t necessarily certain about the origin of his injuries, but he was beginning to have a sinking suspicion. That was definitely something that was off-limits for anyone else to learn. His past was his alone. Nobody else needed to know about it.

Good luck with that, the Force seemed to say. Obi-Wan scowled.

Flim relented to let him leave, after having his cuts treated, ribs wrapped, and consuming a significantly smaller handful of painkillers than he was used to. Now they were leaving Medical, with Flim radiating a building headache in the Force, and Obi-Wan with absolutely no idea what to do now. Thankfully, yet awfully, he didn’t have to wonder for long, as Cody’s comm pinged with an incoming transmission.

“Hello hello, this is the General Inspection Team with a surprise visit, requesting permission to board the Negotiator?”

Cody huffed in amusem*nt. “Permission granted.” Obi-Wan groaned, internally. Cody continued. “How’d you get here so fast, Rex?”

“Call came through from the Jetti’alor’e, something about Force-osik with General Kenobi. They wanted the closest other Jetti to bring a second opinion.”

Wherever the Negotiator was, the Resolute was never too far behind.

(Or more accurately; the other way around, with the Negotiator trying to keep up.)

Obi-Wan groaned outwardly this time, which made Cody stifle a chuckle. Obi-Wan pulled out his own comm, (which had not had a transmission regarding this visit, he noticed,) and texted Madame Nu.

[Snitch.]

Her immediate reply: [😎]

It was an altogether too-short amount of time before the two of them were in the hangar with the 501st’s three Commanding Officers descending off the shuttle’s ramp. Obi-Wan briefly considered potentially running, or finding a crawlspace in the air-vents that probably fit him now, or maybe just chucking himself out the airlock. Was he hiding behind Cody, just a little? Maybe. Would he perish before admitting it? Absolutely.

Anakin was leading the trio as per usual, all causal swagger and confidence, his Force signature betraying him with a touch of concern under his perfected façade. He was tugging on their Bond, likely attempting to remotely figure out where Obi-Wan was, or what was wrong. Obi-Wan carefully ignored him.

“Hey, vod!” Captain Rex called out over the closing distance between the two parties. Ahsoka waved. She had one hand on one of her Lightsaber hilts. Nervous, likely.

“Cody, my man.” Anakin clapped him on the pauldron. “How've you been?”

“Right, that." As if there was anything else they were here about. “How much do you know?”

“The Council didn’t tell us much, but I’m not sure if they know much. We just heard that Obi-Wan called Madame Nu regarding something about transformation by the Force? Whatever that means- which probably means something happened to him.”

“Do you know if something did?” Ahsoka piped up. “Have you seen him? Is he okay?”

“For the most part.”

“Don’t get cryptic on me now, Commander.” Anakin said it with humour, but there was a serious look in his eyes. “Where’s Kenobi?”

Cody sighed, crossing his arms, and simply stepped to the side.

“Well, I’m sure you find this terribly amusing,” Obi-Wan sniped. Even if they reversed this somehow, Anakin would never let him live it down.

Rex’s jaw dropped. Ahsoka gasped, almost looking delighted. Anakin clapped his gloved hand over his mouth a little too late to stifle his bark of laughter. Obi-Wan sighed.

Chapter 2: Droids and Denial (of Problems)

Chapter Text

“So you really just woke up like this? No warning, no nothing?”

The five of them had gathered in the briefing room near the bridge, after the three 501st members had composed themselves after the initial “Respectfully, General, what the kriff?” “You’re so small!” “Holy Force, Obi-Wan! Where’s my holo-recorder?”

And now came the inevitable interrogations that Obi-Wan had been dreading so much. He was leaning against the switched-off holo-table, pretending that he didn’t have to look up at everyone, including his Grand-Padawan. The room was big, but with everyone else in a circle around him, he felt crowded. He kept that to himself.

“The Force had been giving some kind of warning for the past few days,” he admitted.

“Thanks for mentioning that,” Cody said dryly.

He shrugged. “I told Anakin and some other Council members. I couldn't figure out what it meant, not even Anakin or Master Yoda could. Telling you wouldn’t have helped, it would just give you something else to worry about.”

“I worry when you don’t tell me things.” Cody muttered. He wouldn’t have been able to get away with speaking like that to many other COs, but Anakin and Obi-Wan weren’t exactly ordinary Generals.

“No visions overnight, no nothing?” Ahsoka inputted.

Obi-Wan hmmed, wishing he still had his beard to stroke. “The Force has been unusually vocal with me since this morning, admittedly. Nothing particularly useful nor decipherable, except I’m fairly certain that it said ‘I have a job to do’, and that 'all will be as it was, once that job is done'.”

Rex was the one to say what they were all thinking. “Well that clears things up.”

“Well, we just need to figure out what job you need to do, help you do it, and then you’ll be old again!” Thanks, Ahsoka.

Anakin snorted. “That’ll be easy. Obi-Wan will probably be a kid forever.”

“Wonderful optimism, thank-you, Anakin.”

“How old are you, physically, sir?” Rex asked.

Ahsoka piped up with another gasp of delight. “Am I older than you?”

Force forbid, but she was probably right. Obi-Wan pulled back his sleeve, examining the various scars and injuries there, both ones Flim cared for and the ones he didn’t know about. Ah, there was an injury he remembered vividly, when a grenade had been thrown into the trench he and the others were in, and he had scrambled to chuck it back where it came from with the Force. He had been just a little too slow, and it had blown up mid-air just a few metres away from him. Nobody else had been hurt, thankfully, but a handful of shrapnel had to be pulled out of his right forearm. Cerasi had- his comrades had scolded him from that one, after he had recovered from the blood-loss. Now, a criss-cross of ugly white scars marred his arm, which would have faded significantly by the time he was an adult. He had spent Roenni’s eighth Life-Day on bedrest due to that injury, thinking about how young she was to be in this mess, even compared to him. That, he remembered.

“Thirteen,” Obi-Wan supplied, relatively proud of his investigative skills. But he looked up to see four expressions in various degrees of horror. “What?”

“Ka'ra help us,” Cody muttered. “He's just an adiik.”

“So are we, vod.” Rex said evenly.

“That's not the same.” Cody snapped.

“Um, yeah, that was my next question. What the kriff is up with that?” Anakin gestured to the wounds that marred his body.

Quickly, Obi-Wan pulled his sleeve back down. “I’m more concerned about what to do next.”

“Obi-Wan.”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I!” Anakin glared, and Obi-Wan glared right back.

Anakin broke first. “Force, I can’t take you seriously as a toddler.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not- ” Obi-Wan scowled, but decided against taking Anakin’s bait. He knew his old Padawan was trying to provoke him. That young man had always hated being kept in the dark about things. Well, too bad. “We should probably holo the Council.”

“Yeah.” Ahsoka was glancing cautiously between her Master and Grand-Master. “We were meant to update them as soon as we knew the situation.”

“And we should put effort into finding out how to reverse this,” Rex chimed in.

“I have Madame Nu working on that already,” Obi-Wan informed them, “but I don't think that’s the greatest priority right now.”

Anakin scoffed, incredulous. “Not the greatest priority? Master, have you looked at yourself recently?”

“If you hadn’t noticed, Anakin, we happen to be in the middle of a galaxy-wide civil war. I think we should be focusing more on the upcoming campaign, and how I'm going to join the front lines in my current state.”

“No. Out of the question.” Cody stated.

“How about we just-” Ahsoka tried. Obi-Wan ignored her.

“The GAR can’t afford to just lose one of its High Generals just because of circ*mstance, Cody.”

“You call this circ*mstance? ”

“I’m with Cody.” Anakin snapped, still bitter.

Obi-Wan groaned. “The two of you, agreeing on something? The universe is ending.”

“With all due respect, General Kenobi, you have to admit it’s unethical.” Rex added.

“Maybe we should-”

“Not now, Ahsoka.”

“General, even if you still remember your training, you’ve likely lost all of your muscle memory. There’s no way you can take down clankers like that.”

“Exactly. You can’t be fighting at thirteen, Obi-Wan.”

“I’ve done it once, I'll do it again!” he snapped, then blanched. Kark. He had not meant to say that. The room was silent.

“Well, I’d certainly like to know what the kriff that means,” Anakin snarled.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to snap his reply, but suddenly, the Force shot through with frustration and enough of a command for everyone to listen

“Stop! ” Everyone turned. Ahsoka sighed. “Let’s just go holo the Council, they’re the ones who make these kinds of decisions.”

“I’m on the Council,” Obi-Wan muttered.

“So you can say your piece then. Arguing is not going to get us anywhere, and we have our campaign coming up, soon. We need a solution before then.”

“Fine.” Anakin snapped.

“Fine. ” Obi-Wan retaliated.

Both Clones sighed in unison. This was going to go well.

x+x+x

“Thank-you, Master Kenobi. We are glad to see you well.” The devious Master Windu said, completely straight-faced.

“Thank-you, Masters.” Obi-Wan bowed, all poise. Nobody had laughed the entire Council session, which was nothing but impeccable Jedi Master manners in practice.

The call ended and the holo-table blinked off, the absence of the holo-blue light throwing the room briefly into darkness. He let out a sigh of relief. Calls with the Council never usually got him nearly as nervous as that one had. They had taken the news with the expected level of grace, which Obi-Wan thanked the Force for. As far as meetings went, he thought that went relatively well.

Everyone else in the room, apparently, did not agree.

“How dare they?” Anakin was seething. “This is ridiculous, even for the Council! ”

Cody was equally simmering with rage, military discipline helping him hide it far better than the other General in the room.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan tried.

“No. No! This is stupid!” Anakin growled, then didn’t so much release his emotions into the Force, more rolling them into an explosive ball and throwing them into the Force like a molotov-co*cktail. A little calmer, he turned from where he had been pacing, and clearly stopped himself from kneeling to be eye-to-eye with his shrunken Master.

“Obi-Wan, no thirteen-year-old should be on the battlefield.”

“I completely agree.”

Cody and Rex both shifted awkwardly.

“That’s not what I meant. Besides, I’m still thirty-eight up here.” he tapped his temple.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Anakin sighed. There seemed to be a lot of that going around lately.

“I won’t even be on the battlefield, Anakin. The Council said I could stay with the camp, nothing more. I won’t even see the fighting.”

“As if that would actually happen. We all know you’ll end up there anyway.”

Obi-Wan glared. He didn’t deny it.

Tense silence stretched for a long moment.

“...How about we just go through the briefing for the upcoming mission?” Cody asked slowly, as if the tension in the room was flammable.

Given the meeting that was intended for the briefing that morning was rudely interrupted, it was probably a good idea.

The Commander flicked the holo-table back on. “Our destination is the Outer-Rim planet Eos in the Cadavine Sector. We’ll reach it in a standard rotation.”

Ahsoka grinned at Anakin, showing sharp fangs. “That’s near the moon of Gall, right Master?”

“Yep.” Anakin chuckled. “Fun times.”

Rex shuddered. “Your definition of ‘fun times’ scares me, General.”

Cody continued. “An over simplified version of events that occurred a few years ago is that a handful of Nabooian Flyers destroyed a Trade Federation’s droid factory that occupied the planet. The factory was entirely demolished, and the Trade Federation’s presence wiped from the system. However, our intel has shown that Separatist forces are attempting to take control of the remaining resources, potentially starting a new factory. The reports we received were delayed, so we have little idea how advanced this Separatist occupation has become. As such, the GAR has sent two battalions to wipe out any presence there in one hit, rather than a single Battalion taking losses and allowing the Seppies to fortify against another attack.”

A blue-tinged holo of the planet that had been rotating slowly as Cody talked zoomed in as he pressed a button, bringing the shape of a large building into view. Made of more scaffolding than actual building, the factory was surrounded by a plethora of drop-ships and battle-droid stations.

“The 212th will act as ground-assault, coming in from the south, drawing attention and fire. We can take out as many clankers as possible from there, but we are also primarily a distraction. A 501st strike-team led by the General and Commander will infiltrate the factory in the chaos, and with some carefully placed explosives, blow the whole junk-pile sky-high.”

Anakin and Ahsoka were far too excited by this plan.

They spent a little while longer going through additional statistics, backup plans (that yes , they did need, Anakin ,) and reinforcements, what they knew of the factory’s interior layout. When that was done, they walked back to the hanger, Anakin, Ahsoka and Rex bidding them farewells with promises to see them on the other side. (Obi-Wan knew they meant of the battlefield, but it was generally far too cryptic for his liking.)

“Catch’ya later, kiddo.” Anakin walked past, and ruffled his hair.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan squawked. Ahsoka, already on the shuttle, tried in vain not to laugh.

Anakin paused behind the others before he headed up the shuttle’s ramp. “I trust you to be on baby-sitting duty, Commander?” He said to Cody, tone light but eyes deadly serious.

Cody nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir.”

Obi-Wan didn’t let himself get annoyed at that. They were worried about him, in a body of this age, on the battlefield. They didn’t know how much practice he had already. Unfortunately, they were probably going to find out. Wonderful.

x+x+x

Obviously, before going into battle with them, the rest of the 212th needed to be informed about their General’s current predicament.

Cody briefed his vode without Obi-Wan which was nothing unusual. From where he was in his quarters while Cody briefed everyone in the mess-hall, he could already feel the shock, awe, amusem*nt, concern, delight in the Force as clearly as if he was there.

Over the next day, all troopers he came across attempted valiantly to pretend there was nothing different about their General. But Obi-Wan could catch their grins behind their buckets, or the excited whispers they shared in Mando’a that Obi-Wan could understand perfectly as he walked away.

Alor’ika , they had taken to calling him. Little General. Force help him. As if the 212th needed any more reasons to be more protective of their General.

Eos was coming fast. The usual tension that came before a battle sat so familiar in Obi-Wan’s stomach as he tried to sleep in a bed that was uncomfortably big. Part of him thought about how convenient it would be for him to wake up the next morning and be in an adult’s body again. If only things in his life were that convenient.

He wasn’t sure if he slept much at all, in the end. Back to usual. He was up before his alarm this morning, the beeping distorted from the damaged device.

Cody met with him in the hangar mid-standard-morning. Obi-Wan could see the purplish-brown of Eos through the airlock. Cody commented something about his annoyance that Obi-Wan didn’t even have his vambraces to wear anymore, but there was little they could do about it. At least Obi-Wan had some actual clothes to wear now; Ahsoka had sent him some of her spare formal robes that she had on the Resolute , which fit him relatively well, even if he had to add another notch to the belt to make it smaller. His lightsaber hung on his hip as usual, the hilt unnaturally large in his hands.

“We’re two klicks from landfall,” Obi-Wan told Anakin’s holo as the drop-ships entered Eos’ atmosphere.

“See you down there!” Anakin crowed. “Try not to get stepped on!”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, allowing the intentional humour to lift in the Force a little amongst the tension that the drop-ship was filled with. “Good luck.”

Anakin’s face twisted with confusion a little, although he didn’t lose his smirk. “I thought you didn’t believe in luck.”

Obi-Wan’s gut twisted in a weird way. ‘We don’t need luck,’ he had been waiting in certainty for Anakin to respond with. It didn’t happen, of course it didn’t, and Obi-Wan shook his head against the sudden sense of deja vu .

“I don’t.” Obi-Wan said curtly. “May the Force be with you.” He ended the call.

The battle-droids were alerted as soon as the dozen drop-ships touched down. The doors of the ships slid open, and the troopers jogged out immediately, blasters in hand.

“I’ll see you here when we get back!” It was as close to an order that Cody could give. Then the Commander was turning, running to lead the platoon north towards the factory.

The surface of Eos here at the equator was hill-y with high, dense purple-ish dirt-dunes. All too soon, the troopers had crested the first hill and disappeared in the drop behind it. Obi-Wan stood in their wake, watching the place they had disappeared for a long moment. Then, with a great deal of effort, he turned and walked back to the semi-circle formation that the drop-ships had landed in.

There were a handful of troopers there still, pilots now tasked to guard their ships, medics setting up stations to intercept the inevitable incoming casualties. Obi-Wan found a crate to sit on, activating a holo to watch a bird’s-eye-view of the battlefield as the 212th-yellow dots of his troopers advanced to meet the grey formation of assembling battle-droids. If he listened, he could hear the unison mechanical clanking of the droid’s marching.

Obi-Wan waited in suspense. There was silence for a long time. A native bird trilled somewhere, fleeing the coming battle.

The two masses of dots on the holo were almost on top of one another.

The moment they were in range, the sound of blaster-fire erupted over the hills.

Obi-Wan’s blood ran cold. He didn’t know how long he sat there for, just listening to shots of plasma echo over the hills.

He was a coward. He really just let his troops go into battle without him? He needed to be there, they needed him. Now.

He was running before he registered what he was doing. He wasn’t sure if he heard someone call his name. He didn’t turn.

The dunes crumbled under his feet and made it hard to run, he felt it fill his borrowed boots and make his steps stumble. When he reached the top of the rise, he could see the dark shape of the factory in the distance. There, not even a klick away; overcast sunlight glinting off white plastoid armour and metal droids.

The battle was far ahead of him, but he was small and fast. Running down the hills were almost harder, and he tucked and rolled as he tripped, making it to his feet once again at the bottom, running to the next hill.

There was one trooper at the base of the next, left knee twisted unnaturally, probably dislocated. He was sitting up, and had his blaster held steady. He was okay. Obi-Wan didn’t stop.

Droid parts were littered at the base of the next hill. This is where the fighting had begun, but the 212th were making ground. There were human bodies there, too, lying motionless. Obi-Wan kept running.

There was a blaster lying on the ground near a disassembled droid arm. Obi-Wan picked it up without breaking his stride.

At the top of the next rise he could see the whole battlefield. His men were taking cover at the south-side of the next hill. The droids were attempting to march over the hill, held back by the Clone’s blaster fire, for now.

Obi-Wan ran down the hill, blaster held out in one hand before him, shooting as he went. Every shot met its mark.

There were wounded at the valley between the two hills, but they were being tended to. He continued past, slamming his back to the near-vertical slope at the top of the hill as the Force screamed for him to duck. A plasma bolt shrieked over his head. Dirt fell down the back collar of his robes.

“General! ” That was Cody. Obi-Wan ignored him.

He twisted, laying on his stomach. He dug his toes into the loose soil so he didn’t slip back down the rise. With the cover of a shrub, Obi-Wan rested his blaster on the crest of the hill, wishing for a proper rifle.

He breathed deeply. The Force leaped to answer his call. He started shooting.

The chaos flowed around him, yet Obi-Wan was calm. Blaster bolts hit metal, hit the ground. Dirt rained. The battle was a flowing river, and he rode the rapids effortlessly.

He lost how much time it was before he made out Anakin’s voice in Cody’s comm amongst the chaos.

“Commander! Are you all beyond the blast radius? ”

“Affirmative!”

“Wonderful! Light her up, Snips! ”

In the distance, Obi-Wan could see the dark shape of the factory. One moment it was there, then the next, it was replaced with a brilliant white flash that lit up the desolate fields.

A second later the ground shook, and the deep, delayed rumble of the explosion met them with a low wave of heat.

The remaining clankers went stiff, then collapsed like strings cut off a marionette. The ones on the hill fell backwards to form a pile of rubble on the ground.

Obi-Wan watched the plume of smoke rise from where the factory once was. Vaguely, he heard the Clones cheering behind him. Ships, their ships were flying in, coming to collect the wounded and the dead. One flew in from the direction of the factory, marked with 501st blue.

Suddenly, a firm hand met his shoulder. Obi-Wan startled. “Neild?”

“...General?”

Obi-Wan blinked. The dark eyes that were studying him carefully were not the ones he expected. He blinked again. It was Cody. Of course it was. Who else did he expect it to be?

Bucket off, Cody’s gaze shifted, glancing down to where the blaster in Obi-Wan’s hands was still trained on the droids at the bottom of the hill. Cody’s brow creased. He looked back at Obi-Wan, who dropped the blaster like he was surprised to find it in his hands.

Distantly, he realised his lightsaber hadn’t left his belt the entire battle.

“Forty-four! That wins!” Obi-Wan could hear Anakin’s voice over the bustle. He looked down, seeing Anakin and Ahsoka exiting their shuttle, absolutely covered in soot, as if they narrowly escaped the explosion. Probably.

“Technically, I set off the explosives, so my count should be in the hundreds.” Ahsoka retaliated. Their voices sounded like laughter.

“That doesn’t count!” Anakin was grinning, a flash of white teeth.

“Then I think General Kenobi wins,” Cody joined the conversation.

Did he? He couldn’t really recall most of the battle.

Anakin’s face clouded. “Nah, his score doesn’t count when he shouldn’t even be here.” His sharp gaze was scanning the carnage. “Where is he? If he’s hurt himself, so help me...”

Obi-Wan did a quick physical check. His ribs ached, he may have rolled his ankle running, but from the battle? Not a scratch. With the painkillers that Flim had given him that morning, he felt better than he had in a very long time.

He slid down the hill to join the others. Anakin shook his head at him. “You’re incorrigible.”

“If that’s not the gundark calling the monkey-lizard slimy.”

Anakin scoffed. “Where do you think I got it from?”

“As much as I hate to condone his presence here, the General was instrumental in our side of the battle as usual, regardless of his current state.” Cody mused.

Anakin’s eyebrows shot up. “He was? Master Jinn taught you lots by this age already, huh?”

Obi-Wan did not answer that. He instead levelled a look at Cody. Neither Anakin nor Ahsoka knew about Obi-Wan using the blaster instead of his ‘saber, and he wanted it to remain that way. Cody seemed to get the message.

“Let’s compare reports back on the Negotiator, shall we?” Cody offered instead. His returning look promised that he was not about to let this drop. “Then you two can spar, and we shall see.”

Oh, that little-

Apparently Obi-Wan didn't get the opportunity to enjoy the victory of the battle just past, he had to go straight onto the next one: explaining this mess. His day could not get any better.

Chapter 3: Children Must be Supervised by an Adult At All Times

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan was wrong. His day could get worse, apparently.

The casualty reports were better than usual. Only four dead, nine with major injuries, twenty-two with minor. (Twenty-three, but Obi-Wan tended not to count himself. It was just a sprain.) (He instead distracted busied himself with learning the deceased’s names and offering condolences to their vode as he always did. Nu kyr’adych, shi taab’cehaaj’a.)

He had written what he could of his report before sucking it up and admitting to Cody that he would have to fill in some gaps. That got him sent back to Flim. He escaped Medical again within ten minutes; there was no apparent cause for memory-loss. Obi-Wan claimed it was probably the lack of sleep, or the Force, and got away with it. Really, he had no idea. He didn’t let it worry him, although he was fairly certain now he’d never escape Cody’s scrutiny.

He joined the men in the mess-hall for late-meal as he often did, rather than hiding in his quarters like he wanted to, even if it subjected him to a whole lot of attention.

There were plenty of questions that he answered as vaguely as he could manage. (“Kriff, someone needs to get food into this kid. Did nobody feed you as an ad’ika, General?” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”) Eventually, some brazen vod requested to test whether the General still held a Mandalorian’s spice-tolerance. (The flavour, thank the Force, not the recreational drug.) Everyone was still tense and grieving after the battle, even successful as it was, so he indulged them. Unfortunately, this body had not yet experienced a year spent on the run in Mandalore where even the ration-bars were enough to burn one’s tonsils out. It had resulted in a whole lot of coughing, tears, and blue-milk, but it had the whole mess-room roaring with laughter and the Force singing with light, so Obi-Wan decided it was worth it.

His better mood descended rapidly, however, when Anakin showed up and decided to take Obi-Wan up on Cody’s suggestion of a duel. With equal consideration for the trooper’s morale, Anakin just had to make matters worse by challenging him in front of everybody. The Clones were always excited to see a lightsaber spar, and with their General shrunken yet holding credit for the battle’s victory, Anakin and the troopers alike were all deadly curious how Obi-Wan would hold up in one-on-one. (Obi-Wan was too, even if he was definitely fine with not testing the theory.) There was no getting out of it now.

So here he was, barefoot on the sparring salle, as Anakin stood before him twirling his lightsaber to show off to the three-or-so dozen who had gathered to watch. Ahsoka called him a show-off from her seat at the edge of the ring.

Obi-Wan had his eyes closed, ignoring the hubbub of the people, the murmurs, the bets being placed. Tension was thick in the Force and he inhaled deeply, centring himself and exhaling, sending his nerves into the Force at the same time. He did not appreciate how nervous he was about duelling his own former-Padawan. It was unfounded, he told himself. Anakin was an excellent duellist, and despite missing any training he would have received as a Youngling, he excelled far above any other Knights in the Order. Obi-Wan had taught him himself, after all. That didn’t mean Obi-Wan was any better, though. By the time Anakin was Knighted, who won a duel pretty much depended on the day. More often than not, it was a tie.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Anakin was waiting for him, neatly inserted into Djem So’s opening stance, ‘saber thrumming with the power of twin suns. He smiled. Not co*cksure; Anakin knew as well as Obi-Wan did that they were perfectly matched, rather simply looking for some fun.

Let’s get this over with, Obi-Wan thought to himself. This body was itching to step easily into Ataru’s opening, feet braced and both hands firmly on his ‘saber. He kicked himself internally, suppressing the urge, and bent into his iconic Soresu opening, left hand pointing two fingers towards his opponent and his ‘saber hilt by his ear. He hit the switch, feeling the searing heat of it by his temple, drawing a dramatic ooooh from the onlookers.

His ‘saber, however, chose that moment to voice it’s disapproval. The almost semi-sentient kyber crystal within whined into the Force, clearly unhappy about its wielder's recent transformation. Obi-Wan flinched a little at the spike of discomfort, the distraction naturally being the moment Anakin chose to launch his attack.

Obi-Wan brought up his own ‘saber to intercept at the last moment, rushing to deflect the fast-paced onslaught. With Anakin utilising the heavy blows and sheer strength Djem So was known for, it took a long moment of losing ground and scrambling to parry the attacks before Obi-Wan regained his footing. For all the instinct and training he had, his muscle memory seemed to be all but gone, instead guided by nothing but spite and the Force.

Soresu was the perfect form to counter the overwhelming power that came with Djem So, and Obi-Wan leaned on that as much as he could, the primarily defensive form easily deflecting Anakin’s hard attacks away. They danced around the salle, Obi-Wan at a clear disadvantage to the much physically-older man’s advantage of size that did nothing but increase his power. Sweat gathered on Obi-Wan’s brow far before Anakin even started breathing heavily. This body was out of practice.

Anakin noticed how he was tiring and slowed his attacks a little, somewhat as a kindness and somewhat as a desire to draw this out as long as possible. Obi-Wan gathered himself and launched further into the attack. They flowed like sand and wind, the two of them, in perfect harmony even as opponents. But it wouldn’t last long, Obi-Wan knew as he caught Anakin’s ‘saber on his own, almost dropping onto one knee to support the force that was pressing down on top of him. The match had only lasted this long already because Anakin had let it. His desert-sky-blue ‘saber reflected in eyes of identical colour. Fighting Obi-Wan like this was a walk in the Temple gardens, he realised. He grit his teeth.

Rather than attempt to throw off the weight pressing down onto him, Obi-Wan used his size to his advantage, disengaging his lightsaber and rolling across the ground beneath Anakin, feeling the heat of his opponent’s lightsaber sear his back just a little. He sprung up behind Anakin and didn’t give him any opportunity to recover from where he had stumbled from the sudden loss of support.

Whirling around just in time, now it was Anakin on the defensive, his eyes widening just a little in surprise as Obi-Wan’s short, controlled parries widened into the sweeping, head-on attacks of Ataru. The drills that he and Master Qui-Gon had spent hours on each morning played through his mind, the Force guiding his movements and letting Anakin scramble for a moment before he returned to full-strength attacks. Now it was on.

His breath hammered in his chest, the movements of Ataru coming to him far easier but at the loss of further stamina he didn’t have. Anakin was ready to put an end to the duel now, Obi-Wan realised, and here was nothing he could do to prevent it.

It only took a few more moments of whirling cyan ‘sabers and twisting stances before Anakin received the opening he wanted. The wide, long strokes of Ataru were perfect for offence but if caught in the wrong moment, left one’s chest terribly open. Rather than skewering him through the stomach as he so easily could, Anakin brought a heavy stroke down to the base of Obi-Wan’s ‘saber, singeing his fingers and sending Obi-Wan’s ‘saber sailing out of his grip. It deactivated before it hit the ground.

Anakin, breathing hard now, opened his stance for just a moment, thinking the duel to be won. That was his mistake. Obi-Wan ducked and twisted, uncaring for his lack of ‘saber and ducking inside Anakin’s defences, fists up. Anakin backpedalled, his lightsaber essentially useless against an unarmed person in a spar that was meant to be non-lethal. Obi-Wan didn’t care. Once again, he was outmatched by height and size but he used it to his advantage, feinting at his opponent and weaving around the battlefield.

He managed to hit a couple strikes to the enemy’s ribs before ducking under the hesitant sweep of the lightsaber. Foolish. His opponent should have taken off Obi-Wan’s head when he had the chance.

With a feint and a twist, Obi-Wan darted close to the older man where his long lightsaber would be essentially useless, and managed a solid right-hook to his jaw. It wasn’t strong enough to level the man, Obi-Wan wasn’t strong enough for that, but it did send him reeling, enough for Obi-Wan to hook his ankle behind the man’s and let his tall stature work against him, the opponent toppling to the ground.

Obi-Wan didn’t waste a moment before throwing himself on the downed man. He looked into desperate, familiar blue eyes and frowned. There was something dark here. How many children had this man hurt? How many had he killed ? One thing was sure; Obi-Wan would never let this man hurt any children ever agai-

He came back to himself with a gasp.

Immediately, he was assaulted with a plethora of distressed emotions pouring from Anakin through their Bond. He had Anakin pinned to the floor beneath him, one knee on his chest. Anakin’s hand was gripping his shoulder, the other hitting the ground in a clear sign of I yield.

Obi-Wan released his grip where his hands were around Anakin’s throat, throwing himself off his former-Padawan who immediately gasped and then coughed, hard and grating.

The room was silent, stagnant with shock. Obi-Wan had forgotten they had an audience.

Anakin sat up gingerly, and Obi-Wan held out a hand to help him the rest of the way. This was apparently enough of a sign of goodwill from the duellists, and the room filled with initially hesitant applause and the clanking of vambraces against one another. Murmurs spread.

A pace away from each other, Obi-Wan bowed and Anakin bowed in return. His former-Padawan met his eyes as they straightened, and the look there made Obi-Wan shiver.

The two of them retrieved their ‘sabers, and Obi-Wan couldn’t get out of the crowded room fast enough.

He made a beeline for his quarters, altogether too far away, but he hadn’t even made it four steps before a gloved prosthetic hand grabbed the back of his robes and all but threw him into a nearby conference room. The door slid shut behind Anakin, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help his first thought from being that now, he was trapped.

“Mind telling me what the everliving kriff that was?” Anakin’s voice was seething. He massaged his jaw. Red marks were starting to bloom on his throat.

“Anakin, I- I’m so sorry, are you okay? I didn’t mean to-”

“No! No, I’m not okay! I just got strangled in a lightsaber duel! By my Master! Who is currently ten! This is so kriffed up.”

Obi-Wan felt the durasteel wall behind him. He hadn’t realised he had backed into it. His chest was still heaving, out of breath, hard and painful against his injured ribs. He had completely forgotten to favour his ankle during the duel, and now it was screaming with pain like a womp-rat in a snare. He realised how hard his hands were shaking.

Anakin was pacing. “You just don’t understand, do you? How messed up this is? That you’re a literal kid yet here you are, running into open warfare and taking me down in hand-to-hand like it’s nothing. Seriously, what the hell? That was the most un-Obi-Wan thing ever . Were you just a psychopath as a kid or something?”

“Anakin, no, I just lost myself for a moment, and-”

“You were ready to kill me, Obi-Wan.” Anakin said darkly, stepping slowly towards him. He was tall enough to loom. “As if you’d done it before.”

“I’m sorry. It was an accident!”

“Well it sure didn’t feel like one!” Anakin’s voice rose again, gesturing towards his neck. He was stepping forwards again.

“Don’t think I haven’t been noticing things are different with you, ever since you shrunk. You still haven’t told us where your scars are from, and yes, I read the medical report. You used a blaster in a battle, Cody told me. And you’re supposed to be thirteen. Where the kriff is your Padawan braid?”

Obi-Wan was almost one with the wall at this point.

“I know you, Obi-Wan, and I know that you’re hiding something.”

“Stop cornering me,” Obi-Wan hissed.

Anakin’s frown deepened, as if he hadn’t noticed he’d been doing it. He stepped backwards. Obi-Wan could breathe again.

“If you’re going to eavesdrop,” Anakin said to empty space, “get better at hiding.”

The door slid open, revealing a guilty-looking Ahsoka and a Cody who didn’t look guilty at all.

“Yay, we got almost the whole gang here.” Anakin said dryly. “Now I think you owe us all some answers.”

Obi-Wan’s heart raced. The silence was deafening.

Then, with almost comical timing, Anakin and Ahsoka’s comms pinged in unison. “General! Commander!”

“What is it, Rex?” Anakin’s eyes didn’t leave Obi-Wan.

“Seppies have just landed out of hyperspace, they’re opening fire on the Resolute!”

Anakin let out a breath. “Understood, Captain. Keep shields at full power, launch air-support. We’ll be there immediately.”

Ahsoka hurried out the door, casting a forlorn glance backwards at her Grand-Master. Anakin just glowered.

The two of them turned and ran out the door towards the hangar. Obi-Wan risked lowering his Shields, just a little.

Anakin was positively radiating pain, but not physically. His hurt filled the corridor, mingling with distrust and fear. But not fear for himself, but for Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan stood motionless as an alarm-call for air-support rang out. Running troopers filled the corridor, but it was Anakin he watched until he disappeared from sight.

x+x+x

Apparently, before being blown up, the Separatists had called for backup, which was exactly what they needed right now.

Obi-Wan, banned from hopping in a fighter and joining the fight, sat in his quarters, specifically not sulking, listening to the fast-paced chatter of the aerial battle on the comms-line. Nobody had died just yet, he was fairly certain.

Everything else was going downhill so quickly. Anakin was particularly stubborn when he wanted something, especially when it was answers that he was looking for. He wasn’t going to let the interrogations drop anytime soon.

Briefly considering all options as he was trained to do, Obi-Wan mused to himself over just biting the slugthrower and telling the others what they wanted to know. He was aware it was nothing but his own reservations and stubborn unwillingness to share that was keeping him from doing so.

Sue him, but he didn’t want to, even if that wasn’t very Jedi of him. Did being Jedi or not even apply, given the context?

Those days- the early days of his Padawanship, was just… not something he wanted to revisit. It held too many memories, both of Qui-Gon and of all the others he lost.

Crystal green eyes flashed through his brain and Obi-Wan sighed, dispelling the image from his mind.

He settled himself onto his cot, staring at the ceiling and listening to the troopers and Anakin call warnings and banter to one another over the comms amongst the dogfight.

He lost time after that, his alarm startling him awake once again. He didn’t remember falling asleep.

A message from Cody was waiting for him on his comm, a brief report sent in the very early hours of the morning. Usually, Obi-Wan thought begrudgingly, he would have been woken to hear the report directly. Guess not.

It covered the skirmish last night; no casualties resulting in death. Obi-Wan briefly thanked the Force before reading on. That was where the good news ended, apparently. The Resolute sustained heavy damage to her shield-generator, courtesy of vulture-droids, before the vermin were taken care of. While it didn’t put the Star Destroyer at risk of losing life-support or spontaneously combusting, it did leave her unable to travel through Hyperspace, or defend herself against munitions; a sitting porg until the generator was at full operation again, which was an estimated standard-week away. As such, the Jedi Council had tasked the Negotiator to cover the other ship until that time. Nobody was going anywhere any time soon.

Which meant there was now no escape. Fantastic.

As a thirteen-year-old, however, the ability to avoid adults is what kept Obi-Wan and all the other children under his command alive. As such, it frustrated Anakin to no end how effectively Obi-Wan managed to avoid him, staying in his quarters as much as possible, busying himself with long-neglected data-work and the administration that came with being a High General in the Grand Army of the Republic.

It was far harder to stay focused on work than usual, frustratingly. This body was untrained in the self-discipline that took so many years for him to master, perpetually jittery and itching for a blaster in his hands. It was very distracting.

(It wasn’t as if being reverted to a pre-teen’s body was a comfort. At thirty-seven he wasn’t exactly old like his younger lineage-members ribbed him to be. There was no relief of physical pain that came with it, not going back to this stage of his childhood. Instead, it was just frustrating. At least this younger body had a far lower caffeine-tolerance; that was probably one of the only perks he had found. Just one cup of caf was enough to let him stay awake all night; something else he was not going to tell Flim.)

On the topic of things he wasn’t about to tell people was how Obi-Wan kept losing time.

He would just be sitting at his desk, then blink and notice ten minutes had passed in seconds. And over the next few days, it got worse. It would be the early afternoon, and then suddenly he would realise he had a comm from Cody asking if he was okay, why did he miss late-meal?

Was it a problem? No. He wouldn’t let it be. If it got out of hand, he might tell Flim, enforcing a seemingly foreign concept from a bygone age; patient-doctor confidentiality.

But it wasn’t at that point yet, even if he would get distracted in conversation with Ahsoka, then realise she was asking him a question; “Who’s Roenni?”

He had startled. “What?”

“You just called me Roenni. Who’s that?”

Even if he had blinked at the date on the report, the blue readout of 3,634 ATC , and wondered why there was a typo; twenty-six years out.

Even if he was in a morning meeting with Cody, then a moment later, no, he was trapped in a room with an adult, an Elder , and he had bolted. When he came back to himself this time, he had cornered himself in a random storage room half a ship away from where he had been last, (Force knows how he got there ,) with Anakin approaching Obi-Wan like he was a skittish varactyl. Okay, he had decided, maybe now it is getting out of hand.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin said slowly, tentatively. He had one hand reached out, sending calm, peace, safety through their Bond as if his life depended on it. Anakin should be on the Resolute. When had he gotten here?

“A-Anakin?” Obi-Wan shook himself. The room was spinning. “What…”

“Oh, thank the Force.” Tension drained out of Anakin’s shoulders in an instant. He crossed the distance between them, placing his flesh hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and leaning down a little to look eye-to-eye. Obi-Wan blinked hard. His head swam a little, he felt so disoriented. Anakin guided him to sitting before dropping down beside him, leaning against the wall amongst the crates and clutter.

“What just happened?” Obi-Wan asked weakly.

“I was hoping you could tell me.” Anakin kept his voice low, his hands visible, his shoulders hunched, as if to make himself seem less of a threat. As if he was scared Obi-Wan would bolt again.

“I… was with Cody. Where is he? Is he alright?”

“Physically, sure. Emotionally? I think he’s a little concerned after you apparently went all distant on him then panicked and asked who he was.” Anakin’s voice gained a hard edge. He watched Obi-Wan critically.

“I what? I don’t remember…”

“That’s what I was worried about.” Anakin rubbed at his face. “How long has this been happening?”

Obi-Wan didn’t bother asking how he knew. “...since after Eos,” He admitted.

“Kriff, Obi-Wan! You can’t just-” Anakin’s voice started to raise, and he carefully lowered it. “You can’t just not tell people these things.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just complicated, and I didn’t want to worry anyone.”

“Well we’re worried now! No, scratch worried, I’m scared. I am scared for you, Master. Something is happening to you; you’ve been changing ever since you turned into a kid.”

Changing, or reverting?

“Look, Obi-Wan. I know we have our unspoken agreement when it comes to secrets. We respect each other's privacy, and I couldn’t thank you more for that. But not when it interferes with missions, or our safety. Your safety is at risk, now. If you keep… forgetting or whatever kind of kriffed-up Force-dementia this is…”

“I don’t know why this is happening, Anakin. Don’t look at me like I’m doing this intentionally.”

“Well you don’t seem like you're doing much to stop it!”

“As if I-”

“I know you’re not! I-” Anakin broke off, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I can’t lose you, Obi-Wan. You mean too much to me. And don’t give me a lecture on attachments.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Obi-Wan said softly.

They sat in silence for a long time. Eventually, Anakin got up and walked away. He paused at the door when Obi-Wan spoke.

“I’ll tell you everything, I promise. It’s just… a lot.”

“That’s okay. When you figure out what to say… I’ll be here.”

Then he left.

Obi-Wan sighed. He couldn’t stay in a storage closet forever, unfortunately. Sooner rather than later, he would have to get up, find Cody to apologise. Anakin and Cody probably would hardly leave him alone, now, not with the fear of that happening again. That was okay, if it made them feel better, he could deal with it.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would tell Anakin about what happened when Obi-Wan was thirteen. He could sleep on it, meditate on it, figure out what to say. Tomorrow, he would tell him everything.

Much, much later, Obi-Would wonder: Would he have run after Anakin down the corridor, tell him everything right there in the hall, if he knew then that he would otherwise never get the chance?

Chapter 4: Please Keep All Arms and Legs Inside the Stolen Vehicle

Chapter Text

Ben awoke feeling not cold, nor damp, and even well rested , which was the first indicator that something was very, very wrong. He had a bad feeling about this.

Foremost, gone were the two presses of body heat that had been either side of him when he fell asleep, the three of them curled together in the tombs below the city, too used to the discomfort and labyrinth-like safety that their old base supplied, rather than sleeping above ground in the city. Their city. But now, unlike when he fell asleep, Ben was alone, and he stayed as still as he could, keeping his breathing as deep and even as he could with dark thoughts spiralling, just in case he was not alone. If his two companions left, they would have woken him. The fact that they weren’t here meant that something was going on.

Right. Order of business. Step two was finding out why his friends weren’t here. Step one was finding out where here was.

He listened for a long moment, uncomfortable in the soft, warm bed. As elusive the Force was to control, it was still useful for feeling anyone else nearby. The Force, which this time came to him far easier than expected, reported nobody around. He didn’t waste a moment flinging himself out of the bed, taking stock of the neat, minimally furnished room, durasteel walls blank and air-circulation whirring softly through small vents in the ceiling.

He was on a space-ship. Ben had not been on a space-ship for nearly a year. What the druk?

A holo-clock on the desk advertised it was 4:32 AM Coruscanti-time. Next to it lay an unfamiliar lightsaber.

Well that complicated things. What was this place?

He couldn’t take it with him. Only Jedi carried lightsabers. This one wasn’t even his . Regardless, his hand picked it up almost against his will, and the kyber within sang with a mirror-image reflection of his own Force signature. Welp, no time to unpack what the shavit that was about. He had a weapon now, even if it was one that he had no intention of using. Time to go.

There was a clip for this ‘saber on his belt, Ben realised. On the belt of his Jedi robes . What in the Sith Hells…?

This day just kept getting weirder, and he did not kriffing appreciate it. All he wanted was to go home, however far away in the galaxy that was. He would make it back there, no matter how far. That’s where his people were. Where else would he go? Not the Jedi Temple, that was for sure.

This early in the morning, it was the perfect time to make an escape. The halls of the ship were long, empty and well-lit, casting long shadows as he ran, ducking behind corners at the sound of footsteps. He never saw another soul, although he heard voices, talking casually in a combination of Basic and another language that Ben didn’t understand, was it Mando’a? He didn’t know. All the voices sounded the same. It was disorientating.

The halls seemed to stretch on forever. How huge was this damn ship? Ben ran on light feet, darting through the corridors. There- finally, a turbolift. Beside it, mounted to the wall was a datapad; undoubtedly holding the layout of the ship. Ben tapped the screen to wake it, crossing his fingers, and breathed a sigh of relief when the appearing text was Aurebesh. Thank the kriffing Force.

Level twelve, the happily blinking You Are Here label informed him. Curious, he zoomed the image outwards.

What the brix? This ship he was on was huge . It had to be over a kilometre long, Coriscanti-looking make, but no model he had ever seen before. The Negotiator, it was apparently called. From the utterly ridiculous amount of guns mounted on the hull, he somewhat doubted it. This was a bird of war, he realised dully. Briefly, he thought about how easily it would be to maintain the cautious rule of his planet if he was able to bring this home, but chucked that thought out the airlock with an internal laugh. He may be a great pilot and perfectly capable of commandeering a smaller vessel, but snowflake’s chance in a smelting pit on this one. The crew of this place must be in the high hundreds or more, depending on the number of droids.

He zoomed back in, surveying the contents of Level Twelve. Some storage, some conference rooms, primarily quarters. The head-of-this-whole-operation’s quarters were apparently on this level too, close to where he came from. He was very glad he didn’t run into them .

Speaking of commandeering ships; ah, at last. A hangar; there on Level Twenty.

He jabbed the turbolift button to Up, and the doors hissed open. A mouse droid skittered out, beeping, apparently unconcerned at his presence. The ‘lift was otherwise empty. He ducked inside.

The blinking indicator seemed tantalisingly slow as it ascended up the levels. Fourteen…Fifteen…Sixteen… Ben resisted the urge to slam his head against the durasteel wall. Then suddenly, a beep, and Ben’s heart dropped into his stomach. No, it wasn’t because the lift was suddenly plummeting, but the indicator of someone calling the lift. At Level Nineteen. Oh, kriff me, I guess.

He stood in what was practically parade rest, attempting to look casual as the lift slowed, then dinged as it stopped. He locked his eyes forward as the doors hissed open once more. Confidence was key.

The man that walked inside didn’t seem very old. He would probably be in the Middle Generation back home. Dark skin, keen eyes, a tattoo on his neck that Ben didn’t get a good look at. He wore white plastoid armour, detailed by a little yellow-orange paint. The Elders wore plastoid. He saluted to Ben as if it was completely normal to see a random kid in a military ship. Ben nodded in return as if it was something completely normal going on here. (Should he have saluted back? What was going on-) The man pressed the button for Level Twenty-Two. “Sir.” His voice sounded like every other one Ben had heard on this ship.

He nodded in return. “Morning…” He didn't trust himself to say any more, lest he laugh out loud. How the hell was he getting away with this?

The lift started moving again. The man blinked at him. “It’s… Joice, sir.”

“Of course.” Ben didn’t move his gaze. The awkward, unbearably tense silence stretched in the small decade it took for the lift to stop at Level Twenty.

Ding! Went the lift.

“That’s me,” Ben said with a rushed, totally-casual,-nothing’s-amiss-at-all smile. He wandered out the doors as naturally as he could appear.

The man, Joice, just nodded in farewell, watching him with a furrow in his brow and with an intensity that made Ben’s skin crawl. As the doors slid back shut, Ben saw Joice lift his vambrace- to speak into its built-in comm unit. Fark. Ben had to move.

The moment the doors were shut, Ben spun on his heels and broke into a sprint.

His ankle was throbbing madly with an injury he didn’t remember receiving, but he ignored it for the time being, adrenaline working wonders.

The hangar was just as huge as Ben expected on a ship this size, and thankfully looked to be pretty well deserted, aside from a random astromech that paid him no mind as he bolted past. The long, long hangar must have stretched almost the full length of the ship, forming the H shape that cut down the centre of the bow, an identical hangar on the other side of a large docking bay that allowed fighters to exit from both sides. With an identical hanger on the other side, there must have been hundreds of ships here, and all of them were assault vessels. Ben didn’t want to consider the implications of that too hard.

The closest one-man vessel he could see were docked rows of dozens of ships by a make he didn’t recognise, with folded, vertical wings, a long wedge-shaped bow and twin rapid-fire laser cannons. Not big enough for a hyperdrive, but he could see the attachment for a Hyperspace ring module, rows of them conveniently mounted and waiting not far away. Yes!

Ben clambered up the ship’s side, several metres off the ground but not a particularly tall ship. He dropped into the seat, not hesitating to start up the launch sequence. Lights came on on the dash, unfamiliar controls, but how different were all Coriscanti-made ships, really? This couldn’t be too hard. He pulled down the canopy.

Within a moment, he had the ship’s twin ion-engine thrusters warming, and the hyperspace ring slotting into place. An alarm started beeping somewhere. Now was as good a time as any. An astromech wheeled out of nowhere, coming to enter the astromech port on the back of the ship, but Ben shoved the acceleration and left the droid in the dust.

“Holy Sith!” Ben yelped, as the vessel shot like a slug out of a barrel, the co*ckpit barely pressurising in time to fly out the airlock. The sensitive, powerful controls sent the small ship careening forward, forcing Ben backwards in the seat, hard. He grappled to turn the vessel around, momentum sending it directly into the adjacent hangar. He wrenched the controls, drifting sideways, stern narrowly missing collision with other docked fighters.

It was nothing but fast reflexes and the thrilling guidance of the Force that prevented Ben from going up in a careening ball of flames against the walls of the hangar as the ship zipped from one end of the huge space to the other. The loud, screeching noise of the twin engines echoed in the huge space. He dodged and drifted around the tight obstacles like his life depended on it, because it kriffing did. He yanked the yoke again, spinning back out the airlock and finally making it out to open space, clipping the base of the hyperspace ring against the Negotiator’s hull.

Ben let out a laugh as the massive ship started to shrink in the distance. There was another, identical in design, a little further away. Two karking huge ships. That was mildly terrifying. He accelerated the ion engines, folding out the vertical wings. The ship hummed beneath the controls. He missed flying.

They were in the outer-orbit of a vaguely-familiar purple-ish planet, he noticed. Not where he was going. He flicked the switches to prep the Hyperspace ring, letting out a sigh of relief when his coordinates declared he was not a galaxy away from home, no, he was even in the same system. He could be there within a rotation. He couldn't believe his luck.

“We don’t need luck,” Ben said to himself with a grin. The bar showing the progress of the heating Hyperspace ring began filling. He was so close.

That was, of course, when two other vessels decided to show up, flanking either side of him.

“Shavit!” Ben muttered to himself. The comm on the dash crackled to life.

“Pilot of V-Wing Starfighter B-42, you have made an unsanctioned launch from the Negotiator with a hyperspace transport ring. You are to turn your vessel around and re-dock in Hangar B immediately, or lethal force will be utilised against you. ”

Ben warmed the V-Wing’s cannons. “My bad. Heard there was a Steal-One-Get-One-Free sale. I also heard of a ‘No Returns Policy’.”

“... What the- General? ” The person on the comms (-was it Joice? It sounded like Joice-) sounded like Ben had just shot somebody’s loth-cat.

“Nope, sorry. Nobody at this address by that name.” Come on. The prepping of the hyperspace ring was so slow. Not even halfway done. Hurry up.

Then there was a beep, the comm-line being transferred. A frustrated, half-asleep sounding voice spoke next, finally one that was different to all the others on the Force-forsaken Negotiator.

“This is General Skywalker. Whoever is in the V-Wing, mind sharing what the kriff you’re doing? ”

“Sorry, General. But I don’t particularly like being held hostage.”

“ Obi-Wan?” The General’s voice broke. Ben didn’t particularly care. He cared more about how the kark these people knew his full name.

“No, no no no… What are you doing? You can’t- you gotta turn around! Obi-Wan!”

Okay, what the hell?

The comms were silent for a moment, and the other two V-Wings sprung into action, undoubtedly receiving orders. A warning-shot sailed over his canopy. Ben shoved the yoke and the ship dove.

Shavit this thing was fast. It was by far the most agile ship Ben had ever flown, as good of a pilot he was he still struggled to keep up to the touchy controls and light-fast manoeuvres. He dove, spinning, and the two other ships followed. Ben didn’t want to shoot these pilots, but if it came to it, he would. These guys were his kidnappers. Right?

The General on the comms was back. “Obi-Wan, it’s me. You can’t do this. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Listen, blaster-brain, I don’t know who the hell you are, but you can’t keep me here.” He twisted the ship, the force pressing him to the wall. The other ships careened behind him, but he wasn’t perfectly within their shot anymore. One peeled off to come in from a different angle. Ben grit his teeth.

“Please, Master! It’s me, Anakin! ”

Ben completely ignored the heart-attack that came with hearing that title. “Um… let me think. Nooo, sorry. Don’t know anyone by that name. You sure you have the right number?”

He pinwheeled his ship, turning directly towards the one behind him. The other one flanking him followed behind, and he kept the first ship right at his nose for as long as possible, in his tail’s blindspot. He dove at the last moment and so did his follower, just a little too late. Its left upper-wing broke off with a spray of sparks as the two ships almost collided head-on. That was one down. The second one accelerated his chase. He checked the progress of the hyper-ring and cursed. Almost there.

The person on the comms yelled to someone on their end something about a tractor-beam, but Ben didn’t listen, knowing he would be out of range.

Despite its flight capabilities being all but botched, the immobilised enemy V-Wing could still train its cannons on him. Ben had to take it out of the fight. He peeled around, finger on the trigger. His targeting system lined up, and he heard tone. One shot, and the ship- and its pilot would be gone.

He squinted against the bright flash and silent explosion… then blinked as it never came. He hadn’t shot. He couldn’t bring himself to shoot.

What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like he knew or cared about these adults . They were probably why he was so far from home in the first place. Get a hold of yourself, Kenobi. It’s not like you haven’t done this before, he told himself, but yet he flew on past, letting the targeting system unfocus. The hyperdrive was almost finished preparing. All he wanted to do was get the brix out of here.

There- finally! The progress bar beeped, flashing, then disappeared. But the V-Wing would have to slow in order to angle his exit out of here, which would put him in perfect target-range of the remaining ship’s ‘lethal force’. But Ben had a hunch. He slowed his ship.

“Obi-Wan, listen to me.” Somehow, the General probably knew that his hyper-ring was ready, too. “Don’t do this. Please! ” he sounded so angry, but also… scared. Ben… Ben felt something in him tugging, like a thread attached to his brain that he didn’t remember being tied. It was distant, but desperate. It didn’t want to let him go.

He heard the tone as the other V-wing’s targeting system locked onto him.

“I know you’re not going to shoot me.” Ben said curtly. “You don’t want to lose me, you’re not gonna blast me star-high.”

“Don’t you want to know why? Why you can’t remember? ”

Ben shifted, hand on the joystick to engage the hyper-ring. This guy was getting under his skin. He didn’t like that at all.

“I’m sorry,” Ben said instead, and realised that he actually meant it. “but my people are waiting for me. I hope you find who you’re looking for, but it’s not me.”

“No! ”

He shoved the joystick. The hyperdrive engines roared to life. Time to burn skies ‘till he saw lines. ‘Till he saw home. ‘Till he got away from whatever was here and whatever the kriff it was making him feel.

“Sorry, General. See you never.”

The stars warped and stretched, and with a jolt that he felt in his bones, his V-Wing launched into Hyperspace. He was going home. So why did he feel like he was leaving it?

Chapter 5: One Cosmic Horror at a Time, Thanks

Chapter Text

All-in-all, Ben thought his day was going remarkably well.

The flight home was uneventful. That was, aside from the brief moment of panic when he realised that the V-Wing’s pilot was in fact meant to be wearing a flight-suit that he did not have, given that the ship didn’t actually contain life-support. (He found the emergency oxygen-mask and turned off the engine-cooling on occasion to keep the co*ckpit warm, it was fine.) And aside from when his hyperspace ring overheated from damage in the dogfight and dropped him out of hyperspace into an asteroid belt. And aside from the pirates. Not all that much, really.

Primarily, he was kept busy having an existential crisis, but he decided that was allowed when one got randomly thrown into the future.

At least, that was his current theory.

The Coruscanti ships he didn’t recognise. The really strange people he didn’t know. The really strange people who seemed to know him.

Ergo, Ben’s Checklist for When You Randomly Wake Up in the Future.

• He had absolutely no idea how he got to the Negotiator, the place he decidedly did not fall asleep.
• He had no idea what the Negotiator’s purpose was, or who it belonged to, or why he was there.
• Could it have been kidnapping? Yes. Was he the kind of person that would get kidnapped? Absolutely. It had happened before. It would be just his luck to happen again.
• But was kidnapping incredibly unlikely? Also yes, given how he woke up in a bedroom rather than a holding cell, and walked out with little to no trouble.
• Too easy, almost.
• Did they let him escape?
• Now he was overthinking this.

He amended Ben’s Checklist for When You Randomly Wake Up in the Future into Ben’s Checklist of Things Ben Does Not Know.

• Who the people on the Negotiator (and the other kriffing ship) were.
• Why they wanted him.
• Who they were to him.
• Was he actually in the future? How far? Too far? Where were the rest of the Young? Had they been on the Negotiator too, and he unknowingly left them behind?
• Holy Sith he hoped not.
• What would he do if they were? What would he do if he was really far in the future? If everyone he knew and loved was dead?

When Ben’s Checklist of Things Ben Does Not Know started turning into Ben’s Checklist of More Existential-Crises-Fuel, he stopped making mental lists.

Currently, he was figuring he was a few months forward. That would explain the not-distant travel home, the people he didn’t yet know but could have become acquainted with within that time, the unfamiliar ship, the unfamiliar clothes. If anything, he had just lost time somehow, missing a few months of memory from a head-injury or drugs or some other stupid, far more explicable solution than time travel.

Yeah, that had to be it.

A few months out meant that he would hopefully find the people he was looking for when he got home. He could go back to them, they could explain everything, they would say that they missed him and was so worried, he could hug them hard and tell them that he kinda thought he was going insane and that he had ended up in the future somehow, isn’t that so stupid of him, he is so damn glad that’s not what just happened.

The sigh of relief that he let out when he dropped out of hyperspace and saw the planet of Melida/Daan before him could have used up his dwindling oxygen supply then and there.

If he parked his V-Wing in the first convenient canyon, climbed out, fell onto the ground and maybe just lay there for a minute, light-headed and really tired and maybe missing his old Master so much it hurt, well, that was his business.

When the planet’s sun had dropped below the horizon, he convinced himself to get off the ground deemed it was probably safeto start heading for the city of Zehava. He had landed as close as possible without risking being seen, which left him at about a full night or two’s walk away. Well, no time like the present.

Unfortunately, with his feet back on the ground, it was remarkably harder to stop thinking about the topics he was avoiding thinking about while in hyperspace.

Foremost, why the brix he was so happy to have returned to a hellscape of a planet.

Melida/Daan was an absolute minefield (literally; he was watching for those as he walked) of political tension and a centuries-long civil war between the two factions; the Melida and the Daan. They were a relatively isolated independent planet, thankfully keeping their constant calamities to themselves. That was, at least, until a Jedi emissary by the name of Master Tahl was sent to help broker peace as the self-destructive wars were reaching a climax, blindly destroying the planet and everyone on it. Tahl has been unsuccessful, and was taken prisoner by the Melida, leaving Ben and his recently appointed Master- Qui-Gon Jinn, to rescue her.

That was before everything went wrong, naturally.

Tahl had been tortured in prison and lost her sight, and Ben wondered how she was doing now that Master Jinn had taken her back to the temple for healing. He specifically did not think about how his Master had left him in the middle of a warzone in order to do so.

Well, no. It was more complicated than that. Not something to think about now.

The real reason that he was at all pleased to be back planet-side was not because of the place, but because of the people. His people. The Young; the third faction to join the Melida/Daan civil war, composed of children from both factions, calling for peace. Like all these conflicts did, that peace quickly turned into ongoing war as the Melida and Daan had united to form the Elders against their common enemy and begun slaughtering their own children.

After so much conflict, however, the Elders had practically brought their own numbers down, the younger generation outnumbering them after the Young in the city had rallied with the Scavenger Young; the runaways and factory workers who had sought refuge in the countryside outside Zehava.

Eventually, the Young had managed victory, currently holding a dubious rule and incredibly fragile peace over the planet for the last few months. That was Ben’s job. He was the Chief Security Officer of the whole planet, after being one of the co-leaders of the Young. He was the one they trusted with the blasters and the bombs, having led them through battle after battle.

But he didn’t manage any of it alone. It was him and his two companions who won the war together; Ben, Nield and Cerasi.

Kriff, he missed them.

Nield was the temporary elected Governor of Melida/Daan, and Cerasi was now the Head of the Council that ruled alongside Nield. They were managing it, the three of them. Somehow. They couldn’t hold onto this shadow of peace without each other, not with the Elders plotting revolt constantly behind their locked doors and tension building like the very planet was about to explode.

Nield was wanting to focus efforts into destroying the Halls of Evidence that covered the planet; the huge, black, obelisk-like buildings that held the ashes and holographic recordings of every dead Melida or Daan for hundreds of years, proclaiming their hatred for the other side and willing their children to enact vengeance of their deaths. They were horrible things, holding nothing but death and propaganda that spanned the centuries. They needed to be destroyed. But they also held history, as Cerasi had pointed out to him. They were the only un-destroyed records of lives, marriages, deaths. They showed where their society came from and where it could never be allowed to return to.

On a more practical note, more time and resources really needed to be put into housing, repairing the city, medical supplies, food and basic resources rather than only destroying the Evil Death Museums, Nield.

That particular argument had tension building amongst their little group of leadership. Nield said that nothing new could be rebuilt without the old hatred first being torn down. He had a very good point, but winter was coming, and people would die of the temperatures, let alone the lack of resources. Cerasi and Ben had been conferring about how to breach the topic to Nield before Ben had ended up in this here. In this when.

(Another indicator of time lost. It was summer in Zehava, now, unlike the coming winter that he remembered last.)

Which was the other thing that Ben was desperately puzzling over. He would love to consider this whole thing some incredibly messed-up nightmare which he would simply wake up from soon enough, but this wasn’t the first time this had happened. Not really.

For the past few days, Ben had been having…. Visions? Hallucinations? Flashes? Ones that he could not remember once it was over, but recalled all the previous ones immediately the moment he was in one again.

He had seen a battlefield. Then a ship. Then people in armour. A man with desert-sky eyes.

And now he was here, the flash hadn’t ended and didn’t feel like it would anytime soon, and he was left to pick up the pieces.

All he wanted was to sit down with Cerasi and Nield, discuss this whole karking mess over their strategy-table improvised from a repurposed tomb; Nield the appreciated pessimist, and Cerasi there to nudge his knee with hers under the table, tell him that they would figure it out together, a smile not on her face but warming her crystal-green eyes.

“We don’t need luck, Ben.”

He kicked a rock as he walked past it, wishing the landscape would go by faster as he walked. It skittered in the dark. Ben’s heart was twisting just thinking about getting back to her, to them. They were more than just comrades, he was more to them than just the random guy who had stayed to help them see this war through. They were more than just friends, in a way he couldn’t put a name to. After so many months, after so much life-and-death, they meant so much to each other. Pieces of a whole, a family in a way he’d never had before and felt as if he never would again.

Well, no. That wasn’t so true anymore.

This kriffing thread of Force tethered in his brain, the one who kept tugging at him relentlessly, desperately. It was driving him mad, the way it was trying to get him to pay attention, to pull him somewhere- back the way he came. But he couldn’t, he was too close to home now. And admittedly, it kind of scared him, the way he had no idea what or who was on the other end.

The thread felt wrong, as if there should be more of it there that he just couldn’t grasp, slipping through his fingers like… like sand. As if the thread was actually so much more, a thick, strong rope that had frayed down until all he held onto on his end was a single remaining strand. As if the other end was trying to tell him something, was trying to reach him, but if he pulled back too hard the whole thing would snap. He didn’t want to try; not just from logical fear of what was on the other end, but scared of trying in the way one didn’t test the limits of an injury in fear of the pain.

Speaking of, his ankle was killing him. Kriff!

Before too long, Ben found a good-enough corpse of shrubs and decided it was an acceptable place to stop, given that the sky was starting to grey with the promise of sunrise.

He settled down, ankle throbbing madly. He would have liked to bind it, but the day’s walking had undoubtedly made it swell, and if he took off his boot now, by morning his foot may be too swollen to get the boot back on. It was fine. He had a good pain tolerance. Too many war injuries that he had to push through, to not. The Force helped.

Thinking about the Force, Ben settled down and decided to meditate, something that he felt like he had needed to do since he woke up on the Negotiator.

He laid on his back, hands folded, cloak between him and the hard earth, rather than settling into a traditional Jedi legs-crossed meditation that was often unconventional for the sparingly few moments he managed to meditate while on Melida/Daan. (Usually, it was before a battle, asking for guidance. Or time and time again, at the bedside of someone far too young, not asking for healing because it was far too late for that; simply asking for them to find peace within the Force.)

He closed his eyes, slowing his breathing, reaching for the Force, half convinced that it had still abandoned him too, still virtually unreachable as it had been all the months on Melida/Daan. But to his surprise, the Force easily reached back in return, enveloping him as he became hyper-aware of the life surrounding him.

The spiky cluster of shrubs harbouring him, old and twisted and stubbornly still alive against the harsh climate and harsher people, whispering about the things they have seen. The little nocturnal marsupial a few paces away, wary of him but warier yet of the rising sun, burrowing to hide as Ben had. The circling scavenger creatures wheeling overhead that Ben thought had been scared away from these parts long ago, carefully watching the wandering creature with the injured gait for sign of prey, before soaring away in search of other dwindling life revealed by the sunlight. The distant city thrumming with life like a beacon on the planet’s desolate surface, just beyond the sunrise. He was almost there.

His senses kept expanding, and it was as if he could see the whole planet at a glance. The city beside its glittering lake. The regrowing farmland of gently swaying crops. The twisted, snow-covered mountains in the far north. The harsh, blue-grey oceans. For such a grim planet, it was beautiful.

Then suddenly, the Force held him tight and pulled , and Ben fell as if his footing had slipped out from under him, sending him plummeting into space. His stomach leaped into his throat as he flew past stars and planets, dragged by the Force with the insistence that it desperately wanted to show him something.

He saw faces, decades of time going by in an instant. He saw what would be, maybe. He saw his Master. He saw a red lightsaber. He saw a boy who meant so much. “You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!” He saw life; twin stars entering bright into the universe. He saw death; the massacre of a people. For a moment, he saw his own demise.

He had absolutely no farking idea what any of it meant.

The Force stopped abruptly, hanging him there, out among the cosmos. His mind swirled and he fought nausea, spinning gently in the emptiness of the open void. Stars, nebulae, entire galaxies went slowly by his orbit. It was all within his reach through the Force, but he, too, was within its reach, and the universe screamed.

Pain, pain, pain tore into his senses and he recoiled, clutching his head in a futile attempt to block it out. He could hear them all, the billions of voices crying out; suffering and death and destruction and violence and war drowning the galaxy, one planet at the time.

And it felt so familiar.

It hit him hard in that moment; that feeling, the terror, the sadness, the hurt, it was what he felt day-on-day echoing through the Force on Melida/Daan. Conflict tearing the planet apart. And now, here it was, and the whole galaxy felt of it.

DO YOU NOW SEE? The Force howled at him. DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU MUST DO?

Just like that, Ben was plummeting, hard and fast through emptiness.

The stars whisked by as he flailed, the glimmering dots of light warping as if he was flying through hyperspace. He didn’t know if he screamed or not. Sound didn’t travel through space.

He had heard the stories, of Jedi meditating and going too far, of walking their mind too distantly away from the material plane that they couldn’t find their way back, leaving their bodies cold and empty and dead.

He knew, in that moment, that’s what was happening to him. He was falling away. The Force had pulled him too far from shore and now he was sinking.

The thread to his soul fell with him, like a harness with no tether. But with the distant sound of a voice calling his name, the thread snapped taught as if someone held the other end like an anchor.

It came in the form of a hand; young but scarred, tanned and freckled from a harsh sun. It reached for him, and Ben grabbed ahold with the desperation of a drowning man. The hand was warm and strong in this cold, endless space. It gripped his wrist tight, and pulled him back above the surface.

Ben let out a gasp, sitting bolt upright and heaving for air in a way that made him wonder whether he had at some point stopped breathing. He choked on a sob, attempting to fathom what the hell he just saw. Choking back vomit, Ben breathed hard, attempting to gather his Shields back around his abused mind. The thread returned simply to what it had been before.

Slowly, he felt the utter mental turbulence that apparently came after an out-of-body experience fade, and he felt he could breathe again.

Fun kriffing times.

Ben amended the fact that his day was going well.

Then he noticed it was in fact barley day anymore. Despite the way his little trip through the Cosmic Force felt like only a matter of seconds, he looked behind him, to the west, and saw the burnt-orange of the setting sun. Huh.

There; in the east, he could see it. Vermillion light bounced off the distant tall shapes of buildings, stretching far across the horizon, glinting in the fading rays like it was beckoning to him. Zehava. There it was.

Despite the fact it was war-torn, filled with many who wanted him dead, the presence of his people meant far more. He would be back to Nield and Cerasi so soon. He was almost home.

Chapter 6: More Denial (Of the Current Time Period)

Chapter Text

He entered the city through the catacombs.

It had taken all night to get to the outskirts, veering around to avoid the clusters of farmer’s homes that watched over the crops that supplied the city. This place had been a wasteland not so long ago. How the crops had grown so much in a few months was a mystery to him.

The watch towers that powered the shield-generator that used to surround the city was the first thing Ben, Nield and Cerasi had ever destroyed together as a team. Now, the city wall was all but gone, and it was far too easy to slip between the outskirts-buildings until he found the first grate in the pavement. Ducking down the ladder, Ben listened to dripping water echoing through the tunnels. His eyes were already adjusted to the dark, slipping underground just a few hours before sunrise, and it didn’t take him long to find the first Young-placed arrow on a T-junction. It was more of a coded symbol than an arrow, allowing even the smallest children to find their way through the maze that criss-crossed under the city. Ben knew where to go.

(He could have used the Force to guide his way, but using the Force right now was something he was… less keen to try. Not after last night.)

The way was familiar, but Ben found himself feeling lost anyway. Not because he didn’t know where he was, but because he didn’t know where anyone else was.

The low-ceiling constructed cave where dozens of tunnels met was once the Young’s head-quarters. Old, old tombs lined the walls- sheltering the children who huddled between them, listening to bombs fall overhead. The living cowering amongst the dead.

Macabre as it was, it was a bustling hive of activity for many months once, raided supplies and weaponry stacked against the walls, the wounded would shelter in that tunnel, the youngest of the children shared the next. Even after the Young ‘ended’ the war, most of them, the three leaders included, had still sheltered here, afraid of sleeping in the city rather than in the safety of their underground maze. This had been home, in the walls that dripped and the still air that smelt of blood and grief. But nobody had been there alone. They had each other, all of them.

But now all of them were gone.

The tunnels were empty. Not even a single sleeping-quilt remained.

It didn’t seem like everyone had left in a hurry, from the threat of being found or from being found. There were no discarded belongings, no blood on the walls, in fact it looked as if Ben was the first to disturb the layer of dirt on the ground for a very long time.

It felt so wrong, for the place to be empty. The last thing Ben remembered of the time where he was taken from; was being here, right there between those two stone coffins, Nield leaning against the wall, Ben’s head on his shoulder, Cerasi’s on Ben’s thigh. They would fall asleep together like that every night, a tangle of limbs and comfort amongst the uncomfort.

But now Ben….Ben just stood in the silence, feeling so completely and utterly alone.

He walked away. Out another tunnel, continuing the way he came. He didn’t want to be alone in this place a single moment longer.

What little light there was filtering through the tunnels glinted off something on the wall as he walked away. It was a plaque. He turned to read it.

To any children: If you are here with no-where to go, there are safe spaces located around Zehava.

Please make your way to one of these children’s facilities. Necessities are supplied free of charge. You will be free to leave at any time.

Stay safe.

What followed was a list of names of places, none of which Ben recognized. He turned and continued walking.

He didn’t particularly have any real direction he was intentionally going, just wandering the empty halls, his mind feeling just as quiet. After who knows how long, he saw light up ahead. Not that kind of light at the end of the tunnel, unfortunately, but bright artificial lights that bounced off the moist walls. Ignoring his better judgement, Ben went towards it.

These tunnels were new, he saw. The bricks were dry and the mortar was still mostly clean. They looked like they could have been built within his lifetime, maybe a little older. One thing was for certain, they were not here the last time Ben was.

Soon enough, the tunnels widened then branched off, and at a glance he saw each one was filled with rows and rows of dozens, if not hundreds of huge, black, windowless rectangular buildings. Halls of Evidence.

Ben was wondering why he hadn’t seen any surrounding the city. He had thought that maybe they had all been destroyed.

He walked by them all, watching his shadow be thrown down the hall by the harsh lights. Labels sat beside the door on each Hall, proclaiming the Hall’s people’s allegiance to either Melida or Daan, and the years of the deaths held inside.

He ran his hands over one label: 507 BWE - 488 BWE. He had never heard of the time-measurement BWE before. Nor were these markers on any Halls he had seen before.

On the other side of the door stood another new addition: a little digi-screen that was also clearly a scanner. It looked about the right size for a thumb, so he pressed his to it. It scanned, then beeped. [Please Scan Key], it said. Ah well, worth a shot.

He continued walking. It was something Ben had always considered ever since he first came to Melida/Daan; however much the two factions hated each other, it was very poetic that their Halls of Evidence were indistinguishable from one another’s from the outside. Everything was the same in death, he supposed.

Eventually, the tunnel that he walked down, the one he assumed was the main tunnel, ended in a tall, wide set of stairs that lead to ground-level. Light spilled down the stairs; it was still solidly daytime. So Ben tucked himself behind the last Hall in the row, out of view from the stairs, hidden in the shadow of the building. He glanced at its label; 12 BWE - 17 AWE. It had no marked allegiance.

Ben didn’t manage to sleep, instead watching the light down the stairs recede until it faded away, not really thinking about anything; especially not the Force or about why everything on Melida/Daan was so wrong, or what it all meant. He was certainly sure he didn’t want to know the answer.

He couldn’t stay there forever on the cold duracrete floor, so Ben decided to go get his hands on something they had been itching for ever since he landed on-planet. A good kriffing blaster.

He still had the lightsaber, not clipped to his belt but hidden in the folds of his robe. The longer he had it with him the more stupid he realised taking it with him was. A lightsaber was a Jedi’s life, and the Jedi it belonged to would certainly come looking for it. These were exactly the kind of messes his impulsive decisions left him in.

The streets were still busy when Ben traversed the stairs and took a deep breath, back above-ground. He looked behind him, seeing the entrance he just left was that of a big building, the sign above the stairs declaring it to be Halls of Evidence - History Association. Nield had been head of the New History Squad, responsible for the destruction of all war monuments, but when the kriff did Melida/Daan get a history association? He turned back around and walked away. The sun was low and shadows and light blurred together, and for anyone in the streets that saw him, a shrimpy teenager with his hood obscuring his face was nobody worth paying attention to. Maybe not unless he stopped in the middle of the street, mouth hanging open like a stupid fish as he took in the sight before him.

Zehava was a ruined city, the last time he was here. There was barely a single house that wasn’t missing a roof or multiple walls, even outside of the no-man’s-zone where the line of Melida and Daan fighting for territory over the city blurred. Graffiti lined every vertical surface large enough to hold it, usually more propaganda that blurred over time of which side it was cursing to hell. Often, big red spray-on paint covered the old; THE YOUNG WILL RISE. WE ARE EVERYONE. Rubble covered the streets, along with a body or two that had not yet been cleared away. Destruction had oozed from every corner.

But now, but now, Zehava was a beacon within the Living Force.

Buildings were whole. Many had two stories, or little tent shop-fronts that sent delicious smells and coloured lantern-light through the darkening street. People milled and chatted, dressed in casual clothes, not armour. He couldn’t immediately see anyone who appeared armed. Music rang from somewhere distant. Murals coated walls in colour where death-threats once were. Native plants climbed poles and building-sides. Children, children- ran around adult’s legs, giggling in their game without a care in the world, smiling like they had never known war. A far, far cry from the state of the rest of the universe, the Force here was filled with nothing but life.

Just for one moment, Ben didn’t care how far in the future he was. Was this it? Had they done it? Had they made peace and kept it? Was it all worth it, finally?

A large, solid body bumped into Ben’s shoulder from behind. He whirled around, hand going to a holster that wasn’t there, flinching instinctively at the wizened old face that peered down from him from much higher up than Ben.

“Oh, my apologies, little one.” The man’s deep voice did nothing to help Ben’s racing heart. Pale eyes studied his wide ones, his lingering shock mixing with the instinctual terror that came with being caught off-guard by an Elder adult. “Are you quite alright, there? Are you alone?”

“Y-yes,” Ben gasped out, all the air in his lungs apparently having abandoned him. “I’m alone.”

“Well, that’s no good! If you have no people around for you, I have a cot back at my humble abode that’s empty tonight, or I could walk you to the nearest Children’s Centre?”

Ben was probably certain he was looking at this man as if he was blathering nonsense. It took him way too long to respond. “No, thanks. I’ll…. manage.”

“Alrighty, then. Well, good evening to you.” The man shambled away. Ben watched him go in utter shock. Was he on the right planet?

He felt far too exposed out here in the street. Ducking into an alleyway, he kept his mind on his previous goal ( instead of anything else ) and made for Zehava’s Security Headquarters.

It took him way too long to get there. Every single street that he once knew so well had completely changed. Besides, he didn’t even know if the Security 'Quarters he was head of once was even in the same location; simply being the most-fortifiable, lockable building still standing.

That was one of the first designated buildings under the Young’s rule. A weapons sweep was another of the first things they did, Governor Nield, Cerasi and her Council; spending their time over politics in the three-walled, half-roofed Senate Building, while Ben and his Security Squad spent their days confiscating all weapons, one quadrant of the city at a time.

That was the way Ben liked it, though; those two out of harm’s way. It wasn’t like they couldn’t handle themselves, they had proven capable of that time and time again as all the Young did. (Had to. Or wound up dead.) But Ben was a neutral party, as an ex-off-worlder. While Nield was ex-Daan and Cerasi’s estranged father was Wehutti, leader of the Melida, usually Elders would spend enough time wondering whether or not to try shooting the brazen kid trying to steal their blasters rather than just doing it, which gave Ben enough time to brazenly steal said blasters. It was a good arrangement.

The Security Squad were the only people in Zehava sanctioned to carry weapons of any sort under the Young’s rule, attempting to remove the chance (or temptation) of conflict breaking out. Many of the Young didn't even have actual weapons throughout the war, simply makeshift ones made from what were essentially modified toys. That’s what they all started with; slingshots that sent beads whistling through the air, pinging off durasteel with the noise of a plasma-bolt. (Cerasi was amazing with her slingshot, as fast and as accurate- and as deadly- as a blaster. She taught Ben, laughing with him as he failed miserably, then guiding his movements through the next try with her hand on his.)

In an early raid against either the Daan or the Melida, (Ben had since forgotten which,) the Young had finally gotten ahold of real weapons, and kriff, if that didn’t level the playing field. Ben, as he found out, was a fantastic shot as a sniper, often hiding out on a rooftop or hillock and cutting down the Elder’s forces even before they reached the Young’s trenches. He had the Force to guide him, and his shots never missed.

Ben stopped walking, pleased as he found a strip of land that looked a lot like the important buildings in town. The Council Building he could see at the end of the street, a lot damn bigger than it once was. In front of him was the Security Headquarters, big and new-looking, and he felt a spike of pride. He helped build this. All of this.

If he wanted weapons, this would be the place to get it. From the state of the city, it certainly seemed as if nobody could just walk around carrying a loaded blaster, so there was no chance of just stealing one from someone’s home. If he was thinking practically about it, though, stealing a blaster from the Security Headquarters was probably a bad idea. If he was thinking practically about it, maybe having a weapon when nobody else did was probably unnecessary. Call him paranoid, but he didn’t care.

The building itself, he knew, wouldn’t house the weapons. The building would be administrations, offices, and potentially barracks. The weapons would be in a locked shed out back.

The fence was high, topped with barbed wire, but he scrambled up and over and jumped to the ground with ease, avoiding the circles of light that flood lights left on the floor. There were lights on in the offices and he had seen an armed guard wandering around the yard before he made his entrance. So they hadn‘t completely turned into pacifists when it came to protecting dangerous weapons. Good.

On light feet, Ben dashed over to the massive shed that the weapons were housed in. As quickly as possible, he reached the keypad, typing in a handful of letters-numbers jargon that he remembered well. The keypad beeped happily, and the latch in the door switched.

Of course he knew the passcode. He had set the passcode.

The lights came on as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him as quietly as he could. Blasters, electro-staffs, even grenade launchers lined the walls, happily stored away, waiting for a day that would hopefully never come: when they were needed once again. (He ignored the suffering feeling that engulfed the universe. He could worry about that later.) There were definitely less than he expected, many must have been destroyed post-war.

As quick as possible, Ben grabbed what he wanted, slipping it off the racks with as little noise as he could. A vibroblade- into his pocket. Blaster on his hip, another small one in his boot. Sniper-rifle strapped across his back, hidden under his cloak.

He was reaching for Plazma-charges when everything went wrong, as it always did.

It was a little blinking light on the shelf he had taken the rifle from. Blue and innocent, flashing at him almost cheerfully. A silent alarm. Oh, kriff.

Ben bolted.

“Hey!” A voice hollered. Security officers, at least half a dozen, ran at him across the yard. “Kid! Stop right there!”

High kriffing chance.

Ben scrambled up the fence twice as fast as he came in. The Officers had to loop back around to the gate; he had a head start. He wasn’t going to waste it.

Ben let adrenaline carry him, breath coming fast and vision swimming reminding him he hadn’t eaten in…. He actually had no idea. His ankle forced him to run with a limp, instinctively favouring the injured joint that screamed with pain whenever it hit the pavement. He was sore and tired, and that made him slower, and he had lost the advantage of knowing these streets better than he knew himself.

People had started to disappear from the night-markets some time before the early morning began, and they were almost empty now as Ben sprinted past houses and young trees, past of him wishing he could slow down to admire it all.

A speeder-bike whirred up ahead and he saw another officer pull up at the end of the street he was bolting down. Skidding and almost toppling over, Ben scrambled to regain his footing, going to run back the way he came only for that exit to be blocked by the officers on foot. Ben turned again, streaming down an alleyway.

He reached for the blaster on his hip then remembered the one thing he hadn’t managed to grab in his escape: ammunition. Well done. He threw the blaster aside, then the rifle, the weight making his speed come just a little easier.

Thank the Force, the alleyway wasn’t a dead end and he winded through the narrow spaces between houses and buildings. He was agile in the small spaces but the twisting directions slowed him further, and he realised that he wouldn’t be able to pick up speed again. He was exhausted, his breath heaving and rattling in his chest which ached profusely- he vaguely remembered being punched several times in the ribs during a weapons raid gone wrong a little while ago. Bruised ribs. Of course.

There was a skip at the end of the next alleyway, a dead end but his best option. It was there, hearing running footsteps and shouting getting closer, that he remembered the best weapon that he had on him yet.

He fished the lightsaber out of his robes, holding it before him with both hands. It felt so wrong to light one that wasn’t his- but after all this time even his own would be foreign to him. Master Jinn would be disappointed, if he somehow ever found out about this.

Ben pressed the switch on the side, and a brilliant blue blade sprung to life, illuminating the dark alley and positively crackling with power.

It was like no lightsaber he had ever felt before. It felt like his, somehow, like a reflection of his own Force-signature if his signature was reflected by kriffing lava, or ice cold enough to burn. It thrummed in his hands, aching of the sheer combat it had seen, the several focusing-attachments and the insanely …experienced kyber crystal forming the blade into his hands, something that could probably rival Beskar, given the chance. It lit up the Force with that terrifying blue light, and although the hilt in his hands was cold, through the Force, this ‘saber, who did not like him, burned. Ben dropped it, expecting to find black sears on his hands.

The blade winked out as it fell, the hilt clattering onto the ground and rolling gently into the gutter.

He didn’t get any more time to worry about it, though, as an officer suddenly burst around the corner, long blaster trained evenly on him.

Ben breathed deep. This part, he was no stranger to. He glanced behind him, knowing that he could probably jump from the skip and shimmy up the pole onto the roof, had his ankle not been busted. Well, that meant there was no way out besides the one in front of him, the one that now had an adult blocking his way. No matter.

He pulled the vibroblade from his pocket with a smooth movement that the darkness concealed and he braced himself into a ready-stance, despite his injury protesting. The blade switched on, and its low, ominous buzzing echoed across the walls.

“You need to put the vibroblade down, kid, before someone gets hurt.” The officer, a wisened, harsh-looking lady said firmly.

“You should get out of my way, before you get hurt.” Ben growled. He spun the ‘blade into reverse grip, the vibrations brushing his forearm.

“Okay, not making things easy, are we?” The officer was slowly walking towards him. He didn’t back down.

“Nope, not my style.” Come on, just a little closer. Then she’d be in range of a single quick strike. He had one shot, with her rifle aimed unshaking at his head. He would have to be quick.

“Last chance, kid… I will shoot you. I don’t think either of us want that.”

“Try me.”

He waited like a coiled spring. Nearly, nearly….. just one heartbeat later, he shot forward, slashing outwards with the short blade.

Apparently, the officer had seen it coming. She dodged backwards at the last moment, brought her rifle up, and squeezed the trigger.

This new Zehava seemed to value the kids a lot, Ben thought in those few milliseconds. Why would they turn and shoot at one now?

Oh, that’s why , was his last coherent thought as electric-blue light lit up the alley once more, the stun-ring hurtling from the blaster’s barrel and hitting him square in the chest, the world tumbling suddenly into darkness.

Chapter 7: Being Arrested- Only a Minor Inconvenience

Chapter Text

Ben came to with a groan. He felt cold and uncomfortable, so at least something was back to normal. His muscles felt like jelly and he flung a hand up to cover his eyes as light spiked his headache up a notch even with his eyes closed.

Kriffing stun guns . Never got any easier.

He blinked his eyes open, squinting as they took a long moment to swim into focus. A durasteel ceiling blurred into focus, a little security camera blinked its recording-light in the corner. A small window let sunlight in, landing directly on his face, broken up by a solid-looking grate.

It was morning? How high had that stun-gun been set?

“The standard setting,” a voice said out of nowhere. Ben scrambled to sit upright. He hadn’t realised he had said anything out loud. “You were only meant to be out for an hour, but you were exhausted enough to keep sleeping, apparently.”

Ben blinked again, taking in the rest of the clean, empty holding-cell he was in, sitting up on the metal bench attached to the wall. Well, this was nice. Now he had to break back out of the Security Headquarters again.

The speaker was beyond the diamond-shaped-grate that locked Ben in, sitting at a desk over a datapad, not looking at him. He was relatively young, maybe mid-twenties, with blond curls pulled into a small ponytail. When he finally did swivel around in his chair to face the holding-cell, Ben found himself studying the man’s right eye, looking for a scar, or… or something. There was nothing. His eyes were brown, not desert-blue, although Ben had no idea who he expected to see sitting there instead.

“There’s water and a snack-bar there for you,” the man gestured with a nod, and Ben saw a wrapper-covered bar sitting on the floor next to a ceramic cup filled with water. He eyed it warily, not moving. The man sighed.

“Jumpy one, huh? Okay.” Ben watched as he pushed out from the desk, then turned and traversed the office, a small chill-unit sitting quietly in one corner. What the man was getting was obscured by the swinging door, but a moment later the man walked back over to Ben holding a standard, commercial bottle of water. “Stay there, would you?” Watching Ben closer than he watched his own movements, the man scanned the badge pinned to his chest against the panel on the outside of the door, which beeped. He slid the door open just a crack, enough to reach through and swap the cup for the bottle. Then he slid the door shut again, and Ben heard it lock.

“There. The bar is in a sealed packet, too. You can have them.”

Apparently he was not the first person to be offered food with the fear of being drugged. That didn’t surprise him. But the fact that he’d just been offered something that likely wasn’t, was . His hunger won over his wariness, and Ben swung his feet over the side of the bench and grabbed the two items off the floor. He listened carefully for the quiet crack of the bottle’s seal breaking before he risked drinking.

The water was blessedly cold and tasted like heaven, washing away the dry and the fear that coated his throat. He forced himself to stop before he had drunk half, then did the same with the snack-bar: Test the seal, then only eat half. He tucked the remnants into the folds of his tunics, wishing he still had his cloak. That had been confiscated, apparently, along with his boots and the small blaster he had tucked inside, as useless as it was with no ammo. He took a glance at his left ankle, seeing respectable swelling and purple bruising, as expected. He thought of the lightsaber, maybe still hidden in the gutter behind the skip in the dark.

The Officer didn’t seem surprised at Ben’s suspicion-fueled behaviour. “There is more where that came from, I promise. Any allergies?”

Ben shrugged, still chewing. Plenty, but none that he could bother sharing. The man scooted his chair back over, almost at the bars. He kept his shoulders hunched and his hands visible. Man, these guys knew how to act around skittish kids, even if it was just a ruse. Ben was pretty sure it wasn’t.

“Okay, first things first. What’s your name?”

This guy had already heard Ben speak, so there was no point in pretending he couldn’t. He swallowed. “Ben.” It felt safe enough to give that much. It wasn't his real name, anyway.

“No last-name, Ben?”

He shook his head.

“That’s okay. Me neither.” All the Young had given up their last names unless they wanted to keep them, which none did. It made sense that having no last-name would be common on this new Melida/Daan. But this guy was too old to be one of the Young.

“Your name is?”

The man raised an eyebrow as if he hadn’t been expecting the question. “Sael.”

Ben was hit with a wave of deja vu. He remembered helping a new group of children off the battle-scarred streets and into the tunnels, sometime early into the war. There was a little girl that held his hand the whole way, blonde hair matted with dirt and blood. Her parents were long dead. Ben was now carrying the infant she had been holding, her small arms too weak to carry the baby any longer. “That’s my little brother.” She had said. “His name is Sael.”

They had lost that girl to exhaustion a few weeks later. Ben wished he could remember her name.

“Everything alright?”

Ben just nodded again, mind spinning madly. “What charges am I here on?”

Sael scoffed. “Theft, Unsanctioned Possession of Weapons, Attempted Assault of an Officer of the Law.”

He didn’t like adults pointing blasters at him. “She had it coming.”

Sael laughed a little. “I like you, kid. You remind me of someone, have we ever met before?”

“No.” No. They can’t have.

“Hmm. Okay. Well, unfortunately, I now have some questions for you .” He had his datapad in his hand, prepped to take notes. “Let’s start with why you were stealing from the Security Headquarters. Were you told to, Ben? Did an adult give you credits to bring back some blasters, or say they would hurt you if they didn’t?”

He didn’t answer.

“The easier you make this for the both of us, the faster we can get you out of here and where you need to be,” Sael said calmly. “It’s important for us to know if anyone was secretly trying to get some weapons.”

“Nobody sent me.”

“Right. Okay. Were you stealing them to sell?”

“No.”

“It’s okay to tell me, Ben. We both know you were on the streets, before you wound up here. It’s alright, I know what that’s like. But there are plenty of places for kids to go if they have nowhere. Did you come from a Children’s Center? Or was there a reason you felt like you couldn’t go to one?”

There was no way all these Children’s Centres he kept hearing about could have been set up within a handful of months. Nor could the city have been rebuilt. Or the Halls tucked away. Or a child grown.

There had to be an explanation that didn’t mean what he had known to be true, deep down, from the moment he landed on-planet. Please, Force, don't let it be true.

“Ben?”

“What year is it?”

“...I’m sorry?”

“What year?”

“Twenty-six AWE.” At Ben’s confused expression, he continued. “AWE? After War’s End? Damn, was that stun-gun set too high after all? Follow my finger with your eyes for me?” Sael moved his finger horizontally before the grate. Ben ignored him, trying to keep his breathing even.

“What year is that After Treaty of Coruscant?”

“Ben-”

“Please.”

“It’s, uh… Three-six-three-four ATC. Hey, Ben are you… are you alright?”

Twenty-six years. Twenty-six years. He was in the future. By two and a half decades.

“Ben, I need you to take deep breaths for me. Ben?”

The room just might have been collapsing around him. He wasn’t sure. “I want- I need to go, please.”

“Hey, no. You’re safe here, okay? If you’re confused, or in danger, we can help-”

“I need to go. They might be- shavit, I need to go find them.”

“Who, Ben? Is there someone we can call for you?”

“Let me out.”

“You are still under arrest. You’re not just walking out of here, I’m sorry.”

Ben clutched at his head. The ground felt like it was falling out from under him all over again. His head pounded. He felt nauseous. He needed to find them, Neild and Cerasi. They had to be- they would be still alive, right? Thirty… thirty-eight. They would be thirty-eight. That was so old. That was almost Elder-age.

He needed Sael’s badge. That would unlock the cell door. Then he could run, and keep running until he found them. He had to find them.

There was no way to reach Sael through the gaps in the grate that could probably only fit two fingers through. He would need the Force. The thought of using it almost made him back down, but desperation won over his fear. Using the Force like this, though, had been so hard the past few months- the… the past years, the past- he didn’t even know anymore. To get this right, he would need a distraction.

“What was her name?” Ben didn’t look up from the duracrete floor.

“Who?”

“Your sister. The one who died when you were a baby. What was her name?”

He glanced up. Sael looked like he had just been shot. “Carrie . She- H… how did you know…”

Ben took his chance. He reached a hand out, wrapping his mind around the little metal insignia, and pulling. Sael recoiled and Ben yelped as the badge tore off of Sael’s uniform, flying towards him like a plasma-bolt. Rather than scanning, it hit the scanner with enough impact to break the machine, the door beeping and sparking. Ben shoved it open, and ran.

“Hey!”

He darted around Sael, shoving the empty desk-chair with a Force-push that sent it crashing into the other man. Ben barley broke his stride, sprinting out into the hall and hitting the panel for the door to the office to slide shut. It wouldn’t delay Sael for more than a moment, but Ben made it count. Ignoring the shooting pain from his ankle, Ben sprinted through the corridor, ducking around corners and dodging past startled Officers going about their business. He heard a shout behind him, but Ben wasn’t as scared about a massive pursuit this time. He was just a kid running from arrest, not one armed with stolen blasters. Besides, he thought as he broke out the building and hit the street, feet bare on the pavement, he knew where he was going this time.

The Council Building was barely 200 metres away down the road and Ben got there fast, ducking around behind the tall, domed structure and shimmying up the first gutter he found. His ankle made his left foot useless, but he pressed his knee into the metal instead, aided by bare feet. There was a ledge about four metres up, a horizontal window-sill that jutted out of the wall at the perfect place. He pulled himself onto it, trusting it to hold his weight, watching the front of the building as a speeder-bike-mounted Officer flew past. They slowed to peer into the alleyway that Ben ducked down, but with no hiding places at ground-level in there, they quickly continued past, not once looking up.

Ben breathed a sigh of relief, just catching his breath for a moment. He pulled out his remaining water. The hot wind blew by, throwing his hair back from his eyes. This spot had a great view of the city and he stopped to survey how much it had changed. Houses were whole, the city stretched further than it had twenty-four years ago. People walked through the street, going about their business rather than going to battle. To the north, his left, was Lake Weir- the glittering water that supplied the city, silhouetted by distant mountains. Even from this distance, it looked far cleaner than Ben ever remembered it- once harbouring a huge Hall of Evidence that contained Nield’s parents. That one had been destroyed. Now, he could see children swimming, playing and splashing one another in the water. Ben smiled.

To the east, he saw a landmark he definitely hadn’t seen before. It was like a rich green ink-blot in the middle of the city, a huge corpse of trees and shrubbery, a little out-of-place amongst the buildings but beautiful nonetheless. A public garden, maybe? Maybe Cerasi built it. She loved gardens.

Ben sat, wondering where Cerasi and Nield were, so many years later. Did they still look the same? Nield with his dark hair against pale skin, tallest of the group and only getting taller, dark indigo eyes under a perpetually-furrowed brow. Cerasi, with her freckles and trademark smirk and bright emerald eyes, copper-coloured hair cut into a choppy bob. She had said, once, that she wanted long hair, but was too worried an Elder could grab it easily. Maybe she had grown it out long, now. That was a nice thought.

Would he recognise them, if he saw them in the street? He hoped so.

What were they doing now, he wondered. Did Cerasi still head the Council? He could see her going from school to school, (they would have those again, now!) teaching the children about the peace they made possible. Was Nield still Governor? Was the History Association instead of the New History Squad his idea, or someone else's? There were no more war monuments visible in Zehava, which was amazing, yet nor had the Halls been destroyed, accessible through permission, he assumed. It was a good idea.

With a start, Ben realised that it probably wasn’t just older Cerasi and Nield or any other Young members who he should be looking out for. In this when, Ben would be thirty-seven, too. Was his older self in this city, too? Assuming he didn’t die in the future as a thirteen-year-old, yeah, probably. What was he doing? Did he still head the Security Squad? He hadn’t exactly been looking at faces when he escaped, but how awkward would it have been if he had run directly into adult-Ben? He laughed internally at the thought.

He couldn’t wait to see Nield and Cerasi, and maybe even his future self. He had so many questions. Did they manage peace on Melida/Daan, finally? Did they do it, together? After so much suffering, did things finally get better?

Well, one way to find out.

With at least both Nield and Cerasi involved in the Council, the Council Building, where he was now- was the place to try. The window that Ben rested against was shut but not latched, and after peering at the dark room inside, he shimmied the window open and slipped inside.

The lights were off in the formal office that he found himself in. A big wooden desk sat, the window to its right. It was a smarter decision than the classic choice of positioning the desk with the window behind it. Less chances for a sniper to get a shot at the back of one’s head that way. A collection of small, comfortable looking couches gathered around a caf-table. A big set of shelves covered one wall, with flimsi-books and datapads alike, as well as a couple of decorative trinkets. The carpet was soft on his bare feet. It was a very nice room without being over-the-top or flaunting wealth.

The desk held neatly stacked datapads as well as a couple of flimsi-sheets and pens, all in their designated, neat position. Nield liked things organised, like this. Testing his hunch, Ben circled to the front of the desk, making out the little brass triangle name-plate that rested there.

Governor Nield, it read. Ben grinned, filled with delight for his old friend, still holding onto the title after all these years. And what Nield and the rest of his Council had managed with Zehava in just two decades was incredible. Ben was so proud of them.

He settled down in the big chair at the head of the desk. It dwarfed him just a little bit.

He didn't have to wait long, maybe about ten minutes, before the door to the office slid open and soft, cool ceiling lights flicked on. Ben ducked, silently observing who came in.

The man who entered looked about the right age. He was very tall and chillingly handsome, all sharp features. His robes were formal yet simple, a high collar with dark greys and blues overlapped by a black coat which he shed and laid over the back of one chair. He sported a small goatee and his black hair was gelled into the classy, swooping style Nield could never manage as a kid, Ben and Cerasi teasing him endlessly about it until he started chasing them around the tunnels to mess up their hair. It made the little kids laugh. The man placed his satchel down on the caf-table, attention on the datapad in his hand. Then he glanced up, taking note of the open window that sent the curtains buffeting gently. With a suspicious frown that was so Nield, he started across the room to close it.

Ben crossed his feet on the edge of the desk. “I like what you've done with the place.”

Neild's gaze snapped to the kid sitting in his chair, stumbling in shock and walking directly into one of the couches. His eyes were wide.

“What the kriff.” It wasn’t a question.

“You’re telling me.” Ben droned. Then he laughed, springing up from the desk and running headlong into Nield, wrapping his arms around him hard and drawing an oof from the older man at the impact.

Holy crap. Ben had found him. It was Nield. He thought maybe his heart would burst, or maybe he would just collapse on the spot, or maybe cry. It was a long moment before Nield hugged Ben in return, but when he did it was the best feeling in the world.

“Ben?”

“Yeah?” his voice was muffled by Nield’s robes.

“What the kriff?”

“It’s a long story. I think. Maybe not long. But it’s complicated.”

“I have time.”

They settled down on the larger couch that was backed against the wall, facing each other, close enough that their knees could still touch. It was an unwarranted feeling, but right now, Ben didn’t want to be further from Nield than he had to be.

“-and so then I hid the V-Wing, because I don’t actually know if it has a tracker, but it has to, right? I don’t know how to disable it though, so I left it in a canyon and I was also kinda worried I’d get shot down if I flew over the city, so I started walking, but then later there was this really weird Force-stuff that I can’t explain, funny how I can use the Force now when I conveniently never could while we were fighting the Elders, isn’t that stupid? But yeah, this Force stuff, it was kinda like I saw the universe? Which is dying? And I think I almost did too, again, but I didn’t and that’s another story-” Ben was vaguely aware he was rambling, the words tumbling out of him as the tension that had been screwing his brain for days was replaced by complete relief. With one eyebrow quirked just a little, Nield was quiet as Ben talked, just listening. Ben had never been more thankful for his friend.

He had taken to twisting the cap on and off of the empty water-bottle he still had, just needing something to do with his hands. “-so I ran out- again; sorry about that - and came here and broke into your office because I figured you would be in the Council Building if anywhere, and then soon after, you showed up. I think I had known that I was years in the future since I got here, but I didn't want to believe it. But you’re here, and this world is amazing, so it’s okay, in the end. And that’s it.” He took a deep breath.

“O…kay.” Nield nodded slowly, leaning back in his seat from where he had his hands steepled. “So… how long exactly has it been since you woke up on the ship?”

“Uh… around… four days? I think?”

“And all you’ve eaten in that time is half a snack bar? Not on my watch.”

“Nield,” Ben scoffed with a smile. “Is that really the priority right now?”

“It’s my priority.” He was typing something into his comm. “Kids don’t go hungry in this city, Ben. Not anymore.”

That hit him hard. “Yeah, I’ve been noticing that. Honestly, Nield, I just… it’s so drukking wizard that we managed it. Peace on Melida/Daan.”

“It’s called Melidaan, now,” Nield said with the ghost of a smile. Ben’s eyebrows shot up. Nield chuckled at his expression. “But yeah, we did. It wasn’t easy, still isn’t, we deal with a lot of gangs or people trying to reform the factions, and there is always a new thing that needs to be fixed, after so much conflict. But mostly, people just want peace. They’re starting to spread out over the world again, reinhabiting decades-abandoned cities rather than facing conscription. If anything, our biggest problem right now is under- population. Kids are one of my biggest priorities, I’m sure you can’t imagine why.”

Ben laughed at that, and the fact it was a genuine laugh made him realise he couldn’t remember the last time he had done so. He felt so light.

“Lots of schools, centres and places to go if kids feel unsafe at home. Educating the future generations. There will never have to be another Young.” Nield said seriously.

“Force , Nield. That’s so incredible. I’m so proud of us. What are Cerasi and I doing here, in this future?”

Neild’s face went through a complex series of emotions within a matter of seconds that Ben couldn’t decipher. “Ben… when exactly are you from? What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Oh, well, it was a ‘couple weeks after we claimed Zehava. We had the council and the heads-of-Squads established, you as Governor. My Squad was about one-third of the way through the whole city in the door-to-door weapons sweep. I remember falling asleep with you and Cerasi in the tunnels. Then I woke up on the Negotiator. Why do you ask?”

“Ben… Things got… complicated pretty soon after that. The Young split when you and Cerasi tried to convince me to stop destroying the Halls and I was too wound up in my own emotions to listen. Mawat and his Scavenger Young joined me, and the Elders were taking advantage of the disruption to take the city back. But Mawat was playing his own game, wanting to be Governor himself. I was manipulated by him, and it almost got everyone else killed, too.”

Ben scoffed, incredulous. “Mawat? Our Mawat? Really?” Mawat was the leader of the Scavenger Young, although he fell begrudgingly under Ben, Cerasi and Nield’s command after the two groups came together. He was a calculative kid, a few years older than Ben, with long sandy hair and a stubborn-streak that sometimes made trouble. But they were friends. Mawat was a part of the Young as they all were. Would he really turn on them?

Nield nodded somberly. “Yes, unfortunately. It lead to a battle in the streets, Elders versus the reformed-Young. You and Cerasi ran to stop it, and Cerasi- she… she made a speech, later, in another conflict. She convinced us all to lay down our arms, everyone. Even the Elders. We have her to thank for the peace we hold now.”

Ben grinned. “I’m unsurprised, honestly. That sounds exactly like her. Where is she, now? She’ll probably find this whole thing hilarious, I can’t wait to see her.” He glanced around the office stupidly, as if she was about to materialise out of nowhere.

“She’s… off-planet, currently. I’m sorry.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll see her later, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, where’s future me? There are a few questions I’d like to ask that idiot, assuming he’s still alive.”

He meant it as a joke, and fought a moment of panic as Nield’s face twisted a little once again. “You’re not here, either. You left to go back to the Jedi, after the war ended, leaving with your old Master who helped end that final battle.”

“What ? No, no way! I seriously just left?” With Master Jinn? An emotion twisted in him, hearing that, that he didn’t bother deciphering. His gut burned. “Why would I do that? Right after we had achieved peace? No, That doesn’t make sense. Sure, I missed Coruscant and the Jedi Temple and my Master, but I wouldn’t just leave you and Cerasi. Would I?” He looked to Nield desperately.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Ben. I guess… well, we didn’t leave on great terms, you and I. I had tried to single you out as an off-worlder and kick you off the Council, when you opposed me. We fought a lot. We weren't fighting by the time you left, but it wasn’t the same anymore.”

“And Cerasi?”

“... Ben, I- ”

Nield was promptly interrupted by the crashing arrival of someone yelling his name down the hall outside the office.

“Nield! Nield, Nield-” A crash. “ Shavit! Sorry! Nield-”

The man in question stood as a frantic whirlwind burst into the office in the form of a muscular young woman. She had dark skin and golden eyes, a scar across her cheekbone and a long raven braid spilling over her shoulder. A thin blue scarf was looped and tucked under the collar of her brown leather jacket, which held a Security Squad emblem and several distinct extra pins that Ben assumed meant a high rank. She braced herself against the doorway, breathing hard as if she had run a long way. She seemed so familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Neild , holy shavit. So you remember that kid who broke into the weapons store last night, and how we arrested him? Well he apparently just escaped , so I got a copy of his description, and there’s no way it’s possible, but he is the splitting image of, and said that his name was-”

Her eyes finally fell onto the other person in the room.

“-Ben?”

The breath in him left abruptly. He flew to his feet. “Holy shavit. Roenni? ”

“Ben! ”

He was across the room in the space of a second. She ran to meet him, the much taller woman dropping to one knee. He threw his arms around her neck, and he felt her squeeze him tight in return.

No way. After a long moment, Ben pulled away just a little, taking her in. “Look at you! You’re so grown up!” He cupped her cheek with his hand, and she leant into it with a laugh.

“Well, you’re a fair bit smaller than I thought you’d be,”

“I think that’s fair.” He hugged her tight again.

Roenni was here. That was amazing! She was so much older than when he had last seen her. She’d be going on thirty now, a far cry from the little girl with streaky hair hanging in front of her eyes, small enough to slip and sneak into the places nobody else could, terrified of the Elders but so determined not to let Ben or the others others go to an infiltration mission without her. He looked out for her the absolute best he could, and she barely left his side. She was practically a little sister to him, and now here she was, all grown up, and he was so proud. He hadn’t realised how much he had missed her until she was in his arms again.

With Nield and Roenni here, his knees felt weak with relief. All they needed now was Cerasi, and Ben was sure she would be home soon, then they would be all back together again.

Chapter 8: Suffering is Made Better with Friends! Sucks when You Have None.

Chapter Text

The three of them had gathered together in Nield’s office, Ben trying to re-explain to Roenni how he came to be there now. He had reached the point of his Security Quarters escape when room-service (wow, they had that?) knocked on the door.

Ben had tucked in the moment it was offered to him; a damp rice-dish with chunks of meat and a bread-roll that he scoffed down. Nield had taken the chance to briefly pull Roenni outside the office, door hissing shut behind them. They were talking, but the sound was too muffled to make out the words. After a moment, he heard Roenni raise her voice.

“-an’t not tell him!”

“I will! Jus-” Nield’s voice faded back out as he lowered his voice again.

So there was something they weren’t going to tell him. Ben frowned. They walked back in a moment later, Nield leading the way. He wore a large silver signet ring on his thumb, Ben noticed, and he was fiddling with it now, spinning it around and around. Roenni followed behind, looking sombre. Her eyes lit back up when they made eye-contact again, so it couldn’t be anything too bad.

“So what do you reckon, guys? Time travel.”

Roenni chuckled. “I don’t wanna think about it too hard.”

Nield looked contemplative. “I’m not sure it’s that simple. If you went back in time with knowledge of the future, things would have gone very differently.”

“So, what? Does that mean I don't go back?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“I don’t know, Ben. I know you never disappeared into the future during the war. Things just happened… the way they happened.”

“I guess. Not that I know. I have no idea how I ended up here. I wonder if Cerasi-”

“How did you break into the Weapons Store, by the way?” Roenni asked.

Ben shrugged, taking a mouthful of food and speaking around it. “Figured I’d try the passcode, and it was still the same.”

“Roenni?” Nield spun to her. “Why have you not changed the passcode from when it was set twenty-six years ago?”

She shrugged sheepishly. “...It’s a good passcode?”

Nield face-palmed. “Remind me why I made you Chief of Security?” He spoke through his fingers.

“Because I’m amazing at it?”

Ben lit up. “You’re the Security Chief?”

She grinned. “Yeah. Followed in your footsteps.”

Ben flushed, smiling back.

“Please change the passcode.” Nield massaged the bridge of his nose.

“But then I can’t get a blaster.” Ben pouted.

“You do not get a blaster.”

“You can’t talk. Your code to the Halls is a four-letter word .”

Nield scoffed, spinning his ring. “That’s only one of them. The others have more secure codes. Mine doesn’t cover the security of a city.”

Ben sighed dramatically, breaking them from their very sibling-like bickering. He had more questions. “How is everyone else? The rest of the Young? The… the Elders?”

“Yes, everyone is well. Many hold high-ranking positions in the Council, still. The Young collectively rebuilt Zehava.”

“Delia and Joli finally tied the knot two years ago! Finally.” Roenni piped up. “They’re expecting their first kid later this cycle.”

“Aw! Really?”

“Yes. It’s quite the achievement, old Young-members becoming parents. We’re certainly well-versed in how not to raise children.”

Ben snickered. “You mentioned Mawat. Where is he, now?”

Nield and Roenni exchanged a look . “Mawat…” Nield spoke. “…made some terrible choices towards the end of the war. He re-armed both the Elders and convinced me to re-arm the Young, which only led to more death. He lives in the countryside now. It took me a very, very long time to forgive him for some of the things he did, but I think I have, by now. Now it’s just a case of him learning to forgive himself. We’ve started to reconnect a little in the past few years, he’s been studying politics.”

Ben nodded to himself, filing that information away. What was it that Mawat did that was so unforgivable? He’d have to ask Nield later.

Most of the Elders are dead, now.” Roenni changed the topic. “Old age. Wehutti died a few years ago. Sad old man,” she said sympathetically, which surprised Ben. The leader of the Melida was not someone he expected the Young to be sympathetic to.

“What’s Cerasi up to, off-planet?”

“We have an emissary over at Coruscant at the moment,” Nield said. Roenni was staring hard at the caf-table. “She’s with them, investigating if it’s worth Melidaan joining the Republic Senate. We do not want to join in another conflict, but it’s becoming harder and harder to not choose a side. It’s likely worth choosing one, rather than that choice being made for you.”

Ben’s brow creased. A feeling stirred within him. “What conflict?”

That snapped Roenni out of her stupor. “You don’t-? Of course you wouldn’t, that’s so messed up. Uh…” She looked to Nield. He gestured for her to continue. Ben glanced quizzically between them.

“Ben… There is a war going on. A galaxy-wide one.”

Ben’s jaw dropped to the floor. “Between who?”

“The Galactic Republic and the Separatist Confederation, who left the Republic in fear of its corruption.”

“Who leads them?”

“The current Chancellor of the Republic is, uh, Sheev Palpatine, and the Separatists are led by a Yan Dooku.”

Ben choked on his rice, coughing for a long moment. “My kriffing Grand-Master ?”

“...well. Uh. Apparently.” Roenni was giving Nield a look that said help , but he just shrugged in response. “This is the third year of war. It’s fought by the Seperatist’s droid army, and the Grand Army of the Republic’s clone troopers.”

This was getting more and more insane. “Clones of what?”

“Humans. A Mandalorian, if you believe the rumours. But the rumours also say that the clones aren’t sentient people and don’t deserve the rights or citizenship that they don’t have anyway. But I’ve met some, and they seemed like people to me. Besides, being born for conscription against an enemy you don’t have a choice about- not something that easily sits right with us. So I dunno.”

“Ben, there’s something else.”

“Something else?”

“The GAR… well, their Generals and Commanders…” Roenni sucked through her teeth, wincing as she spoke. “...are the Jedi.”

“What!” Ben burst out. The Jedi were meant to be kriffing peacekeepers . Why were they leading in a war?

“Yes. And, Ben… you’re one of them.”

Ben flopped backwards on the couch, staring at the plaster ceiling and exhaling slowly. This was drukking insane. Him, in a war, again? Why would his older-self agree to that? That’s not what the Jedi were. What did Master Jinn say about this? Was he a General in this, too?

Well, that explained that feeling in the Force, why the universe was screaming with pain. There was war everywhere. ‘Do you see what you must do?’ the Force had asked him. But it was a galaxy-wide war. What did the Force expect him to do about it?

He looked back at his two companions. They were watching him carefully.

Ben sighed. He had just been thrown decades into the future; could it really get weirder than that?

Nope, wrong again, apparently. “High-General Kenobi, Jedi Master.” Roenni was reading off her datapad as if from a holo-web article of some sort. “Leads the GAR’s Two-Twelfth Battalion, with a clone Marshal Commander. Commonly known to fight alongside the Five-oh-First’s General Skywalker and Commander Tano, Kenobi’s former-Jedi Padawan-learner and Grand-Padawn.”

Ben was fairly certain he was about to have a heart-attack. “This is farking ridiculous. I wouldn’t kriffing- I wouldn’t lead… Grand-Padawan. I was an awful Jedi. Force, those two poor people must have turned out terrible.”

Everything since the Negotiator was falling into place, and he didn’t like it.

“You okay, Ben?”

“I think I need a nap.” He said weakly.

“The ship you woke up on sounds a lot like a GAR Star-Destroyer.” Nield said. Ben knew he was right, somehow. “They may know how you’re here, in the future. They’ll definitely be looking for you. I think it would be wise to contact the Republic on this.”

Ben bolted upright. “No! Kriff no! We don’t know what they want with me!”

“They should at least know you’re safe.”

“What if they take me away? They didn’t want to let me leave.”

“Have you considered that it might be because they care about you?”

No. He hadn’t.

“Not me. They don’t care about me. Whoever this General Kenobi is in the future, leading a war, that’s not who I am. I won’t be that.” He took a deep breath. “ Please, Nield. Don’t contact the Republic.”

Nield was silent from a long time, staring at Ben, expression blank but a thousand emotions rolling from him in the Force. “Okay. I won’t. Not yet.”

Ben nodded in relief.

You’re being a coward, Cerasi would say. (Will say, when she got back.) Then she’d grin at his glare, lopsided and gorgeous. You know what I mean. You’re running scared from something you know you shouldn’t. You can’t run forever.

I can try, Ben would say, only half joking.

She would scoff. Good luck with that.

We don’t need luck.

Everyone needs luck.

They would share a smile, then. Just the two of them.

Not us.

x+x+x

Roenni left after a few hours, gone to; quote, ‘Clean up Ben’s messes and his growing criminal record.’ And ‘Change a passcode,’ as Nield had interjected. She had flipped him off as she walked away, and Ben had laughed.

They went back to Nield’s apartment after that, him telling his secretary in passing that he was taking the rest of the day off. His secretary- an older woman with burn scars and half of her hand made of cybernetics- nodded, then watched Ben go as if she had seen a ghost.

As they walked, Nield pointed out features of the city that Ben hadn’t yet gotten the chance to appreciate- community halls, the small businesses that were starting up, the space-port he hadn’t yet seen. (It had very high security there, and all those who brought weapons on-planet needed to also possess a licence- otherwise have the weapon taken away until they got the licence, or left again. It wasn’t like they got many off-worlders visiting, though. The rest of the universe was taking their time to trust that Melidaan was a much safer place to visit than it once was.)

Ben asked about the garden. Nield said that it was exactly what Ben assumed- public gardens, replacing the land where old, insignificant buildings once stood. Ben asked if Cerasi built it. Nield said yes, then said nothing more.

Nield’s apartment was a lot like his office; perfectly neat, nicely furnished but not garish in the slightest. It was the expected size for a single inhabitant, if not a little roomy. The tiles were covered in soft, woven rugs, the whole place a matching colour-scheme of cool browns and silvery-blues. Nick-nacks and holo-photos sat neatly in their designated spaces. The front-door opened into the living-room, the kitchen to the right, separated from the main space by a kitchen-bench. Ben caught glimpses of a bedroom-office through an open door to the left. There was evidence of living- everywhere, the window Nield slid open to let a cool breeze in, the gentle rumples in the couch-throws where he might have sat. The half-cut loaf of nut-bread sitting on a wooden board in the clean kitchen. It felt like a home.

“You’ll have to sleep on the couch, I’m afraid.”

Ben looked at the plush, well-worn sofa of dark blue velvet, long enough for his short frame to stretch out in, draped with various throw pillows and blankets. “Oh no. Sleeping on a couch. How will I survive.”

Nield laughed quietly as if Ben had said some kind of inside joke, which he kind of had.

The couch looked awfully inviting, and seeing his trailing footsteps and drooping eyelids, Nield strongly suggested that Ben take that nap. Ben, too, realised- that between Hyperspace, the Force, and getting stunned, -the only time he had gotten any actual sleep were the stolen moments before he had ventured into the city for the first time; in the tunnels, sleeping sitting up as he was so practised at, huddled between the stalwart sentries of dead that were the Halls.

Ben was practically asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Nield woke him again later, for dinner, apparently, and Ben blinked blearily, annoyed yet unsurprised how long he had slept for. Nield had changed, these robes a little more casual. His hair was damp from a shower- a water one, not a sonic, Ben realised a little jealously. Nield- who had smartly woken him by calling Ben’s name rather than shaking him awake- smiled at his noticing and promised Ben could have one later.

The evening went quietly, which was a novelty Ben really enjoyed. He had suggested holo-calling Cerasi, but Nield muttered something about time-zones and said they could do it later. Tomorrow, maybe.

After everything, as the two of them returned to sleep, Ben realised he had forgotten to ask Nield what it was he and Roenni weren’t telling him. He wasn’t going to let it worry him, now now, when he had just gotten home, and it was amazing. So why did something feel… off? He stopped staring at the ceiling and rolled over to force himself to sleep. Everything was fine. It had to be. Maybe he could ask Cerasi what she thought, when they called her. Cerasi would know.

x+x+x

The next day went about as well as expected, when one gets thrown into the future.

Nield, of course, had Governor-duties to attend to, (although Ben couldn’t say exactly what they were). He did, however, take time out of his day to take Ben to pick up some new clothes. (His Jedi-like robes were pretty filthy by this point, and Ben wasn’t exactly comfortable wearing them, anyway.) Ben eagerly picked out clothes reminiscent of those he had worn back during the war; a maroon tunic, black cargo pants, and a dark leather jacket.

(“These seem to be popular,” Ben had joked, thinking of the Officers. “Everybody else is just copying my epic style.”

Nield had shrugged. “Why do you think Roenni made them a part of the Security Squad uniform?”)

Nield had also insisted on a better-fitting pair of boots as well as medical attention for Ben’s sprain, rolling his eyes about how Ben had typically ignored it until now. (The bacta-injections he got for his ribs made Ben incredibly uncomfortable about an adult near his vital organs with a sharp instrument, but Nield was there the whole time, and it sure felt better afterwards.)

Nield went back to his office to work more afterwards, and Ben went with him. He enjoyed it far more than he expected. He met some other Council members, seeing how it operated these days. (They had signet-rings, like Nield. Ben assumed it was a rank-thing.) He got to ask lots of questions; about how the Council ran, about how Melidaan was progressing as a world, about the Galactic-wide Civil-war. (He didn’t ask anything more about General Kenobi. He didn’t want to know.)

He asked about the Halls of Evidence in the tunnels; and Nield confirmed his theories once more. Cerasi and Ben had convinced Nield that to destroy the Halls was to erase history, and their demolition had been prevented. They were now underground, to avoid their presence as a reminder of hate. However, the Halls themselves were still publicly accessible, their contents accessible through request, or as a historian, or scholar.

It was a part of the new culture they were building on Melidaan, apparently, for citizens to still make recordings for the Halls late in life, almost like a last will and testament that some other planets had. These holos, placed in the Halls with their ashes, beside their family member’s, featured the person speaking of their family, their life. Usually, they ended with a message for their children, too. Ben had heard some old recordings, before. He liked that they still left them, and wondered what the new ones were like, now that they left messages of love, rather than hatred.

Ben had been struck by a thought, then. He was still curious about how Roenni had spoken about Wehutti, and now he was dead, Ben was interested to hear what kind of message he left behind.

He asked Nield if they could go see, but Nield quickly turned him down, which Ben thought was… really strange. It was fair for Ben to see the people he once knew of, right? What was there that Nield didn’t want him to see?

It was now evening once again, and after catching up with Roenni, Ben sat with Neild in his apartment to eat dinner, watching dark clouds roll in from the horizon. Nield was quiet the whole time, looking like he was thinking hard. Although he wanted to, Ben didn’t ask.

He settled into bed a little while later, after enjoying a water-shower until the heated water ran out. (Nield had offered to buy him some form of sleeping-clothes while they were shopping, already seeming to know the answer when he asked. When Ben declined, much preferring the old habit and practically of just sleeping in his day-clothes, Nield had just nodded in understanding and hadn’t asked again.) Now, he was lying awake on Nield’s couch, thinking about everything and nothing. (He knew he would probably have to properly process everything wrong in this future at some point, but sue him; he didn’t want to.)

That was when Nield walked out of his office from where he had been cooped up for the last little while. Tentatively, he sat down on the couch too, at Ben’s feet, looking apprehensive and just a little patronising. Oh no.

“Ben, there’s a decision that I’ve been considering over today, and I believe it was necessary to act upon it.”

“...okay? What is it?” He had a bad feeling about this.

Nield hesitated before speaking again, as if carefully choosing his words. “I just got off a holo-call with an administrator for the GAR. You-”

A chill ran through Ben’s body. “Neild, no! You said you wouldn't!”

“I said I wouldn’t yet. I have now.”

“You can't just do that!”

“I can, actually. I am still the Governor of this planet, not just your friend. As such, you are under my jurisdiction.”

“Nield! ”

“You have been missing, Ben. It’s not public knowledge, but General Kenobi has been M.I.A for the last five days.”

“You don’t know what they want with me!”

“Ben, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. They’ve even conceded to some of our weapon-laws for coming on-planet. They just want to talk, and we can figure everything out, you can get your answers, and they can get theirs. You don’t have to go with anyone you don’t want to.”

Ben flopped backwards on the couch, glaring at the ceiling so he didn’t have to look at Nield.

“Please, just don’t do anything stupid. Stick around to talk to the people, that’s all I ask. Okay?”

“Fine,” Ben spat.

Nield sighed when Ben still didn’t look at him. “Ben. Obi-Wan.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright. I won’t.”

There was silence for a long moment, as if Nield was waiting for Ben to say something more. He didn’t.

He sighed again. “I’m going to go to bed, now. We can sort things out in the morning. Right? ” A veiled you better still be here. Ben grumbled in affirmation.

Nield stood up, but paused as he reached his bedroom door. “There is something else you don’t know, about the end of the war, that I need to tell you. But not tonight.”

Ben stared into the dark.

Another sigh. “Goodnight, Ben.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he listened to Nield’s door shut, and the muffled movements of the older man getting ready for bed, the light in the crack under his bed eventually switching off. Ben lay there for another few hours, mind whirling and anger burning in his gut. How dare he? Nield had said he wouldn’t call the Republic, and now he had, and they were coming here. On top of that, the feeling that had been following Ben around- the feeling of off- ness that lingered around Nield, around Roenni, about this place, had escalated to a blaring alarm in his skull. There was something they weren’t telling him. Ben intended to find out what.

For some reason, he felt as if Wehutti was the one who held the answers.

Ben waited for another hour or two, until he was sure Nield would be asleep. Then, he snuck out the unit and ran, light-footed, out into the streets.

It was like his first night in Zehava all over again, except this time he was running from Nield, to the Halls of Evidence. Memorising directions in one visit was something Ben had gotten very good at in the Young’s tunnels. The streets were deserted as he flew by them, powered on by determination. It wasn’t long before he was running down the steps into the Hall’s tunnels, the sign illuminated and the tunnels lit even this late.

He knew which one he needed to go to. There were only two Halls with no marked allegiance on them, and he stepped over to the one marked 17 AWE - . The scanner beside the door reflected the light at him smugly. It had asked for a key when he had tried his thumb-print before. But he had the key, now.

It was Nield who gave it away, when Roenni said that Nield’s passcode to one certain Hall was a four-letter word. He had instinctively spun his signet-ring as he had responded. Rookie mistake. It’s flat, engraved surface was about the size of a thumb, perfect size for the scanner, and every Council-member held one. It made perfect sense.

Thankfully, it was the kind of thing too bulky to wear to sleep, and Nield had left it on the lamp-table beside his bed. It hadn’t taken much effort at all to sneak into his room as he slept and swipe it off the table. Nield would notice its absence as soon as he woke up, if he didn’t wake up beforehand. He would know where Ben was as soon as he saw him missing, too. Ben probably didn’t have long.

He pulled the ring out of his pocket, rotating it to the correct direction as if one was wearing it. The blue light slid down then back up the scanner, then after a tense moment, beeped happily. An Aurabesh keyboard projected itself beside the scanner.

Okay. Four letter word.

Ben thought for a moment. Young was five letters. Cerasi was six. Would it be something obvious, like Hall ? That wasn’t Nield’s style.

Ben thought for a long moment, remembering vividly both what the Halls held, and how Nield felt about them, back in the past- Ben’s last week. He reached up to type.

H - A - T - E

The keyboard flashed red for a moment. Wrong. He tried again.

D - E - A - D

Wrong again.

Passcodes like these usually had three wrong answers before some kind of alarm was set off. Ben had one more try. He stopped, thinking hard. What was something important to Nield that few others knew? He, Ben and Cerasi shared everything. They used to, at least.

Ben thought about the three of them, how close they were. The loss of it hurt like an open wound. He wasn’t sure if he trusted Nield anymore. And Cerasi… Cerasi wasn’t here. Ben didn’t know why; why Cerasi really wasn’t here. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. That wrong feeling was burning within him, again. He didn’t want to feel it. He didn’t want to know what he knew it was telling him. He hung desperately onto what the three of them once were.

Just like that, Ben knew exactly what the passcode was. He typed with shaking fingers.

L - U - C - K

The door swung open.

It was dark inside, no windows to let light in, designed to make the holos as bright as possible. It was through the dim light he searched, amongst the rows and rows of plaques declaring names and years, the golden, stylized holo-projectors bright and polished.

It didn’t take him too long to find. There, Wehutti, 49 BWE - 22 AWE. Ben pressed his palm against the plaque, then stepped back.

The dark filled with blue holo-light as the life-sized form of the man flickered into view. He looked much older than Ben remembered him. His hair was grey and long, tied back at the nape of his neck. His left arm- lost at the shoulder long ago- was now replaced by a prosthetic he must have gotten some time after the war, as neither faction had the money nor supplies to produce such a thing- as nessicary as it was- during the conflict. His pale-green eyes somehow still held their colour even through the holo. His wrinkled face was a little sickly-looking, and he looked very, very tired. Nonetheless, he smiled genuinely at the long-gone holo-recorder at his eye level, over Ben’s head. It was eerie.

“I am Wehutti, son of Gersi and Cawler of the North Country, husband of Sophe, may I be with her now.” The hologram spoke. Tension wound itself around Ben’s chest. “My parents were Melida. They gave their lives fighting for a cause they died believing in, as my grandparents did, as their parents before them, as their parents before them. This message- It is legacy. My legacy. Once, it was meant to be one of hatred, recalling the events of war I have seen and the deaths that have occurred in my life at the hands of the Daan. But that is not my legacy, anymore.

“The events that I was alive to witness were the ones that changed a planet. I was the leader of the Melida faction from the age of twenty-eight, following in my mother’s footsteps. That is how I met Sophe, yet our marriage and family is the only good that came from my time as leader. I did what I thought was right, leading the Melida in warfare against our enemy. But this was in vain and in hatred, blinded by responsibility and a loathing that I had no true reason to follow. I killed, and my people were killed, and it was all pointless.”

My two children grew, and after the loss of their mother I failed them as a father as I did a leader. My eldest; my son Kaide, I sent to an munitions factory in the country as soon as he was old enough. He never returned from there alive. May I beg his forgiveness when I see him again. My daughter, Cerasi- I saw a fire within her that I believed could lead the war to an end. I was not wrong, although it did not happen in the way I expected. ”

At the mention of her name, Ben’s heart clenched. He listened on.

“I raised my daughter into the leader I knew she would one day be. The war raged on, and looking back, I was more of a commander to her than I ever was a father. That is a failing I must bear.

“Everything changed when Cerasi met a young Daan boy. In secret, they became friends, a bond that would change history. They ran away together, wanting to leave behind war, and I believed her dead for a long time. However, she returned as the leader I knew she’d be, leading her own faction determined to end the continuous generations of conflict. She became my enemy, which was my greatest failing of all. In that time of conflict- her with her Young- we would have killed each-other if we had the chance. My death would have been deserved. Hers was not. ”

What?

“Even after they managed it, Cerasi and her two friends ending the war, I still opposed her. Here she was, my own daughter, acting for peace while I couldn’t let go of the past. I learned how wrong I was far too late. I know now, the legacy I want to leave. One that she would be proud of. It is for her that I will never again pick up a weapon again. It is for her that this is the legacy I shall leave. May it be one that many others may follow behind; peace on Melidaan. So to my dearest Cerasi, I know that although I could never earn your forgiveness, I die with comfort knowing that I will see you again now, in the After or in the life that comes next. ”

Wehutti smiled, gently, the holo blinking out, leaving Ben in the dark, dark, dark.

No. No. He had to be wrong. He had to be wrong. Cerasi couldn’t- she couldn’t-

He has to get out of here. Ben backed away, stumbling over his own feet. He tripped, catching himself on another plaque. A holo winked to life, the blue light bright in his terrified eyes. He heard a voice, there, on his hands and knees on the floor, one that he knew so, so well. It pierced him though the heart. He couldn’t breathe.

“I made my decision when the war ended. I will no longer carry a weapon. I will fight no more in the name of peace. But today I might die for it.”

Ben gathered himself to his feet. He rose to meet the eye-level of the holo before him. He saw her eyes, crystal green. He saw her smirk, tinged with sadness. It shouldn’t be sad . She was his exactly as he had seen her last, for him only a few days ago. She shouldn’t be the same. She shouldn’t be here at all. In the place of memoirs left behind by the dead.

“Do me a favour, friends. Don’t build any monuments for me. Don’t destroy any, either. History isn’t in our favour, but that doesn’t mean we should annihilate it. Don’t let our dream of peace die. Work for it. Don’t kill for it. We fought one war for peace. We always said that one war had to be enough. ”

The holo blurred in Ben’s vision, light warping as they filled with tears. For a moment, her roaming gaze seemed to lock onto his, and she smiled at him, gentle and bittersweet.

“Don’t mourn for me too long,” Cerasi said to Ben. “After all, I wanted peace. Look at it this way. Now I have it forever.”

Her holo blinked off, and he was left there, alone in the silence.

“...Ben?”

He spun around, chest heaving, tear tracks cutting down his cheeks. Nield stood there in the doorway, looking as heartbroken as all the other monuments in the Hall.

Ben couldn’t be here, he couldn’t be anywhere that Cerasi wasn’t. But Cerasi wasn’t anywhere. She was dead.

Ben ran.

Nield tried to catch him, of course he did, but escaping adults was something the Young were very good at. Had been. Would never be again.

He ran through the streets, not taking himself anywhere but away . He heard his name. He did not turn.

Roads and buildings blurred. He couldn’t breath past the sobs that wracked his chest. A ship roared overhead; he saw orange-yellow paint. He felt drops begin to fall on his head, leaving dark splashes on the street as the rain finally fell. He didn’t care. He kept running.

Cerasi was gone. And as far as anyone else should be concerned, so was he.

Chapter 9: Elucidate is a Big Word

Chapter Text

Don’t build a monument for me, Cerasi had said. So instead, they built her a garden.

It was lush and huge- spanning the space of several streets, holding the oldest trees in Zehava- all others before had been destroyed long ago, along with the rest of the world. Tall native grasses bloomed their purple flowers, birds with black eyes and iridescent feathers roosted in the trees. Vines climbed strong trunks, the wide canopy of leaves catching the rain as it fell, dipping gently under its weight. Paths wound their way around the tousle of shrubbery, empty of people deterred by the ongoing rain, past fountains and benches and places to watch the sunset, allowing it to be enjoyed by all, which the citizens of Zehava did. It didn’t take an expert to know why. It was beautiful.

Cerasi wanted no monuments, but the people wanted a way to remember her sacrifice and the reason they had peace in their world. There, a gentle reminder, always, nestled amongst Zehava’s bustling streets.

Ben wondered why this place. He wondered if this was the place she died.

Don’t mourn too long for me, Cerasi had also said, like it was that easy. If it was that important to her, she could come tell Ben again herself.

He knew they were looking for him. He had heard security-squad officers alongside marching plastoid boots, their wearers all sharing the same voice. Ben, however, was very good at not being found when he didn’t want to be.

He didn’t go to the tunnels. That would be the first place they looked. Instead, he came to Cerasi’s garden, finally knowing it for what it was and needing to be there in the futile hope he could feel some piece of her.

The rain kept falling. It felt appropriate. It soaked into his clothes, even under his leather jacket, making him shiver after a while. He didn’t really care. He stayed there in a cave of green, away from any paths by the side of a beautiful green pond the colour of Cerasi’s eyes. He curled up there at the base of a tree, listening to the rain fall onto the water, trying to comprehend everything he had learned about this new, thoroughly kriffed-up future. A future without Cerasi in it. He understood now why his future self had left Melida/Daan, not looking back. That’s all he wanted to do too, right now.

He had no idea how he’d manage it, if he wanted to get off-planet. Getting up from his hiding place would be the first step, and that itself seemed impossible. So there he stayed.

He managed to hide for around three days before he heard footsteps crunching in the foliage, headed for his hiding spot. He just stayed where he was, eyes closed, still leaning against his tree. At this point, he didn’t really care who it was. What more could anyone do to him?

The footsteps stopped right next to him, sitting down slowly. The person didn’t move again, and he realised they were waiting for him to make the first move, somehow knowing he wasn’t asleep. He blinked his eyes open a slit, and startled a little.

Melidaan was ninety-nine-percent human or human-variant due to such little immigration with other planets, so it surprised him a little to see a young Torgruta woman sitting there. She was undeniably pretty, a little older than Ben, probably, with orange skin and blue montrals, decorated with white markings. Her icy blue eyes -watching him like a shriek-hawk- made him shiver with the instinctual fear that reminded him of a Torgruta’s carnivorous nature. Currently- thankfully- she seemed friendly, facing the pool as he was rather than facing him, sitting at arm’s length away with her legs tucked to her chest and her chin resting on her knees.

She smiled at him gently when she saw him looking in return. “Hi.”

He just continued to watch her warily. He had a good idea why she was here, it was unlikely a coincidence that he managed to find her while there was a man-hunt going on. She had to be with the Republic. Right now, he had no idea what her motives were, or what she wanted from him. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

“How did you find me?” He asked quietly, although it sounded more like one of the frogs croaking in the reeds. He probably looked like a wreck as well as sounding like one; eyes red-rimmed from so much crying, clothes long-since soaked-through and clinging to his thin frame.

“The Governor told me you might be here. He said that you’d probably be more comfortable seeing another teenager that you trust rather than a bunch of adults, so he sent me.”

“Do I?” He asked. “Trust you?”

Her face flickered with disappointment for a moment that she quickly covered up. So that had been the wrong thing to say. “Yeah, I certainly think so.”

He hmmed, looking away. A bright-coloured fish flicked its tail under the pond water. “I’m Obi-Wan.” Ben. “But I assume you already know that.”

“Yeah. But it’s nice to meet you, anyway. I’m Ahsoka Tano.”

He recognised the name immediately, gaze snapping back to her, jaw dropping a little in horror. “You’re my- his- you’re the Grand-Padawan.”

“That’s me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not sure why, but okay.”

He studied her closer, taking note of the lightsaber hilts that hung off her belt, the little chain hung on her headdress as a pseudo Padawan-braid. Rain dripped onto her montrals, slowed but made heavier by the canopy of leaves. He wondered if it was uncomfortable. “You don’t look much like a Jedi.”

She chuckled a little. “I’ll have you know I’m four years older than you.”

“No, no I didn’t mean age, I meant-” He vaguely gestured towards her attire, a leather-like, high-collared shirt with silver edging, fabric vambraces and detailing at her shoulders reminiscent of pauldrons. No Jedi robes in sight.

“Oh.” She shrugged. “It’s more practical, I suppose.” She didn’t mean to go into battle, did she? Surely she was too young. They wouldn’t send Padawans, right? “I like it better than tabards, anyway. You should have seen Rex’s face when I first showed up in a tube-top and leggings, which I still think is perfectly acceptable for a blaster-fight.” She smiled when that got a small laugh out of him.

“We stole some armour from the Elders, once. We tried modifying it so the younger children could wear it, but it was completely unusable and just a little adorable watching them bump into all the walls with this drukking huge plastoid on.”

She clearly didn’t understand, but chuckled at the humour nonetheless. He risked lowering his Shields a little, somewhat difficult after having them up so tightly for a while, like stretching out a cramped muscle. She was bright and complex in the Force, clearly another Force-sensitive, clearly with training. She smiled a little again, probably taking his unwinding Shields as a sign he was relaxing a little. “You look really cold.”

Honestly, yes, but he could see where this was going. He raised an eyebrow. “What, we should go somewhere warm and dry that also might be a place I’m not going to be allowed to walk out of again; minor detail?”

“I was thinking of the Governor's office, not a trap.” She stood, brushing at the rainwater collecting on her skirt. “Everyone’s worried sick. I know you might not want to see anyone right now, and I think that’s fair, but I’ve been on enough ice-planets to know it’s not good when a human's lips are that blue.” She held out a hand in offering.

Apprehensively, he hesitated, but eventually took it. She pulled him upright with startling strength, holding his arm when he stumbled a little with headrush. She wasn’t particularly tall but still had at least half a head over him, not even including her montrals. It was very rude, how everyone felt the need to be taller than he was.

They didn’t talk as they walked, Ben only speaking up once as she typed out a message on her comm. “What are you doing?”

“Letting everyone know I found you. We’re all gonna rendezvous at the Council Building.”

Briefly, Ben considered running, but he frankly didn’t think it was worth it. He was so, so tired- physically and emotionally. He probably wouldn’t make it down the street. He still wasn’t happy about seeing any GAR people, or Nield, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now. He had a feeling Ahsoka was perfectly capable of dragging him wherever, should she feel the urge. He decided to keep what little dignity he had left, and just walk.

Walking up the corridor, Ben could already tell Nield’s office was abuzz with several people. The desire to bolt strengthened, and Ahsoka sent him a reassuring smile that didn’t do much. As they neared the door, some voices became distinct. Nield and Roenni. Two voices, the same as Joice’s. Clones? And a fifth, familiar and haunting. He recognized it as the General on the comms when he was running from the Negotiator. With as weak a connection he had with the Force, he heard the man before he felt him. Oh, but when Ben felt him, he very nearly stumbled under the strength of it.

In that room as a calamity in the cosmic Force. It was rage and power and fury, it was unchainable, a Trickster flying free. It clouded the horizon and darkened the skies, bringing destruction and torment yet cleansing, if you survived to see it pass. It was a sandstorm.

Ben apparently did stumble, because Ahsoka was there a moment later. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just… the Force, what…?”

She apparently knew what he meant, which was good because he didn’t know what he meant. “What, my Master?” She wrinkled her nose again. “He’s just… like that, I guess. It’s easy to get used to.”

He blinked at her incredulously.

The room dropped silent as they stepped inside, and Ben saw the sandstorm in human form, turning to him, locking onto him with piercing desert-sky blue eyes. It was a young man, human, with wavy sand-coloured hair and a long vertical scar bisecting his right eye. He was tall and held power in his frame, his mix of dark tabards and plastoid mantle doing nothing to reduce how intimidating he was. His arms uncrossed as the two younger people walked into the room, pausing in his pacing, and Ben noticed how one hand was gloved while the other was not. A lightsaber hung at his hip, too, and Ben could practically feel its power even unlit- a star, testimony to the power of a supernova. He felt so right, like the other half that made the two of them a whole, even if Ben’s half was broken and didn't quite fit. Ben looked at him, and he finally saw the other end to the thread in his brain. He was Force-tethered to that?

The man rushed across the room to Ben, dropping down to his height. “Do you know who I am?”

“Uh…” Ben said dumbly, wide-eyed and vaguely feeling as if through the Force- he had been slapped by a hot frying-pan. The frown that followed from the other man was mildly terrifying. He muttered a curse under his breath from a language Ben didn’t understand.

What followed was a whirlwind of activity that Ben mostly lost track of. Soon enough, he found himself back on Nield’s office-couch around the caf-table, himself tucked in the middle with Roenni and Nield either side of him. (The couch was probably only meant for two people and was a rather tight fit, but the other two didn’t seem to care.) The other party were situated opposite them, sitting on the circular single-couches; Ahsoka, the General, and the Clone in blue who sat there, looking like he would rather be anywhere else. The other Clone- the one in yellow- had remained standing, and even with the man’s helmet still on, Ben could tell he was being watched very carefully.

At some point, a towel had been conjured from somewhere and was draped over Ben’s shoulders, with the trade of his jacket, which he wasn’t too happy about. A cup of warm drink- maybe tea?- had been thrust into Ben’s hands which he had little intention of drinking. It was almost too warm on his stiff, frigid fingers, but he held it tight anyway, and the curling steam gave him something to stare at rather than any of the people around him in the room.

“I know you are concerned about the well-being of Master Kenobi, General, but frankly I doubt this is simply a case of curable amnesia,” Nield was saying when Ben bothered to listen in. This certainly seemed like the continuation of an ongoing conversation. “We’re dealing with virtually a different person, here.”

“We thought it was time-travel,” Roenni muttered.

“It’s not. ” The General said, sounding as if he was consciously quelling rage. “Until he disappeared over a week ago, General Kenobi was mentally an adult while physically a child, and it appears his memory regressed to meet that age.”

Ben frowned. Well, he hated that. That felt as if someone else had been in his body instead of him. Part of him was glad that meant he wouldn’t have to meet whoever ‘he’ was in the future. He did not want to see him.

The others continued to talk- debate, argue, whatever- and the thought that this whole conference was about him made Ben’s skin crawl. He stopped listening again. It felt a little strange to be leaning so close against Nield and Roenni while he still harboured so much distrust and anger towards them. Then again, he’d rather be sitting where he was than on the other side of the caf-table. His ‘friends’’ lies were still rattling around in his brain, and it made him feel vaguely sick. He wondered about the things they didn’t tell him- He wondered how Cerasi died.

Wait, Nield had pretty much already told him, hadn’t he? He hadn’t said it outright, but Ben knew now exactly who killed Cerasi.

He was aware of the tea in his hands shaking a little in its cup, nothing to do with him shivering from the cold. It was hard to breathe past emotion constricting his throat, but somehow he managed to speak anyway. “It was Mawat, wasn’t it?”

The conversation stopped, and Ben was aware that this was the first time he had spoken. He didn’t care. The room filled with tense and static-filled silence- confusion from one side of the room- but the lack of answer from Nield and Roenni was enough of an answer.

There was a blaster tucked into a shoulder holster under Roenni’s jacket. He had felt it when he had hugged her the first time, and he could feel it against his shoulder, now. He slammed his drink down on the table. Then, it was with a quick movement- one that Roenni definitely could have prevented but didn’t- that Ben twisted, yanking the blaster out of her concealed holster. He darted out of his seat, marching towards the door.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” That was Nield.

Ben wondered, vaguely, if this is what people meant when they described seeing red. “I’m going to kill him.” Too bad if he didn’t have the first idea where Mawat was. He would figure it out.

“What, with a stun-gun?”

He glanced at the weapon in his hand, black, slim, looking like any regular plazma-bolt blaster he had seen. He spun to Roenni. “You’re the head of kriffing security. Why the kriff are you carrying a stun-gun?”

“They’re standard issue, dimwit. Nobody in Zehava carries plasma-charges.”

Ben remembered the officer that had cornered him in the alleyway. He had fully thought he was about to be shot in the head. Roenni was mad , he realised, at him. It occurred to him then that she was an adult, now, and it hurt. “Give me back my blaster and sit your ass back down, Obi-Wan, before you embarrass yourself more.”

It wasn’t like they hadn’t called him by it in the past, but that name coming out of Roenni or Neild’s mouth sounded so wrong. He gestured to Nield with the blaster, the barrel shaking wildly with his hand. “You lied to my face. ”

“Of course I did. I’m sorry you found out the way you did, I truly am, but I know you, Bee, and I knew that if I told you then, you would have done something stupid like running off, which you did. Sit. Down.”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to have to sit back next to those two, not after they had betrayed his trust. He didn’t want to be in this room, with all the people staring at him. But there was no way he could escape again. He really, really missed Cerasi. The anger drained out of him in an instant, leaving behind something hollow. He walked back over to the couch, really really wishing he had gotten to shoot something. Roenni snatched her blaster back, and placed it on the arm of the couch out of his reach.

Only then did Ben remember the other four people in the room. He glanced upwards, face a little flushed, blinking at the four signatures of utter shock in the Force, the two unconcealed faces holding wide eyes and mouths a little open in- horror? Confusion? Surprise? He couldn’t tell.

“Are we sure we have the right angsty red-head kid?” The General muttered to Ahsoka. Her gaze unmoving from Ben, she hit her counterpart hard in the arm.

“Is there… um… is there something we’re missing, here, Governor?” Ahsoka asked.

Roenni exhaled hard, as if to say yeah, a whole-kriffing-lot. Nield shifted a little. “How much do you know about the Melida/Daan conflict?”

Ahsoka hmmed. “I did an assignment on it a few years back. It was an example of Jedi brokering peace in a tense political-and-physical conflict scenario.”

Ben, who had picked his tea back up again and had gone to take a sip, choked.

Roenni laughed to herself bitterly as Ben coughed hard.

“Ah.” Is what Nield said. “That is a… oversimplification of events. There was a Jedi emissary who was instrumental in the unification of the factions, but it was rather more complicated than peace negotiations.”

“I’m sorry, Governor, but what does this have to do with the current situation?” The General certainly didn’t sound very sorry.

“A third faction joined the war almost a year before its end.” Nield ignored the General. “The children from both sides formed the Young, fighting for peace. We soon met with the Jedi who were sent to broker peace. And yet the proceedings didn’t go the way we liked- through ongoing major conflict, bloody and brutal- but eventually the Young managed to seize power, and ended the war.”

Ahsoka was nodding as if she knew of this, although her brow furrowed at Nield’s use of ‘we’. The General still looked rather sceptical.

Nield continued. “Captain Roenni and I were both Young members, myself being one of its three leaders. Another was a dear friend who we lost at the end of the war, after she convinced all sides to lay down arms. The third was one of the Master-Padawan pair who were sent to broker peace, who stayed behind to fight for our cause.”

Ben ducked his head, avoiding anyone’s gaze.

“I’m sorry, are you saying they started fighting their own children? ” The clone in blue asked.

“Yes.” Roenni said bitterly.

“I heard about the Master-Padawan pair,” Ahsoka was musing, and Ben risked looking back up. His eyes were caught by the General, who was staring directly at him, expression indecipherable. “There were a lot of rumours about it, that the Padawan disobeyed their Master to stay behind.”

“He left.” Ben couldn’t help but snap. “I stayed, which was the right thing for a ‘Jedi’ to do.”

The silence that came after was deafening.

“Oh, osik… ” The blue clone muttered. The one in yellow; Ben wasn’t sure he had ever seen someone so still. In the Force, it was like looking at a duracrete wall.

Ahsoka’s mouth was a perfect O. Almost absently, she spoke. “...I could have gotten a way better mark on that assignment…”

It was the General’s reaction which was scaring Ben just a little. His eyes practically seemed filled with fire, like maybe he was a volcano instead of a person whose eruption was inevitable. The scar on his face seemed to burn.

“Please confirm,” The yellow clone spoke for the first time, voice dangerously level, “you are saying that General Kenobi fought in the Melida/Daan conflict, leading child soldiers at the age of a child soldier himself?”

“Yes.” Ben spat, despite the question not being directed at him.

The verbal confirmation seemed to be what did it for the General. He crumpled forward, face in his hands, shoulders shaking, and for a moment Ben wondered if he had started crying. But when he lifted his head again, the mirthless, terrifying smile on his face made Ben realise he had been laughing , as if this was somebody’s idea of a terrible joke.

“No, no way. There’s gotta be some kind of mistake, this is- holy Force this is so kriffed up…” he rubbed hard at his eyes. “What the kriff? Obi-Wan, why did you never tell me about this?”

“I don’t know,” Ben replied bitterly. “I don’t even know you.”

It hit right where he wanted it to, and Ben felt some dark curl of satisfaction as the General’s face crumpled.

“That explains… too much.” Ahsoka muttered, seemingly unaware of her Master’s devastation that was quickly covered up. “You were skittish around adults because that’s who your enemies were, right?”

Ben levelled her with a scowl that she didn’t seem to notice, either. She continued. “That’s okay, though. Skyguy barely counts as an adult, and I sure don’t. In fact, the vode wouldn’t, either.” She gestured to the clones.

Ben’s chest clenched. “Excuse me?”

“Oh shavit, don’t-” Roenni tried.

“We clones have advanced ageing compared to natborns,” the clone in blue started explaining. For some obscure reason, Ben found that breathing wasn’t a thing he was able to do anymore. “Myself and Commander Cody are apart of an older generation, so although we are mentally and physically twenty-five-standard, we are the actual age of about twelve cycl-”

Ben was out of his seat once again, barely making it to the disposal bin next to Nield’s desk before he was emptying the contents of his stomach, retching breathlessly as nothing was left to come up. Tears stung at his eyes, from dry-heaving or from everything else , he couldn’t tell. He pulled himself upright, leaning heavily on the desk. Unbidden, a dry sob broke out of his chest. “No. Farking shavit, no.” He turned to the two clones, the one in yellow- Commander Cody?- was paused already halfway across the room, reaching to Ben as if he could somehow help. Ben couldn’t see their faces beneath their buckets, either of them, but he thought of Joice, seemingly old yet so, so young, younger than Ben, younger than anyone should have to be to- to-

“You’re just- you’re just kriffing kids. You’re younger than I am.” Another sob broke loose. “Child soldiers, again . I- fark- wh- how could he? How could General Kenobi agree to that? To- to leading children into battle, again - and you? ” He looked, distraught, to Ahsoka, tense in her seat. “ You would have been my age when the war started. Why the fark- they seriously send Padawans- ” His voice broke and Ben gasped for breath that wouldn’t come. Force, this future was so wrong.

The Commander seemed to be teetering in place, unsure what to do with the distraught child before him. In the end, it was Roenni who stood and guided Ben back to sitting. He leant against her, so, so tired, and wishing more than anything that he could close his eyes and the whole last few days would reveal itself to be nothing but some terrible nightmare.

“I think it’s time we went back to Coruscant,” the General said softly.

A little hope warmed in Ben’s chest. These people were leaving? It wasn’t until he opened his eyes again and saw all the faces watching him that he realised that meant him, too. Terror gripped at his heart but it was weak. Nothing could get worse, right now. “Nield.” Ben murmured, helpless. “You said I wouldn’t have to.”

Nield opened his mouth and shut it again. The General spoke for him. “What the Governor gets that you don’t, Obi-Wan, is that this isn’t just about you.” He had made the General mad , and now Ben realised that that was something very, very unwise. “This is about the survival of the whole Republic . The GAR can’t just lose one of its High Generals due to circ*mstance .” Commander Cody gave the General a glare that was obvious even through the man’s opaque visor, but the General clearly ignored it. “With Melidaan’s interest in joining the Republic, Governor Nield understands he has a responsibility to uphold, which you clearly don’t.”

Ahsoka elbowed the General in the side which earnt her a glare this time. “Look, Obi-Wan-”

“Just call me Ben. Please.”

“Ben? Isn’t that one of Master Kenobi’s aliases?” Ahsoka asked the General.

“It’s a nickname,” Roenni supplied. “We all tend to use it, but we made it because there were kids in the Young too little to pronounce ‘Obi-Wan’.”

The blue clone’s breath hitched a little. “You didn’t care for ik’aade that young, did you?” Roenni shrugged, which was enough of an answer, apparently.

“I promised you wouldn’t have to go anywhere if you didn’t want to, Ben, but I think it would be a good idea.” Nield said softly. “The Healers at you Jedi Temple could help-”

“Help what? Help throw me back in time? Help bring their General Kenobi back?”

“Ben,-”

“I don’t get any kriffing choice in the matter, do I?” He intended to say it with venom, but instead it just came out sad.

No, the following silence replied. You don’t.

There was no way to run away, no escape, this time. How could he stay here anyway, in a place where the Young weren’t- where Cerasi wasn’t? Melidaan had no need for Ben anymore. And apparently the galaxy needed General Kenobi, for their stars-damned war. Nothing else. If that’s what they wanted Ben to be, then they would find that this would not be the first cause Ben would die for. They were not going to get their General back, not if Ben could help it.

The future never got better. That much was clear. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Chapter 10: Freakishly Opinionated Inanimate Objects

Chapter Text

The General wanted to leave as soon as possible. Likely, he was thinking that the sooner they left, the less chance Ben had to run again. Funnily enough, Ben had been thinking the exact same thing.

That meant, of course, that Ben had barely a few hours to say goodbye.

Roenni had hugged him tight, her embrace warm and solid. “I’m so sorry,” she had said. “I wanted to tell you.”

“I know,” He murmured back. It didn’t change anything, though. They both knew that.

He and Nield went for a walk, after the General had likely threatened Nield’s life if he lost sight of Ben again. (Nield, of course, was unfazed.) They walked through the city, as they had before, Ben looking more at the pavement beneath his feet than the buildings around him, although he knew he should enjoy it while he had the chance. In the sky, through the gaps in the dark clouds, he could make out the looming triangular silhouettes of the giant GAR ships, discoloured a washed-out blue by the atmosphere that guarded the planet from them.

The rain had stopped at some point, leaving the streets damp and the trees green, the smell of rain still heavy in the air. Someway or another, they had made their way back to Cerasi’s gardens. This, Ben took the chance to savour.

“Did we ever contact one another?” Ben had asked as they passed a trickling stream, breaking the silence between them. “Or did my future self just abandon you all completely?”

Nield watched a purple snail slink off the pathway, leaving a trail. “You reached out to me at some point many years ago. I think life had been… very busy for you. Especially once you got your own padawan. But you tried to reach out, and regrettably, I still didn’t want to hear from you. You- Kenobi - respected my unspoken wishes and didn’t seek me out again. Like a coward, I never reached out myself. I regret that.”

Ben was silent for another long moment. “I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Okay. Let’s keep in contact, shall we?”

Ben looked at Nield for the first time on their walk, nodding a little. “I’d like that.”

“You can call me if you need anything, Ben. And I mean anything. Even just a chat.”

“Thanks. That means…” … a lot, he didn’t say. He didn’t need to. Nield knew.

Ben palmed Nield’s signet ring, somehow still in his pocket. It was cold from the wet fabric that Ben had still refused to change out from, and he rolled it in his palm for a moment before handing it slowly back to Nield, who solemnly slipped it back onto his finger with a nod of thanks. They continued to walk, and didn’t talk again.

All too soon, it was time to go.

There were two drop-ships waiting at the space-port, alongside the General who was apparently multitasking- talking to Roenni and another Officer, as well as bickering with Ahsoka. The Commander and the other clone Ben didn’t know stood beside at least a dozen more, amor identical in form but each one detailed uniquely with patterns and symbols of chipped paint; blue or amber. One ship’s engine was already running when Ben and Nield walked over, pausing at a safe distance away. Soon enough, the other ship powered up, too.

The glance that the General took at Ben over the tarmac was a complicated one, breaking in his conversation only briefly to do so before he shook hands with Roenni then turned heel to board one of the ships. Ahsoka trailed behind after a small wave that Ben didn’t return. Several of the troopers joined them, and soon the ramp closed and the ship gently rose off the ground and took off. The other ship remained, ramp down, engine idling. They were waiting for him, and Ben had never wanted to run more.

A hand landed on his shoulder, firm and comforting. Ben leant into Nield’s comfort, exhaling shakily. Roenni and the Officer were walking over to them, hair ruffled wildly from the thrust of the ascending ship.

“They say he’s the Chosen One, did you know that?” The Officer was telling Roenni when they were in earshot, and Ben realised it was Sael, looking just a little starstruck. In truth, there was very little resemblance between the Officer and General Skywalker, and a weird emotion tangled in Ben’s gut, now knowing the owner of the face that had been following him everywhere.

Roenni snickered. “Should’ve proposed while you had the chance, buddy.”

Sael flushed, laughing too, then blinked in surprise when he saw Ben, who waved a little.

The croon of the drop-ship’s engines was loud, and they had to raise their voices to talk over it. Roenni punched Ben lightly in the shoulder. “Anyone gives you any crap, you tell me and I’ll kick their ass for you, ‘kay?”

Ben smiled at her, a little watery. “Sure, if I leave anything left by the time you get there.”

She laughed, then dropped down to scoop him into a hug. Ben clung to her for a long moment, before pulling away.

Wordlessly, she passed over the neatly folded cloth she had draped over her arm, handing it to Ben. He smiled just a little, slinging the leather jacket over his shoulders. It was dry and blessedly warm from a dryer, and he wrapped himself tightly into it.

“Stay safe out there.” Nield said gently. “Don't cause too much trouble.”

“Trouble? Me?” He couldn’t be bothered to put any real humour into his words, glancing back at the waiting drop-ship. “...wish me luck.”

Nield smiled, knowing exactly what Ben was going for. “We don't need luck.”

“Everyone needs luck.”

“Not us.”

They shared one final smile before Ben turned around. The ship was there, waiting, the only trooper not boarded the Commander. The man stood at parade rest, patient while Ben said his goodbyes, which he appreciated. It felt terrifying, just leaving on a random ship with people he didn’t even know, even if everyone else seemed to trust them. Once upon a time, he would have followed the well-practised process of releasing his fear into the Force, but Ben couldn’t help but feel as if even that had betrayed him. Regardless, he could still hear it when it spoke to him.

Yes, it urged. That is where you need to be. Go.

Kriff it. With a heavy internal sigh, Ben took a step forward, feeling the warmth of his friends leave him as he walked further away.

Force, why did this have to be so hard?

Ben’s breath hitched. He spun on his heels, whirling around and darting back the way he came to throw his arms around Nield. His embrace was returned immediately. Nield’s robes were soft and enveloping, a safe, dark haven that Ben could stay wrapped in forever, hidden in the folds of love, remorse, safety. They held tight for a long moment, and Ben never wanted to let go.

But eventually, impossibly, he did, stepping back and walking determined across the tarmac before his feet became one with the gravel and he could never move again. The engine of the ship was loud and the thrust stirred the wind up, and he tucked his shoulders up by his ears as if he could hide from the loud. He headed up the ramp, not looking at the Commander as he walked by.

The Clone followed and the ramp whirred as it retracted then rose to close the back hatch. Ben turned, watching the figures standing on the tarmac in the closing gap. Roenni, standing close to Nield, waved. Nield gave him a slow nod- he could do this. Ben breathed hard.

Then the door closed, and he could see them no more.

Inside, the engine noise was muffled, the ship thrown briefly into darkness before the internal lights compensated. There were rows of seats against the walls and along the centre of the hold, only around a quarter of them full. There was an empty one close to him, and despite his better judgement, Ben sat down.

It was the Commander sitting next to him, who pulled off his bucket revealing another identical face, split from his left temple to cheekbone with a jagged scar. His expression seemed stern but he looked at Ben gently. Ben looked away. He swiped quickly at his eyes as if that would stop anyone watching from seeing his welling eyes. He was so frustrated at himself for crying in front of these people. Beside him, the Commander shifted, as if unsure if he should do anything or not.

The ship lurched hard as it took off, and Ben, who had not yet strapped himself in, lost his balance and slipped out of the seat. However, instead of crashing undignified to the floor like he expected, a gloved hand caught his arm and his balance before he toppled. Ben blinked, regaining his seat, and the Commander immediately let go as soon as Ben was seated again. He fumbled for his straps, rather embarrassed.

“Thank-you, Commander.” He said quietly to the man beside him, who just nodded as if it was the most natural thing in the galaxy.

“Designation CC-2224,” the Commander replied, “But I usually go by Cody.”

Ben wasn’t sure what the designation number was for- maybe just a military number?- but he didn’t ask. Instead, he studied the man before him, warm brown eyes, looking a little aged by stress, adding to the accelerated ageing that he had. Uncomfortably, Ben was sharply reminded that this man was the same age as he was. He remembered how future-Kenobi was the General of this battalion of over-glorified children , and anger coiled within him again. Was there really a difference between Ben and the Young; General Kenobi and his 212th, beyond looking a bit older?

No , not really.

As well as the continued bitterness that was filling in him against this General Kenobi, Ben felt an unexpected warmth of fondness for these people, raised into war and forced to fight under his command for a useless war. Just like the Young.

“Nice to meet you,” Ben murmured.

Despite whatever sorrow the Commander felt at Ben’s words, leaking a little into the Force, he kept his expression carefully neutral. “Likewise, General.”

“I’m-” Ben took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I’m not your General. That isn’t me.”

“My apologies, sir.” He was genuinely sorry, Ben realised, a little surprised that he was being listened to for once.

“If I call you Cody, will you call me Ben?” he asked, hesitant.

A flicker of a smile crossed Cody’s face. “Of course, sir.” He said, and Ben found himself smiling a little in return at Cody’s clear tease. The ship was shuddering hard as it exited the atmosphere, and Ben felt the brief moment of weightlessness before the arti-grav kicked in. He wished, idly, that he had a window to look out of, with the childish desire to watch the purple-grey-brown planet shrink behind them. No such luck, unfortunately, not on a ship like this, so Ben resigned himself to the cold of space, wrapping his jacket tighter and pushing down the sleeves from where he usually kept them rolled up.

Cody shifted in his seat again, as if he was about to say something, but instead reached around to the back of his belt, pulling something out of a compartment there. He retrieved a silver cylinder, holding it gently in one gloved hand.

“I found this when we were out looking for you,” Cody explained. He held it out to Ben, who recognised it immediately. It was the lightsaber, the one he had taken from the Negotiator, the one he had lost when he was arrested. With everything happening, he had completely forgotten about it.

This was General Kenobi’s lightsaber, Ben realised. Of course it was. Who else’s would it be?

He could feel it humming in the Force; that evolved, complex mirror-image of himself, distorted with crackling power- a weapon of war. This wasn’t Ben’s lightsaber, this wasn’t the one he had left with Master Qui-Gon. He wondered, idly, why this one was different. Not just a different casing, but a different kyber crystal, a completely different ‘saber. A lightsaber was a Jedi’s life, he had learned that time and time again. What had happened, that General Kenobi didn’t still have the same one? Why was this one not his?

A different lightsaber for a different person, Ben supposed.

The lightsaber apparently thought so, too. It still reverberated with an emotion that was almost… distrust , as if it knew the Obi-Wan before it was the wrong one. Ben thought about when he had tried to use the ‘saber earlier, in the alleyway, and how it had recoiled from him. This ‘saber wasn’t his.

It had rolled into the gutter, Ben remembered, well hidden from the Officers or anyone else. It was only found by Cody because it wanted to be. It felt warm and comfortable in Cody’s hand, as if it didn’t want to leave.

Ben sighed. He had no right to carry a lightsaber- any lightsaber, anyway.

“It’s a little funny,” Cody continued. “You- General Kenobi had a bad habit of dropping it on the battlefield, too. It always seems to be me returning it.”

Ben looked at the ‘saber offered to him for a long moment, then up at Cody. He spoke slowly. “I think, then… that he would want you to hang onto it.”

A flicker of shock, confusion- glinted in Cody’s eyes. “Sir, I couldn’t. It’s your lightsaber, I…”

Ben smiled ruefully. “If I am the General Kenobi everyone is insistent I am, then it’s mine to give, is it not?” The ship shuddered around them, and he could hear the whir of the landing gear. “I want you to keep it. It’s not mine. If you’re the one who always gives it back to the General, then I think you should have it until you can return it to him again.”

He wasn’t really sure why he added that at the end, but he didn’t have time to think on it, the ship rocking to a land. The other troopers around them began to disembark, undoing their straps and standing as the ramp lowered, revealing a familiar hangar. Cody, however, didn’t move for a long moment, looking in disbelief between Ben and the ‘saber in his hand.

Ben looked away to undo his own straps as someone called out to the Commander, who replied in clipped Mando’a, snapping out of his stupor. He undid his own straps, standing to attention a moment later. “Thank-you, sir.” Emotions were slipping through his tight hold; astonishment, determination, pride swirling though the Force with just a touch of grief. It seemed, Ben realised with a complex twist of satisfaction and guilt , that Cody seemed to be the first to understand that the kid before him was not the General he wanted him to be, and accepted it.

Ben nodded a little, fighting the urge to drop his gaze. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, although it did nothing to ease the tension that coiled in his chest.

Turning abruptly from the Commander, Ben stepped down the ramp and out into the hangar. It was ironic, almost, how he had so quickly wound back up in the place he tried so hard to escape from such a short time ago. Something told Ben that leaving is not something he would manage so easily again.

x+x+x

No Natborns Under the Age of Fifteen Are Allowed Unsupervised in the Hangars was a rule established pretty quickly. Someone pointed out that Commander Tano should not be unsupervised in the hangars either, and the age was raised. The rule then changed to No Natborns Unsupervised in the Hangars At All faster than the time it took someone to say General Skywalker.

Long story short, Ben wasn’t allowed many places without an escort. He minded less than he expected.

The clone troopers of the 212th were… not what he was expecting.

He had anticipated more …military? Maybe? Not that they weren’t clearly soldiers, but really, none of them truly acted like they were in the middle of a war. Not around Ben, at least.

They were all clearly brothers. Vod was what they called each other, and it wasn’t hard to infer what that meant. It was so easy to forget they were clones, too… despite how stupid that sounded, even to himself. Roenni was right; each clone was so thoroughly their own person , from their individualised appearances to how they felt in the Force- each one bright and so unique it kind of surprised Ben that it didn’t make his head spin.

They treated Ben like one of their own- not as if this was their General, still, and nothing had changed- but almost like an old friend. It meant a lot. Alor’ika , Ben heard them call him. He asked Cody later, quietly, what it meant. Apparently he was still seen by the troopers as their leader to some extent. Regardless, Little Leader was better than General Kenobi. If anything, he was flattered.

Sometimes, Ben realised, as they all crowded into the mess hall for first-meal, it was almost easy to pretend they were some form of the Young- older, less child-in-a-war-zone-traumatised than they should have been, but still a family. Not that it was Ben’s family to be a part of.

As much as the 212th tried, there were still far too many little reminders about how Ben didn’t truly belong in this makeshift family. The little slip-ups when he was called General . When people- even Cody, sometimes- seemed to look to Ben for orders he didn’t have. When they casually spoke Mando’a to him, and he had to apologise- sorry, but he didn’t know what they were saying. Did it hurt, the little signs that told again and again that this was not Ben’s when, these were not his people, and there was probably no way to fix that? Yes. But the casual comradeship that the 212th regardlessly helped enough to ignore that.

Which posed an issue when he didn’t even get to stay with the 212th, anymore.

A couple of days is what he got- while the Resolute, General Skywalker’s ship- finished with repairs that had been re-damaged in order to look for a certain runaway kid. Apparently they had launched through hyperspace the moment Nield connected them, despite the Resolute’s shields not being quite ready for it, sending the repairs back a few days. They were stationary for two days or so, staying in distant orbit around Melidaan, which stirred Ben’s anger why he had to be here instead of planetside.

As annoying as it was, a few days of just spending time on the Negotiator was nice. Cody had offered Ben a choice between the General’s quarters or some different ones, and didn’t seem surprised when Ben requested different. Ben had spent the majority of his time with the Marshal Commander, and liked the man more and more as he did. Cody was level-headed and confident in almost everything he did, traits that reminded Ben of Nield. Likewise, Cody seemed perfectly happy to have a kid trailing around after him as he went about his business, and Ben, despite himself, appreciated the company. It helped him ignore other things- something he was very good at, it seemed.

Pretty quickly after they had first arrived on the Negotiator , Cody had collected a covertec clip from Force-knows-where and had since proudly worn General Kenobi’s ‘saber at his hip. It only confirmed Ben’s instinct further- it was rightly Cody’s, now.

Ben had asked him, after a meeting with the Jedi Council and General Skywalker, what they had said about Cody’s latest accessory. That small smile had made an appearance again, somewhat smug. “There aren’t exactly any rules in the book that say a clone can’t have possession of his General’s lightsaber,” Cody had confirmed. “Especially when it is given . I’m sure there would be restrictions, if anyone had ever anticipated it would happen.” Ben was glad; nobody could take it from him.

Meetings like that were a frequent occurrence- usually which Ben was invited to join and politely refused. He didn’t want to speak with the Jedi Council right now. He’d probably say some things he’d regret.

Although, he wouldn’t have a choice, apparently, because sometime into the second day, Cody found Ben after another meeting, and Ben once again had the innate sense that this would not be news he would like.

Ben had paused from where he was hacking into his own datapads through a combination of guessing passcodes or a bio-override, looking up from his seat in the empty mess-hall as the Commander walked in.

“You look cheerful,” Ben commented, glancing back at the datapads. Cody scoffed.

“So?”

“The 212th have been given a new assignment in the mid-rim. We’re heading that way first thing next rotation.”

Huh. Okay. It made sense, it was completely unethical to have two whole battalions out of commission, especially while the Resolute’s repairs were being finished as they spoke. However, that left the Big Question; what would happen to the 212th without their precious General? “Am I coming with you?”

Cody grimaced. “The very popular opinion was that you are not to be allowed onto a battlefield.”

“Hypocrites .” Ben muttered. He didn’t need to clarify what he meant, they both knew exactly how strongly Ben felt about the Clone’s ages. “They do know I am perfectly capable of leading a battalion, right?” Not that there was any way in hell he would , but he didn’t want his skill to be underestimated. “Nobody protested the last time I was left in a warzone.”

Cody carefully didn’t respond to that. “I’m not sure, sir. What I do know is that the 212th has not had a general reassigned to them. I have not been promoted, but have been placed temporarily in command.”

“Congratulations,” Ben said dully. He meant it genuinely, but it was hard to be happy for Cody when the man’s words were rattling around in his head. It was blindingly clear. Apparently- the GAR, the Chancellor, the Jedi Council, whoever- didn’t think the 212th needed a new general because they assumed they’d have their General Kenobi back before long.

It was something Ben had been putting thought into, as well. If he could somehow be transported to this time, there was almost certainly a way to bring General Kenobi back.

But if that happened, where did that leave Ben?

Back to Melida/Daan, and all the horrors that came with it? He would have to live through the whole remaining conflict and the whole extra kark-show that the rest of his life undoubtedly was. If he went back, would he even remember the things he knew now? The clones, the Republic’s war, Cerasi?

No. He refused. Hearing that it happened was bad enough, he would never, ever live through Cerasi’s death- murder- if he could avoid it. He wouldn’t go back, not without a way to remember what he knew now, or a way to change how things happened. He wouldn’t.

Besides, did this General Kenobi even deserve to come back?

The very thought of Cerasi reopened that gnawing hole of grief within his chest that he had been trying so hard to ignore. It didn’t matter, though.

He had made up his mind. Nobody would be getting rid of Ben any time soon.

The Force seemed to agree. You have a job to do, yet.

Ben- as best he could without looking like a raving idiot- told the Force where it could stick it.

“You have been recalled back to Coruscant,” Cody continued before Ben could ask. “The Resolute is headed that way the same time the Negotiator is heading off. The Jetti Council wants to see you, obviously. I don’t know what their plan is from then.”

“Did anybody think to ask me what the kriff I wanted to do?” Ben snapped. Then he drew his writhing bitterness back in. Cody wasn’t at fault here. “Sorry.” He muttered.

“Don’t be, I agree. I’m sorry that I can’t do anything for you, sir.”

“Orders are orders, I know.” Ben sighed. Force, he was so tired. This was so kriffing frustrating . “So, what- I have to be in a confined space with General Skywalker until we get planetside?”

Cody huffed a laugh. “My deepest sympathies. It’s not a fate I would wish upon anyone, I can assure you.”

Ben snickered a little. Bantering with Cody was nice, but it did very little to distract from the inevitable. Ben, as little as he wanted to involve himself in the war effort, didn’t want to leave the 212th. Not that he could possibly be a substitute, and not that Cody was beyond capable, but a part of Ben felt like the 212th were being robbed of a general. Thanks to him, he didn’t think.

Right from one disguised-prison to one that was probably going to be far, far worse. Apparently he couldn’t avoid Skywalker forever. Kriffing fantastic. It seemed he was in for a long ride home.

It didn’t escape his notice that he wasn’t thinking of Melidaan as home anymore. But the Young weren’t there to need him. Nield and Roenni were all grown up, they had their lives and their jobs and each other, they didn’t need him, either. And with Cerasi gone, he had no other reason to stay.

So that wasn’t home, and as familial as the 212th were, they were apparently not home, either.

He wondered, a little, if anywhere ever would be, again.

Chapter 11: Soup; If Soup Was, Like, Blood or Something

Chapter Text

Hyperspace-lane travel from the Outer rim to the Core-planets took ninety-eight hours, and Ben was counting the seconds.

The 501st were almost as great as the 212th, almost. They were arguably more chaotic though; lead by example, most likely. Ben didn’t mind. It allowed him to slip into the background easier. The troopers were all friendly, if not slightly more unsure about the kid in their presence than their brothers were. (They made an effort to filter out any Mando’a from any conversation with Ben, which he appreciated. Unlike the 212th, though, the 501st also apparently spoke some degree of Huttese as well, primarily expletives. He wondered where they got that from.) Ben did happily find a friendly acquaintance in the 501st’s Captain- Rex- the other clone who had come to Melidaan that Ben didn’t have the chance to meet. Rex was one of the few who actually followed Ben’s request of being called by name. “I’m not a General, just Ben. ” he had said in response to the title everyone kept using, to which Rex had offered a nod and a smile in return. “ Ben, then.” Like the rest of the battalion, Ben liked him already.

No, the 501st were good men. The problem was their General.

Skywalker was a great General. That was obvious. He was highly respected by his men; treating them as comrades or even his own vode rather than blaster-fodder. That, Ben respected greatly. But there was just something… off about him.

On Melida/Daan, Ben had spent all of his time with children- around his age down to infants. He had led them, cared for them; formed connections and comradeship through the horrors they were forced through, likely in ways that couldn’t happen- if not for all of the life-and-death. It didn’t make it worth it, definitely not, but it was a small gain within all their suffering. Nield and Cerasi said often that Ben had a way with the younglings- comforting the injured and homesick, soothing crying babies to sleep, teaching the eldest how to care for the youngest while all the older children were gone to fight. Ben knew their favour for him was definitely because of the Force, and although the Force seemed impossible to reach, he was still grateful for what little he could help.

Something else, Ben had found, was that he equally had an awareness of the absence of children. He felt each one of their deaths vividly, despite having no time to mourn. The dead left cold, empty spaces where their bright lives once were, like a blot of darkness. These emptiness-s didn’t just hang in the air like a phantom, though, they hung on people. On the ones responsible for the child’s death.

It made being around the Elders- even after the war was over- so, so hard. Ben could feel each one- the children he knew well and the ones he didn’t all the same; hanging around, the murderer’s sins a kriffing painting of ashy blaster-bolt carbon-scoring and stains of old, dried blood.

And Skywalker?

Well, if the Elders were a painting, Skywalker was a kriffing masterpiece.

It wasn’t obvious. The General hid it too well- as if he was hiding it from himself along with everyone else behind those sandstorm Sheilds. Ben, however, had a few unfortunate advantages. One, of course, was this kriffing Bond the two of them shared. It was a little window into Skywalker that Ben never asked for- he had never made it. It was a Bond that hung around from General Kenobi, likely a Master-Padawan Bond that was, for some reason, still surprisingly active, and growing from a simple thread the longer he and Skywalker were in close quarters. Ben hated it.

Secondly, was naturally his thing about kids. He would be very surprised if there were many other Force-users that had this thing like he did. Crechemasters might, maybe, but how many deaths of Crechelings were they around? Not enough to be agonisingly familiar with how it felt in the Force, surely.

He wasn’t about to ask Ahsoka if she felt it on her Master, that was for sure. So no, Ben wasn’t sure if anyone else knew about the aura that hung around the General like smoke, like wet blood on hot sand and the smell of burning flesh. Nobody else knew, probably, not when it was hidden so well from everybody but Ben.

Could there be a valid explanation for it all, it was just something that happened years ago that wasn’t even kept quiet, and Ben just hadn’t heard about it yet? Well… yes. Why, then, would it be such a carefully-kept secret? Could it be passed off as the result of fighting in a war, that terrible things happen, sometimes, and there is probably some kind of excuse? Also yes. But Ben knew better.

It was impossible to tell, really. Skywalker hid it so well, even from himself, but Ben wasn’t sure if it was out of denial, fear, guilt- whatever. He sure didn’t act like someone who had massacred children, not with his casual confidence and disarming, charming grin. With how deeply buried in the sand the auras were, it was all too easy to forget about it. But Ben didn’t.

He knew, in the way the hairs on the back of his neck stood up when they stood too close, or the way he shivered a little when he relaxed his Shields enough to feel that Bond.

So naturally, Ben had been spending the better part of two-out-of-four days avoiding Skywalker. Not just because of the whole children thing, but also because, frankly, Skywalker was getting on his nerves.

The man had hardly left Ben alone the whole time he had been on board, pestering Ben into joining them in the mess-hall, or to the bridge or wherever the kriff else, when all Ben really wanted to do was avoid everybody. It was impossible to get out of it, not with the constant nagging. It was irritating.

“Snips and I are going to train, you should join us.” Skywalker declared out of nowhere, poking his head into the room Ben was in.

Ben withheld a groan. “Why?”

“Because why not? Aren’t you bored?"

“No,” Ben grit out. He was perfectly happy working through the datapads he had taken with him from the Negotiator. “I’ve been busy.”

“You’ve been sulking. Come on, I wanna see you at the sparring salles in ten, ‘kay?” And just like that, he was gone again.

It wasn’t an order, but it may as well have been. For kriff’s sake.

So that was how Ben ended up sitting on the floor of the salle, showing up a deliberate twenty minutes after he was asked, spending another two hours fiddling with a datapad while Ahsoka and General Skywalker sparred.

Both of them were thoroughly sweaty and growing tired by now, having been relentlessly sparring for the whole two-plus-hours. Both had changed out of their regular attire, each donning sarouel pants, Ahsoka with a sleeveless midriff shirt and Skywalker in a black tank top. It was revealed, now, why Skywalker wore a glove on his right hand. Ben eyed the skeletal prosthetic that replaced his arm elbow-down. He used it as his dominant hand still, with the ease of one well-used to it. Ben wondered if it was a war injury, or if he had it longer.

He was reminded, uncomfortably, of Wehutti- in more ways than one.

Watching them spar was quite an unexpected affirmation how Skywalker was, in fact, a Padawan’s Master. He certainly didn’t act like a person responsible for training another Jedi, (and Ben continued to question how good of a Master General Kenobi was,) but as far as combat went, this was evidence enough he had the material to teach. He was shockingly good at Form V, shown in how he was effortlessly holding himself back in order for the spar to be a lesson rather than a slaughter. (He certainly put meaning to the Form’s name Way of the Krayt Dragon, Ben couldn’t help but think.)

It was practical for Ahsoka to be learning Form V also, which Ben was able to infer from her returning attacks. Although, while her Master used Djem So (just a little terrifying,) Ahsoka used its reverse-grip variant; Shien- and did so duel-wielding. In Ben’s professional opinion, it was wizard.

Skywalker certainly wasn’t holding back much , Ahsoka was brilliant . Ben would not be too surprised if she was close to mastering the form, even as a padawan.

They spun around the salle in perfect harmony, all sweeping movements and the static of clashing ‘sabers in whorls of blue and emerald. Ahsoka’s lekku swayed as she twisted gracefully mid-air, landing with a heavy strike against her Master, who was keeping up a commentary most of the time, amongst grunts of effort and pants for breath. “...nice… keep your ‘saber up, that’s it… faster on the parry, Snips,- good… ”

Eventually, Skywalker called it and they both disengaged their ‘sabers as they bowed to each other. They were already bantering again by the time they straightened again, chests heaving with exertion.

“I was winning- that’s the only reason you stopped us there,” Ahsoka smirked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Padawan-mine,” Skywalker sauntered over to their stuff laying by the wall, tugging on her Padawan braid-chain as he passed. She caught the flask thrown to her easily, taking a drink before spilling the cool water over the few heat-welts on her arms.

“Get some bacta on those,” Skywalker replied, swiping at his brow and pulling stringy, damp hairs out of his face to tie them back. Some pieces of hair were too short for the half-up half-down he tried to tame them into, and he blew them out of his eyes when they fell back down. “If I were Maul, you would’ve lost that arm.”

“Would not 've. Maul’s a whiny bitch, I could take him.”

Skywalker chuckled at her, wandering back over. Ahsoka pouted at his amusem*nt. “You can’t talk, sleemo, I totally took off both your legs at one point.”

Skywalker swiped the canteen from her, taking a swig before splashing her lekku with the remaining liquid. She bared her fangs, and he laughed. “You did not.”

“Did so. What do you think, Ben? Who won?”

Ben didn’t look up from his datapad. Truthfully, their easy banter made his heart clench. He could not see himself playfully throwing insults with Master Qui-Gon like they did. He wondered if he and his old Master ever got this close. He still hadn’t asked about Qui-Gon, so nervous about seeing the older man again. Skywalker seemed a lot like a Qui-Gon-style loose-cannon, sans the poise, and Ben wondered if Skywalker got it from his Grand-Master.

“Wasn’t watching,” he lied, before taking an attempt at this banter thing. “But I’d put my credits on Ahsoka.”

“Boom!” The Togruta cheered, throwing a fist into her Master’s shoulder, who groaned.

“Thanks, Obi-Wan. Now I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Ahsoka laughed, crooning a nope! Skywalker threw the canteen at her.

“You go hit the showers, Snips. You did good.”

“Thanks, Master. You coming?”

“In a bit. I was thinking Obi-Wan and I could go a round, first.”

Ben blanched. He flicked his eyes upwards, seeing Skywalker smiling at him, scar-slitted eyebrow raised in challenge.

Ahsoka glanced quickly between them, undoubtedly picking up on Ben’s internal panic. “You sure your ego could take another defeat, Skyguy?” She teased, taking the attention off Ben.

“Eh, I’ll live. C’mon, what do you say?”

Honestly, Ben did feel like a spar, but he wasn’t thinking of a lightsaber spar, more like the kinds he and Cerasi had late at night when neither of them could sleep, where she would correct him to hold his fists higher- You’re meant to be protecting your face, Ben, not playing a kloo-horn! - then she’d sock him in the eye for his efforts. He’d sweep her leg and make her fall flat on her backside, she’d dissolve into giggles, and Nield, half asleep, would call them both idiots from his spot against the wall.

His chest ached- not with anything physical, though, therefore unfortunately not an excuse to not spar- so he clambered to his feet regardless, shedding his jacket and boots. “I don’t have a ‘saber,” He tried.

Without looking, Skywalker stuck out a hand and with a mildly frivolous use of the Force, summoned a cylinder spinning through the air from a crate on the other side of the room. He tossed it to Ben who caught it, fumbling only a little. He turned the training ‘saber over in his hand- the generic brass hilt cold in his hand without the usual song of a residing kyber. “We can’t go hand-to-hand?”

“We already know you’re great at that,” Skywalker replied, one hand unconsciously touching his throat. Ben saw a collection of faded bruises there, and didn’t ask. He instead watched as Skywalker activated his scathingly powerful ‘saber again, idly twisting a gear on its hilt. Ben watched its blue aura fade onto itself a little as he turned the power down to match the training ‘saber’s. Ben realised with a little horror how much it hadn’t been lowered for the spar with Ahsoka.

He activated the practice ‘saber, eyeing the weak amber-coloured blade and ignoring the humiliation that came with using something made for younglings. The blade had very little white in its centre, again betraying the power-source of a synthetic nature, rather than kyber. It was practically the same difference in the Force that there was between a droid and a sentient- it was there in the Force, but it may as well not have been, for as empty as it was on the inside. (Although a shockingly feisty blue astromech that hung around the Resolute kind of disproved that- Ben had first thought the Force-presence he had felt was just a very strange person. But that was besides the point.)

Ahsoka had paused, hesitating by the door as if she wasn’t sure if she should leave or not. Ben simultaneously did not want an audience but also desperately did not want to be on his own for this. No way out of it, now. Ben stepped his feet apart, shifting uncertainty into Ataru’s opening stance. When was the last time he had fought with a ‘saber? Many, many months, at least. Easily enough time to get sloppy. Why did he agree to this? Kriff- this wasn’t going to go well.

“Ready?” Was all the warning Skywalker offered, barely giving Ben to hesitantly nod in response, before he launched forward.

The downwards strike that the General darted forward with was easy to see coming- two handed, bearing his full weight and momentum behind it. Ben suppressed the urge to recoil from the attack, bringing up his ‘saber to deflect the blow and slip to the side. If he tried to intercept that, the fight would be over already. The ‘sabers hissed when they made contact, a higher-pitched noise than when at full-strength. The micro vibrations reverberated in Ben’s hands and made his grip weak. He clenched his jaw.

Ben immediately took the opportunity to return the strike, swinging his ‘saber wide towards the man’s head. He was rewarded for his efforts with a simple flick of Skywalker’s saber, a roll of his wrist all it took to deflect Ben’s attack into the floor. It was so fast yet so casual that panic stirred within Ben once again. How could he have any chance against this?

Skywalker spun and striked again, easily driving Ben across the salle. Stop losing ground, his Master’s instructions commanded in his head. He is powerful, but you can be, also. He utilises strength that you cannot match, but you can use that.

Kriffing how? - Ben wanted to snap back, desperately swinging at his opponent and being met with nothing but perfect defensive offence- dodging another sweeping blow. He couldn’t fight this, not when any strikes he met with his ‘saber were almost enough to force him to drop it. The sweat springing to his palms hardly helped. Ben had fought Xanatos, for kriff’s sake, but he hadn’t done that alone, and the Jedi before him was something else altogether. The close comparison around how Skywalker fought like a Darksider was… a little terrifying.

“You couldn't go a little easy on me?” Ben gasped out, not looking for Skywalker’s reaction. He had to stay completely focused on the relentless attacks that he couldn’t keep up with, anyway. He intercepted too low, and heat from the other ‘saber seared across his knuckles.

“You don’t need it,” Skywalker replied as if in casual conversation.

“It doesn’t kriffing feel that way!” Ben stumbled, arms long past tiring and ‘saber dipping low, bringing his defence up at the last moment to catch a downwards vertical stoke that could have cut him in half in a real battle. That was the tipping point- Ben’s balance was thrown and he landed hard on his tailbone, hands throwing out to catch himself and weakened grasp giving way on his ‘saber which clattered across the floor to the other side of the room.

If Ben thought that meant the battle was over, he was sorely mistaken. Skywalker was still advancing, almost at a stroll, swinging his ‘saber in a figure-eight before him, leaving scorch-marks as it skimmed the floor. Ben was forced to stumble backwards on all-fours- scrambling for the practice ‘saber, still out of reach. He cursed, heart thumping harder and harder. Skywalker was still advancing, sweeping ‘saber spinning closer and closer. “Stop!”

“Come on, Obi-Wan. Pick it up.” Skywalker’s expression was completely casual.

“I can’t! ” He couldn’t fight this.

“Yes, you can. Come on.”

“... Master-” Ahsoka called.

Ben couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t like a battlefield, where he knew what he needed to do, who to protect, who to aim at and how to shoot. This was a pitiful excuse for combat, not a one-on-one spar but an execution the moment Skywalker decided it to be so. The Force had abandoned Ben in those moments, and with it gone he was left completely alone and defenceless, cowering before this manifestation of power.

How many other children had been where he was now; running futilely from the utter merciless wrath of this blade?

Ben threw himself to his feet, not running for the ‘saber on the ground but instead for the door. It hissed open and he brushed past Ahsoka and into the hallway- and she didn’t try to stop him.

Panic bubbled inside his chest, relaxing slowly the further away he was from Skywalker.

Thirty-one hours and fourteen minutes before they reached Coruscant. If he hid the best he could, just maybe he could survive that long.

x+x+x

His dreams were even more terrible than the waking-world. No peace for him anywhere, apparently.

He spent the rest of the day and into the night hiding in his temporary quarters, in fitful sleep plagued by nightmares. More visions or whatever, he was sure. Just like last time, they made no kriffing sense.

He saw bodies. So, so many kriffing bodies- Jedi; Masters, Knights, Padawans, younglings - cut down by blaster and by lightsaber blade. The air was smoke and the Force screamed in pain. He saw betrayal, and he was Falling- no. No, Ben was falling but someone else was Falling and it- it was-

-He saw rows and rows of soldiers, plastoid white and GAR-like but different. Wrong. He saw a planet of fire, he saw pain. He saw a world of nothing but sand- stretching on for an eternity. He saw two young faces with desert-bright eyes, silhouetted by a… a symbol that he couldn’t quite make out. He saw them, the twin suns- reunited, finally, and that was so, so important, but it didn’t matter because a blood-red lightsaber was hurtling towards him, cutting him down, and it didn’t matter because he- the lightsaber- that black armour- that man - and Ben, he- he was-

He snapped awake in some dark, quiet hours of the night, bolting upright, every inch of his body shaking. His whole body felt covered in a sheen of sweat and he felt far to hot, as if he had been the one on fire, not someone else-

Like all dreams did, the visions swam and faded in his memory, the fear they brought still hanging heavy in the air. He heaved for breath, drawing his knees to his chest and attempting to calm his racing heart.

He couldn’t even centre himself by reassuring himself of where he was- who he was with, that it was safe, he was okay, he was in the tunnels and Nield and Cerasi were right here beside him- because even that would be wrong, too. A sob caught in his throat.

He was so kriffing tired of this. Why did everything need to be so wrong?

He didn’t dare try to fall asleep again, not with the chance of more visions being there to greet him, instead just closing his eyes and leaning against the wall, wishing for… for… he wasn’t even sure. He couldn't have his Nield and Cerasi back, not without going back to Melida/Daan and the terrors that came with it, living through all that awful crap again and not being able to change any of it. He couldn't have any of his old life back, and was starting to question whether he even wanted it back. Things were terrible there, and it got worse here. Things never got better.

He didn't know how much later it was- not that long, surely- when Ben heard a quiet knock on the door.

It wasn't locked- Ben didn't know how to lock it, and not for a lack of trying- so it hissed open regardless. Ben peaked one eye open to see who it was, then immediately closed it again in resignation. It was Skywalker, of course it was. Kriff.

It wasn’t like Ben was scared of the General- he had faced enough adults with murderous intent to be relatively used to it. But that didn’t mean that Ben wanted to be around the guy, and it did not mean that he trusted him. This man had done- could do- terrible things, and that wasn’t something Ben was going to forget easily. Besides, he also didn’t particularly like the guy.

He didn’t particularly look like a child-murderer right now; hair tousled as if he had just woken up, eyes bleary but gaze gentle- if the General was capable of such a thing. His tabard bottom layers were apparently his equivalent of sleeping-clothes- finally a sensible decision that Ben agreed with- maroon leggings and a dark blue shirt, warm against the cold of space. His voice was soft and cautious when he spoke. “Can I come in?”

This was easily the last person on the whole ship that Ben wanted to see, but selfishly, he didn’t want to be alone right now. He closed his eyes again. Skywalker took Ben’s lack of answer as the begrudging permission that it was, and crossed the room to sit tentatively on the end of the cot.

“Nightmare?”

“How did you know?” Ben muttered.

“Well, frankly, your Shields are pretty pathetic.”

Ben opened his eyes now, if only to glare at the man across him. If this was an attempt to make him feel better, it was sorely lacking.

The General shrugged. “I didn’t see anything, I promise. But we do still have a Bond and you seemed really kriffing scared a moment ago, so I figured that I’d offer company if you wanted it. …Do you? Want to talk about it?”

Honestly, yes, but not particularly with him. He didn’t really have a very wide selection of choice right now, though. He sniffed, swiping a hand under his nose. “The Force keeps showing me stuff. I keep seeing the future, or some shavit. It’s kriffing horrible, if you’re wondering.”

Skywalker chuckled. Ben’s gaze darkened. “Something funny?”

“No, no- sorry. I’m just not used to you swearing.”

So General Kenobi didn’t swear much, then. Skywalker’s accidental comparison between Ben and General Kenobi didn’t really improve Ben’s mood, though.

“Is it something we need to look into- the visions that you see? So we can stop them from happening?”

Ben scoffed at the laughable assumption that it was that simple. “I can barely remember what the visions were, let alone stop them from occurring. This… this future, its practically an inevitable. The scale of it- It’s… everyone dies.”

Skywalker’s eyebrows rose. “Everyone?”

No, Ben thought. Not you. You live. If his fate could be considered even living. All that- for what? Survival at what cost?

Suddenly, Ben wasn’t sure if he was referring to Skywalker’s future, or his own.

“Look. I don’t freaking know what’s going to happen. I just know that something will, and it destroys the whole kriffing galaxy. The Force is pretty much decayed. And I think… I think it’s already started. It can’t kriffing be stopped.”

“You usually say that the future is always in motio-”

“I don’t say that.” Ben snapped. He didn’t elaborate, but apparently he didn’t need to.

Skywalker looked away. “Fine, you’re right.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

It was Skywalker’s turn to scoff, a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Are you sure you’ve changed that much?”

Ben scowled, finding it hard not to take offence from that. “Do you have a point?”

“I do, actually. I was going to say that since we picked you up from Melidaan,-”

“Kidnapped.”

“Ha, ha. What I’m saying is that I realise that I’ve been-”

“- A bit of a murglak?”

“Force - so this is what it was like when I was growing up?”

“You grew up?”

“Oh, for- would you let me speak? I was going to say that I pushed you too far in our spar, I was going to apologise for it.”

“Oh, but not anymore? Wow.”

“Ugh, you- What I’m trying to say is that I realise I haven’t made the best first impression with you because I haven’t been thinking about it as a first impression.”

Ben raised an eyebrow.

“So…um… hello. Nice to meet you. I’m Anakin.”

That… wasn’t what Ben had expected. He nodded, a little hesitant. “Ben.”

“Right. Okay. Ben. Hey… um, your visions- is that what was happening when you almost kriffing killed yourself by venturing too far into the Force?”

Ben shut off his immediate rebuke of how do you know about that?, remembering the thread and the hand- what- who had pulled him back to safety. “Ah. That was you.” He looked away. “Of course it was.” He sighed. “ Yes, for the record, and I didn’t venture, I was pulled in.”

“Okay. Why do you think that happened?”

“You expect me to know?”

Anakin shrugged.

“Ugh… I guess- I’m really not great with the Force. Not after leaving the-” He stopped that sentence, and tried again. “-since I went to Melida/Daan. But after I arrived here- the Force has been really weird. I can’t control it, it's like not knowing my own strength.” So instead he just didn’t try. It was easier that way.

Anakin looked thoughtful for a moment. “It seems almost like your Force sensitivity hasn’t changed along with the rest of you, if you ask me. Why that is I don’t know, but it makes some kind of sense. I guess it feels super strong to you because you’re less trained and not used to being this strong in the Force?”

“I’m not, though.” So now he had to deal with General Kenobi’s Force-sensitivity in his head, now, too?

“You get there. You were super knowledgeable of the Force by the time you had me as your Padawan.”

“Not my Padawan. I have never finished my own training, let alone taken on an apprentice.” Whether Anakin noticed Ben’s use of never rather than his usual use of haven’t yet, he didn’t say.

Anakin shrugged. “You will one day, I guess.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do, though. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Things change with time-travel.”

“This isn’t time-travel, Ben. This is…”

A mess? “What? Simply a case of curable amnesia? Is that what you want it to be? So you can just cure me away and get your General back?”

“Hey, I never said that.”

“But you meant it. You want your General back for your kriffing war. You don’t give a bucket of tusker dung about me.”

“What the kark are you on? Of course I care about you, you’re-”

“Don’t call me your Master.”

“That isn’t what I was going to say. I was saying that to me, you’re like a bro-”

“Would you just stop doing that?”

“Doing what ?”

“Stop saying that General Kenobi and I are the same person! We’re not . I don’t know you. I’m not your Master, or your General. And I never will be.”

Anakin’s fists were clenched onto his knees. He tore his gaze away from Ben, taking a deep breath as he visibly made himself calm down from the very un-Jedi-like level of anger that was rolling within him. The fact that Ben could unintentionally provoke him to that level of rage with ease was… interesting. And just a little enjoyable. It was something Ben had power over.

In a moment, Anakin stood, brushing the creases out of his leggings. “We’ll get back to Coruscant tomorrow. We can sort out this whole mess then.”

Ben didn’t look at him. He sensed another spike of frustration through the Bond, and he felt a curdle of satisfaction at that.

Anakin sighed heavily, walking back out the door with a ‘night, Ben, thrown over his shoulder that Ben didn’t respond to.

Alone in the empty room once again, Ben was left with the cold reminder that they were going to arrive planet-side all too soon- to face the Council- to face Master Qui-Gon, and to potentially face all the many people who wanted to simply throw him away to get their General back. It was a haunting thought. Ben had commanded forces in the past- and he was good at it. The Young didn’t win the war for no reason. The concept of a thirty-seven-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi, that powerful in the Force- that much more… experienced at war and willing to fight…

Sure, the Separatists' army was made of droids, and that did ease Ben’s conscious just a little, but war always had innocent death on both sides. Always. Good guys or bad guys were only dictated by what side you were on. If there was even the possibility of General Kenobi holding this much power and mis-using it…

Well, if Ben could prevent that and also save his own skin in one move, it wasn’t really a decision, then, was it? There would be opposition against him from those who did want the General back, of course there would be. But Ben could be particularly stubborn when he wanted to be. And he had some sabacc cards up his sleeve, yet.

Seventeen hours before they reached Coruscant. Ben held on tight to the moments he had left.

Chapter 12: Bushes of Love

Chapter Text

Unlike every-kriffing-thing else, it seemed the planet of Coruscant was one thing that never changed.

Its tall grey buildings glinted in the sunlight, the skyscrapers dotting the horizon line as far as the eye could see. The upper-level streets streamed with movement, the people so far below going about their business with no idea their worlds were probably going to be destroyed all too soon. The busy speeder-lanes formed a network of movement across the sky, flashes of sunlight against transparisteel making them glitter in the distance. Tall comm towers graced the atmosphere, blinking their red lights as they jutted like spires above the levels. Landing platforms hovered around the sky, awaiting incoming ships like the one Ben was aboard.

He gazed out the window with little care for how freezing the transparisteel was against his forehead, or how the ship’s vibrations made it impossible to be at all comfortable. Instead he watched the city-planet below them- its skyline far too complex to know by heart, and therefore any changes in the last twenty-six years going unnoticed. Ben was grateful for that fact. If he pretended, just for a moment, it was almost like he was back in his own time.

It had been so long since he had seen this city. Being there again now was a stark reminder of just how much he had missed it.

Then- there in the distance, silhouetted by the dome of the Senate Building- Ben caught a glimpse of the huge, graceful structure of the Jedi Temple, and his blood ran cold.

Ahsoka, seated in the copilot’s chair, glanced at him over her shoulder, undoubtedly feeling his anxieties rolling through the Force. He tightened his Shields and didn’t return her glance.

One thing that had apparently changed in the last decades, Ben noticed the closer they got to landing, was the Force.

Every location with a high populous always stirred within the Living Force with some manner of… aura. The collective mood of the citizens, most usually. Ben was not someone particularly tuned into the Living Force, but when one was presented with a planet holding a population as great as Coruscant's, it was somewhat impossible to ignore.

To put it nicely, Coruscant was… tense. People went about their business with some degree of caution, with an absent awareness of the military ships that flew regularly overhead. Not noticing them with fear, per se, but with the trepidation of those used to it. It was off-puttingly like how Melida/Daan felt while the Young held their fragile peace together, like all it would take would be one wrong move for everything to come crashing down. It seemed foreboding to Ben in a way that the two other Force-sensitives on the ship seemed accustomed to. That wasn’t a comforting thing.

Then, the closer their ship got to its assigned landing-pad, something else became apparent.

It wasn’t just how the people in the Force that had changed, but the feeling of the Force itself.

A perpetual braze smogged Coruscant's sky; pollution that hazed the horizon and coloured the sunsets shades of red. It gave the city a familiar yet slightly unpleasant smell, a smoke that hung heavy in the industrial areas. It was distained by many, but was still undeniable part of Coruscant's charm.

That’s what the Force felt like. Although in the Force, this new, foreign sensation was far from comfortable. It felt more like when one was in an enclosed speeder and turned the oxygen recycling off. Tolerable , for a little while, until you started choking on your own carbon dioxide, desperate for a breath of fresh air. But there was no air in space, and no turning back now. So Ben steeled himself against the discomfort and the questions, gathering himself amongst that grey haze- the kind that it was all too easy for a quiet, distant ship to… disappear into.

No use dwelling on it now, Ben decided as their shuttle finally touched down. He had other things to worry about, he could add that to the growing list, later.

Anakin was texting someone on his comm as they exited the shuttle, a ghost of a smile on his face. His happiness irritated Ben a little, before he realised how stupid that was, and how he was just jealous. Which was honestly sad. But all Ben could really feel right now was just the twisting coil of nerves in his gut and the tightness of his throat, which, coupled with the haze in the Force, together kind of made it hard to breathe.

He really, really didn’t want to face the Council, right now. Not when he felt like he was holding himself together with engine-tape and denial. So he stuck his hands as deep into his pockets as he could and hunched into the seat of the droid-operated taxi-speeder that they had called over.

It took several long, quiet minutes of travel and a transition from skylanes to ground speeder-lanes before Ben realised that they were not headed towards the Jedi Temple.

He paid more attention to their surroundings, not recognising any kind of significant destination they could be headed towards, an instinctual part of him preparing from some kind of foul-play from the astromech driving them, or even from the Master-Padawan pair chatting idly across from him.

“Where are we going?” Ben interrupted their conversation. It wasn’t like he wanted to go to the Temple, he was very firmly for the opposite, but being in a vehicle that he didn’t know the destination of was not something he appreciated.

Before leaving the Resolute, Ben had managed to secret away one small blaster-pistol into the conveniently big pocket of his jacket, and kept it concealed there. (He thanked the Force for slightly advanced tech than that wasn’t widespread in his time- and for military availability; not only would his blaster likely go unmissed but also was run on a gas-cartridge with five times the bolts than in a power-charge cartridge. Ben was not against using every single shot he had.) It was now that he slipped his fingers around its handle. He knew that it was probably completely useless against the two Jedi, even if he did need to use it, but the fact that he was armed at all was a comforting one. “We’re not going in the direction of the Temple.” He accused.

“Nope,” Anakin said, popping the p, as Ahsoka peered out the window, too. “Unfortunately, the Council has been informed that we have been, uh, delayed. Can’t make it today. Such a shame, really.” He winked at Ben.

Ben blinked in surprise, hand leaving the blaster. It was undeniable that Anakin was aware of Ben’s heavy unease regarding the Council… had he done this intentionally for Ben? And he was deliberately lying to the Council to do so? That was… unexpected.

“Oh!” Ahsoka gasped, face lighting up, clearly finally recognising their surroundings. “Are we going to Dex’s?”

Anakin grinned at her and Ahsoka cheered, which did nothing to ease Ben’s confusion. He glanced between them, lost.

“You’ll see when we get there,” Anakin assured him.

In regards to what Ben had been expecting when the speeder pulled off the road and the three of them hopped out, a diner was not on the list.

It looked like a relatively nice place, situated on a busy street and quiet of customers in the hours of the morning after the first-meal rush. Most of the booths were empty, Ben took note of as he scanned the room, a chime dinging as they entered.

“Be with you in a mo’!” a feminine voice called out from behind the steaming caf-distiller on the counter.

Anakin grinned. “Morning, Harmony.”

A springy mop of bright blonde curls appeared from behind the machine, hands occupied with a jug running under the steam-wand. The woman that appeared was human, relatively young, with a heavy dusting of freckles and large hoop earrings, hair pulled into a high tail at the back of her head. A smile broke out across her bright-pink lips. “Ah! If it’s not two of my favourite Jedi.”

Ahsoka snickered. “Har, you know, what- three Jedi total?”

“Details, hon. Gosh, lil’ A, you’ve grown. It’s been too long.”

“Yeah, we’ve been busy.”

“You’d better be. I spend my tax credits on you lot.” She picked up a waiting mug, some kind of thick green liquid bubbling at the bottom of it, pouring in the steamed blue milk with a practised hand. “Wanda! ” She called without warning, startling Ben a little.

A waitress droid with patchy maroon paint rolled in on a uniwheel from the back kitchen, arriving at Harmony’s side. “Take this one to table three for me?”

“For you what?” The droid spoke in robotic Basic.

“For me, please, Wanda.” Harmony pouted with a smirk, passing the finished drink on a plate.

The droid tutted, wheeling smoothly away with a “Greetings, Mister Jedi, smaller Jedi,”.

“You tell her, Wanda!” Anakin called back.

“You want caf or not?” Harmony teased.

“Force, please. You have my sincerest apologies if it means we get some of the greatest caf on this planet.”

“Oh, now the flattery comes out, does it?”

“I have no idea what you’re on about.”

“Two caffes, then? Or you want something else, ‘lil A?”

"I’ll have a meiloorun milkshake, thanks, Har.”

“Anything for you, hon. One bantha-milk mocoa with two sugars, and one milkshake- coming right up.”

“One more thing,” Anakin turned to Ben. “Do you drink caf? Or something?”

“Kriff yes I drink caf. But not with sugar, you heathen.”

Anakin chuckled. “You heard him, Har.”

Harmony seemed to notice the third member of the group for the first time. “Stars above- you picked up another lil ‘un, have you? Or is this one Obi’s?”

Ben glanced critically at Anakin, curious what this answer would be.

“Nah, Ben’s just with us for a little while, Obi-Wan’s preoccupied at the moment, couldn’t come. Sends his love, though.” Anakin responded with a half-truth with surprising ease, the Force not revealing any kind of dishonesty. The fact that Anakin was a talented liar was one Ben filed away carefully. Ahsoka turned away, passing her thanks to Harmony as she went to find a booth for them to sit at.

“Well, you can send him my best too. Nice to meet’cha kid, I’m Hermione.” She stuck one manicured hand over the counter, a little damp with milk, transparent bangles jingling.

Ben took a step forward to shake it, returning her firm grip. “Ben.”

“Just call her Harmony,” Anakin declared. “Everyone does.”

“Do they, now?” Harmony turned deliberately away from the taller man. “You’re cute, kid, I like you. Maybe you can teach your buddy here some manners.”

“Oh, he’s tried. Nobody has succeeded yet.”

Harmony laughed. She turned her attention, activating the caf-bean grinder and emptying the grouphead with a solid whack into the disposal unit. “You wanna see the boss-man?”

“Oh, of course, if he’s not busy.”

“Sure. I’ll ask Wanda to fetch him in a bit. You can grab a seat and I’ll bring your drinks over. See you ‘round, kid!” She ended by calling. He turned to follow Ahsoka, nodding to Harmony as he left. She seemed nice enough.

He caught Anakin’s words to the waitress as he turned away. “Oh, Har, in a minute, could you make an extra caf as well?”

Harmony’s smirk was audible when she replied. “Oh, have a plus-one coming, do we?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. Could it be a synthmilk cap with-”

“-With vanilla? I haven’t forgotten. Go on, get outta here, dingus. I have it covered.”

Interesting.

Ahsoka had picked a booth in the back of the room, and Ben had slotted himself into the corner across from her by the time Anakin joined them, and they weren’t waiting long before a new voice rang out across the diner. “Ani!”

Anakin grinned, twisting to look over the booth. “Hey, Dex!”

The man who shambled over to their table from the kitchens was a surprisingly short Besalisk, fluffy black moustache topping a very wide smile. Two of his hands were thrown wide in welcome while the other two wiped themselves clean on his stained apron. Anakin rose to return the embrace, patting the far shorter man on the back. Ahsoka waved as Anakin sat back down. Ben crossed his arms.

“Good to see you are well, my friend. Ah, Miss Ahsoka, lovely to see you as always, and- oh my, my. Now that is not a face I had ever expected to see again.”

Ben co*ked an eyebrow, returning the scrutiny he was suddenly under by a pair of small, bright yellow eyes. “No, no, you were just a tad older, then; back at Lenahra over in the Unknown Regions, it would have been.”

“You know, I still haven’t heard that full story.” Anakin commented.

“Well, I won’t spoil it, then.” He didn’t look away from Ben, a warm, disarming smile lighting up his features. “I suppose I have to introduce myself, then? Dexter Jettster, at your service- owner of this fine establishment and an old friend- or new. Pleased to make your acquaintance either way.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Ben mumbled, rather surprised at the presence of someone who actually knew him around this age, even if it was someone he hadn’t met yet from his own time.

Dex turned back to the other two. “Now, anything I can do for you folks? Or you all just here for a feed, for once?”

“Just to catch up, thanks Dex. How have you been?”

Ben cut in, still curious about this new person to show up. “If you know General Kenobi, don’t you have questions about how I’m here?”

Dexter chuckled. “With you Jedi-folk? Always. But I’m wise enough to know not to ask questions that it wouldn’t do to know the answers to.”

Ben wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Anakin spoke up. “Dex is often the one to come to for more… uh… off the book favours.”

“Off the book!” Dex let out a rumbling laugh, one bottom hand slapping his thigh. “That’s one way of putting it!”

“You lot are terrible, chattin’ ‘bout side-business in a public place,” Harmony chittered, placing four drinks upon the table from where she had them expertly balanced across her arm. She brushed off her retro blue miniskirt as if ridding herself of this business.

“Don’t worry yourself, darl’,” Dexter teased. “I don’t know many who come to this perfectly reputable business who haven’t called in favours once or twice. Then again, these three are usually up to more mischief than the rest.”

Ahsoka grinned around her straw, showing sharp eyeteeth. Dex chuckled as Harmony sighed dramatically, thick heels on her black thigh-high boots clicking against the tile as she left. Across the room, the door chimed.

Harmony glanced at the newcomer with a bright smile. “Mornin, ma’am! They’re over at the back.”

Dexter stepped back, taking a glance at the doorway from where it was obscured from the other’s view. He smiled. “Well. I’d better get back to it, then. Give me a yell if there’s anythin’ else you need.” Then he turned and waddled off, passing a wave and a Hello, Senator! As he passed the door, before disappearing into the kitchen.

By now, Ben’s curiosity was piqued, and he watched carefully as the recent arrival headed in the direction of their table. It was a young woman- another human as the majority of Coruscant was, with intelligent eyes and brunette hair in a soft, complex braid trailing down her back. She wore clothes in shades of purple, contrasting her pale skin, of which were nothing unusual for the streets of the Upper Levels, but were undeniably very nice quality. Dex’s title of senator made immediate sense, Ben noticed, but why she was here was beyond him.

“Good morning. Am I late?” Her voice was sweet and proper- not quite Coruscanti but definitely from some Core World- or at least Mid-Rim with a good deal of grace.

Anakin and Ahsoka both stood as she arrived- the polite thing to do, of course, but Ben stayed seated. Ahsoka immediately closed the gap between them with a gleeful call of Padmé! and was met with a returning embrace immediately.

“Not at all. A pleasure as always, Senator Amidala,” Anakin offered with a bow.

“The pleasure is mine, Knight Skywalker.” The woman returned his gaze with a smile over Ahsoka’s shoulder.

Ahsoka took a step back a moment later, immediately chatting about various things that Ben didn’t listen to. He was instead too focused on the sudden feeling that swelled in the Force, light and familial and comforting in such a warm way that it caught him off guard. He watched Anakin and the Senator lady carefully as the three of them returned to their seats, Ahsoka swapping next to Ben so the other two could sit beside one another. They seemed professional- coupled with the casualty of old friends, and to a casual onlooker, maybe even to Ahsoka, too, that was all they appeared to be.

Maybe it was just because of the Bond that Ben noticed. Or maybe it was because Ben recognised that very same feeling- leaving him with an aching chest and tight throat as he remembered how he had felt exactly that whenever he was with Neild and Cerasi- his Nield and Cerasi- that feeling of affection and home against all else, while the universe would have them torn apart.

That’s what Ben felt, buried in the Force- deeply and mutually from the both of them- when Anakin and Senator Amidala looked at one another and smiled.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, kriff.

Anakin, Jedi Knight, in an undoubtedly secret romantic relationship with a Senator? Now, this was interesting.

“You must be Ben,” The Senator spoke, pulling Ben back to the present. He nodded, painstakingly curious over who, exactly, this mysterious lover was.

“Padmé Amidala,” She introduced herself, slipping her hands around her mug of caf waiting for her on the table. “I’m an old friend of… of Master Kenobi’s.”

Huh. So she was a friend of General Kenobi’s, but was informed enough to call him Ben as he preferred. She would have had to have a personal contact on the Resolute to know about that. Who, possibly - Ben thought, as he watched Anakin carefully- could that be?

Ben nodded slowly. “How did we meet?”

“It would have been around thirteen years ago, now.” Padmé mused. “You and your Master were sent to negotiate the removal of the Trade Federation’s blockade around my home planet. To put a long, venturous story short- I ended up along for the ride.”

“That’s where you met Skyguy, too, right?” Ahsoka piped up. Anakin nodded around his drink.

Another ‘old friend’ to know him while he was a Padawan, interesting. Why had some random citizen, regardless of future Senator-ship, end up with two Jedi on a mission? Ben took a sip of his own drink, warm, bitter and comforting. It was just caf in hot water, but had been delivered on a plate with sweetener sachets and a serve of milk. He usually did like milk in his caf, but he ignored both and drank without it, just to stick it to Anakin.

“She was queen of Naboo, then.” Ahsoka commented to him with a small degree of awe, which was warranted.

He snapped his gaze back to Padmé. She certainly did seem that old. Thirteen years… “How old were you?”

Padmé smiled. “The people of Naboo appreciate a degree of ‘childlike wisdom ’ in their queens. I was elected at fourteen.”

Ben gaped, before snapping his mouth shut, feeling a sudden rush of solidarity to the woman across from him. She had been the sole ruler of a planet, practically at the same age as Ben, too? That was… amazing. How the druk did a man with the tact of an Acid Lizard pull this?

The more Ben got to know her, the more he liked this Padmé. She somehow managed to treat him like both a new acquaintance and a good friend, demonstrating the impressive abilities of a politician. At one point, when she and Anakin were engaged in focused, casual conversation, he leant over to Ahsoka. “Shouldn’t it be strange that some senator is meeting us at a diner?”

Ahsoka took one last draught of her milkshake, air rattling through the end of the straw as the glass emptied. She shrugged. “Probably, if she was just some senator, but Padmé’s our friend! Force, sometime we should tell you about some of the missions we’ve been on with her.”

So Ahsoka didn’t know. Interesting and interesting-er.

Ahsoka would have a Master-Padawan bond with Anakin, too, but if she met Padmé while she and Anakin were already together, she probably wouldn’t have gotten the same revelation as Ben. Of course, there was the chance it could be a new relationship, but Ben didn’t think so, not with the way Anakin and Padmé were watching eachother like there was nobody else in the room. No, it was a secret, and Ahsoka was clever, but the two of them hid it behind a senator’s smile and Shields that could conceal murder. Ben was just… observant, he supposed.

It occurred to him, then, how much leverage Ben held over Anakin. There was no way for Anakin to realise Ben knew about the children, but surely there were some things Ben could let on. He didn’t want Anakin thinking he was powerless, after all.

So, it was after another half-hour of Ben staying quiet amongst the other’s conversation before the group ended up going their separate ways, agreeing to see each other again soon, when Ben took his chance.

“Dude,” He whispered to Anakin after they had bid Dex farewell, stepping out of the diner, waving to Padmé as her taxi pulled around the corner. “You are so whipped.”

Ben didn’t stop walking, continuing on ahead as Anakin froze for a moment, which was hilarious. Apparently, it didn’t take particularly long for the same possibilities that Ben had considered to run through Anakin’s mind, too. Primarily, the potential behind a kid who did not particularly like him spilling secrets to a certain Council- because Ben did not need the Force to feel the shock of anger and terror radiating from the glare against the back of his head.

Ben, not looking at the man behind him, smirked.

x+x+x

They went back to the Resolute for the evening, which was another unexpected relief.

Another was when Ben got back to his temporary quarters after last-meal, finding a comm unit sitting quietly on his cot. He had to assume it was Anakin who left it there- rather than giving it to Ben himself. Which was funny, also. After Ben’s pointed comment outside Dex’s, Anakin had been avoiding Ben as much as Ben avoided Anakin. He found a sly sort of satisfaction at that.

Regardless, Ben pressed the button to wake the comm unit, the projected page being that of installed contacts. There were only a few, which Ben glanced quickly through.

[General Skywalker]

[Commander Tano]

[Commander Cody]

Thoughtful, Ben supposed, but he doubted he’d use them. Cody, maybe. He planned to check in with the Commander at some point- another surprise being that he wanted to, beyond simply feeling obligated to. Then, further down, his heart leapt as he saw the name at the bottom of the list.

[Governor Nield]

Ben had at several times worried over how he was going to hold Nield to his deal of staying in contact when they had no way to. Being supplied with Nield’s contact was… another surprise.

Ben jabbed at the contact, and it beeped in response. There was nobody else Ben wanted to talk to right now, at least nobody alive. (Well, there was maybe one person, but seeing Master Qui-Gon could wait until tomorrow.)

The comm vibrated as it rang, and Ben placed it down upon the bedside-stand. He waited for several long, tense moments, long enough for him to realise he didn’t actually know the time-zone difference between the planets, before suddenly the vibrating stopped and the blue-tinged light of the holo flickered into view.

Ben found himself smiling as the profile-view of Nield blurred for a moment before shifting into focus. The holo-image shook on Nield’s end as the projector was placed down onto a surface before steadying, one hand shifting the projector while the other attempted to tame his messed hair. “Hey, Ben! ”

“Oof, sorry,” Ben laughed a little. “Did I wake you?”

Nield shrugged, rubbing at his eye. “No, it was good timing. I needed to get up, anyway. How are you doing? Made it to Coruscant alright? ”

“It was fine,” Ben responded, which was probably debatable, but Nield didn’t need to know that. “We got here this morning, but I haven’t seen the Council yet. That’s tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you’re looking forward to that,” Nield said, as if he could read Ben’s mind.

“Oh, of course. It’ll be the highlight of my week.”

Nield chuckled. “You’ll be fine. Oh, thought I’d mention- the emissary group is headed back here soon, I’m waiting to hear their report in person. The Melidaan council and I should have a decision made by the end of the week- on whether or not Melidaan will join the Republic. Sure should be interesting. How do things look from your view from the centre of the galaxy?”

“As much as the city-sticklers here would have you believe, Coruscant is not the centre of the galaxy, I do hope you know that.” Nield rolled his eyes, and Ben snorted. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve only met one Republic senator, and I have a hard time believing that all of them are as cool as she is.”

“At least one of them holds Ben’s Stamp of Approval. That gives me a little hope.” Nield’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know if it will end up happening, though. Melidaan isn’t equipped nor wanting to help in another war-effort. But if you have any further insights, I’m always happy to hear them.”

“I’ll keep an ear out, then. Sorry for calling you this early. You probably have things to do.”

“That’s quite alright. I told you could call me whenever, and I meant that. ”

Ben nodded, looking away.

“Your meeting with the Jedi Council will go fine, I’m sure. Call me again after it, yeah? You can tell me how it goes.”

“I appreciate the optimism.”

“Never thought I’d hear you calling me an optimist.”

“Believe me, I’m just as shocked as you.”

Neild chuckled again. “It’s getting late on your end, Bee. Get to bed. Tomorrow will go fine.”

Ben grumbled. He hoped so, too.

“What is it I’m meant to say? May the Force be with you?”

Ben scoffed, reaching to end the call. “I’d rather you wish me luck.”

Chapter 13: We’re Really High Up Right Now, I’ll Do a Flip and it’ll Look Cool

Chapter Text

After they arrived at the Jedi Temple early in the morning, Ben was to meet with a mind-healer before seeing the Council, and he genuinely had no idea whether he was happier to put the meeting off as long as possible, or if he just wanted to get it over with. Mostly, he wished it wasn’t a choice he had to make- because that would mean he wouldn’t have to meet with the Council at all.

The mind-healer was a black-furred Bimm woman that Ben didn’t bother remembering the name of, who asked plenty of questions but never gave any answers, and hmm ed enough that it became irritating. Yes, he knew his full name, his planet of origin, the members of his lineage. No, he did not have any memories past the events of the Melida/Daan conflict. No, he did not concede to meditating upon his connection to the Force.

The woman hmmed one last time before dismissing him, not looking up from where she was tapping with one long claw on her datapad, instructing the waiting Knight Skywalker and Padawan Tano to escort Padawan Kenobi to the Council Chamber. Ben didn’t bother correcting her.

Despite how tightly Ben wrapped his Shields around himself, he couldn’t help but self-consciously feel as if the whole Temple was able to feel the screw of anxiety and fear that was turmoiling within him. Not that there seemed to be any people in the Temple to feel it. The whole place felt hollow, more like a rotting trunk rather than the strong ancient tree in the Force that Ben once knew the Temple to be. They hardly passed anyone in the halls, and those they did seemed too preoccupied with their own business than to notice the uneasy kid trailing behind General Skywalker and his Padawan. Despite Ben’s previous doubts that it wasn’t something they were capable of, Ahsoka and Anakin stayed silent the whole time while they walked.

Every Jedi he saw seemed to be wearing some assortment of tabards and armour, or at the very least something that could be easily worn into battle. Was every kriffing Jedi a General in this kriffing war?

Ben longed to turn a corner and see the Temple he knew; the very colours on the walls seeming more saturated as the Force rang with contentment and life. Knights should have been traversing the halls discussing mission reports, junior Padawans should have been running around in their games and gossiping in the corners. Trails of Crechelings should have been following a Master to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, chittering excitedly about who could swim the fastest. The Temple should be filled with people , and family , and belonging and safety , not some crude echo of what it should have been; left hollow and desolate and tired and cold. The difference between the Temple Ben had left only a handful of months ago and this, felt like being plunged into icy waters. How long had this place felt this way? Since the war started? Since earlier? And why was nothing being done about it?

Ben realised with a spike of horror how he hadn’t even thought about his friends since he arrived in this time. The other kids he had grown up with, the ones he had said goodbye to, the ones he had told going on a mission with Master Jinn to Melida/Daan, see you soon! - Bant, Reeft, Garen, Quinlan? What had happened in their lives? Where were they now? Were they Generals in this war, too? Were they still in contact? Ben couldn’t see General Kenobi having friends.

He couldn’t help but watch desperately for a tall figure in brown to turn the corner, for one of those rare smiles that meant so much to light up hazel eyes, and to hear that warm baritone call him Padawan. But Master Jinn was nowhere to be seen. Despite them not having made a Master-Padawan Bond yet, If Master Jinn was here, Ben was sure he would know. Maybe he was out of Temple. Yes, that had to be why. Him, and the rest of the Order, it seemed.

Wouldn’t Master Jinn have been told that Ben was here in this time, so he could be here to meet him. Right? What did it mean, if he didn’t? A part of him that he buried deep wondered if he didn't want to know the answer.

The halls of the Temple seemed to stretch longer and narrower than Ben remembered. He didn’t need Anakin and Ahsoka to show him the way, this was the place Ben had called home for almost his entire life. When had he stopped thinking of it as home?

Probably when he had accepted the fact he would never be back here, again.

Yet here he was, feeling so, so lost even while he knew the way so well.

The doors of the Council Chamber slid open, and Ben had no choice but to follow the two Jedi inside. It closed again behind him, and Ben couldn’t help but feel trapped.

He kriffing hated the Council Chambers. He hated the floor-to-ceiling windows along the walls that allowed far too much sunlight in, obscuring the faces of the Masters with backlight and making the centre of the room feel like it was under a spotlight. He hated how it was so high up, situated on the peak of one of the Temple’s towering spires. It felt as if the whole of Coruscant could be seen through the windows from here, but the height made Ben’s head spin and the view achieved nothing but reminding Ben how much he would rather be anywhere than where he was. He hated how the room’s circular layout, forcing whoever was addressing the Council into the centre, scrutinised from all sides by the Council members in their seats along the curved wall.

But hate was an emotion unbecoming of a Jedi, Master Qui-Gon would remind him. Whether or not that applied to Ben, anymore… well.

Anakin and Ahsoka both bowed. Ben did not. It was completely impolite, he knew, but he was half-convinced that if he tried, his breakfast would end up all over the floor. So he fought nausea and faced the Masters before him.

He saw some familiar faces, most he recognised even if he did not know them well, their appearances altered with age. Master Yoda was on his seat ahead of Ben, looking impossibly even older than Ben remembered him. Master Windu was to his right, watching Ben with a solemn expression that Ben couldn’t decipher. The second thing that he realised was how few Council Members were in-Temple. Almost all of them resided in their seats as holo-images, hailing from Force-knows-where in the galaxy.

No- that was wrong. Not all of the Council were here- only eleven were present, someone was missing. There was one seat- over to the right- that was left empty. No person, no holo. Ben wondered why.

The room was deadly silent. Ben wondered if everyone else in the room could hear his heartbeat as loudly as he could.

“Knight Skywalker, Padawan Tano- welcome you home, this Council does. In better circ*mstances, we regret it is not.” Master Yoda broke the silence.

“Likewise, Master.” Anakin nodded his thanks. Ben couldn’t help but feel a stab of hurt at that. He really, really hoped his Shields were tight enough.

The silence lingered for a moment, as if both parties expected the other to say more. When it didn’t happen, Master Windu spoke next. “Padawan Kenobi,” The Korun Master summoned, not unkindly- but leaving no room for negotiation.

Ben hid his shaky exhale the best he could, stepping forward. He had learned many things on Melida/Daan, and a great loss of respect for most adults was one of them, but the leaders of the whole kriffing Jedi Order were a different story entirely. Why was it, Ben wondered vaguely, that he could face blaster-fire and death and battle any day, but standing here, whether it was before a Council he knew or not, made him feel like a terrified youngling all over again? He swallowed hard.

“Master.” Whether or not he successfully hid the waver in his voice, he had no idea.

“A complicated situation, this is, hmm.” Master Yoda mused. “Unexpected. Difficult, for all, that is to be sure.”

“Is it truly that complicated, Master Yoda? ” A Master that Ben didn’t look at spoke from the side of the room, voice distorted slightly by the holo. “Master Kenobi’s presence is required for the war effort. If the effects of this transformation can be reversed, should it not be done so as soon as possible? ”

General Kenobi was a Master? Holy Force. That revelation was almost enough for Ben to forget about the rest of the Master’s sentence. Almost. His hands were slick with sweat, and Ben wished he had the long sleeves of a robe to hide them within. His street-clothes seemed so out-of-place here.

“Commander Cody is already proving himself a proficient CO in the absence of a Jedi General,” A Kel Dor Master that Ben recognised, said. “I agree with the urgency that Master Kenobi’s return is required, but thankfully I believe that his battalion need not be a current concern.”

“Master Kenobi’s transformation was an act of the Force,” Anakin added with an out-of-character level of formality. “In conversation he informed me that a likewise act would likely be required to revert him to his correct age, potentially brought on by the fulfilment of some form of task.”

That rang true. There was something the Force wanted him to do. Ben was less and less sure if it was something he wanted to do.

“That may not be so, Knight Skywalker. ” An Iktotchi Master interjected, consulting a datapad. “I have both research completed by Madame Nu as well as Healer Nure’s evaluation of Padawan Kenobi, here. The general hypothesis is that reversion to Kenobi’s correct age is possible at any time. ”

Anakin’s attention was caught immediately. Ben stared at the floor.

“The report summarises that Master Kenobi could return at any time, if Padawan Kenobi allowed it as such. ”

Oh, shavit. All eyes were immediately upon Ben once again. His stomach flipped.

“I sense much anger and fear within you,” Master Windu spoke to Ben, informing the other Masters not present in the room. “You fear your fate, and the war, do you not?”

“The Force is wrong.” Ben blurted before he could stop himself. He shifted a little, pulling on his sleeve. “It- it’s changed. It’s dying. The Temple is- the Jedi are dying. Masters.” he ducked his eyes again. He didn’t really know why he said any of that, but the Force rang with truth once again. Without looking, he could tell the Council Members were exchanging glances with one another in silence.

“True, it is, that the Force has changed- since the time you knew. Change with war, many things do.”

Yes. Ben thought bitterly. They do.

“Something that Master Kenobi knows as well as all of us.” Someone else was saying. “His presence is more crucial than ever, especially with the Separatists being assisted by the return of Darth Maul.”

Ben’s blood ran cold. He glanced up again, desperately searching for some sign that a name like that didn’t mean what he thought it did. Master Yoda’s gaze met Ben’s horrified eyes, his green ears drooping.

“Hmm. Returned, the Sith have, Padawan Kenobi.” Master Yoda said simply, as if those words didn’t send a spear of utter terror directly into Ben’s chest.

The Sith were back. The freaking Sith.

Every drukking story Ben had heard as a Youngling about the ancient darksiders rushed back to him in a moment. He remembered when he were really little, when Bant would wake up in the middle of the night because she had nightmares about the Sith breaking into the Temple and killing all their Creche-mates. Don’t worry, Ben would always tell her. The Sith are gone.

But now they were back, and Ben’s only thought was so that’s why the Force is dying.

It took him far too long to realise that the Masters were still speaking. “-simply a process of meditation, perhaps. Padawan Kenobi could be assisted by mind-healers to invoke Master Kenobi’s return… ”

“Might it be necessary to first decipher this ‘task’? If it is the will of the Force, perhaps effort should be taken towards that course of action, and bring back Master Kenobi that way.”

“Can we afford to wait that long? Losing a General is a complication enough, but to lose a Council Member also- ”

Ben didn’t hear the rest of that sentence, the breath stuttering out of his chest. That empty seat was General Kenobi’s .

How the everliving kriff did Ben- a rejected-initiate, complete failure of a Padawan and total kriff-up of a Jedi- not only make it to Knighthood, become a Master, not only raise a Padawan, but become a Force-damned Council Member?

General Kenobi was more instrumental to the war than Ben had ever imagined, and it was freaking horrible. Sure, the Republic being at war with those siding with the literal Sith changed a whole kriffing lot, but that didn’t mean that galaxy-wide war was okay. That was not something Ben would allow another General- his ‘older self’ or not- to assist in. He hated the fact that General Kenobi could come back at any time, but Ben knew, now, that he had control over that. And he would never let General Kenobi come back.

“- it is decided, then.” Master Windu was saying, which was enough to make Ben pay attention once again. “Padawan Kenobi can remain at the Temple for the time before Master Kenobi can be recovered. With the return of his memories-”

“Somebody has tried to take my memories before,” Ben said, barely stopping to realise he’d just interrupted a Master. “They didn’t manage it that time.”

Behind him, Ben was fairly sure he could hear Anakin mutter under his breath: “Literally what the kriff was your childhood? ”

“My memories have not been lost,” Ben insisted, ignoring him. “I never had them. I’m a different person. I am.” This time, his voice did break. He shrank back into himself.

The Council shifted in their seats, muttering in disapproval. “Like it or not, Padawan Kenobi, a Jedi General and Council member is what you grow up to be. ”

“The future is always in motion, yes, but yours has already happened. The will of the Force is not ours to question, nor is it yours.”

Hypocrites. Ben was here because of the Force, and he was going to kriffing stay, if it meant that kriffing General Kenobi didn’t. “That was not the opinion of this Council when I was sent early to the Agricorps,” Ben bit out. “How can you have first denied me Padawanship, then have abandoned me in a warzone, and now condone simply expecting your General back? I will not be brushed aside again.” This time, his voice did shake around his constricting throat. His hands trembled. He would not cry in front of these people. He felt twin spikes of shock and confusion from the two Jedi behind him, but he ignored them.

Tension held the air stagnant. The Masters were exchanging glances to one another, but it didn’t look like his words had swayed them. Nobody in this room was in Ben’s favour, he realised. Not even Anakin and Ahsoka. They wanted General Kenobi back just as much as the Council did. He needed someone.

He took a deep breath. “I think I would like to speak to my Master, now.”

If he thought the room was tense already, it was nothing compared to the way it felt now. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. Heads turned to Master Windu, who clasped his hands solemnly.

Ben’s heart fell through the floor. No, He willed the Force desperately. No, don’t say it.

“Padawan Kenobi,” Master Windu said slowly. “I regret to inform you that your former Master is one with the Force. He perished by the blade of a Sith nearly a decade ago.”

Ben’s whole body went numb. His breath died in his lungs. Any light had all but vanished from the room.

Voices still trickled around the room, but he hardly heard them.

“We are truly sorry for your loss,” Ben was fairly sure someone was saying. “But the return of Master Kenobi is still a matter of urgency. You may disagree with our decisions, Padawan Kenobi, but we are still your Council, and-”

Ben didn’t look up from the floor. “No.”

“No? Padawan, you- ”

“No.” His gaze rose to meet the people around the room. He felt so kriffing hollow. “You are not my council, for I am not a Jedi.”

Shock reverberated around the room. Something cold clutched at Ben’s chest.

“I renounced this Order, the day that I was abandoned in a warzone. I have no Padawan braid. I gave my lightsaber to Master Jinn before he left. I am not a Padawan, just like this Council wanted. And I am not a Jedi. You have no power over me.”

He couldn’t stay to hear their response. He had taken all he could. It was cowardly and he knew it, but he couldn’t be in that room a single moment longer. Or his soul would tumble from his chest and shatter before everyone on the floor.

He hardly registered brushing past Anakin and Ahsoka, the automatic door opening for him. The lift was empty and waiting, and it was moments before he was back in the corridors, desperately running nowhere.

Qui-Gon was dead. Holy kriff, it didn’t feel real. Dead.

Cerasi’s death- somehow- was easy to believe. The Young lived with the fear of death over them always. Losing her hurt , it always would, that was the understatement of the millennia, but when she was gone, she was gone. Qui-Gon’s hurt so much in so many different ways, because it was Master Jinn. He was invincible. How could he be gone?

Ben hadn’t even known. That was what felt most unfair. If here, in this future, he and his Master somehow managed to be a good match, if Ben managed to be an adequate Padawan that he so desperately wished he could be, then wouldn’t they have formed a Bond? Ben hadn’t been a Padawan long enough to even grow his braid longer than the rest of his hair, let alone form a proper Bond. Qui-Gon was dead, and Ben hadn’t kriffing known.

He didn’t even have the frayed end of that Bond in his head. It was gone, probably had been, for near ten years. All that he had was the kriffing tie to Anakin, that he never asked for, he never wanted. Why, on top of everything else , did he have to have General Kenobi’s Force in his head? Everything was so drukking unfair.

It was the moment that he burst out of the Temple’s entrance and onto the landing above the stairs, the air far too cold and the sun far too bright, the whole of Coruscant stretching before him, that he realised. The Young were long gone, and so was the Melida/Daan that needed him. He wasn’t the 212th’s General, he had no place in the GAR. Nor was he a Jedi. Nobody here was his people. He had nobody.

And, with the whole city-planet at his feet, he had absolutely nowhere to go.

He ended up there, sitting on the stairs, knees tucked to his chest, watching the city with some kind of muted numbness of all the things he wished that were. All he wished that weren’t.

He didn't want to be here. But he didn’t want to let General Kenobi back, either. He wanted his life back, but his life was a literal warzone. He wanted his people, but everyone was dead.

He tried to not want anything. Not because wanting wasn’t very Jedi, but because if he did let himself feel everything he was burying inside, it might just tear him apart.

He didn’t know how long he just sat there, cold to his bones, cold to his heart, the wind ruffling his hair, smoke in the air and smoke in the Force.

He didn’t even register the person who came up the stairs until they sat down beside him. Not too close, just watching the city as he was.

He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. “Did Anakin send you?” Ben muttered, not feeling the anger he wished he could fill his words with.

“No, as a matter of fact.” Senator Padmé said quietly, simply. “Ahsoka did.”

“Why would she do that?” Why would anyone care about him?

“Because,” She turned to look at him now, and he found himself returning her gaze. There was something warm there. Ben was so kriffing tired. There was a speeder at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. “I heard you needed somewhere to go.”

Chapter 14: Everybody is Dead!

Chapter Text

The next little while was a bit of a blur.

Ben had, for some kriffing reason, agreed to go with Senator Padmé, and she swiftly drove them both to an apartment in a skyscraper that wasn’t all that far away. Ben didn’t really bother to pay attention to the apartment when they arrived, dully watching time go by without him.

Padmé offered him food which he had declined, so she directed him to an empty guest-room and suggested he get some rest. The only thing Ben did bother requesting were General Kenobi’s datapads he had brought from the Resolute and had left in the shuttle he, Anakin and Ahsoka brought planet-side. They were miracled up somehow which he was grateful for, even if he didn’t say as such.

And so he disappeared into the room provided for him, leaving the lights off and the window-covers drawn. He sat on the floor beside the bed and turned on one datapad, the blue-ish light illuminating his face harshly in the dim room.

All his time working to get past the passwords had paid off- he had finally reached all the General’s accessible resources, including all the reports filed away in the expansive Jedi Archives by an Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Twenty-six years-worth was a lot of reading. So he got to work.

The room grew dimmer and dimmer as the hours stretched on past and the sun dipped lower towards the horizon, golden lights and flashing billboards replacing the light of day. He heard Padmé talking to someone at some point- a protocol droid, it sounded like- but otherwise the apartment remained quiet. Distantly, Ben was glad. It was a silence he could disappear into, behind the low, constant traffic noise muffled by the covered transparisteel window. He longed to glance outside it and see the blanket of stars that should coat the night sky of a world so close to the Core as this one. But thanks to the city, not a single star could be seen from Coruscant. Their loss was just one more thing for him to mourn.

It was impossible to read that many reports in a night. But skimming the important ones seemed to tell him everything he needed to know.

He started with the oldest report there was- directly after returning to the Temple from Melida/Daan with his Master. Ben had never written an actual report, himself, and this one reflected as such, filled with a good serving of errors and self-loathing that sounded exactly like something he’d write.

He read about the rest of his kriffed-up Padawanship that somehow survived, mission after mission, conflict after conflict, Master Jinn and himself taking turns being in mortal danger until it seemed almost natural. Was that all his entire life was?

The reports became better in quality the later in time they were written, becoming a stickler for regulations and grammar in a way he could never imagine himself doing. The reports declaring all manner of choices being made he wasn’t sure he ever could. For General Kenobi to come into this future, how much of Ben had to die?

He kept reading and it got worse the longer he did. He read about Bruck, Xanatos. The rest of the missions he and Master Jinn were sent on. All the violence, again and again, for years. So many wars. Tahl, the very Jedi that they went to Melida/Daan to rescue, the woman Qui-Gon left Ben for,-dead, just like everyone else.

Kriffing Mandalore, and everything that came after. Why did war follow Ben everywhere he went?

The invasion of Naboo, where everything went so, so wrong. Queen Amidala, the Gungans, the little boy from the backwater planet, the one Master Jinn believed was the Chosen One.

Darth Maul.

And just like that, Qui-Gon Jinn was gone.

His Trials, the Council said it was. And so Obi-Wan Kenobi, called the kriffing ‘Sith Slayer’, was Knighted with a dead Master at only twenty five, and took on a kriffing Padawan the very same day, as had been Master Jinn’s dying wish.

That report was… the most formal of them yet. Flawless and detailed, especially considering the author’s own actions leading up to and during the conflict that ended Master Jinn’s life. Where he wasn’t fast enough. Where he could have done better, so the outcome might have been different. Where he failed, again and again and again.

It didn’t even end there. Years more of missions. Trying to raise a Padawan; pretty pathetically, it seemed.

The Clones. Freaking Geonosis. The Galactic Civil War.

So, so many people dead. Even ones Ben didn’t know- but those who would have meant something to him, one day. Siri Tachi. Satine Kryze. So many dying, and some kriffing back from the dead. Maul- the very Sith that Killed Qui-Gon, the one Obi-Wan appeared to have killed. Another failure.

Even a Sith Lord, which they couldn’t even find.

And the war raged on. Everything- Ben’s whole life, it never got better.

Zigoola, Knight Tachi’s death, then the Dutchess, following Maul’s return. Then abruptly, the reports ended. And as sunlight one again slid through the cracks in the blinds, Ben had never missed his Master more.

He thought of the river stone- the ebony-black rock that his Master had given him for his thirteenth life-day, truly not that long ago despite how it felt like a lifetime. He had left that rock on their ship when they arrived to Melida/Daan; it was still there when Qui-Gon left with the ship again. Ben wondered what had happened to it.

He eventually found himself back outside his room, not having slept at all all night. Exhaustion pulled so heavily at him, everything hurt, but he couldn’t find the energy to care.

There was a cupboard where he found a glass, and a tap where he managed to find water, slipping it slowly.

Padmé was there on the couch nearby, hair loose and neat, putting down the datapad she had been working on. “Good morning, Ben.”

“Morning, Senator.” Ben said simply, sitting down beside her, not wanting to be rude. She watched him carefully, undoubtedly noticing the dark circles under eyes that wouldn't meet her own. He stared into the middle distance, pressure building in his chest that he just might implode into like a black hole. He placed the glass down onto the caf table before his shaking hands spilt it onto the plush carpet.

There was a long moment of silence. He could hear her breathing beside him, so bright, like a nebula in the Force. When she spoke, her voice was gentle. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay. That’s a stupid question.”

“I am fine.” His voice broke, betraying him.

“Master Kenobi or not, I know Obi-Wan well enough to know that’s not true.”

At a loss he shook his head, not trusting his voice as his lip trembled a little. He couldn’t look at her. But she shifted a little closer on the couch, and Ben found himself longing for the warm contact of a friend.

“You don’t need to be okay about all this, you know.”

He wanted to be. He wanted to be okay, about everything, the way he would put on a brave face for the frightened Young. Would General Kenobi do the same for the 212th? Was learning to not feel something that he learned as an adult? He hoped so. He hated feeling this way.

He wanted to be okay. But right now, maybe he was allowed to just be a scared kid. Just for once.

A sob broke loose from his chest, followed by another, his sight blurring as tears spilled freely down his cheeks. His fingers screwed into his hair, it was too much. He was so kriffing tired.

Suddenly, he felt a warm hand rest on his shoulder, and Ben curled into the contact. That was permission enough, and Padmé pulled him close, and Ben clung to her warmth and comfort and love. When was the last time he had been comforted by an adult like this?

He cried, and it hurt like an open wound, but that was how wounds healed. That wasn’t to say it wouldn’t leave a scar, but it was a start.

So he cried for Cerasi, for his life and his people that were lost, for Qui-Gon, for this whole kriffed-up future. And he cried for himself, just a little. He allowed himself that much.

He must have cried himself to sleep at some point, because when he blinked heavily back into awareness again he was lying down on the couch, a blanket tucked up to his shoulders. He was warm, and still feeling kriffing exhausted mentally and physically, but also feeling as if something had been released from his chest. Things weren’t better, per se, but he felt just a little lighter.

He had had another vision while he slept, he thought. Like the others, though, he couldn’t remember most any of it after waking. It was a frustrating thing, to be left with nothing but the horrible emotions that the premonitions left behind, but this one didn’t seem as bad. He was left with something new , this time, something almost like… hope. There was one thing he could remember, this time. It was those twin suns- those binary stars in human form, silhouetted by that symbol- just like last time. This time, he could make the symbol behind them out. It wasn’t something he had seen before, but he was fairly certain it was meant to be a stylized image of some kind of animal. A Star-Bird, maybe. He would have to look into it.

He sat up, rubbing at his sore eyes and the dried tears on his face. He could sense Padmé in the kitchen, glowing brightly in the Force as she was. He hadn’t noticed just how bright, until now.

Something else he hadn’t paid proper attention to was Padmé’s apartment, and he had no idea how he hadn’t noticed. It was a huge apartment, with creams and lilacs tracing the walls and furniture. He could feel a cool breeze spilling around the curved corner, which he could see lead to another lounge with an open landing-pad and gorgeous view of the city and even the Temple in the distance. Ben had been in palaces before, and they were something else entirely, but for a personal apartment, this place was freaking fancy.

“You have a water feature in your lounge-room.” Ben commented as he joined Padmé in the kitchen, the soft blue blanket from the couch still draped around his shoulders.

Padmé smiled. “I do. Tea?”

Ben perked up. Tea was good. It was an opinion one couldn’t help but share, when one grows up in the Jedi Temple. Caf was good, too, but caf was for when you needed the caffeine. Tea was special, and that made it arguably better.

“It’s a blend I keep for visits from Master Kenobi- I know its a favourite because it was also favoured by Master Qui-Gon. Is that okay?”

Ben had tried Master Jinn’s favourite blend once, it was an acquired taste but one that Ben found he shared with his Master. It was a nice thought that they shared the same view on something. Having it now would hurt, but it seemed like the day for that, so he nodded.

The gold protocol droid that Ben had heard earlier was still pottering around, offering him a polite “Afternoon, Master Ben,” and a short bow as he passed. However, Padmé made the tea herself rather than asking the droid to do it, which was something Ben respected. Tea had to be made a certain way, and it seemed Padmé knew how to do it well.

He leant against the counter as the tea brewed in the intricate ceramic pot, watching Padmé as she prepared the cups. Her hair was half up, the half that was down hanging in gentle curls low down her back. Her eyes were bright and focused on her task, and Ben stared unabashedly, wondering again over how someone who was definitely not Force-sensitive could be so bright. The Force may have been out-of-reach to Ben lately to use, but it was still awfully happy to show him things. It was Padmé that it was showing him now, that was for sure. Her presence was beautiful, an array of colours and light amongst the smoke of the city. He liked the metaphor of a nebula.

The funny thing about nebulae, Ben remembered, was they happened to be the birthplace of stars.

Interesting.

“Congratulations, by the way.” Ben said out-of-the-black, even if it was just to gauge her reaction. He wasn’t being formal with her as he probably should be with a Senator, that was for sure, but he had a feeling he didn't need to. It was hard to remain formal with someone who had just comforted him though a breakdown, besides.

The little mug that she was reaching for fumbled in her grasp, but she caught it again easily, rightening herself with a little cough. “Pardon?” She questioned, but Ben already knew all he needed to know.

He smirked. “Oh, apologies. Have you… um, taken a pregnancy test recently?”

The mug went on the bench with a clink. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

“Uh huh.” His smile grew, and she flushed behind her hair.

“How did you know?”

It was a valid question, she was nowhere near showing. Ben shrugged. “I spent a lot of time with kids, I suppose. I feel them a lot in the Force. I think it’s a me thing, so it makes sense if no other Jedi have figured it out. Even you-know-who. Have you told him yet?”

“Who are you referring to?”

“C’mon, Padmé. I saw through you two. And I haven't told anyone.” Yet. She watched him carefully, lips pursed. He returned her gaze, a little smug. “You and your boyfriend are safe, don’t worry.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” She said simply, and the Force rang true.

Ben frowned. “Nah, there’s no way you and Anakin are a casual thing or something.”

Padmé huffed a laugh. “No, definitely not.”

“Then what…” He ran the other options through his head. There weren’t many, and he reached the inevitable conclusion relatively quickly, jaw dropping. “No way. You two are married ? Secretly ? Hah! How’d he rope you into that?”

“Believe it or not, marriage is in fact mutual contract. He didn’t rope me into anything.” She didn’t say it with any kind of venom or patronising-ness that she could have, more like casual banter that Ben found himself smiling at. “I do, in fact, love him too.”

Ben snickered, following her back out of the kitchen, collecting the teapot as she took the cups. He only noticed that there were three of them when they were set back down on a low table before a settee. Ben’s not-terrible mood quickly soured.

Padmé seemed to notice. “I can comm him if you don’t want to see anyone right now,” She offered, and Ben just sighed.

“Can’t avoid him forever, as much as I would like to.” He sat down on the edge of the couch.

Padmé poured the tea, the liquid trickling merrily from the teapot into its matching ceramic cups. She sighed a little. “Nobody knows yet, except for Threepio- my droid. It’s… so complicated . This is a forbidden child, after all. Anakin will be the next person I tell, but… he doesn’t need the stress of this on top of everything else.”

“He’ll be able to feel it in the Force, sooner or later.”

“I know. But I’ll make sure he hears it from me before then.” Padmé set the teapot back down as a chime sounded towards the front room of the apartment. She didn’t bother going to open the front door, the new arrival obviously letting himself in.

Ben couldn’t help but scowl at the carpet as Anakin made his way in. The man in question teetered on the top of the step down into the lounge, as if unsure if he should enter. Ben decided it would be a much nicer place if he didn’t.

“Ani, hello.” Padmé rose to meet her husband, (husband! ) and Anakin returned her greeting with a soft “Hi, Angel,” and a small kiss to the corner of her mouth. No point in keeping up appearances, now. Anakin didn’t say any more as he hesitantly walked across the room and took a seat on the couch, the side furthest from Ben. So he did value his life.

The remaining space was taken up by Padmé, artfully sitting between the two of them, passing out the tea.

“So, Ben.” After a long moment, Padmé broke the tense silence. “We should probably discuss what happens now.”

The other two were clearly waiting for him to say something. Ben took a long sip of his tea. It was scalding hot but he didn’t care, the flavour familiar with its tart blend and sweet after-taste. He made the sip sound as obnoxious as possible in a way that Master Qui-Gon would scold him for, but privately find amusing. Anakin’s eyebrows rose, and Ben returned his gaze with the driest, most contempt look he could muster. “I suppose you’re here to convince me to bring General Kenobi back.”

“No, actually.”

“‘No?’ You don’t want your Master back?”

“Of course I do. But Obi-Wan happens to be the most stubborn being in the galaxy when he wants to be, so if you two have anything in common, then I know full well I can’t convince you to do anything.”

Ben hmmed, long and low, eyes narrowing. That was unexpected.

General Kenobi aside, they did raise a valid issue. It had taken until reading the reports for it to truly hit home; Ben was in the future, and going back was not really a choice he could make. So he was stuck here, twenty-four years out of place with nowhere to go. It was a slightly terrifying thought.

“It’s important that what happens next is your decision.” Padmé added. Well, that was a nice change of pace. “But my home is yours, for as long as you need it.”

Ben glanced up, eyes wide. “Really? I can stay here?” That was… better than he imagined. Being offered a warm bed and non-hostile company was honestly not something he had imagined occurring. And he did want to stay here, he realised, which almost surprised him even more. Maybe because it was the first pace he had felt safe in quite a long time.

It couldn’t be home, though. But Ben had come to terms with the fact that nowhere in this future ever would be.

“Of course.” Padmé said. “As long as you need.”

Anakin clearly suppressed a scowl at that, and Ben realised that this would mean Ben was invading his wife’s home. Hah, loser.

What happens now was a question that he did have to answer sometime, though. It wasn’t like he had finished his education or anything- Ben used to like school, but it certainly didn’t feel like a priority right now. “I have no idea what I should do now,” he admitted bluntly. “It’s not like I’m going back to the GAR, and the Jedi and I have a mutual un-want for one another.”

“I can’t believe I’m defending the Council, but that’s not true.” Anakin huffed. “They’re all dimwits when you put them in a room together and hand them the responsibility of the Order in the middle of wartime, but most all the Council Members are good people, many who were friends with you, too, not just Master Kenobi.”

“Nobody seemed to be all that worried- or bothered to follow me when I left.” Ben snapped.

“As if you would have wanted that, Ben.” Anakin scoffed. “Besides, Ahsoka and I were busy trying to reconcile the fact that Mr Perfect Jedi literally left the Order as a kid.”

Ben sneered. “Perfect what? Don’t insult me. At least the Council had the guts to tell me that my Master is dead.”

“How could I?” Anakin insisted, throwing up one hand. Ben glowered, hating the fact that he was right. If someone told him Qui-Gon was dead back when they were on the Resolute, Ben probably would have… he didn’t really know what he would have done. Nothing good.

So he just stuck with what he did best when cornered, and lashed out. “ Coward.” he hissed.

Hurt flashed in Anakin’s eyes, and this time Ben felt just a little shame about the satisfaction he felt at that. Just a little.

“That’s enough. Both of you.” Padmé interjected calmly.

Ben drained the rest of his tea like it was a shot of lum. He briefly wondered if Padmé would let him drink alcohol. The still-scalding liquid down his throat gave him some measure of distraction at least.

“The Council wanted your opinion,” Anakin said softly after another long silence. “On whether to inform Master Eerin of the situation. For at least one familiar face.”

Ben’s throat closed over a little again, nothing to do with the hot drink. Master Eerin- that was Bant, one of his closest friends. And she was a Master. They had all come so far. He didn’t want to ask, but he swallowed hard and did anyway. “Where is she?”

“A long-term campaign in the Mid-Rim, with her Padawan.”

Ben sighed a little, quietly. That was not something she could just drop to see an old friend. Nor could she afford the distraction of knowing Ben was here. She had a battalion- and a Padawan- to take care of. “Tell them not to bother,” Ben somehow said around the lump in his throat. Anakin nodded solemnly. He understood.

“You’re not staying here alone all day, though.” Padmé sipped daintily at her tea. “You could always come with me to the Senate, I’m sure something could be arranged.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow. “Is that a good idea?”

Ben ignored him. Oddly enough, the offer piqued his interest. “I’d like that, actually.”

“Not just because it's the only option offered so far? This is up to you.”

“No, I… I’d like to.” He was meant to be there, he knew that, even if there wasn’t a real way to put it into words. He’d never taken much interest in politics before, but being witness to the place that made decisions over the whole Republic seemed pretty cool. Amongst the dealings of war- even if it wasn’t on a front this time- seemed the place he always ended up.

Although, it seemed different this time. Maybe things were different on the politics side. Maybe people were actually trying to fix the needless bloodshed- seeing that for once would be nice.

He didn’t keep his hopes up. By now, he knew better than to try.

Chapter 15: Sabacc Face

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, it was a little more complicated than just rocking up to the Senate Building when one felt like it. But Padmé was more than happy to help Ben figure out his way in.

They made a start the following morning, beginning the day bright and early with Ben’s disappointment to finding out he couldn’t simply wear his street-clothes into the Senate. However, getting to pick out a range of colours to be sent along with a scan of his measurements to some tailors Padmé knew was a little bit fun. He carefully selected a range of greys and olive-greens- thinking of Melidaan’s landscape. High-collars and long sleeves were apart of the request too- he had scars to hide, after all.

Ben had sensed Anakin leave when the morning was still dark, likely back to the Resolute or his Temple quarters to pretend he had been there all night and not at a certain senator’s apartment.

If the shock-worry-delight that Ben had felt through the Force late at night plus the twinkle in Padmé’s eye the next morning was any indicator, Anakin had just found out that he was going to be a father.

The Force felt… shifted, when that happened, in the same way it felt when Ben first ended up in the future. Like something had changed.

It left Ben with a strange emotion. Conflicted, almost- trying to reconcile a child-murderer with someone who could maybe be a good father, if he ever got his act together. If he was ever given the chance.

There was some data-work to be done as well, it seemed, that kept Ben tucked at the table for a good few hours during the day, feet swinging where they didn’t meet the floor, skimming through far too many disclaimers and informants and confidentiality agreements that came with even going into the Senate.

It was around mid-meal when Ben went to Padmé at a bit of a loss, reaching the section he had to fill out regarding background checks and confirmation of identity. Padmé had the morals to look at least a little bashful as she slid a datapad across the counter towards him, displaying an in-date Coruscanti citizenship certificate, complete with a birthdate close enough to his own, and official watermarks. Naberrie, B the name on it read. Ben blinked at it.

“We just have to add your holo. I hope using the name Naberrie is alright,” Padmé offered. “I figured that if we say you’re a distant cousin of mine, the family is big enough that nobody could easily tell otherwise.”

That made something warm bloom in Ben’s chest. “I thought your name was Amidala.”

“I took it to protect my family when I became Queen. It… stuck.”

Ben huffed a laugh. He scrolled across, finding a similar one for the planet of Naboo. They looked perfectly official, and were most definitely forged. “How did you get these?”

Padmé smirked, and Ben was abruptly reminded that he really shouldn’t be surprised. This was, after all, the woman who was both in a secret, forbidden marriage, and the woman, if the reports were correct, accepted incredibly precarious, mildly illegal missions for the Republic on a regular basis. “Being Queen may or may not leave you with friends in high places, as well as favours owed to you. Master Windu offered to help out with the Coruscanti one. There’s no way to legally legitimise your existence, so… needs must, and all that.”

Ben studied her face, eyes wide. “Why would you do all this for me?”

“Why not? You’re a friend.”

Ben went back to studying the datapad. “I thought General Kenobi was your friend.”

“I can make new ones, can’t I? What do you say, Ben? Can we be friends?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. I think that would be nice.”

x+x+x

[Commander Tano]

[Hey Ben]

[Its Ahsoka btw]

[Can I ask a favour??]

[Uh sure?]

[You ok?]

[Yeah I just got a super important mission for you]

[?]

[So you’re gonna be hanging out with Padmé lots, right?]

[Well Skyguy TOTALLY has a crush on her but I can’t get him to admit it]

[Do you reckon you can investigate and find out if she has a crush on him too??? Would bet my life on it tbh]

[Oh I can tell you that rn]

[100% does, can confirm]

[HAH]

…

[I would say that I won something but I literally know nobody who bet otherwise]

x+x+x

[UNKNOWN]

[Man, has the Council been keeping secrets lately]

[You’d think that a time-travelling twerp would be something they’d mention to me, but noooo]

Ben grinned at his comm-screen.

[Hacking into the Council’s confidential reports again, Q?]

[You can’t prove anything]

[I’m not the one who got shrunk]

[Noob]

[I’ll kick your shebs anytime if you dare show your ugly mug]

[Can’t, I got super important confidential top secret Shadow stuff to do, you wouldn't understand, obviously]

[What, scared?]

[Shut up]

A long pause. Then-

[I’m sorry I can’t be there]

x+x+x

It took a couple of days before the forms were accepted, allowing Ben to join Padmé at the Senate. He honestly appreciated a few quiet rotations of doing nothing much for the first time for a very very long while. Padmé’s droid, C-3PO, hung around a lot, and Ben was fairly sure he was his secretly-assigned babysitter. Despite his slight annoyance at that, he really didn’t mind the company. For a droid.

Ben spent a good chunk of time scouring the holo-net, searching for any insignia that resembled the one he saw in his vision. By now he was fairly certain that it was a very stylized image of a starbird- the immortal phoenix beasts that legends said rose from their ashes should they ever die. It was pretty poetic, and a very cool symbol of hope for a faction to use. It was just a shame he couldn’t find anything on who used that specific stylization of the starbird as an insignia. There was nothing on the holo-net. It was frustrating, but visions were just like that sometimes, he assumed. Maybe the organisation that uses it was in this future’s future, and just hadn’t formed yet. Maybe they never would. Ben didn’t know. There was something bittersweet about that thought.

He felt admittedly quite excited the day he and Padmé pulled up to the Senate Building, passing her speeder off to a valet astromech and the two of them headed up the stairs. Ben trailed behind, taking in the grand architecture and the statues that lined the Avenue of the Core Founders. It seemed pretty gaudy and intentionally intimidating, to him- all that empty space with those looming impressionistic figures. Not the most welcoming first impression. The Jedi Temple was far cooler.

They passed various other senators and fancy-dressed peoples heading in and out of the building, tour groups listening intently to a guide, some kind of school cohort sitting on the steps. Ben glanced up at the top of the mushroom-shaped building as he passed below a column of shadow thrown across the stairs. He squinted, the halo of bright sunlight making his eyes water. Where the Jedi Council's chambers were at least tactful, here it seemed a little extreme for the Chancellor’s office to be held aloft so far at the top of a pillar, like this one was. Looming seemed like the appropriate word. He shivered, and stepped back out into the sunlight, the chill of the shadow still lingering.

Padmé was ahead, pausing for him to catch up. She was dressed impeccably today in a way he expected but hadn’t seen yet, all shades of purple and grey and her hair in such an intricate style he was half certain it was a wig. Her accessories were pale green, matching Ben’s outfit in a way that made it look like the two of them belonged together. Admittedly, he did feel pretty fancy himself, his dark, high-collared undershirt under a tulip-sleeved vest were undoubtedly the fanciest clothing he had ever worn. (Apart from that one time on Phindar. Okay, these were the fanciest clothes he had ever owned.) The sash tied around his waist was something else he had taken an immediate liking to, primarily because it was the perfect hiding place for his little blaster. That plan hadn’t lasted very long, however, thwarted before he and Padmé had exited the speeder, as the woman in question had immediately informed him that strictly no sanctioned weapons were allowed in the Senate Dome.

He hadn’t bothered to play innocent. “How the kriff did you know I had a blaster?” he had questioned.

“No swearing, either. Because I know what concealed weapons look like.”

“So you have one?”

“It’s a stun gun. With a permit.”

Stun guns seemed so overrated these days. “I am perfectly eligible for a permit.”

“Well, if you too are frequently under assassination attempt, let me know and you can apply for one.”

“I think a person such as myself should be allowed a blaster regardless, for the purpose of personal protection. It’s reasonable.”

“Absolutely not. Leave it in the speeder.” Her tone had been the one of both a mother-to-be and of a person well used to dealing with Anakin Skywalker. That didn’t mean that she scared Ben, though. If he wanted his blaster, he would keep it.

Then she levelled him with a look.

Ben left his blaster in the speeder.

Now, however, he was almost regretting leaving it behind. Almost. He hated being unarmed around all these people, so many adults he didn’t know. He stuck close to Padmé’s side.

They were almost inside when he tugged on her sleeve, taking one last look at the view behind him. “What building is that?”

The building in question was one he did not recognise amongst the relatively well-known layout of Coruscant's Senate District. Squat and dome-shaped, it sat not too far from the Senate Building and almost as big. It had a whole massive hangar; he could see GAR drop-ships- LAATs, he had learned they were called- slipping in and out of the bay doors. They looked like kirik-flies from this distance.

“Hmm, Yes, I suppose that would be a new addition since you remember things. That’s the Senate Annex Building. It’s mainly a Military Spaceport as well as more offices- the Chancellor’s primary office is there too.”

So It seemed that one looming office wasn’t enough for this guy. Okay, then.

They finally reached the main entrance and Ben fiddled with the silver clasps down the right of his vest that held the fold closed. His outfit was warm, but with the high-altitude breezes plus the shadow that the massive building cast, he felt cold. Not even the wind could dispel the smog in the Force. In fact, it felt worse here. His collar felt too tight, suddenly.

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder and he felt proud that he only flinched a little. “You’ll be alright,” Padmé reassured.

“I don’t know if I can do all… this.” He vaguely gestured to the building, his nice clothes, the important Senator people making small-talk in the entryway.

“Of course you can. You’ll be fine- I know for a fact that you are a natural at tact and negotiations.”

He frowned at her, a little wounded. He had thought she knew by now that he didn’t like being compared to General Kenobi.

Apparently, she knew what his look meant. “Oh no, I wasn’t referring to Master Kenobi. I was referring to you , when you want something.”

That stirred a little amusem*nt, even if it didn’t entirely quell his anxieties. He took a deep breath. Tactful. He could be tactful.

He occupied his mind on his cover story- something to focus on as his eyes took in the details and the layout of the halls they traversed through.

“You could pass as an Apprentice Legislate, but that would enrol you in the educational program- which complicates things immensely. So unless that's something you’re interested in later, It would likely be easier to not go that route.” Padmé had informed him before they left this morning. “However, it’s not uncommon for Senators to bring their families to Coruscant, for various reasons. So you can be here as Diplomat Naberrie from Naboo, and provided you at least make a thorough attempt at staying out of trouble, hopefully nobody should question your presence too much.”

It seemed like a sound plan to him. He was great at staying out of trouble.

Eventually, their path took them to a set of halls, tall windows allowing light in, wide chairs and statues lining the maroon wall. Padmé informed him of their plan as they walked. “We’re to meet with several other Senators and Representatives before the morning meetings, including the Chance-” An almighty crash from around the corner interrupted her, followed by a string of exclamations in a language Ben didn’t understand. A broken-off head of one of the ugly, expensive-looking statues rolled across the floor, rocking to a halt, the superior expression that it stared at Ben with seeming rather ironic given its recently decapitated status.

Padmé raised her eyes to the stars. “Force, give me strength,” Ben was half-sure he heard her mutter. “Morning, Jar-Jar.” She added, louder.

The large, webbed hand that had reached around the corner to snatch the broken statue piece back hesitated. Two stalk-held yellow eyes blinked at them around the cover of the corner, before blinking in surprise. “Oh! It’sa just Lady Padmé,” the newcomer declared, sauntering around the bend on gangly limbs. He tossed the black statue head between his hands before inevitably fumbling, sending the broken piece through the air with a woah!

Ben caught it. “Who the kriff is this?” He asked, taking in the long, bill-like face and trailing ear-fins.

“Language,” Padmé corrected with little strength.

“Sorry. Whomst the kriff is this?”

Padmé sighed. “Ben, this is Junior Representative Binks of the Nubian Gungan people. Jar-Jar, this is Diplomat Naberrie.”

“Ah, moi moi!” Jar-Jar reached out, grabbing back the statue piece and shaking Ben’s hand vigorously at the same time. Ben, who was more utterly confused than anything, didn’t protest. “It’sa always a bombad day when meesa be meetin’ another friend from home,” He continued in his thick accent, before abruptly turning around and sauntering back the way he came.

“Well that’s his cover, yes. It is a long story, but this is actually Masker Kenobi when he was a kid.” Padmé informed him as they followed him back around the corner.

Jar-Jar was there, struggling to righten the fallen statue that truly would have taken talent to knock over in the first place, sticking the head comically- upside-down- on the statue’s shoulder when it wouldn’t return to its correct position on the neck. “Lookie-lookie, my Lady! Don’t yousa be thinkin’ little Benni be lookin’ mui liken Master Obi?”

There was no time, however, to correct that particular declaration, as their small group was quickly joined by more people, numerous senators and other peoples of various species, whom Padmé immediately began to exchange pleasantries with, allowing Ben to return to the background where he preferred to hide. Ben allowed the idle conversation to filter in one ear and out the other, the smoke in the Force so thick here it gave him a headache. Thankfully, nobody in the room paid him much mind.

Until.

Until.

Ben’s first thought was that the giant red shoulders on this guy’s shirt looked utterly stupid. He stared at the fashionably-late newcomer, trying to make a guess at who this old human could be.

Then, for a split second, the man’s gaze finished roaming pleasantly around the room and settled finally upon Ben. The weight of it was like a Star-Destroyer landing on his chest.

Something in the man’s expression… flickered. Just for a moment. A crease of confusion, a flash of surprise, a glimpse of something under a rock-solid façade that only Ben’s unexpected appearance let slip.

And the thing underneath looked at Ben, and abruptly, Ben was the gnat under this man’s boot who had done something unusual. Nothing more.

Then that split second was over. And just like that, the gentle old man was back and Ben was able to breathe again, blinking, trying to figure out if he just imagined all of that.

The crowed shifted to greet this new arrival, and Ben’s view was blocked. “Supreme Chancellor,” Someone greeted, and the company in the room bowed.

Oh, shavit, was Ben’s next thought. That was the Chancellor?

They had a brief moment of eye contact once more -over the heads of the bowing people in the room- the only two remaining standing tall.

The Chancellor smiled at him.

It was friendly, too. There was nothing menacing in the Chancellor’s expression. Just Ben’s. His eyes narrowed. The Chancellor smiled a little more.

“Good morning, everyone.” The Chancellor’s - Palpatine, as Ben remembered- voice was soft, carrying around the room effortlessly. Pleasantries began once again, conversation picking back up, and Chancellor Palpatine didn't look at Ben again.

Not for a good while, at least. Soon enough, the Chancellor’s path around to greet each of the Senators in the room brought him to Padmé. Did his eyes briefly linger on her stomach, or was that just Ben’s imagination, too?

“Chancellor, a pleasure as always,” Padmé said diplomatically with a dip of her head.

“Please, Senator Amidala, the pleasure is all mine.”

It took a good deal of self control for Ben not to grimace at that. Ew.

“Dear boy, I believe we have not yet been introduced.”

His attention snapped quickly back to the man in front of him. He didn’t realise he was being addressed.

“Chancellor, may I present Diplomat Naberrie, a relative of mine.”

Ben dipped his head the way he saw Padmé do. He watched the Chancellor critically, both physically and in the Force. The smoke was so thick here, but Ben could get by.

This guy, Ben could see right through. It was honestly pretty pathetic.

Non-Force sensitives always had some degree of instinctual Shielding, and Chancellor Palpatine wasn’t an exception. For Ben, though, they may as well have been made of flimsi.

He looked into this guy and saw nothing but an open book- an inkwell of good intentions, a calculating mind, strong leadership, maybe a touch of fatherly wisdom. Gross. Ben could thrash him in a game of sabacc.

“Wonderful to meet you, young Ben.” Palpatine was saying.

“Likewise, Chancellor.” Ben said with the most veiled contempt he could muster. The Chancellor smiled again. There was nothing remotely sinister about it, and that was what disturbed Ben even more.

x+x+x

[Commander Cody]

[How are things going?]

[The usual. We’re getting by.]

[Everyone says hello.]

[How are things on your end?]

[I’m doing random stuff at the senate]

[Politicians r weird]

[Smaller Negotiator.👍]

Ben glanced up from his commlink as the door to the meeting room slid open. He stood from where he was sitting against the floor as senators started exiting, talking idly amongst themselves. Padmé was one of the last to exit, flanked by the Chancellor, his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. She looked… more than irritated. Ben took it that the meeting didn’t go well.

“It isn’t right,” She was saying quietly to the man beside her. “You’d think this senate would have learned their lesson about relief efforts after what happened with Senator Farr.”

“I understand, my dear Padmé. It mourns me that this is the way it must be. Wars are hard on all.”

He opened his mouth to say more, so Ben took the chance to interrupt. “What happened?”

“The meeting we just had was to discuss the relocation of some recent additional funding.” Padmé supplied. “The decision was to, rather than sending the budget to a dire relief effort, it was to be sent to further weapons manufacturers.”

Ben’s heart dropped into his stomach. That’s just how things happened, here? All those people in need- brushed aside, just like that? For more war? He felt sick. It really never did get better, did it?

“It truly is a shame,” Palpatine was saying, and Ben couldn’t help but think how breaking his ginormous nose would improve his mood infinitely. “We can only do what we can.” He sighed. “Although, I have been meaning to ask. Young Ben here… terribly reminds me of a mutual acquaintance of ours, might there be some kind of relation to one General Kenobi?”

What a load of bantha slag. He totally already knew exactly who Ben was.

“Ah… of course. Very insightful of you, Chancellor.” Padmé complimented. “There were some recent… complications, I believe. But this is young Master Kenobi.”

“Interesting,” Palpatine committed. “The General’s remarkable efforts on the warfront will be missed, but I am glad that you are safe with us here, my boy. I am afraid my presence is required elsewhere now, though. I shall see you again soon, my dear. A pleasure to meet you, young Kenobi.”

“It’s Naberrie,” Ben critiqued.

“Oh, but of course. Your secret is safe with me,” Palpatine mused with a smile. He tapped the side of his long nose and winked, and Ben managed to suppress a gag. “Farewell, my friends.”

Ben bore holes into the back of the exiting Chancellor until he disappeared out of view.

x+x+x

“...and the newly reappeared carnivorous avian species are still trying to be identified,” Nield continued. “They really have the Taxonomy Society in quite the twist. So yes, plenty happening back here. ”

Ben laughed a little, elbow on the table and chin propped up on his palm. Just talking to Nield -hearing all the news from Melidaan- released tension he had been carrying all day. He smiled at him, and Nield smiled back.

“You look happier.” The older man commented out-of-the-black.

“That’s pushing it a little.”

“Fine. You look better.”

Ben shrugged. “I think I've finally come to terms with everything. Maybe.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for making a start. ”

Ben wondered if the blue holo of him that Nield was watching betrayed the flush that covered his cheeks. “Shut up. You know, you’ve been avoiding the question this whole holo-call. Are you going to join the Republic?”

Nield’s face twisted. “What’s your current standing opinion on the Senate? ”

It was Ben’s turn to frown. “They’re corrupt. I haven’t been there for more than a day, and I can already tell you that much. So many of them are there for profit, not because they actually care about diplomacy or those suffering through the war. It's terrible. Did you know that the clone troopers are classified as non-sentients just to get past the Republic’s anti-slavery laws?” That had been the worst revelation of Ben’s whole, terrible day. “They have no rights whatsoever, while all of them are better people than most of the beings in the whole Senate Building.”

Nield mused. “Yes, I’m afraid my emissary group came back with much of the same sentiments. ”

“So you’re not joining the Republic?”

“No. Melidaan is remaining a neutral world. ”

“Good .” Ben said vehemently. If things were different, if things were better, then it would be a different story. But things weren’t better, were they? And they never would be.

“I’m sorry, Bee.” Nield said hesitantly. “That you have to be thrown into a galaxy like this one.”

“Don’t apologise. It’s not like there’s any choice about it. Things kriffing suck, and we can’t do anything about it.”

Nield watched him closely for a long moment.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… you. You’re taking so much of the galaxy’s problems as your own responsibility. You don’t have to, you know. ”

Ben scoffed, but he knew Nield had a point. Why did he always feel that way? Maybe because he was here instead of General Kenobi. That was unfair, though. It wasn’t like he asked to be here. The Force just had a morbid sense of humour and just enjoyed watching him suffer, he supposed.

“I’m fine. I do what I can. That’s all anyone does.”

Nield sighed. “You do it better than most .”

Chapter 16: How Honorificabilitudinitatibus

Chapter Text

Ben, as he decided, must have been getting more future-visions from the Force than he thought, and his predictions about how much worse everything was, seemed to be proven correct time and time again.

The Senate of the Republic, despite all its supposed righteous morals and code, was full of kriffing chuff-suckers.

Force, Ben was sick of stuck-up adults going around with the power and selfishness to do what they wanted, playing with lives of those they deemed lesser , just because there was some gain in it for them. Just because they could. He had seen enough of adults doing that to last a lifetime.

After the fourth time Ben witnessed a bunch of cowardly senators prioritise money-over-morals, he stopped looking out for anything better. It was hard to find something that wasn’t there.

People like this, too many egos for one building- sucked. He didn’t know how Padmé was still sane after dealing with it for so many years. Padmé, though- and the general fact that she was klicks better than everyone else- implied that people weren’t the problem. So Ben couldn’t help but look for what was.

Irrationally, stubbornly- there was one man that Ben continued to circle back around to. Sheev kriffing Palpatine. Ben, for no reason at all, just hated the guy.

He hated his long nose, the stupid superior smile he gave people, the way he friendly greeted Ben whenever they passed each other in the halls. Ugh. Sure, hate was an emotion unbecoming of a Jedi, but Ben wasn’t a Jedi, was he?

The most annoying part was that he had absolutely no proof. Nothing to back up his severe dislike for the Grand Chancellor of the Republic. He was loved by everyone- at least it certainly seemed that way. He was leading the Republic marvellously through the war- apparently- and honestly, that was probably part of the reason Ben disliked him so much. He was even Naboo’s Senator before Padmé, and an ‘old friend’- although Padmé- at least considering Ben’s raised concerns- said she would listen to any further evidence for his worries he might find. She didn’t sound all that convinced, though.

Sure, there was the basic gut-feeling that Ben couldn’t shake, but he couldn’t really attribute it to the Force, certainly not when the Force seemed to have completely abandoned him by now. And no other Jedi felt any problems- simply the same sense of a kind, open flimsi-book of a man with no hidden malevolence- an opinion Ben had acquired from a very wide range of trusted sources, consisting entirely of texting Ahsoka. But she said that Anakin supposedly had no suspicions either, and if he couldn’t feel anything, then there couldn’t be anything wrong.

So Ben was just left with no evidence, no one sharing his concerns, piled on top of a whole lot of seething frustration. At everything. Especially the Chancellor. Mostly the Chancellor.

And that’s just how things continued. Days went by, and Ben had a hard time deciding between the emotions of actually enjoying going to a place like this, or being utterly revolted at what he was witness to every day. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy going to the Senate with Padmé, he did, it was just… hard, sometimes. He had certainly survived worse, but politics were a completely different battlefield.

There was the war that he was good at, the one he knew so intimately, the one he never wanted to see again, and there was this one, fought with words and will rather than blasters and blood.

That side of conflict was not one he forgot about easily- certainly not as easily as many in the Senate seemed to. He had people he knew still out there, fighting in it, after all. All the Jedi. The clones. Cody and the 212th, Anakin and Ahsoka and the 501st. Both battalions had returned to their ongoing missions, campaigns, battles, the Separatists certainly not waiting for them.

Regardless, Anakin found time to visit Coruscant whenever he had the opportunity, likely under the excuse of checking on Ben, probably, but the aforementioned Ben was sure that visiting his pregnant wife also had a role to play in his motivations.

It wasn’t that Anakin didn’t check on Ben. He was trying, probably. But did he consider the fact that Ben didn’t want to see him?

Well, maybe. He wasn’t being pushy or anything lately, held his temper when Ben provokedtalked with him, and Ben was harder pressed to find excuses to dislike the guy. Was Ben being maybe a little petty about it? Not in any way he would admit, that was for sure.

But no, it never got better. And as Ben was stuck in yet another one-sided conversation with some other snooty Senator who was more worried about the condition of her nails than the condition of her people, he was severely struggling to see the point of it all.

“...and of course, the Chancellor has been simply so considerate to the political and financial struggles of many Senators such as myself…” the woman droned, so incredibly monotone and still not showing any sign of stopping as she hadn’t for the last ten minutes, and Ben was starting to half-consider taking drastic measures.

Maybe he could just shoot her. He had, after all, started sneaking his blaster back into the Senate, and he was mostly sure Padmé hadn’t caught on again yet. Having it didn’t necessarily mean he was actually going to shoot anyone, he really just had it because he felt awfully exposed without some sort of weapon on hand- an ingrained habit of carrying a blaster around an active warzone on Melida/Daan, and a lightsaber before that. So it was more of a safety blanket than anything, really. Even a literal blanket could probably kill someone as well as a blaster in the right person’s hands- anything could be used to kill someone if the wielder tried hard enough. So really, what made a blaster that different? It wasn’t like he was going to use it.

Although now he was almost starting to consider it. Almost.

“...I’m sure you understand, of course- with Naboo being in such a similar situation.” Senator Jaso ‘Snooty-Face’ Huuve- who had totally introduced herself as exactly that- was saying when he bothered to pay attention once again. Ben blanched. He hadn’t heard the question, and even if he did, he probably wouldn’t have been able to answer. He had lasted this long not truly knowing much about Naboo despite claiming to be from there, but he knew the luck he didn’t need would naturally run out sooner or later.

“Uh…” Ben floundered. He really, really wished Padmé’s meeting would suddenly and inexplicably be over right that second, but it seemed nothing ever went that well for him. The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “...well, you see…”

“Diplomat Naberrie!” A new voice called, carrying across the room. Not one he knew, and he glanced over his shoulder to see the man marching in their direction. Human- black hair, olive skin, blue robes, somewhat of a frown colouring his sharp features.

Sure, Ben had been hoping for a distraction of some sort, but whatever this was didn’t look good.

“Senator.” The man addressed, coming to a sudden halt beside Ben. “My apologies for the interruption, but I am afraid I have urgent need of Diplomat Naberrie’s audience.”

“Oh, do you now?” She asked mildly. Ben was thinking the same thing.

“Yes, if you please.”

It didn’t particularly leave any room for argument. Senator Jaso watched them both down the length of her long nose. “Truly wonderful to make your acquaintance, Diplomat Naberrie,” She said, deadpan.

“The pleasure is mine, Senator Jaso.” Ben said with an equal amount of emotion.

She huffed, offended at kriff-knows-what-now, spinning on her heel and disappearing with a swish of long robes.

Ben’s brow furrowed at her as she disappeared. “Did I do something wrong?”

He hadn’t really been addressing the question to the man beside him, but he answered anyway. “No, no. I think it was just because you addressed her by first name,” he mused.

It was Ben’s turn to snort. “If she didn’t want me to use it, then she shouldn't have introduced herself to me with it. I’m gonna use someone’s first name if they give it to me,” Ben huffed. “Surnames are overrated.”

“In that case,” the man spoke again, and Ben looked up at him. “You can call me Bail.”

That name seemed familiar. Regardless, Ben decided he liked this guy. “Well you can call me Ben, if you like.”

“Yes, I heard as much.” He turned, walking back the way he came, and Ben took the clear offer to follow.

So this was another person that knew about him and General Kenobi. Okay. Ben mused. “Did Padmé tell you?” He didn’t mind if she had, really. It wasn’t really a secret that people couldn’t know, going under an alias was just more convenient. Besides- Padmé had only told two people outside the Jedi. One of which needed to know, both as a friend and another colleague from Naboo, although it seemed the Gungan hadn’t particularly… caught on.

The other… well. It was the literal Chancellor of the Republic. What else could Padmé have possibly said?

Whether Padmé informed him or not, Ben was sure that the Chancellor knew exactly what Ben’s relationship to General Kenobi was, before being told. …Somehow.

“No, actually.” Bail said. “I figured it out.”

“Oh?”

“Well… it wasn’t all that hard to connect the dots between Obi-Wan’s absence and the new friend of Padmé’s who bears a striking resemblance- don’t get me wrong- I have no idea how or why, but I’ve seen stranger things in recent times.”

The use of Obi-Wan caught Ben off-guard. “So you knew General Kenobi, then?”

“Oh yes, certainly. We’ve been through a fair few scrapes together, recently.”

General Kenobi’s reports that Ben read through- that’s where he knew the name from. “You’re Senator Organa.” He blurted. “From the Zigoola mission.”

Bail dipped his chin. “The one and only.”

As they rounded a corner, Ben was abruptly reminded of his urgent summoning. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing.” Bail smiled, bordering on a smirk, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You just looked like you needed rescuing.”

Ben huffed again, almost a laugh. His hand dropped from where he had one thumb hooked on his sash- near where his blaster was hidden. “Rescue from boring conversations with Senators, yes please.” Then he blanched. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Bail smiled again. “I’m with you, honestly. The Senate is… tedious, especially of late. But I’ll do my best not to be boring.”

He said it more like a friendly jest than anything genuinely offended, which was a relief. Bail’s mutual displeasure at the Senate was an interesting revelation. Ben took note of it- more than he probably should have, given it was just an off-handed comment, but he felt just a little desperate to find someone else at least a little uncomfortable with the way things were- beyond Padmé and himself.

“You’re unhappy with the Senate?” Wow, what a question to ask someone he literally just met. Sometimes, Ben wished he could just let things drop.

Bail grimaced. “It wasn’t always like this. War makes things difficult for everyone out there, and it certainly doesn't improve anything in here.”

“Yeah. Finally- someone else who actually is aware that war sucks.”

The older man chuckled. “Quite.”

“That’s ignoring the fact that the Senate isn’t that much better,” Ben mumbled. It was kind of an exaggeration, but it sure felt like it sometimes.

“Why are you here, if you dislike it so much?”

“I don’t really. Besides, where else am I wanted? Not that I can really do anything here, but the only other place where I’m doing anything worthwhile is on the front lines, and I am not going back there.”

“Are you so sure- that you’re not wanted anywhere else?”

“Well… yeah. Even so, at least I have the guts to leave the warfront.” It was kind of backwards, the way the cowardly choice would have been to stay. That wasn’t the usual way it went, but in this case, Ben wasn’t scared for himself if he stayed, he was scared for everyone else.

“ You- in relation to…?”

“General Kenobi.” That answer came easy. He didn’t feel the same way about all the other Jedi, not really, despite how wrong it all still was. Simply the fact that the man who was supposed to be his future self would stay leading the GAR… Ben still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Bail hmmed. “ That implies that Obi-Wan wants to be there.”

Ben scoffed. “Did he not? If he was once me , with the same past- to lead troops, troops that are children- he’d have to be okay with it. Or he wouldn’t do it. Right?”

Bail’s face turned somewhat thoughtful. “Ben… I happen to hold a unique privilege only shared with a close few. I know Obi-Wan as not just a General or a Jedi, but also as a friend. And as such, I happen to know that fighting in a war is the last thing he wants to do. Let alone lead one.”

Ben frowned, worrying with his teeth at his bottom lip. There was a split there that was yet to heal fully, and he resisted the urge to pick at it. “Why would he do it, then? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Well… He does it out of loyalty to his men, foremost. The mutual respect there is admirable.”

That was plain to see, when Ben met the 212th. Why , though, he still didn’t know. “Really?”

“Oh, of course. He is a remarkable man, as well as a very good general, and those men would follow him anywhere. You… are aware that he leads his troops from the literal front line, right?”

No. Ben was not.

Somehow, Ben had been imagining the kind of General that most seemed to be- delivering orders from the safety of a starship, far out of harm’s way. Knowing that General Kenobi led from the ground, like Ben used to- that changed… a lot.

“I suppose the other reason he does it is out of expectation. There is a lot of scrutiny on someone of his rank, certainly. How much choice does someone like that really have, against the will and duty to a whole Republic?”

That was a very good point. Ben hadn’t really thought of it like that.

It was something he himself had been struggling with- the lack of freedom that had been in his life until now. Everyone around him had always seemed to have a plan for him- when he arrived in this time, sure, but that had been going on as far back as being sent to the AgriCorps. And when Ben did the stupid thing, and tried to make a decision for himself, it always went so, so wrong and left him someplace like Melida/Daan.

The thought that a version of himself- twenty-six years into the future- had just as little choice in things as Ben did now, …was kind of terrifying.

Oddly enough, he felt a little twist of emotion to General Kenobi that he was almost surprised to notice. Something like understanding, maybe. General Kenobi made just a little more sense.

Another part of him immediately rebelled against that. He didn’t want to understand General Kenobi, not someone who led children into battle like Melida/Daan all over again. Couldn't he use that rank that he had to change things?

“It still doesn’t make sense,” he grumbled, venom lacing his tone bitterly. “Children in war is wrong. I would have thought General Kenobi would know that.”

Bail’s eyes traced the intricate patterns on the wall, shimmering in the sunlight through the window. “I know a little about the Melida/Daan conflict, although I hadn’t known it was you who took part in it, until now. I am truly sorry that you had to go through that, if that means anything much.”

Coming from someone outside the Jedi, someone he couldn’t blame- it maybe meant a little. Bail continued. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but isn’t leading children into war exactly what you did?”

How the kriff was he not meant to take that the wrong way? “That’s not the same!” Ben scoffed, immediately appalled and defensive. “My kids didn’t have a choice! They didn’t choose to be born into a warzone! And we- the other leaders and I- we never wanted any of them on the battlefield. We would have fought the Elders alone if to protect them- in fact, we tried that- and we only actively led the kids when they insisted they follow us into a firefight!”

Privately, Ben hoped Bail’s silence meant he had the Senator convinced. But no, there he was, levelling Ben with a mildly pleasant, rather pointed look, but why would he be doing that when Ben had just made such valid points in how different…

Oh.

Oh , kriff it all.

Yeah, Ben could see now how that could apply perfectly to General Kenobi and the 212th. Kriff.

So that's what the war- this war- was really like for General Kenobi, then. Melida/Daan all over again, but on a much, much larger scale and also completely not what Melida/Daan was like at all. Kriff, that would be horrible. It really never, ever got better.

Ben went back to deciding that General Kenobi made that much more sense.

Bail must have interpreted as such from Ben’s expression, because his face softened. “You… certainly seem to harbour some significant dislike for your future self. Why is that?”

Ben scoffed again. “Well I… I don’t- I…”

Why did he?

Was it the person he hated, or the thought that his fate was over and done already, no matter what Ben wanted? Or was it the circ*mstances that scared him? The dystopia of waking up in the future that held nothing but death?

Or was it the realisation that all those things General Kenobi had done- those right things to do that Ben never wanted to do- who General Kenobi was - was it the realisation that Ben could see himself doing it? Being that?

For the Republic, for the Jedi, for his men, for his family?

Yes, just maybe, he could see him become General Kenobi - the ‘perfect’ General- Jedi- man. And that scared him.

Apparently Ben’s minor internal existential crisis was visible on his face, because Bail smiled in sympathy. “You know, I’ve seen plenty of people with a complicated relationship with their past- having that with your future is a new one, I’ll admit.”

Ben huffed one last time, rolling his eyes. It was an odd thing, the immediate, inexplicable trust he had for this man. They walked the halls aimlessly, making more friendly small-talk than anything else ground-breaking, passing the time before Padmé’s meeting to end so the two of them could go back to her apartment. Surely Bail had better things that he could be doing than accompanying some kid for a chat around the Senate Building, but Ben appreciated the company. And the possibility of a friend. Maybe there were just a few good things remaining for Ben that General Kenobi left behind.

x+x+x

Ben sighed to himself as he hung his Senate outfit back up in the cupboard in his room. He smoothed out the dark fabric- it was important that he keep a gift this nice in good condition. He had never received very many gifts. The ones he did have were important.

Again, as he often did these days, he found himself missing the smooth, warm presence of Master Qui-Gon’s river stone in his pocket. It would have been nice to have just one little piece of his old Master, but there was no way of knowing whether or not that had been lost, along with everything else.

Back in his civvies immediately loosened something in his chest, despite how nice his good clothes were. Something about taking off carefully structured appearances in the same way he shed his coat.

He slid the cupboard closed, eyeing the bundle of neatly folded cream robes on the floor of the cupboard almost guiltily. How often had General Kenobi crashed at Padmé’s apartment for her to keep a spare change of clothes for him? Did she do it out of obligation, or care? Not questions he was ever going to ask.

He wondered if he would ever wear Jedi robes again, and the immediate no that came to mind made something like remorse add to the weight he carried in his chest. Robes like those were such an intricate process to put on, and Ben remembered the feeling of achievement that came with managing it properly for the first time as a youngling. He missed that. Along with everything else.

Ben was not a Jedi, and he knew that he likely never would be again, but something in him always seemed to point him back to the Temple. What should have been home .

But if he had tried to put them on, the folded robes on the floor would be too big to fit, just like most things in his life.

The cupboard closed with a click .

In the living room, Padmé was busying herself with a new delivery of senate clothes for herself- recently made with the specific purpose of hiding a pregnant stomach for as long as possible. Padmé was shifting through the garments with a somewhat bittersweet smile, which was understandable. The joy of a child against the reality of having to hide it.

He dropped down onto the couch across from her, watching her movements for a long time, her glancing up at him with a smile, holding up a silver dress against her frame and spinning. Ben laughed a little, giving a small mock-applause. The brightness in her eyes was clear. She was going to make an amazing mother, Ben knew without knowing.

“Got any names in mind, yet?” he asked.

Padmé grimaced a little, without her smile fading. “A few. Anakin and I have ideas, options for a boy or a girl, which we are leaving a surprise, of course.” They both knew that wasn’t the only reason. It was also very hard to get a scan without the increasing questions and scrutiny the couple were trying so hard to avoid.

“What do you reckon it’ll be?”

“Anakin is positive it’s a girl,” Padmé grinned. “‘Says he can tell with the Force.”

“And you?”

“It’s a boy. Mother’s instinct.” She pushed a stray curl back behind her ear, blown loose by the cool evening breeze. Ben smiled, softly. He admired how she was able to find these little pieces of happiness amongst such terrible times. He didn’t let himself be jealous.

“We want to choose a name from the culture of Anakin’s home-planet,” Padmé continued. “They’re beautiful- those people’s stories- despite their circ*mstances.”

She specifically didn’t say what planet or what circ*mstances, so Ben didn’t ask. Instead, he settled on the couch. He liked the sound of small, good things in spite of everything else. “Yeah? Tell me some of them?”

Padmé smiled, and told him a story.

One of a desert- vast and endless. Ar-Amu, the All-Mother, the desert Herself, and Her children. Leia, the great Dragon, Lukka, the Sandstorm, and many, many more, spread out across the sands. Even Depur was a child of Hers, even as he fell away and imprisoned Ar-Amu’s children- even with the sorrow that brought upon them all. And yet, not all hope was lost. Her children fought, quietly, selflessly, always.

And they weren’t all enslaved forever. There was Ekkereth, the Trickster who outwitted Depur and escaped their chains. The Shape-Changer, the chittering red bird, the sky-walker.

Ben had huffed a little at that, eyes widening. “Skywalker ? Really?”

She had shrugged with a little smile, and that’s all he needed to know.

The stories were beautiful, even if he didn’t know their origin. There were plenty of desert-planets in the galaxy, and Ben had never heard any of these names before so he doubted they weren’t the kind of thing he could just search up on the holonet. He wasn’t about to try, anyway. These stories weren’t just for anyone to know, he could tell. He held them close to his chest, easing the weight there just a little.

Padmé ended her story with somewhat of an arbitrary ending, and Ben desperately wanted to know how it ended.

Ar-Amu had promised to cry of joy, he had learned. The day Her children were free forever, rain would fall.

He was leaning forward in his seat, chin on his elbows. “Free them from what ?” he breathed. “Is there more?”

“Yes,” She smiled, the setting sun caressing her face in golden light. “But they’re not my stories to tell.”

Their chat had ended there, as Padmé rose from the couch, changing the topic to dinner, which Ben thought was a great idea. Regular meals was something he was happily getting used to again.

It was a lurch in his gut that made him stop as he followed her. It didn’t come suddenly, but it declared its presence now- in a sensation as if something cold and heavy had sunk its roots into his stomach and tied him to something in the distance. Something out across the city, and it cried to him now in anguish, and he half wondered if it pulled any harder he would just fall off the balcony.

He turned, time slowing to a crawl.

The final rays of Coruscant's sun dropping below the horizon blurred his vision and he squinted against it, sight catching on the shadows of skyscrapers cast into the smokey air. The haziness across the horizon was there, as present and haunting as always, but something new trailed into the sky.

Smoke, a pillar of it, like a dark smear that the light diffused through with an ugly smog of red and polluted brown, like rusted, dried blood.

He trailed it down to the distance, and spotting its source sent a chill through his bones.

Smoke rose from a building in the distance. It should have been grand and tall, but now it was bleeding into the sky. The Jedi Temple.

Something was wrong. Something was happening. Something had begun.

Chapter 17: Like Pushing for Twenty Minutes on a Door Clearly Labelled ‘Pull’, But it’s Actually Automatic and Also Locked

Chapter Text

Padmé was on her comm the moment Ben called to her, pointing at the smoke in the distance in somewhat of a daze. He could hear the low buzzing noise from the comm’s vibration as she called someone- Anakin, undoubtedly- but he didn’t move an inch for where he was on the balcony, eyes locked onto the Temple near the horizon.

The numbers were already running through his mind, a process he was intimately familiar with.

What had happened? A fire? How did it start? What were the casualties? It would entirely depend on where- the Temple was a huge place. It could be anything from a miniature forest fire in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, where the only casualties were plants, or- Force forbid- something could have happened in the Halls of Healing, or the Creche. Not only Jedi were at risk- civilians and clones alike worked in certain places in the Temple, like the Hangar.

Something could have happened there, like a crash, or a ship caught fire. It could have been any manner of accident or mechanical failure.

But Ben wasn’t ignorant about things like this. He knew what a bomb looked like.

Although that was practically impossible. He wasn’t all that familiar with the resources at the disposal of the Separatists or other enemies of the Jedi in this time, but for the Temple to be attacked in an act of foul play was ludicrous. Coruscant as a whole was incredibly well fortified- it had to be. If this wasn’t an accident, it had to be an inside job…somehow. Which did not mean good things.

Ben heard Padmé let out a breath that would have been a whispered curse on anyone else as her comm let out a blip, declaring the line occupied.

It probably just meant he was busy. Not that there was anything wrong. Right? They would be fine. Anakin and Ahsoka were somewhere off-planet, they wouldn’t have been in the Temple.

He voiced that last thought out-loud, not sure if he was reassuring himself or Padmé. She nodded, calling again. “They’re somewhere near Cato-Neimoidia, last I heard.”

Right, yes. Actively serving in a war. Being in the Temple where a maybe-bomb just went off would probably be the same amount of safe.

He hated this. The Temple was meant to be home- Ben was fairly certain it would always feel that way to him even if it wasn’t mutual. Home was meant to be safe- something Melida/Daan never was. There shouldn’t be any war there. It was so wrong. That war should have been left behind beyond Coruscanti airspace, left behind in Melida/Daan. It shouldn’t be there. It couldn’t.

“Are you alright? Ben?”

He flinched a little as his name was called, finally tearing his eyes away from the smoking building in the distance. “Yeah. Fine.” He clenched his hands into fists- hoping that was enough for Padmé to not notice how they shook.

They both jumped as the line connected.

“Senator! Hi, yes- uh, hello. ” Anakin in the blue-tinged holo ran a hand through his wind-blown hair, looking suitably frazzled. “We were just called by Master Yoda about- are you calling about the Temple? ”

“What would make you think that?” Padmé replied smoothly. “I just had the innate sense you had done something reckless again and figured I should check that you’re still alive.”

Anakin huffed. He had traded out his plastoid mantle at some point recently for standard Jedi robes- ‘standard’ naturally not quite including his choice of colours- but said robes were now suitably dirt-covered and rather torn. He wiped at a bloody scrape at his cheekbone with the back of his glove- the arm currently not holding aloft his vambrace-mounted comm. “Reckless? Me? ”

“He almost died, as per usual. ” Ahsoka spoke up, appearing beside her Master, looking just as soot-stained. “I saved his life, also as per usual. ” Anakin swatted at her, and she expertly ducked.

“Ah, of course.” Padmé added, just as dry. She didn’t ask what had happened, which Ben thought was wise. “What is the Temple situation? We can see the smoke from here.”

“I’m not sure how much I can tell you… ” Anakin murmured. “ We’ve been assigned to the investigation, but I’ll have to check about confidentiality before we can release any details. It’s not because I don’t trust you- ”

“Of course- I understand. You know my work is often the same. I-”

“It was a bomb, wasn’t it?” Ben interjected, joining Padmé to be in view of the comm’s holo-cam.

Anakin’s expression twitched for a moment at Ben’s words- and that was all he needed to know to confirm his suspicions. But then, surprisingly, Anakin’s eyes lit up as Ben entered his view. “Hey, Ben! Um… how did you figure that out? ”

Ben snorted. “You think I haven’t blown up a building before?”

“R-right. Of course. Yeah, it was a bomb. We won’t know much more than that until we get back to Coruscant.”

“Not even suspicions of the perpetrator? Casualty numbers ?” Ben pressed.

“I’m sorry- we haven’t been informed. I’ll let you know as soon as we know more, okay? ”

Ben eyed Anakin but didn’t bother responding, which made the Knight deflate a little.

“We gotta go- our pickup is almost here, ” Ahsoka filled the silence neatly. “We’ll call you again- both of you stay safe in the meantime, okay? ”

“You too.” Padmé insisted. “May the Force with you both,” Her eyes lingered on her husband’s face and his eyes softened in return, all the things they couldn’t say passing silently between them. Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“And with you ,” Anakin replied.

Internally, Ben sighed. If only.

x+x+x

Ben was fairly certain he was about to explode and probably get blood all over the hideous painting he kept staring at to pass the time. It would be an improvement, in his opinion.

The mess of colours mounted on the wall looked less like a painting and more like the artist had gotten a little too excited about using an oversized canvas as a paint tester. Splotches of clashing colours layered the surface like a regurgitated rainbow. Weren’t art pieces meant to have meaning? Ben, at least, couldn’t for the life of him figure out what this one’s was.

Maybe it was just for the purpose of brain-rotting all the children in the room. Apparently kids were meant to like bright colours. Ben disagreed, but none of the children in the rest of the room seemed to.

It wasn’t Padmé’s fault that he was stuck in a creche, he knew that, but not blaming her took effort. She was busy. Would be for several days- had some kind of important representation she needed to do in court- something about Ahsoka. Ben knew it related somehow to the Temple bombing, but he thought Anakin and Ahsoka had found the perpetrator, so why was Ahsoka involved?

Nobody could give him a straight answer. Again- it was nobody in particular’s fault- confidentiality of cases sucked, but still, he hated when people didn’t tell him things.

According to the rules of the Senate- as a minor, Ben was meant to spend all his time in the Senate’s creche- and the few weeks he spent with Padmé instead was simply her bending the rules for him a little, which was certainly something he appreciated. But now, with her busy all day, every day for an unknown period of time, he couldn’t get away with it any longer.

He had only spent a day or two in the ‘Kid’s Hall’, but it was already promoted to Ben’s least-favourite place in the Senate building.

It was occupied by roughly two dozen children right now, ranging from the ages of toddler to maybe a little older than Ben. It could have been hauntingly familiar, but the scenario was just too different for him to look at these kids and see the Young. Mainly because there were a handful of adults here- maybe four or so various uniformed people, looking bored as they rocked a youngling to sleep or broke up a fight over a toy.

They were the ones who held any semblance of authority here- and it felt wrong. These people hadn’t done anything untoward, but Ben couldn’t help but feel some distrust towards them. They were the ones who the other children looked towards as the source of authority- not Ben- and that alone made him twitchy. Maybe even a little jealous. Not because he wanted to be in charge for the sake of it. Maybe because he was just used to it. Maybe it was because even in this place completely free of threats, he couldn’t help but feel he couldn’t protect them, otherwise.

And the kids themselves- well, they couldn’t be more different from the Young.

Ben’s kids- they were stoic. They were brave, because they had to be. They cried quietly, buried in another’s arms, because they knew that they had to be as quiet as possible. They looked out for each other. They knew they had to take care of eachother. Even the little ones seemed to understand the concept of triage- Ben had witnessed on more than one occasion a youngling unpromptedly sharing precious food with the injured or starving.

These children were nothing like that. They were senators’ children- dressed in finery and far too nice clothing to harbour the finger-paint stains. They threw tantrums when they were hungry, tired, wanted something- and not just the toddlers. They fought. They were spoiled, these kids. They would never know the horrors that children their age- children far, far less deserving than they- went through. And it irritated Ben to no end.

It was impossible to not seem like an outsider, here- lingering in the corner like it was the only escape from the data-pad games, the brightly coloured flimsi-books, the animated kid’s holodrama that was playing on the projector. It was so jarring- how different Ben’s childhood was to the others in the room.

For one- They still had a childhood. Ben… well.

Either way, it felt just a little impossible to not feel patronised as he was handed neat slivers of fruit and preservative-spread bread with the crusts removed. He eyed the tray delivered impassively to him by a silver protocol droid, attempting to suppress his thoughts of how these snacks that all the kids were given every few hours were equivalent to what one of the Young would have to live off for most of a day.

He ate the real food quickly. The colourfully wrapped, sweetened snack-bar went into his sash beside his blaster.

He glanced subtly up around the room as his skin prickled, feeling the presence of eyes on him. Across the room, a girl in a magenta dress stared at him unashamedly from where she was seated, knees folded, on top of one of the tables. She was maybe a little older than Ben- it was hard to guess maturity rates for many species, even harder when it came to non-humanoids. Ben wasn’t too sure about the age rate of Togorians, which he guessed she was- cream fur brushed to a shine, thin tail twitching idly on the tabletop. Her slitted eyes watched him with predatory casualness, and Ben stared back through lowered brows.

When he didn’t break under the challenge of her gaze, her brows twitched upwards in what could have been amusem*nt, she the first to look away. Hah.

Ben went back to ignoring her and everyone else. It was easier that way, it meant he could pretend he was anywhere else. The painting on the wall- void of eyes or any possible means to make expression or experience emotion- watched him with judgement from its perch upon the wall.

The morning passed in decade-long increments. Ben desperately wished Padmé was able to answer her comm, rather than it being stuck, seemingly permanently on Do not Disturb. It was just a little concerning, honestly. There was definitely something major going on if Padmé was unreachable.

He tried not to worry, but that was easier said than done, considering how much there was to worry over. Sitting in his corner, he carefully constructed Ben’s List of Everything Worth Worrying About.

• The freaking Jedi Temple having been bombed, and all of the fallout after that. He was sure there was more to the investigation that he hadn’t been told.
• Something going on with Ahsoka. He hadn’t been told what, but he knew the court case was something she was involved in.
• Surely she was just presenting evidence from her investigation regarding the bombing in order to convict the perpetrator.
• Yeah, that had to be it

He crossed that off the list.

• Anakin seemed concerned about something. Ben hadn’t seen him much, only actually talked to him once since the last holo-call- where he gave Ben a bit of an update on the situation. Nanobots, apparently, a civilian Temple-worker made into an unwitting bomb. (Ben tried not to think how that was a clever idea.) But there seemed to be more to it- something more- something about Ahsoka.

With a sigh, he added the removed point back onto the list.

• Padmé was also a decent concern. Despite how well she could take care of herself, Ben still worried about her- not just because she was pregnant. He worried about all of them, in fact- Padmé, Anakin, Ahsoka, Cody. He wondered how much of that was something left by General Kenobi, and how much was him.
• The Force was still weird- the little he could sense. He didn’t like it.
• The general state of the galaxy was also a pretty relevant concern, albeit one completely out of his control. The Republic was still 99% horrible, in his opinion. He still blamed the Chancellor.

Which was a whole other thing. He still couldn’t shake his ongoing frustration at the man, still with absolutely zero evidence against him. That was what Ben needed.

There would be something, he was sure of it. If he could get into someplace like the Chancellor’s office, he could snoop around a bit, find some kind of incriminating evidence, present it to Padmé or Bail with a flourish and a told you so , and then things would definitely get better.

It was that simple, right? He didn’t see why it wouldn’t be.

And Ben conveniently wanted to get the kriff out of the Kid’s Hall, so was not now the perfect opportunity?

He had to wait until the caretakers were distracted, but it didn’t take too long before an opportunity presented itself. Several of them were occupied wrangling a squalling baby and a glitching nurse-droid whose electronics were not entirely baby-vomit-proof, none of them presently watching the remaining children, or the door.

It wouldn’t be locked, he knew. Compliance to the rules was enough to keep these kids contained. The adult-height sensor on the wall next to the door beeped when Ben reached up to swat his hand past it, the door silently sliding open. The hallway was empty- perfect.

With one final glance over his shoulder to check he had not been noticed, he turned at last, and-

“Where are you going?”

Ben backpedalled, biting his tongue so as to not let out a yelp of surprise. The moment he was clear, the door whooshed shut again, his window to freedom closing with a click. With the absence of the Force- the fact that he could be snuck up on was not one he enjoyed.

The speaker, leaning casually against the wall, was the Togorian girl that was staring at him earlier. Her chin was co*cked, brows raised a little. Even as an adolescent, she was always demonstrating her species’ height- which probably rivalled Anakin’s, even now. Ben did his best not to be intimidated.

“None of your business,” he snapped quickly. “The ‘fresher.”

“The refresher is that way,” she jabbed a thumb to the clearly labelled bathroom at the back of the room. “Where are you actually going?”

“Nowhere .”

“Sure,” She replied, dragging out the vowel. “You definitely weren’t sneaking off somewhere, in the same way I definitely won’t tell on you, and get an extra dessert for it.”

Shavit. If she told one of the caretakers, Ben would have eyes on him for the rest of the day, and no chance whatsoever to get out. “I have a spare snack bar- don’t tattle and I’ll give it to you.”

She tried to look impassive, but Ben saw her eyes light up with interest. “Yes, I saw that. Why didn’t you eat it? You haven’t eaten anything all day- aren’t you hungry?”

She said it with far more judgement than sympathy, which Ben shrugged off. “Oh, so you’ve been watching me?”

She scoffed, looking away. “As if. You’re new, that’s all.”

“You’re a regular, then? Aw- do you need babysitting?”

Her lip curled a little at that, and Ben got a deliberate glimpse of rather sharp canines. “I’ll still tell on you.”

“You do that, and I’ll tell them that you snuck a commlink in when they’re not allowed.” Nevermind that he had one, too, tucked beside his blaster. Her dress didn’t hide the contents of her pockets all that well- maybe to the average eye it did, but Ben had been looking for concealed weapons by force of habit and found a bargaining chip instead.

The young lioness’ eyes narrowed. “You wouldn't.”

Ah. So someone had a reputation to uphold. That was useful to know. “So we’re at an impasse. You say nothing about me, and I’ll say nothing about you.”

“I really don’t think you know what an impasse is.”

“I know enough. I don’t- however- know you. Do I at least get the name of my potential-mutual-destructor?” A little extreme, but she took the bait.

“You first.”

Fine, she wanted to be difficult. He could be difficult, too. “Ben.”

“...is your name?”

“No, it’s your dad’s.”

“You should know- as it is clearly something you find difficult to comprehend- we are currently in the Senate. I was asking for your title.”

He regarded her for a long moment in silence, just to be annoying. “Diplomat Naberrie.”

She sighed with a roll of her eyes, like he was the most irritating gnat in the Upper Levels. Ben would take that as a compliment. “Junior Legistlate Amarnanoomiiaki.” She replied curtly.

“Do you have a given name?”

“That’s my full name. I have one name- obviously.”

“Obviously.” he let awkward silence hover for a moment. “I know you’re not actually a Junior Legislate.”

Her eyes snapped back to him, arms crossing defensively. “What would you know?”

Plenty, if he wanted to. Ben regarded her for a long moment, long enough for her to shift uncomfortably under his gaze. One hand fixed at her hair- a long off-white braid down her back that neatly tied back the fur along her jaw- likely the closest she would get to a full mane. It didn’t need fixing.

He narrowed his eyes, glancing her up and down, piecing together the little information he had. He was good at making inferences. The Force would usually help, and he wanted to see how well he could figure out a person without it. It was a useful ability for both negotiating and staying alive against an enemy. He assumed that this girl wouldn’t actually be an enemy , but he could have a little fun when he wanted to.

“If you were a Junior Legislate you wouldn’t be here- you would be trailing around after the senator you’re apprenticed to. But you’re desperate to be one, though, aren't you? You’ve applied- and you’re obviously very sure that you’ll get the role- so much so that I’d say you know the senator you’re applying to. A family member, maybe?

“But you haven’t been accepted yet. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? A couple of months since you’ve applied, with no acceptance? That’s why you’re a regular here at the Children’s Hall- because you’re a Diplomat, still. You’re here at the Senate in the hopes you’ll be accepted and can start straight away. That’s why you have a comm- you’re waiting for a message accepting your application.

“And it hasn’t happened yet. Because of the war, probably. But you’re worried it’s because of you . Maybe you don’t have the best relationship with the senator- or they’re strict? You’re worried they won’t accept you because they might think you’re not good enough. So you follow the rules completely, with not a blemish on your record, but you’re also just a goody-two-shoes perfectionist who wouldn’t dare do something rebellious. Am I right?”

The longer he spoke, the wider the would-be-Legislate’s eyes had slowly gotten, tail flicking irritatedly. So he was spot-on. Nice. “Go on, give me a number out of ten. How close was I?”

She was silent for a very long handful of seconds. “That was freaky. You’re freaky.”

“Thank-you,” He said genuinely with a dip of his head.

Neither of them said anything more for another awkward pause. Amaran-whosy-whatsy- he really needed to find out if she had a nickname- fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “Are we just going to stand here forever?”

“Well, given that my planned destination has been thwarted, I don’t know.” Ben sniped. “Are we?”

She huffed. “We’ll raise suspicion if we’re just standing near the door.”

“Fine.” Abruptly, he turned around and stalked back to his spot in the corner, dropping onto the floor. A moment later, the rustle of fabric announced his follower’s arrival, trailing behind on silent digitigrade feet. Ben rolled his eyes, not looking at her. “Why are you following me?”

“I’m not.”

“Why are you here ?”

“I can be in the corner if I want to, you don’t own it.”

“Why are you in the same corner as me, then?”

She dropped down into sitting beside him. “Because you are, objectively, the least-most-boring person in this room.”

“Hah. That was a compliment. You lose.”

“Lose- what?”

“I won the insult competition. You said something nice first.”

“That was not a compliment.”

“It was too. You said I was interesting.”

“Did not. I said you’re not boring. Which means you’re weird .”

“Be careful, or I’ll take that as a compliment, too.”

“Then don’t. You are weird.”

She seemed honest in saying that, which left Ben maybe just a little offended. “Wooow. How so?”

She scoffed. “I don’t know. You just are. You haven’t really talked to anyone the whole time you’ve been here. You aren’t interested in any of the things the other kids are. You hide your food away. You don’t… I don’t know. All the other kids your age are dumb. And immature. You act older, I guess.”

Wow. Wonder why. The other kids his age were still kids . Being here just pointed out to Ben again and again that he had left his childhood behind when he left Qui-Gon, maybe even when he left for Bandomeer. That thought actually made him a little sad. He did his best to ignore it. “And how old would that be?”

She appraised him with a squint. “You’re human, right? I’d say… hm- eleven?”

He bristled. “Thirteen.” …Just. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen, by your standards. But I’ve been alive more standard cycles than that by mine. So that makes me older than you by both standards.”

Ben grumbled. The minor catastrophe happening with the droid and the baby seemed to be solved by now, other kids losing interest as well, going back to their prior activities, and the caretakers to their supervision. Well, there went any chance of escape. Ben changed the topic. “Do you have a nickname?”

“Nicknames are uncouth.”

“Rude. At least I don’t need one.”

She glared. “What?”

“Ben is a nickname.”

“For what?”

“Does it matter?”

“Guess not,” She hmmed quietly. There was silence for a moment again, but it wasn’t awkward this time. “I want to go by a nickname.”

“Sure, why not?”

He had said it more as an expression than an actual question of why not, but her expression twisted regardless. “My aunt says they’re uncivilised.”

“Is your aunt the senator?”

She nodded mournfully. Ben sucked in a breath, and let it out. “Kriff your aunt.”

Her gaze snapped back to him, expression appalled. “What? ”

“I don’t care what adults tell you. What do you want to be called?”

Ben liked nicknames. They were one of those things that meant so much despite just being a little deed. A little personalization, a demonstration of how much he meant to another person that they would give him their own little name.

Nicknames were who he had to be for that certain person, at that certain time. Like how Padmé used Amidala. Like Ben, for the Young. Diplomat Naberrie, now- if that could be called a nickname. But these little names- needing to be a certain person for someone- didn’t change who he was. Diplomat Naberrie was no different from Ben. Ben was no different from… from…

Could General Kenobi truly be thought of as a nickname?

Was it not just another name which the 212th- which the galaxy - needed?

Maybe. Either way, right now, he was Ben because he needed it. And maybe that was okay.

Apparently his new potential-friend was having the same level of internal crisis as he was, because an equally long time before she turned to him again.

“Noomii. That’s what I want to be called.”

Ben nodded in approval. “Noomii. I like it- that’s a good name.”

The way her whole face lit up as he said it back to her was honestly kind of sweet. Then, she smirked. “I win.”

“Wha- oh.” He hated it when people were cleverer than him. “Brat.”

“I’m older than you, pipsqueak. You can’t call me that.” Her smile was wide.

“I do what I like!’ Ben declared. Noomii laughed.

Force, it felt like so long since he had just been chatting and laughing with someone his age. He missed the Young so much . Every day it felt like he never got to say goodbye to them, and that hurt.

Just hanging out with another teenager for once felt nice. Not that he didn’t want to hang out with Ahsoka- she was probably the coolest person he knew- but they hadn’t really had any time to just talk. Not beyond when they first met, which hardly counted.

He sent a quick prayer to the Force, hoping whatever was going on right now about her turned out okay. She would be fine, he knew that. She had to be.

That brought him back to thoughts about the court case and everything he wasn’t worrying about right now, which wasn’t ideal. He sighed against the knot in his stomach.

The Chancellor was at the court case too, Ben remembered Padmé saying. That was pretty much a guarantee that his office was empty. Kriff it- now would be the perfect time to snoop for evidence. He had to try.

He glanced at Noomii, who was sitting idly, watching the room as he was. A light smile was ghosted over her face- he hated to ruin it. But Ben had a feeling that she just might be worth taking along. That, and also Ben had learned for certain that you went into doing stupid things like this with a partner. Nield would follow him into doing something stupid- he had done so many times, with an eye-roll and some wise-ass comment about how they were going to die, but Ben had never doubted that they had each other's backs. Cerasi - well. Ben was always the one following her.

She would want to know that Ben had an ally with him. She would want him to go with a friend. He liked the idea of Noomii being a friend.

Cerasi would love the idea of usurping a potentially corrupt politician. He would question her definition of usurping , and she would grin and declare what an amazing Grand Chancellor she would make. He’d laugh, and promise to vote for her.

He could imagine her disappointment, missing this. He could imagine her as easily as he saw the people in the room before him- she’d cup his cheek with one hand, looking at him with those huge emerald eyes, trademark grin a little sad. Then, just as quickly, she’d punch him in the shoulder, as if he was being the sappy one. Go on, get out of here. She’d say. If you won’t do it for you, go fark shavit up for me!

And who was he to deny her memory that?

“Hey, Noomii.”

She looked over at him, one brow raised in question.

Ben took a breath, trying to think of a diplomatic way to say something like this. He let the breath out. Ah, kriff it all.

“Noomii, what would happen to be your opinion on Chancellor Palpatine?”

Chapter 18: Breaking News: 13 y/o ‘Boutta Throw Hands with the Grand Chancellor

Chapter Text

“I am severely beginning to doubt your ability to make plans.” Noomii chastised him, marching behind him down the hall.

Ben, who was actually making an attempt to be quiet, just shot her a glare over his shoulder. So far, his new companion had proven to be a valuable asset to being along, but she was pushing it a little.

Inviting her along to commit a minor felony had been an interesting experience, but if it was even just to find another person who held a lack of faith in the Chancellor, it was worth it.

Noomii had seemed… torn, when he asked her what she thought about the guy in charge of the Republic. Her voice had lowered, as if the old man could hear them.

“He’s… well. It's impossible to have that much scrutiny on you and still be perfect. I’ve tried. But yet he seems to manage it, somehow. It doesn’t seem right to me. That’s- no, I’m not making much sense. Forget it.”

“No, that makes complete sense. I agree.” Ben had caught on desperately.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

His nose had twisted, puzzling over how to tell her all she needed to know without saying anything at all. “What if I said there was something I needed to find in his office, that may or may not involve entering in a manner that doesn't particularly involve permission?”

She had stared at him flatly. “You mean breaking and entering?”

“Those are very strong words.”

“You’re insane.”

“This is important. If I find what I’m looking for, it could fix so many things. It could end the war, even.” A bit of a stretch, but it could . Maybe. If the next chancellor was better, that could bring the war to an end. Ben liked that plan.

“And you can’t take this to an adult? The Senate Guard?”

“No. It’s not something I can take to someone else- they wouldn’t understand.” Padmé might, Bail might. But Ben didn’t want to risk them even knowing about his plan, and facing the consequences because of it.

“So you’re just going to steal from the Chancellor instead? Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” He looked at the girl beside him as earnestly as he could. “I have to do this. Let me go do this, Noomii. Please.”

She had softened as he said her name, which he totally didn’t do intentionally. She glanced between him and the door nervously. “You’re crazy. Let me just get that straight.” Then she had sighed bitterly, standing. “Stay here.”

He had watched, perplexed, as she had strolled casually up to one of the caretakers on the other side of the room. What was she doing?

Noomii had her head ducked a little, hands folded behind her back as she spoke sweetly to the older being. Ben wished he could hear what she was saying. Then she had pointed at him, and Ben’s blood had run cold.

Oh, kriff. Kriffing damn it, he should know by now not to trust people. This is what he got for trying. He had frozen as the caretaker regarded him coldly, before glancing back to Noomii, nodding, and turning away.

Noomii had strolled casually away also, back over to the entry door, sending it sliding open and gesturing for him to follow. Completely confused, Ben had, and soon enough they were headed away down the hallway, in complete view of the caretakers as they did so.

“How did you manage that?" He had questioned her.

“I’m the oldest one there. They let me go places sometimes, I just asked if you could come, and I was told yes. This way, if something happens, technically it’s their fault we’re unsupervised, not ours. You know you can actually achieve things by asking nicely , sometimes?”

Ben had grinned. Okay, she was definitely worth bringing along.

And now there they were, Ben improvising his directions more than having an actual idea of where they were going.

“I’m not going into the office, for the record.” Noomii insisted. “ You can get caught doing that. I’ll stay outside and have plausible deniability… or something.”

“Deal,” he replied absently. The hallways were quiet, for which he was very glad. It made for less witnesses, or explanations they needed to give to justify why two diplomats were unaccompanied in the halls.

“I was saving it for later, if you must know.” Ben said quietly, without looking back at Noomii.

“What?”

“The snack bar. I was saving it for later.”

“Why? We get food all the time.”

Ben’s stomach twisted. “Habit, I guess.”

“Oh… Did you come from a planet with, like- not much food?”

“Something like that.” He decidedly didn’t elaborate any further, and she didn’t ask.

He turned right at a T-junction, to which Noomii sighed, grabbing his arm in one large paw, pulling him left. They continued on. Yeah, she was definitely worth bringing along.

It was when they got closer to Palpatine’s office that Ben realised there was another problem ahead. He twisted his head around the corner, glancing down the long corridor. The door for the lift to the Chancellor’s office was right there, but the antichamber was decidedly not empty. Of course the entrance to the freaking Chancellor’s office wouldn’t be unattended.

There- a desk by the wall where a Tholotian secretary was tapping dutifully away at a keypad, and a Blue Senate Guard standing beside the elevator lift. Through the open-faceplate of their helmet, Ben could see the guard’s eyes staring dutifully down the long corridor in front of them. It was at least ten metres from the T-junction concealing Ben and Noomii to the guarded lift door; it would be impossible to even enter into the adjacent corridor without being in complete view of the guard. Kriff.

“Well, there goes that plan,” Noomii whispered behind him bitterly.

Hell no. Ben wasn’t about to give up now.

There were ways to get past people. Taking them out before they could call for backup was one, but they weren’t on Melida/Daan anymore, so that was out of the question. He unhooked his hand from where it was tucked by his sash.

If Ben was a Jedi, he would have easily been able to cause a distraction with the Force- drop a suggestion into the two sentries’ minds and have them walk away with no chance of seeing the two kids sneaking in at all. But Ben wasn’t a Jedi, and didn’t have the Force anymore. Not really.

He had to try, though, didn’t he? He needed to check out that office, and this was the only way.

Do or do not, Master Jinn would have reminded him. There is no try.

Fine. Do it was.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, hand reaching out towards the adults down the hall. Focus .

Reaching for the Force was like fumbling in the dark. Reaching with a phantom limb. It felt like he didn’t even know how, anymore.

“What are you doing?” Noomii hissed at him again. “You’re not a Jedi.”

“Right, good point- I forgot about that.” Ben whispered back, dryly. “Now stop distracting me.”

Come on. There, he could just sense the faint candle-light glow of the adult’s presence, each of them glowing softly in the Force. Distance made this needlessly far harder that it already was, but there wasn’t another option. He could start with the guard, and hope it didn’t raise too much suspicion for the secretary. And hope he could do it twice. Hope he could do it once. He reached out- brushing closer, slipping into contact with the guard’s mind.

Like most non-Force-sensitives, getting past the person’s unconscious Shields was like slipping through a wall of cloud. Easy. The guard twitched, probably feeling some kind of intrusion even if they had no way of telling what was happening. Their gloved hand tightened on their paladin rifle.

There is something down the end of the hall. Ben dropped the thought from his mind to the guard’s, like planting a seed. You need to check it out. NOW.

The Force surged. It came like a tidal wave, as if it had been waiting in coiled anticipation from his call. Ben stumbled under the pressure of it with a gasp. So did the guard. So did the secretary.

The two people flinched in unison, gaze snapping to meet one another.

“There is something down the end of the hall!” The secretary snapped, urgently.

“Yes. We need to check it out, now.”

Together, both adults abandoned their posts, sprinting down the long corridor before them, directly past the two children perfectly in their view without so much as a glance. They disappeared beyond a distant corner, and were gone.

Ben had one hand on the wall to steady himself, breathing hard. How was it that easy? Hadn’t the Force all but left him? How the kriff did that work?

“What the heck was that?”

Ben turned, finally, snapping out of his stupor at Noomii’s call. Her eyes were wide and her voice was still lowered, as if she was worried someone could still hear.

“I’ll- I’ll explain later.” Maybe. If he figured it out for himself too, first. “C’mon.”

The door to the lift was now completely unsupervised and hitting the up button was all it took to send the door open. (Sure, there were probably security cameras around the place, but they could blow up that bridge when they came to it.) The lift stood empty, waiting. Ben darted inside.

Noomii was hesitating, glancing back nervously in the direction the two adults had left in.

“Noomii, come on. I have no idea how long they’ll be gone for.”

“I don’t want to go in! We agreed!”

“Fine! Go back to the Kid’s Hall. Just make it quick.”

“I can’t go back without you!”

“You gotta get out of here, or you will get caught. Just hide ‘till I get back.”

Noomii hissed to herself. “Bah! Fine. You’re not going alone.” She hurried in beside him, and with a grin, Ben jabbed the button.

“That’s very brave of you, Noomii. I’m surprised.” Ben smirked at her as the lift shifted smoothly into movement.

She was twitchy and nervous, Ben could see, wringing her hands together. She side-eyed him. “If you went alone, you’d probably do something stupid and get yourself killed and I’d have to live with the crippling guilt. So really I’m just doing it for me.”

“Ah. Of course.” Ben nodded dutifully. He turned serious, just for a moment. “Look- you can just stay in the elevator. Then you’re technically not going into the office at all, right?”

She huffed. “Your logic is cripplingly flawed.”

“Aw, you wound me.”

“Have you always been so insistent on breaking the rules?”

He didn’t actually have a witty retort to that. It was Ben’s turn to shift uncomfortably. “No, not really. To be honest- I realised how you follow the rules to be noticed because that’s what I used to do.”

She turned to him, surprised. “Really? What changed?”

Ben stared at the polished floor. “It went wrong. I never did get noticed for following the rules perfectly. I was a sympathy case more than anything- that’s why I was chosen. Then I tried to keep being perfect, in fear of losing what I had, but the one time it mattered - the one time I thought I was doing what was right, it wasn’t what my- my teacher wanted. And he left me- following the rules left me alone. So I… gave up. I just don’t see the point of following the rules anymore, if they end up with you trying so hard for nothing.”

It was complicated- the thought that General Keno… that Master Kenobi returned to all that rule-following. It certainly seemed that way, at least, based on his reports, based on what he’d heard from others. One didn’t become the perfect Jedi any other way, after all. It certainly didn’t seem like anything Ben could ever be.

Noomii was silent for a long moment. “I don’t think that’s the right way to think about it.”

He eyed her critically. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean… You make it seem like a bad thing- following rules. That’s not true. The rules are there for a reason, after all. It just depends on who made the rules, it depends on why the rules are there. The rules should be questioned, and it’s when the rules stop you from doing the right thing- that’s when you break them. Like what we’re doing now.”

Yeah. Okay, maybe Ben could get his head around that. Maybe that’s what Master Kenobi did- he liked that thought. He huffed to Noomii in amusem*nt. “Right. Like what we’re doing now.”

“We- …we are doing the right thing, right?”

“We are.” Ben turned to her seriously as the lift began to slow. “I promise.”

She nodded back, equally serious. It was only when the lift halted when her eyes widened in panic. “Wait! What if someone is in there?”

“It’s empty.” Ben reassured her immediately. The room was empty. He could at least feel that much through the Force.

“How do you know? ”

“I uh… I have really good hearing.”

Noomii stared at him flatly, expression impassive. One ear twitched.

The doors swished open with perfect timing to avoid any more incriminating questions.

The Chancellor’s office was appropriately ostentatious. It seemed Palpatine had a thing for a maroon and grey colour-scheme, which in Ben’s professional opinion, was awfully villain-coded. If the guy wanted to seem like a nice old man, maybe he needed to fire his current interior decorator.

But currently, fantastically, Ben had been right as he totally always was, and the big room was empty. Ben snuck past the leather benches in the antechamber and onto the plush, blood red carpet. A big, leering desk was situated opposite the door, elevated and perfect for being imposing. The blinds were down on the wall-long oval window behind the desk, and Ben could spot the big blue Chair of Office behind the desk. It looked really kriffing uncomfortable.

The whole place was purely for appearances, that much was clear. This was a place to grovel greet the Chancellor, for meetings, for formal occasions, for whatever else a Chancellor did. (It was a mystery, really.) This was not a real office, not really.

Looking around this room it was very hard not to be reminded, time and time again, of Nield’s office on Melidaan. That one was functional, had actual places to sit- everything down to the colour-scheme was the complete opposite. That was the office of someone who actually knew how to run a planet.

Either way, now was certainly not the time to spend musing over the lack of throw-pillows. He had to get to work.

The desk was the first place he started, peering beneath it, looking for draws or unlocked datapads. It wasn’t looking good- this place was painstakingly neat and as bare as the Jakku desert.

“What are we looking for, anyway?”

Ben glanced up in surprise, to see Noomii examining a shelf of nothing over the other side of the room. “I thought you weren’t coming in.”

Noomii grumbled. “You don’t get to have all the fun. What are we looking for?”

“Uh…” Ben trailed off. That was a good question. “Evidence? Something incriminating, I suppose. Like a bad filing system, or maybe a dead body.”

Noomii set a ceramic statue back on the shelf with a clink . “So you don’t know? ”

“I’ll know it when I see it!”

“Oh, k. You don’t even know what we’re looking for.” She buried her face in her hands as if massaging a headache.

“Did you just say ‘k’ instead of kriff ?”

“You know this could be seen as treason, right?”

Oh. He hadn’t really considered that, no. “I think we should acknowledge the fact you just said k.”

“Ben! ” Noomii growled.

“Say kriff, Noomii.”

“No! Ugh, you are so infuriating. What the hell are we doing here? This is the office of the literal Chancellor. You realise how insane this is, right?”

Ben ignored her, going on to leaf through a drawer of neatly organised flimsi sheets. He couldn’t even tell what was on them- something about finances, maybe. So maybe he was a little lost on what he was looking for.

Covering every possible hiding place in the office didn’t take long at all, and it was only a few minutes later that they were standing in the centre of the incredibly ominous office with nothing to show for it.

“Ben. There’s nothing here.”

“Hmm. You’re right. This guy is good.”

“Have you considered the possibility there is nothing to be found?”

“No, not really.”

“You, are the single-most mud-licking, blaster-brained- ”

“Aw, I love you too.”

Thanks to the layer of golden fur that covered her skin, it was impossible to tell if Noomii was blushing, but Ben was sure she would have gone as bright as her dress. He snickered.

As amusing as teasing Noomii was, it didn’t detract from the lack of success for their heist. They needed to get out of here before they got caught. With coiling frustration, he shoved the taller girl back into the elevator, jabbing the button. He leant against the red wall, letting the back of his head hit it hard. The mild pain was grounding. He sighed, trying to let the anger out. It wasn’t particularly effective.

“So that was a dead end, then.” Noomii seemed like she didn’t know quite what to say.

“What do you mean?” He mocked. “That went brilliantly! Not so, I lie.” Ben growled through gritted teeth. Noomii watched him with mild concern as he threw up his hands. “Ugh! I was just so sure- I was so sure that would work. There had to be something. Did we miss something, Noomii?”

She shook her head with a shrug, at a loss.

If there was any evidence against the Chancellor, it would be in his office. That just made sense. But if there wasn’t anything there… He really, really didn’t want to consider what that meant- that the Chancellor was in fact just a regular, humble man, that Ben was just uselessly looking for someone to blame, that the Republic was truly as terrible as he had been dreading. That it had all been in his head- paranoid and aggressive as usual, hoping futility that people could still be saved. So much for that.

“C’mon,” Ben said, instead of everything else rattling around his head, as the lift slowed to a stop. “Let’s get back to the Kid’s Hall before we get caught.”

He really should know by now, Ben thought to himself a moment later, not to tempt the Force by saying such things. It never ended well.

Specifically, in this case, it ended with him hurrying out the opening lift doors, and directly into a red and white plastoid armoured chest.

Ben stumbled back, wide-eyed and reeling. He felt himself back into Noomii, who was standing just as shell-shocked. Oh. Oh kriff. Kriffing Sith-hells. The Force called to him then, a comically late warning of someone’s approach. It felt almost intentional in some way, and Ben wondered if it was possible to strangle an all-powerful, omnipotent presence. If anyone could figure out how, he threatened, it would be him.

The Grand Chancellor of the Republic smiled down at him with all the smugness in the galaxy from behind the Coruscant Guard clone that Ben had literally run into. The Force could wait, there were people higher on Ben’s murder-list.

“Diplomat Naberrie, this is a surprise.” The Chancellor said pleasantly.

It was not. Ben had seen no surprise at all on the Chancellor’s face- as if he had known Ben was there all along. Maybe he did. That was probably why his nose was so big- it was for sniffing out irritating, irritating children. That was something Ben excelled in.

“Oh! Chancellor! Uh- hello there, what- what are you doing here?” He did not look the man in question in the eye, instead glancing around desperately for an escape route. The secretary and Blue Guard were back, looking exceedingly confused and seeming to be interrogated by a Red Guard- all three paused to witness the conflict. At least- it may not have been a conflict yet, but Ben was sure about to make it one.

“This, my dear child, happens to be my office.” Ben hadn’t thought the Chancellor had any more haughtiness to muster- he must store extra in those kriffing stupid giant sleeves. “May I ask what you are doing here?”

Ben gaped. “Oh! It’s your office?” He turned to Noomii in shock. “Did you know this was the good Chancellor’s office?” He asked her. “I am terribly sorry, sir. We were looking for the garbage disposal centre- I thought we had found it, but I must have gotten confused…”

“Yes, I can imagine you’d be prone to situations resulting in that outcome.” The old man said pleasantly. “At least you seem to keep more intelligent company- what is your name, my dear?”

Noomii seemed to be scarcely daring to breathe, glancing desperately between Ben and the adults. He cut in before she could speak. “Oh, that’s just Diplomat Bratti. She’s a little shy, so-”

“Diplomat Amarnanoomiiaki of Togoria, my Lord.” Noomii gasped out. Ben cringed. Idiot.

“Ah, that’s a name I recognise. I do believe I was speaking to your aunt just a few rotations ago- she was telling me how you are quite keen to enter the Apprentice Legistlate program, is that correct?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Oh, kriff no. It may have gone over Noomii’s head, but Ben knew a threat when he heard one. He glared at the Chancellor, deciding that if the Force could randomly implement time-travel, it could absolutely generate lazer-eyes. Keep her out of this. One perfectly shaped grey eyebrow twitched upwards, just a little.

The clone guard let out a sigh beneath his helmet of someone very, very tired of their job. “Right, you two are under arrest. Follow me without trouble and I won’t be pushed to forcibly detain you.”

Ben certainly didn’t care about himself when it came to breaking the law, but Noomii? If she was arrested, it would go immediately on her permanent record. The biggest rule-break possible, one black mark staining her entire meticulously pristine history. There would go any chance of the Legistlate program and her entire future that she had worked so hard for- out the window.

Clearly, Noomii had come to that conclusion just as fast. Her triangular ears went flat against her head, tears welling in those big eyes. “Please, my Lord- I- I can’t-”

Ben stepped forward. He refused to let her be near the Chancellor without him between them. “No. I forced her to come. None of this is her fault- leave her out of it.”

“Ben-” She started, weakly.

“Shut up.” He whispered back.

“Come now, Commander.” Palpatine stepped a little away from the clone, closer to the two children. Ben bristled. “Surely this occasion could be kept off the records- children mess around, there was no harm done.” One bony hand patted the top of Ben’s head.

Was he being nice? Why the kriff was he being nice? Ben clearly hated the guy- …and of course, Ben realised, as the man smiled down at him, that was precisely why he was doing it. A massive, sickly-sweet kriff you to Ben’s animosity. Ben wondered if he’d stop pretending to be nice if Ben bit off the hand resting on his head.

“I have to arrest somebody.” the Guard said, yet Ben got the distinct impression that he was sticking to his duties in spite of the Chancellor more than Noomii or Ben.

“Fine. Me it is.” Ben stepped forward, attempting not to visibly shrug off the Chancellor’s contact like a sticky substance in the way he desperately wanted to. “But only if no consequence goes to Amarnanoomiiaki, her future in the program, or her aunt because of her.”

The Chancellor eyed him, but Ben didn’t fold under the scrutiny. Ben was in absolutely no position to bargain, they both knew that, but if the Chancellor wanted to play nice, he would have to concede. That was something they both knew, too.

“Very well. A sweet gesture for your friend, my boy.” The Chancellor nodded to Noomii. “Run along now, dear, before you’re missed. You may tell the Children’s Hall I have requested Diplomat Naberrie’s audience if they ask after him.”

“Thank you, my Lord. It was wonderful to see you again.” Ben beamed up at the man next to him, a smile wide enough to re-open the old split in his lip. He ignored the sharp pain, feeling a trickle of warm liquid trail down his chin. Even with the man’s bucket on, Ben could practically see the clone’s eyebrows slowly rise.

If the Chancellor was likewise put off, he didn’t show it. “The feeling is mutual, I’m sure. Good day.”

That was enough of a cue to spur everyone into movement. Noomii looked desperately at Ben, and he jerked his head a little, gesturing away down the hall. With one last anguished glance, she took off, back in the direction of the Kid’s Hall. He let out a breath of relief. Her facing no consequences was… severely unlikely, but he had tried. That was all he could do.

A gloved hand clamped down on his shoulder- not constraining, but enough of a warning not to run off after Noomii. Ben took the hint.

The Chancellor offered him one last sickly smile and nod before disappearing into the elevator. Ben sneered at him the moment the doors were closed. The Guard sighed again.

As Ben was escorted down the hall with all the escapability of a funeral procession -why was it that he felt like he was the one in the casket?- Ben felt the Blue Guard and the secretary's eyes on him. He hoped that they didn’t face any severe repercussions. Although right now, he thought sullenly, he should probably be a little more worried about himself.

Chapter 19: Who Let a Fox into the Senate Building?

Chapter Text

Stay out of trouble, Padmé had instructed him, seemingly long ago. He probably should have remembered that before doing something stupid and getting arrested for it. But things were never that simple, were they?

The Clone leading Ben down the corridor stayed silent as they walked, which Ben found irritating for no reason. The man’s visor remained staring ahead of them, expressionless. Ben wasn’t fooled by the fact he didn’t seem to be watching his detainee- there was no chance of escape here, certainly. Running down the straight, cover-less corridors would absolutely result in being stunned by the blaster that the guard had one glove clamped on at all times, and that wasn’t an experience Ben particularly wanted to repeat again.

Besides, even if he did get away, this time he didn’t have a Roenni to cover for him.

Kriff- Padmé really didn’t need this right now- not with whatever court-case that was going on at the moment. Kriff him and his impulsive, stupid decisions.

The Guard certainly didn’t seem like the type to warm up to people, but Ben could try. Maybe he could get off just a little lighter.

“What’s your name?” He asked, breaking the hollow silence.

The clone didn’t even twitch. “None of your concern.”

“I thought I had the right to know the name of the officer arresting me?”

“You also have the right to remain silent.”

“Never been much good at that.”

“Clearly.”

“You gotta tell me your name, or I’ll just make one up for you.”

Ben could practically hear the man’s internal groan. “Designation CC-1010.”

Ah yes. The clones’ designation numbers. Ben had read about those, when he was researching how the GAR’s troops didn’t have any freaking rights. “Kriff your designation.” Ben snapped. “What’s your name?”

Now, the man did turn to look at him. Just a little. Ben wished he could see his expression beneath his helmet. He seemed to hesitate, then spoke. “...Marshal Commander Fox.”

Victory. “Nice to meet you, Fox. I’m Ben.”

“Nice to meet me? I just detained you.”

“I’ve met people in worse ways.”

“I’m sure you have.”

Ben snickered, and he was ignored with exasperated silence for a good few moments. The corridors that Fox lead them down sloped a little, a more round-about way of moving through levels than a lift.

“Diplomat Ben Naberrie, is it?” Fox said curtly after a while.

“Shouldn’t interrogations wait until I’m in lockup?”

“Who says I’m taking you to lockup?”

Ben quirked an eyebrow up at the man beside him. He wiped at the dribble of blood down his chin, leaving a red smear on his hand. It matched the paint on Fox’s uniform. “Where are we going, then?”

“That’s need-to-know.”

“Considering that I’m the one being taken there, yes, I do kind of need to know.”

Fox sighed again, quietly and long-suffering. He snapped to a halt, and Ben fumbled to a stop, too, still wary of the blaster in Fox’s holster. “Look. You seem like a decent kid, if not a bit of a dini’la.” Ben briefly wondered why Fox had come to that promising conclusion. Maybe because Ben actually cared about the clone’s name, for a start- he hadn’t been blind to the Guard member’s treatment by many people in the senate. “And for the record, I don’t actually give a womprat’s shebs about why you were in the Chancellor’s office.”

“Isn’t it your job to-”

“Shut up- it is in your best interest to let me finish, I can assure you.”

Ben shut up.

“If we get technical, the Chancellor did order me to keep this incident off the records. I can’t help what he might do at a later time, but I am going to follow orders.”

Oh. For once, Ben thought that was a fantastic idea.

“I can’t send you back to the Children’s Hall- like the Chancellor, they need to assume you’re in lockup. But I’m sure as hell not letting some ad’ika wander unsupervised around the Senate, even you. So what we are going to do is go to a secure location until an adult of yours can pick you up, and we can both go home happily, knowing we never have to see each other again. Understood?”

Ben nodded enthusiastically. That was… shockingly generous of Fox. Once again, Ben had a feeling of certainty that the clone’s actions were far more in spite of the Chancellor than they were in support of Ben. But he certainly wasn’t about to look a gift- TaunTaun in the mouth.

“I’ve had enough of arresting ade.” Fox muttered, almost as an afterthought, one that Ben was fairly certain he wasn’t meant to hear.

As it turned out, Fox’s definition of a secure location was a communal Guard’s office. Not one anywhere near the usual offices, but certainly seeming more of a repurposed room somewhere in the security level of the building. Ben couldn’t help but feel somewhat offended on the clones’ behalf.

Fox called something out in Mando’a as they neared the door, undoubtedly to his brothers inside. The door opened to reveal organised chaos- the office space cluttered with desks, in turn cluttered with flimsi sheets scattered amongst datapads and helmets, all detailed in the same red paint. Half a dozen near-identical faces glanced up in expectation, then varying degrees of surprise as the two newcomers entered.

“Ke’te’habir cetare teh kajir! ” Fox snapped with no real anger to one vod , who sullenly dropped his boots from where they were propped up on a desk.

“Hey, he’s still alive!” One vod cheered

“Just.” Fox grumbled, pulling off his bucket and setting it down on a table. Ben took in a tense, tired face, and more grey in the temples than he had seen on any clone yet.

“Um… Commander?” Someone else voiced. “You have a follower.”

“I’m aware.”

“...why is he here? ”

“Found him sneaking into the Chancellor’s office.” Fox added absently, already picking up a comm. “He can be supervised here until his buire pick him up.”

“He found me sneaking out.” Ben leant on the doorframe, already appreciating the room’s shocked reaction to Fox’s words. “Couldn’t stop me getting in.”

Someone barked a laugh. “What the kriff for? ”

“Language.”

“I thought you would have learnt by now, vod . We don’t ask those questions when we don’t need to.”

“The kr- the Chancellor, though? Kid’s nuts.”

“What, you haven’t snooped the guy’s office?”

“I don’t have a death wish .”

Fox, silent amongst the clamour of voices, rolled his eyes.

Ben found himself shepherded into a chair beside one of the desks, the men each pretending to continue with work with various degrees of effort. The chatter didn’t stop- a completely different image than what Ben had seen of the Senate Guard around the rest of the building. This was a little pocket of safety of theirs, he realised. Outside the eyes of everyone else, out of reach of the danger and judgement everywhere else posed, where they could just be people. Ben let himself be touched by the very fact that he was being let in, too.

“What are your parents names, kid?” He was asked eventually by the guard in the adjacent desk.

“Oh, right, sure. Mum is named Gokri, dad is -Ffyourself.”

The guard snickered. “You remind me of someone, have you been arrested here before?”

“Nope, just have one of those faces.”

“Believe me, kid, me too.” Laughter echoed around the room.

“Diplomat Naberrie, Ben.” Fox cut in, ruining the fun.

Someone typed into a datapad, then passed it to Fox, who groaned. Ben wondered exactly what was on his newly-made, minimal file that would invoke a reaction like that. He didn’t have to wait that long.

“He's under custody of Senator Amidala.”

“That’s who you remind me of!” the vod declared. “General Skywalker.”

That was not a comparison he was expecting. He certainly hadn't noticed anything he and Anakin had in common. Then again, he had been trained by Master Kenobi, so maybe that had passed on more of Ben than Ben had expected. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“Well, he's under the custody of Senator Amidala, too!”

That was Ben's turn to snicker.

“Senator Amidala? Will she be okay with him being here? With us?”

Oh, that was sad. It made sense that there would be people in the Senate unhappy with picking their kid up from a room full of Clones.

“Oh, definitely. She's in the Delegation, right?”

“In the Delegation? She practically started the Delegation. She is the Delegation.”

Okay, Ben was definitely missing something, now. “What's the Delegation?”

The company in the room hesitated, many looking to Fox. “Yeah, he can know.”

“Well, he clearly already has a vendetta against the Chancellor.”

“Oya! ” Someone cheered. Others laughed.

“It's the Delegation of the Two-Thousand.” One vod informed Ben, spinning his seat around and leaning close, as if excited to share a secret. “They're a group of senators pioneering for the Chancellor’s emergency powers to be rescinded at the end of the war. They're also- now this isn't well known- but they're the mob trying to pass a Clone Rights bill.”

Ben felt his face light up. Padmè hadn't mentioned any of this to him- this was kriffing wizard. A group of senators, against the Chancellor, and fighting for Clone rights?

Maybe there was some good in the Republic Senate, after all.

“There’s even some Jedi helping supply the Delegation with means to fight for the bill.” Someone declared.

“Really?” Ben asked again, his voice thick with delight. “Who?”

“There aren’t many.” Fox said from across the room. “It’s very likely more would be in support, but we’re not risking informing the Jedi publicly, as a whole. Not all of them support their troopers.”

Apparently that rang true, as the mood in the room quickly soured. Ben didn’t ask.

“The Jedi Council is aware, though. Currently the Jedi involved are Generals Secura, Skywalker, Windu, Fisto, Koon, and Kenobi, as well as a few others.” Fox watched Ben carefully.

Ben took a breath, eyes widening. He had hoped that maybe Master Kenobi had been a part of it, but he was scared to ask. He knew now that Master Kenobi didn’t have a choice in leading his battalion of child soldiers, but knowing that he was trying to fix things too- was amazing.

It was something Ben got to think over for the next few hours hanging out in the Guard’s office- chatting with the vode as they worked, came, and left.

At some point, his comm chimed. Ben fished it out of his sash, careful not to dislodge his hidden blaster, an action that Fox watched carefully, then rolled his eyes and looked away.

[Commander Cody]

[Mind explaining why I’m getting messages from Fox about you being arrested?]

[I have no idea what you’re talking about]

[I’m sure you don’t.]

[He knows who I am?]

Ben replied, after thinking for a moment. That would make a lot of sense- why Fox hadn’t arrested him, why he let his men tell Ben plenty of potentially incriminating information.

[I asked him to keep an eye on you when he could, which was clearly a good idea.]

[Rude]

[I don’t need supervision]

[Because it was someone else breaking into the Chancellor’s office?]

[This is insubordination]

[Absolutely.]

[I’m still legally your commanding officer, I’ll have you know]

[There will be consequences!!]

[I’ll take my chances.]

It was into the evening by the time Ben looked up from his comm, grin fading, at a knock on the door. The room very quickly went quiet. One vod stood, shoving his bucket on as he went. The door was cautiously opened, words exchanged that Ben didn’t quite catch. He did recognise the voice, however, and flew to his feet as the door opened fully to reveal Bail.

He looked… troubled, attempting a reassuring smile when he saw Ben, which fell a little flat. Bail thanked Fox, who nodded curtly, before gesturing for Ben to follow the Senator back into the hall. Ben followed with a wave, and a chorus of farewells from the guards. Ben passed Fox with a bye, and got a shallow nod in return. He looked put-off- or even a shade guilty- over what Bail had just mentioned.

So something was wrong. As per usual. Wonderful.

Bail was waiting for him when Ben entered the corridor, and they set off immediately, back up the levels.

Saying the Senator seemed tense was a mild way of putting it. His eyes were kept focused down the corridor, a tick in his jaw. He seemed a little sad, and that’s what worried Ben the most.

This had to be to do with the mystery court-case, right? That was undoubtedly where Palpatine and Fox had been that morning, and now Bail was involved somehow- or at least knew the outcome. Where was Padmé, that she wasn’t picking him up?

Had something gone wrong? Bail didn’t seem mad, as if what happened was purely something he disagreed with. No, -as good as the man was at hiding it- he seemed upset. What had the court case been?

“Bail…” Ben started.

“Let’s just get you back to Padmé’s apartment,” was the response, instead.

“Please tell me something.”

Bail hesitated, eyes flicking to Ben, filled with sympathy. “I’ll… I’ll start by telling you that you don’t need to worry- Ahsoka is okay.”

Ben’s breath stuttered in his chest. That was so kriffing cryptic. He planted his feet, forcing both him and Bail to a stop, grabbing the older man’s arm.

“What happened? ”

x+x+x

A lot.

A lot had happened, as Ben found out. And none of it good. He still didn’t even have a full understanding of all the events that had happened since the initial bombing of the Temple, but he had a very thorough impression- including, but not limited to- Ahsoka being wrongly accused of terrorism, expelled from the freaking Order, before going on the run from facing potential capital punishment, which was very nearly carried out before the true perpetrator was caught; a freaking Fallen Jedi. (Bail hadn’t been supplied with a name, so in turn neither was Ben, but he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know.)

She had been called back to see the Council again; rumour had it she was being invited back to the Order. It was the kriffing least she deserved.

Holy Sith. And Ben thought his life was bad.

Truthfully, he felt like he had a very good idea what Ahsoka might be feeling right about now. Ben didn’t like to talk about his feelings at the best of times, but part of him hoped that he and Ahsoka might get the chance to talk about this. They both needed it, maybe.

He didn’t know where she’d be right now- at the Temple, maybe. He could find out from Padmé. She was home, Ben knew, as he entered the apartment’s front door, having been dropped at the high-rise’s entrance by Bail. It slid open silently after he pressed in the code, closing just as quietly behind him.

It was then he heard voices. Definitely Padmé- from what he could hear, distinct words muffled by the walls.

And Anakin, too. He recognised his voice more than he felt his presence in the Force, which was an interesting development, considering what Ben felt on Anakin’s Force signature. A dimming of Ben’s ability to feel the deaths of children in the Force was both a blessing and a curse, he supposed.

It wasn’t gone, definitely not, Ben doubted it wouldn’t be for a very long time, but regardless, the aura around Anakin felt more like a smear of ash and char than the previous suffocating black smoke like a dark halo around its source. It made being in the same building as Anakin that bit more bearable, which for some reason Ben was vaguely annoyed about.

What it also meant, though, was that logically speaking, Master Kenobi likely lost the ability to see children’s deaths on people completely by the age of thirty-eight. Which in turn meant that Master Kenobi probably didn’t know about Anakin’s Mystery Murder Spree at all. Which was… complicated.

He should probably call out, he knew, let Padmé know he was back, that eavesdropping was rude and that he really shouldn’t be doing it, but he found it rather hard to care. He stopped just before the corner that led into the lounge, leaning against the wall and listening carefully. Anakin would sense his presence sooner rather than later if he hadn’t already, but right now he seemed too preoccupied to notice.

“...I fix things, Padmé.” Anakin was saying. Ben frowned. “That’s what I do. Machines, droids- that’s what I can do. Everything else? I- I can’t fix any of this. And now I’ve lost them both.”

Breath froze in Ben’s chest. What the kriff did that mean? Where was Ahsoka?

He was bursting around the corner before he thought better of it. “What do you mean, lost Ahsoka?” He snapped, then regretted it just a little when he took in the room’s occupants.

Padmé and her husband were seated together on one of the couches, and Ben doubted they could have sat closer to one another if they tried. Padmé looked more tired than usual, and the redness around her eyes suggested that she had been crying at some point. Her elaborate headpiece was removed, but she hadn’t changed out of her formal garb yet, which was unusual, given that it was pretty much night-time by now and she should have finished work hours ago. Ben did not like what all of that implied.

However, Padmé still looked immaculate compared to her husband beside her. To put it nicely, Anakin looked… a wreck. If not physically, but emotionally? Ben was almost glad for his current dubious grasp of the Force, if it allowed him to escape a second-hand experience of whatever was going through Anakin’s mind right now.

The young man straightened in his seat from where he was hunched as Ben entered the room, a flicker of aggravation crossing his face. Ah, so he hadn’t noticed Ben, and was now mad at him for eavesdropping. Ben didn’t particularly care about that- the tired, disappointed glance that Padmé resigned him with definitely hurt more.

Anakin sighed quietly, shutting his eyes. When he opened them again, Ben saw the grief that clouded those desert-sky eyes. What that Ahsoka’s Padawan braid, cradled in his hand? “Apparently, you made quite the impression,” he said, too weary for anger. “Ahsoka just left the Order.”

The snap of “Are you blaming me?” was almost a reflex response, as Ben processed what Anakin had just said. Holy shavit. Left the Order.

Good on her, was his first thought. Realising just how upset over that Anakin had to be was his second. He ignored his own swell of sympathy.

“What? ” Anakin’s eyes widened. “No, no- as if I- I just-”

“Finally, someone who gets it.” Ben said darkly. His own wounds drawn back to the surface hurt. He had already come out swinging at Anakin, who would he be to back down now? “I’m no longer the only kid who’s been forsaken by the Order and their Master.”

“Ben! ” Padmé scolded.

Anakin recoiled a little, hurt ingrained in all his features. “I didn’t -”

‘Where is she, then?”

“She left. I wasn’t going to stop her.”

“You should have tried! ” Ben cried.

“I did!” Anakin stood, and Ben was reminded just how tall the young man was. “She’s on her own path, and if that’s where she needs to be, I’m not going to keep her from it. But I’d do anything to get her back.”

That was true, Ben realised, as air left his chest. “You don’t deserve her back!” Ben yelled, throat tight.

Anger and pain filled Anakin’s features again, but Ben didn’t stick around to hear what he had to say. He whirled back around, fleeing the lounge, making a run for his bedroom and locking the door behind him.

He let his head collide with the shut door behind him before he slid down it to meet the floor. The room was dark- lights off, shut blinks blocking the night city lights- for which he was glad. He couldn’t bear to see the room around him, the one that he had been given to stay in with more generosity and love than he could handle.

It was unfair of him, he knew. He shouldn’t have said any of that to Anakin- none of it was true and he knew it. Admitting that, even to himself, was hard, and he almost regretted it, because the only thing the absence of anger showed him was the hole of pain in its wake.

Did Master Qui-Gon regret letting Ben go when he left, too? Did he cry to Master Tahl, saying that he would do anything to have his Padawan back?

Ben couldn’t imagine it. As he fought a bloody and brutal war on Melida/Daan, nobody at the Temple would have missed him. Not him.

He wasn’t jealous of Ahsoka, but seeing her former Master grieve her absence- hurt.

He stayed in the dark for a long time, as if he could hide from everything else. Everyone else. Who he was. Who he couldn’t be.

But the dark had nothing to offer him either, so he didn’t cry himself into restless, uneasy sleep- to hide from the dark, too.

Chapter 20: Disrupting the Chancellery because a Higher Power Said So

Chapter Text

He didn’t need to be in the Kid’s Hall anymore, not when he was back with Padmé again. She seemed just as surprised as Ben would have been, a week ago, if he had ever thought he would be asking to go back there.

Just once, for a visit- he told her. There was someone he needed to see.

Noomii almost seemed… surprised to see him, which hurt a little. He wondered if she didn’t want to see him. She had every right to blame him for everything.

It was quiet in the hall. Most kids had gone home for the day, it seemed. Their corner of the room was empty, but they lowered their voices to talk, anyway.

“Ben-” She started.

“Noomii.” He interrupted. He had a few things to say before she did. “Look, I- I wanted to say-”

“Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He looked at her like she had just said she was going to Hoth for summer vacation. “But- your application- did the Chancellor do anything?”

“No. He didn’t do anything.”

“Really?”

“Really. I asked my aunt, too. She’s spoken with him since, but he didn’t even mention what we did.”

Tension left Ben’s shoulders with a rush. So Noomii hadn’t gotten in trouble, after all. That was better than he could have hoped for.

“But there’s something else.” Her voice dropped even lower. “It’s not just that I haven’t gotten in trouble, but my application has been accepted- thanks to a recommendation from the Chancellor. I start next week. That’s so weird. That’s weird, right?”

“Shavit, yeah.” Ben worried at his lip, brow furrowed. That was weird.

Messed up, even- the Chancellor was still trying to play his ‘Nice Guy’ game, as if he was trying to prove something to Ben- that much was clear. And Ben did not like it. He could practically still feel that oily smirk from here.

“I- I wouldn’t worry too much.” Correction- Noomii shouldn’t have to worry too much. Ben would do enough worrying for the both of them. “This is what you’ve been wanting for ages. Just… Just watch your back, yeah?”

“Yeah. I will.” Then she laughed a little, dryly.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just find it funny sometimes. The fact that I’m so desperate to become a senator one day, despite how corrupt the Republic is most of the time. It doesn't make a lot of sense.”

“It needs you as a Senator, I think.” Ben decided. “I reckon you could make things better.”

She huffed with a small smile, as if she didn’t believe him. At least she took the compliment. “I know it’s probably futile, but I like to pretend I could help fix things. There's certainly things I’d change.”

“Like what?”

“Oh… I don’t know. Maybe I’d try and end the war, for one. Maybe pioneer for the Jedi to be removed from the senate’s control.”

That one caught him off-guard. “What? Why?”

“I certainly hope you’re not referring to ending the war.”

“Shut up. What are you saying?”

She shifted a little closer to him, glancing over her shoulder at the still-empty room. “Okay. This is super controversial, but the Jedi-” Oh no. Ben raised an eyebrow. “-The Jedi are just… people. Like you and me.”

That was slightly more accurate than Noomii was to know, but Ben didn’t mention that. Instead, he smirked. “Have you met a Jedi?”

"Hear me out, okay? I’ve done my research on this. The Jedi were never meant to be soldiers. They shouldn’t be leading the war at all. Their culture isn’t adapted for it. They’re meant to be peacekeepers. Did you know there is a Jedi saying that says- if a Jedi is to ignite their lightsaber, they should be willing to take a life?”

“Uh, I might have heard that somewhere, yeah. Why does that relate to anything?”

“I’m just saying that being under the Senate’s control could so easily ruin them. It probably already is. They’re only in the war at all because of the Chancellor’s orders. They rely on the Republic entirely for funding, too- because their Corps are preoccupied with war, too. I didn’t even know the Jedi Corps were a thing. Did you even know they were a thing?”

“Never heard of ‘em.” Ben very valiantly didn’t laugh. “So you think the Jedi should never have joined the war?”

“Heck no. I’m saying they shouldn't have had to. If they didn’t, the Separatists would have won a long time ago.”

“Wouldn’t that mean the war would be over, though?” Would it really matter which side held victory, as long as the fighting had stopped? Ben learned a long time ago that there were no winners in war, not really.

Noomii gave him a very concerned look. “Ben.” She said slowly. “You do realise that the Separatists are led by a literal Sith? Do you know what Separatist victory would mean? Oppression. Genocide. The destruction of so many people- the GAR troops at very least. The Jedi would probably be wiped out. Even if it meant the war had ended, the outcome would be far worse than the war ever was.”

The Force rang with truth.

And wasn’t that terrifying.

“At this point, Noomii, just run for kriffing Chancellor. I’ll vote for you.”

She laughed a little, and the chill in the air eased a little.

“Go fix the Republic,” He smiled.

“Ha. I need to get to Senator one day, first.”

“Noomii- in all honesty- as long as you don’t become a ship-hijacking pirate, I really don’t care what career you choose.”

She laughed again but didn’t ask, which was definitely the wise choice.

“Ben- before you go. I wanted to thank you for what you did. You didn’t have to stand up for me the way you did.”

“I kinda did,” he grinned. “I was the reason you got into that situation in the first place.”

She shrugged. “Probably. But going with you was my choice. You could have blamed me, but you didn’t. And… I maybe also had just a bit of fun.” She reached out, and took his hand in a gentle, warm hold. Her fur was soft, just like her small smile as she struggled to meet his eyes. “So I can thank you for that much.”

Ben huffed a little. He pulled a secreted away item out of his sash with his free hand, before taking hers and placing it inside. He had lost the original one at some point, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t matter to her. She looked at the snack-bar at her hand with a small, incredulous laugh.

“What? I said I would.”

Her fingers closed around it. “You are so weird.”

“That was definitely a compliment. I win.” He turned away. “See you ‘round, Noomii.”

He felt her eyes on him as he exited the door, so turned to give her a smile as the entryway slid shut behind him- one she returned.

He caught a glimpse of the painting on the wall behind her as the door shut- the one he had hated so inexplicably not so long ago. Maybe he could see the meaning behind it, he decided, as Noomii and the painting echoed in an afterimage in the dark corridor. Maybe it was meant to be a representation of the Republic- all those colours were all the hundreds of peoples, coming together to create one big… mess.

A mess that was maybe trying very hard to be an artwork. He could see how it could maybe be beautiful, from a certain point of view.

x+x+x

That didn’t make it any easier, though. How could an artwork be what it was meant to be, if the artist itself was the orchestrator of its corruption? It was impossible.

Stop losing ground, Master Qui-Gon would have said to him. The Chancellor is powerful, but you can be, also. He utilises strength that you cannot match, but you can use that.

And- his Master continued, when Ben bothered to listen. You have something he doesn’t.

What could I possibly have, Master? Ben pleaded, wishing more than ever that he could tell Qui-Gon, rather than just some memory of him.

See, Padawan? That’s exactly it- I never left you. That’s what you have. You have never been alone.

x+x+x

[Governor Nield]

[Is now an ok time to call?]

[It’s important]

The reply was his comm ringing, a pretty solid answer.

Ben switched off his bedroom light, allowing the holo to flicker on and fill the room with a blue glow.

“Hey, everything alright? ”

“I’m good thanks, how are you? Melidaan needs to join the Republic.”

Nield blinked, then blinked again. “... what? ”

“I mean it.” Ben insisted, practically fidgeting with determination and insistence.

“ ...I can see that .” Nield said slowly. “ Talk to me, what’s up? ”

Ben let out a heavy breath of relief. Nield not hearing him out was a pointless fear, but hearing those words brought more comfort than Ben expected. He stood from his seat to pace around the room. Nield’s eyes tracked him from the comm’s perch on the bedside table.

“Okay. So I was talking to a friend of mine this morning- you’d like her- we broke into the Chancellor’s office together- don’t ask- but we were talking about the Republic and the Jedi and the war and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this all day-”

“Breathe, buddy.”

“No! There’s no kriffing time for breathing! This is too important!” Ben flapped his hands at the older man. Words weren’t kriffing word-ing. Ugh!

“Shavit. Okay.” He pressed his fingers to his temples as if that could make his thoughts come out in a more cohesive order. “Remember how when we were fighting the Elders, it wasn’t about winning? It was just about ending the war?”

“Vividly.”

“Well this war is kriffing nothing like that.”

“...oh? ”

“I’m not- kriff- I’m not saying the war ending isn’t important. It is the most important thing. But it’s not just about ending it. And it’s not about winning. It’s about not kriffing losing. Our war against the Elders was about stopping the fighting, and fighting fire with fire was the only way we could have done that, so that’s why we did what we did.”

“You don’t have to convince me, I was there.”

“I know, I’m just trying to say this is different. This isn’t just a planet-contained civil war where the only innocents were our kids caught in the middle. This is- this is so much bigger. This isn’t a centuries-long conflict where the two sides can’t even remember why they’re fighting, anymore. This is new. This is now. And this is so important, because the Republic is the only thing that stands between the galaxy and utter destruction.” Ben sat heavily down onto his bed, the words leaving him in a rush. There. He said it.

“O… kay. What does that all… mean? ”

“Shavit, Nield, I don’t know! I don’t-” He stopped, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. Kriff. “The galaxy is so, so close to being destroyed. I’ve known that since I first came to this time. I think that is how the galaxy is destroyed- the Republic-” and if not the Republic itself, then the Senate, the Jedi, and everything they stood for- “-the Republic losing the war. I think it makes sense now- why the Force brought me here. That’s what I have to do. I have to stop that from happening. But- how the kriff am I meant to do anything? Stop- win an entire galaxy wide war? I’m not a General , I’m not a Jedi. I’m just a kid. And I have no farking idea what to do.”

Silence stretched on for a long moment, as if Nield was waiting for Ben to say more. Fine.

“I think… I think the Force has also been trying to show me that I’m not meant to do it alone.”

He had thought he had no one, for so long. And he kind of didn’t- at least Ben didn’t- these people in thai time weren’t his people, that’s something else he had known for a long time. Master Kenobi had people here, though. And while that hurt more than Ben cared to admit, it also showed him something that he had been trying very hard not to see.

“I’ve been… pretty bad with some people, lately. And I need to change that, because I think I know now- I really don’t know if I can do anything. But I have people who can. You are one of them.”

“So you want Melidaan to join the Republic? Is that what you’re asking? ”

“I know you and the rest of the planet want nothing to do with another war. You know how much I know that. You know I’m the same. But…”

“But like you said- this is different. ” Nield’s brow furrowed, thinking hard. “Melidaan isn’t equipped for war, likely all we could offer is political support.”

Ben’s heart leapt- Nield was considering it. “Anything. Anything, Nield. Even just one more planet could make the difference. The Chancellor isn’t even trying for diplomacy, one more Senator pioneering for peace could be what changes things.”

“Diplomacy- Cerasi would like it.”

Ben smiled. She would. For Cerasi.

“All right,” Nield nodded. “I’m in.”

Ben’ face broke out with a grin. This was fantastic.

“I can’t make any promises, okay? I may be Governor, but I do have a council. But I will call for it to be reconsidered. That much I can do.”

“That’s all I ask.” Then, Ben frowned. “Will the Senate allow it? If you do choose to join, will the Republic let you ask a second time?”

Nield laughed a little. “The Republic is pretty desperate for support. They asked us.”

Ben huffed, before sobering. “Thank you, Nield. You know how against the Republic I was- I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I didn’t mean it.”

“ I know, I know you do. And you’re welcome. I’ll tell you as soon as we come to a decision, okay? ”

“Okay. I- okay.” He nodded to himself. “Well, I’d wish you luck, but…”

“We don’t need it, do we, Bee? ”

“No we don’t.” Ben grinned. “No we don’t.”

x+x+x

[Commander Fox]

[Hello]

[This is Diplomat Naberrie by the way]

[what]

[The kid you didn’t arrest the other day?]

[General Kenobi]

[I know exactly who this is]

[What I want to know is how you have this comm code.]

[WHY you have this comm code.]

[Cody]

[That traitor.]

[What do you want.]

[So you hate the Chancellor, right?]

[As if I’d confirm or deny incriminating information over text]

[Or to you at all, for that matter]

…

[Why?]

x+x+x

Incriminating information posted to the holo-net, that was the grand kriffing plan.

As Noomii had said, the Chancellor appeared perfect, but to Ben, all that meant was a challenge. About time that image was broken.

Finding the content itself was… complicated. It wasn’t as if Fox’s Coruscant Guard could publish testimonies, at least- not without publicly declaring insubordination- which for a clone was a death sentence.

There was plenty of other information they had, though. Reports spanning the whole length of the war, and if they dug a little further- Palpatine’s entire time in office. Poor tactical decisions that raised casualties without gain- and not always just of GAR troopers. Evidence of intentional neglect of civilian lives for monetary or military gain. Suspicious use of funding. The list went on.

It was all content that could be traced immediately back to the Guard, had they have posted it. Some kid on a personal datapad, though? A walk in the park.

Many of Ben’s articles got taken down immediately, branded as Separatist propaganda against the Chancellor. But he was nothing if not stubborn.

It took many days, but his content slowly gained more and more attention- whether negative or not, it was at least putting the thought out there for many, many people, that their beloved Chancellor was not quite the perfect leader they had all believed.

An article on the Jedi’s forced and unjust involvement in the war was one that especially gained a significant amount of attention- written so meticulously that nobody would have suspected the author was a fifteen-year-old freshly-minted Junior Legislate.

Other sources that Ben had nothing to do with started saying their piece with the rise in anti-Palpatine content. Statements by people-groups, whose lives were affected by the Chancellors actions, or lack of. Conspiracy theories, too- Security Footage of Chancellor Palpatine With a Red Lightsaber! Edited or Not?

The Delegation of the Two-Thousand took it as an opportunity to make their opinions known as well, more of a push for diplomacy than a point specifically against the Chancellor. But everything helped.

(Padmé was… sceptical, when she found out Ben was the origin of the initial movement. Palpatine was an old friend of hers after all, Ben remembered. But even she was against the Chancellor for her own reasons- the call for diplomacy was one that she had been fighting for a long time. And Opposition Research was a perfectly legal strategy, Ben claimed, and she could do nothing but simply sigh in defeat and say no more about it.)

It wasn’t a promising outlook. There was undoubtedly a far larger response in favour of the Chancellor than against- as Ben had first inferred, Palpatine was adored by an overwhelming amount of both the Republic and the Senate. But Ben had still made that first step, had gotten it all out there. He had done something, and he stood by what he had told Nield- every little bit helped. He had to believe that.

x+x+x

The night was surprisingly hotter than usual, which he appreciated. Such a temperature made it especially nice for sitting on one of the couches right near the balcony, watching the golden lights of the city, the low sound of the sky-lanes traffic noise carried on the warm breeze.

A night too nice to be in bed anyway, Ben told himself, as if to validate his lack of sleep. Truly, it had been somewhat impossible- the Force felt more thick and congested and smogged than Ben had felt it yet, and staring at the ceiling in twisted sheets he had felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

It was a weird sensation- the way the Force felt freezing and oily simultaneous with the humidity of the night. It left Ben feeling practically feverish, but out on the balcony, breathing air that was as fresh as it could be on Coruscant, he could almost ignore it.

Eventually, he was joined by another of the apartment’s occupants, which in itself wasn’t surprising, but the way Anakin looked when he hurried quietly out of his and Padmé’s bedroom was. He looked shaken, sweaty and dishevelled and almost scared, and as someone who knew it intimately himself, Ben immediately recognised the aftermath of a vision-provoked nightmare.

Anakin didn’t notice the room’s original occupant at first- too busy trying to get his breathing under control. Ben had found a box of some kind of fruit-juice in the kitchen’s cooling unit earlier, so to announce his presence he made the loudest, most irritating noise he could through the straw. Anakin startled, which was pretty funny.

“What are you doing up so late?” the blond asked quietly, voice a little broken.

“Could ask you the same thing,” Ben shrugged back, not bothering to correct that it was probably very early morning by now. The silence was undeniably awkward- the two of them hadn’t really spoken much since their rather one-sided argument after Ahsoka left. Ben knew he should probably apologise, but couldn’t quite figure out how. If he lied to himself and said it was easier not to, it meant he could put it off for longer.

Anakin huffed a little, as if that was somehow funny. He ran his uncovered mechno-hand through his hair, the panels tugging on the strands. Lights from the city glinted a little off its metal. “Let’s just say you aren’t the only one who has visions of people you love dying,” he said at last.

“Ah.” Ben said mildly, discarding the empty juice-box on the cushions. He dropped down from where he was perched on the couch- feet on the cushions, sitting on the backrest- and wandered over to the open edge of the balcony. “That would require people who love you.”

“Don’t say things like that.” Anakin replied, sounding more upset than commanding.

“Why not? It’s true.” Ben dropped back to sitting, legs swinging over the edge, nothing but his balance keeping from a very, very long fall. Ben felt Anakin’s brief spike of anxiety in the Force as he did, which was a little funny, too.

“It’s not.”

Ben twisted round to glare at the man behind him dryly.

Anakin sighed. “I don’t want to argue.”

Ben honestly didn’t either, so very valiantly refrained from making some kind of snide comment. He stayed silent as Anakin sat down- a little more sedately- beside him, one knee folded, long bed-robe pooling.

It was kind of nice- Ben admitted to himself- having company. Even this company. Just sitting quietly with Anakin, watching the city lights was… okay.

“I’ll do you a deal.” Anakin said softly after a while, eyes still on the horizon. “If we can believe your visions of the future aren’t inevitable, then maybe mine won’t come to pass, either.”

Ben wasn’t still convinced that his wouldn’t. It kind of seemed like an inevitable, the decemated future he saw. But he had to assume that was the thing that the Force brought him into the future to prevent, and he was trying his hardest at that already. So… maybe. It certainly seemed like something Anakin needed to hear, right now.

“Deal,” Ben replied, almost a whisper. Anakin nodded, and let it be.

Padmé joined them after a while, bleary from just waking, inquiring with concern after her husband’s unexpected departure from bed. She asked if everything was okay, when Anakin held her close.

“It will be,” he told her, and he said it like he believed it. The smoke in the Force cleared, just a little- like charred, black smoke dispelled by a gentle desert-night wind.

The two of them had kissed, then, and Ben had made the most obnoxious gagging noise he could muster. Anakin had sighed dramatically, Padmé had laughed a little, and Ben couldn’t help but think that maybe Anakin was right, and maybe things would be okay. Maybe. Eventually.

They just had to get there, first.

Chapter 21: With Thunderous Applause

Chapter Text

[Governor Nield]

[I’ve chosen a senator. Please, do not kill him, me, or yourself because of it.]

Ben stared at the ridiculously cryptic message on his commlink in a little more than confusion. After days and days of waiting in restless impatience regarding the status from Melidaan, a vague text from Nield was… concerning.

Days of- [Council session was today. No final verdict.] - [No decision yet.] - [Still indecisive. Will keep you updated.] -had begun to take its toll, even while Ben knew that Nield had been doing everything he could, and there was always the very high possibility that this wouldn’t go the way he hoped, and Melidaan would elect not to join the Republic after all.

Finally waking one morning to find hope on his commlink- [Council has come to a decision. Melidaan is joining the Republic.] was incredible. The several days of logistics and data-work to be sorted out had been testing his impatience again, but somehow Ben had managed to survive. Melidaan was joining the Republic, and that was far more than he had dared to hope for.

Nield had let him know that now the planet’s entry to the Republic was official, the next step was to have a newly-appointed Melidaan Senator make an appearance at the Senate, which made sense.

Ben had spent the whole time since the holo with Nield puzzling over who would be chosen for the job. He didn’t pretend to be knowledgeable about any people in Melidaan’s political circles, but he was glad he could rest in the knowledge that Nield would pick the right person.

There were definitely no people on Melidaan who could become Senator just because of their wealth or status. Ben was fairly sure Melidaan barely had an economy established enough for abnormally wealthy citizens. That was a bit of a relief, if Ben was honest. He couldn’t bear to see a planet he cared about so much be represented by someone only at the Senate for the glamour of it- someone that Nield didn’t have any choice over appointing.

But that seemed unlikely, so Ben had high hopes. Him knowing the Senator was highly unlikely, given that the extent of Melidaan’s small populace that he knew consisted only of former Young members, who were in turn a very small percentage of a planet’s population. But a fresh face and a new person to meet would be nice, so Ben made himself look forward to that. (He couldn’t help but wonder if Cerasi would have liked to be Melidaan’s senator, had she lived.)

“You’re in a good mood,” Padmé commented sagely, as Ben practically skipped up the steps towards the Senate Building. He bounded up another flight before running back down again, landing beside the brunette again.

He smiled up at her. “Yeah, I guess. Nield said the Melidaan senator will be at the Senate today.”

“Ah.” She said knowingly. “I believe one of my first meetings is being held to introduce this new senator to a collection of others- I’ll be sure to make their acquaintance, shall I?”

That sounded like a great plan to Ben, who spent the duration of the meeting tucked up on a couch in one of the decorative break-rooms nestled between corridors, little blaster digging into his side in a constant comfort that he had it. There was a great view of the Avenue of Core Founders out the window he was facing, but he couldn't find it in him to appreciate it, not really.

He had a datapad with him, too, and had tried to spend time occupying himself with that. The most recent development was that the anti-war riots that the Jedi Temple had been subject to post the Temple bombing had turned more against the Chancellor than the Jedi, which was very good news. Eventually, though, he had given up with his datapad when the pro-Palpatine backlash to all the articles circling the holonet got too depressing. Without it, his brain whirled a parsec-a-minute, fidgeting, counting down the minutes before the meeting would be over.

When senators finally started filing out of the meeting room after what seemed like a small forever, Ben stood, searching for Padmé. He found her pretty quickly, chatting idly with another few senators. Most of the people exiting the room continued their idle conversations in the break-room, and Padmé’s group were no different, so Ben headed over, searching for new faces.

Bail was there. Two other young women were, too- people Ben hadn’t met. He studied them quickly. The Pantoran in red seemed pretty nice; she offered him a smile when she saw him unabashedly staring. There was another lady in white there too, engaged in conversation with Bail, short red hair styled simply to match her formal attire. It could be her, but Ben didn’t think so.

The last new face caught his attention immediately after- the only remaining member of the little group that Ben hadn’t yet scrutinised. His clothing was immediately that of which Ben noted to be similar to the kind Neild had worn as Governor- easily fancier, even- and Ben doubted that was a coincidence. His attire was nothing too garish, with muted greens and blues, a high collar and a plain-looking asymmetrical jerkin that revealed an elaborate pattern when the light hit it.

As Ben slunk up to Padmé’s side, he studied the man closer. Tanned skin, high cheekbones, rather sad-looking purple eyes. His sandy curls were slicked back into a tight coiled braid at the back of his head, clasped with a silver band. All his jewellery was silver, Ben noticed, from his dangling earrings to the numerous simple rings that adorned his fingers- to hide the many, many scars, he noticed.

He stood like he was trying very hard to show he belonged here, hands steepled and back straight. It was when those deep, pinched eyes caught onto Ben that his serene, formal mask… slipped. His hands twitched, as if he wanted to clench them. His breathing hitched. And those familiar, familiar eyes filled with a sorrow Ben didn’t expect. There was a single smear of death surrounding him in the Force, a lone coil of smoke that constricted and writhed around his throat, that stained his nice tunic with a blaster carbon-scoring over his heart.

Ben almost didn’t recognise him. Almost.

Any other conversation in the room had long since become a low white-noise buzz at the back of Ben’s perception, like a comm on an empty channel. It seemed, as the man looked back at Ben, the feeling was mutual.

The senator took a step forward, clearing his throat, and it took everything Ben had in him not to flinch. He would not show fear to this man. Not him.

“Diplomat Naberrie.” He said, voice low and cutting through the static and the blood pounding in Ben’s ears. Then, more sincerely- “Obi-Wan.”

In that moment, Ben was very, very glad he didn’t call him Ben. He could not listen to that man call him Ben.

The senator took a breath. Let it out shakily. “Over the last twenty-six years, I have done nothing but regret my actions. That is something I truly hope you understand.”

He said it so formally, as if it was meticulously composed and practised. Maybe it was.

“I have no right to your forgiveness, so I will not ask for it.” he said, voice trembling just a little, like the fists at Ben’s side. “And I accept that. My apology may not mean anything to you, which is more than fair. Just know that I am sorry for what I did, and I will live with my actions for the rest of my life.”

Live? Like Cerasi never got the chance to?

He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to live, not when he had taken Cerasi’s chance.

Ben didn’t break his gaze from the man before him. Didn’t need to. His hand, frighteningly steady in a single, dedicated moment, found his blaster anyway.

He pulled it free of his sash. Didn’t hesitate. He wouldn’t miss.

“Benjamin Naberrie! ”

Ben’s gaze snapped away from the murderer before him, barely halting the movement of tightening his finger on the trigger. Sound crashed into his senses in a moment, overwhelming, bringing in the sudden gasps of distress that drew attention, followed by the abrupt halt in conversation that tended to happen when someone started pointing a blaster in the Senate building.

That had been Padmé’s voice who had called to him, and it was her who suddenly appeared at his side now. She moved slowly and calmly, and Ben’s hands- like the rest of him- had gone numb enough for her to gently pry the weapon out of his trembling grip.

In his peripheral, he saw her study the blaster by peering directly down its barrel, which was a very brazen thing to do, given the safety was still off. She appeared to sigh in relief.

“A toy,” she said, loud enough to inform the room, which seemed to lose its tension in a single moment, breaking back into harsh whispers and judgemental stares that drilled holes into Ben- apparently perfectly willing to believe that there was no way a child could have a true weapon on him.

“My apologies, everyone, my cousin has not seemed to understand the concern that can be raised by a fake blaster.” Padmé said that just as loud, with a very distinct look at Ben. They both knew perfectly karking well the blaster was very, very real. In a practised movement, she ejected the ammo cylinder and slipped the two pieces into separate hidden pockets in her dress.

Then she turned to Melidaan’s new kriffing senator- who, over the whole ordeal, had remained entirely calm. “Senator, I apologise profusely for his behaviour. I don’t know what came over him.”

“Oh, it’s alright.” Senator Mawat of Melidaan said genuinely. “That was quite a mild reaction compared to what I was expecting, honestly.”

x+x+x

If Mawat was going to say anymore, Ben hadn’t stuck around to find out.

He could do nothing but turn and run, away from the crowded room with too many people and too many stares to breathe-

Mawat. Farking Mawat. Cerasi’s murderer. And he was here, as Melidaan’s senator, saying he was sorry. As if killing Cerasi was something that could be apologised for.

He made it into the corridor before his legs betrayed him and he pressed his back against the wall and sank to the floor while he still had a choice in the matter, the planet spinning a little too much than he thought it was meant to. He was vaguely aware he was breathing too fast, hugging his knees against his pounding heart.

Shavit. Shavit. He tried and failed to slow his breathing, wishing, stupidly, that he still had his blaster. He missed the comforting press of it against his hip, and he felt kriffing exposed without it.

But he still had his commlink, he remembered.

Finding it within the folds of his sash was too kriffing awkward at his crumpled angle, so instead he pulled against the knot of the fabric until it came loose. It was just a little easier to breathe without it tight around his stomach, for which he didn’t take time to be grateful for. Fishing his comm out of the fabric was probably harder than it should have been, but he finally managed to get his shaking hands to cooperate enough to stab Nield’s contact with enough force to hurt.

It rang, then rang again. A moment later, a beep-

“This really isn’t a great time, I- oh, Bee, are you alright? Deep breaths, c’mon-”

He wasn’t calling to be patronised. “How could you?” He spat, drawing enough breath for that.

“What are you- …ah. Ben, listen, I- ”

“No! No, I will not listen! He killed- ” one hand flew over his mouth as, uncontrollably, tears sprung to his eyes. He couldn’t do this.

“I know. I know he did. I was there.”

Fire burned within Ben’s chest, fuel to find his voice again. “Then you know that he shouldn't be here! He should be rotting in a cell for life! No, he should be dead! ”

Nield stared at him, incredulous. “What, and you, I, and every other member of the Young who could hold a blaster hadn’t killed? If everyone who had taken a life in that war was convicted, there would have been no one left!”

“It was Cerasi! ” Ben cried, anguish tearing at his throat. “She wasn’t just anyone, she meant something to people! To me! I had thought you would take longer than twenty-six years to forget that. Forget her! ”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi! ” Nield snapped, and him using that name startled Ben enough to hold his breath and listen. “You are not the only one who lost someone you cared about when Cerasi died. And the Ben I know would not be seeking vengeance, not for anyone, let alone someone who didn’t even want to be mourned. What would Cerasi say if she saw you now? Is this what she would want?”

No. She wouldn’t. He swiped at the tear-tracks on his cheeks angrily- angry at Nield, at Mawat, for a fleeting moment at Cerasi, then very quickly at himself. “That’s low.”

“That’s the truth.” Neild sighed, glancing at something out of the holo-cam’s view. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, more even. “Mawat is a very broken man, Ben. He knows what he did and he knows it was wrong. We all did things we regret, in that war. She meant just as much to me as she did to you, you know that. I haven’t had twenty-six years to forget her, I’ve had twenty-six years to remember- to do what she would have wanted me to do, and that is learn to forgive Mawat. I’m still learning. And Mawat has had twenty-six years to try to learn to forgive himself, something he does not yet know how. But he does deserve to.

“And you need to learn to forgive him. I can’t make you, and I won’t try. But I can trust you to know what the right thing to do is.” He glanced behind him again. “I have to go. Ben- if you can’t do it for Mawat or for yourself, do it for her, okay? I’ll talk to you later. ”

The comm beeped again as the line was cut off.

And Ben was left alone once again, wishing more than anything that he wasn’t. It wasn’t fair. Why did he have to lose everyone? Why did he have to live on without them? It was too hard. He didn’t want to do it. He wanted to break something.

He dug his nails into the fabric of his pants, resisting the urge to throw his commlink at the window across from him hard enough to shatter. He couldn’t if he tried. He couldn’t do anything.

Anger was useless. He knew that. He hated being angry. But that didn’t stop letting go of it from being hard.

So he just breathed. What did he want to do with that anger? -his Master would have asked him.

He didn’t… he didn’t know.

He could almost hear Master Qui-Gon's voice. Then let it go .

x+x+x

Padmé had called C-3PO at some point to come pick him up, and then messaged him again later to make sure he had gotten back to the apartment safely. She hadn’t laid into him over comm which he appreciated, but he knew it was coming eventually.

Like the coward that he was, he was hiding in his room when she got back in the evening. She didn’t try to make him come out of his room, or worse- nor did she come in. (Which she could have- she owned it.) He was grateful for that, but silent treatment probably just solidified how much trouble he was in.

It was a little while later when he heard the kettle boiling, which was a dirty move. It was the bait in a trap, he knew that, but he wanted tea.

She was pouring it by the time he slunk into the kitchen to face the music. He sat himself at one of the stools at the bench, and wordlessly- carrying two steaming mugs- Padmé sat down at another stool beside him. She could have remained standing and forced him to face her across the bench, but she didn’t.

“So,” was her soft word that broke the silence. Ben stared down at his tea. The smoke curled, leaving a prickle of warm, damp air against his face. “I had a good day, for the majority of it. How was yours?”

She was trying to be funny, break the ice. It wasn’t really working. “If you’re going to yell at me, just do it already.” He mumbled into his cup.

“I’m not going to do that, Ben.”

“You should.”

“Maybe. Is that what you think you deserve?”

Ben scoffed. She was already such a mother. It made him kind of sad. “I don’t know. Probably.”

“I find, when it comes to negotiations, you need to first hear the terms of each party before you can even begin. In this case, that means hearing both sides of the story.”

“Sides of what? Me attempting to kill a senator?”

“If you want to put it like that.”

Ben stewed for a long moment. “So you’ve heard his ‘side’ already, then?”

“Pretty much. He knew it was okay to tell me his full side when I assured him I knew your history. I had assumed he had something to do with that.”

“Yeah.” Ben said weakly. “What did he say?” Did he make excuses? -he didn’t dare ask. Did he claim he had just been a child like the rest of them? That these things happen, in war?

“He said that he had expected a reaction from you somewhat along the lines of what happened. He said that if you had shot him, he wouldn’t have blamed you. He said that he hadn’t wanted your Governor to inform you earlier, because he wanted his chance to apologise in person. All pretty bad self-preservation skills, if you ask me.”

“Do you-” Ben’s breath hitched, and he tried again. “Do you know what he did?”

“I have a good idea. Why don’t you tell me?”

“He kill-” His voice broke again. “He killed someone, someone I cared about. I had decided if I ever saw him again, I would kill him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Now he did stop, turning to Padmé in shock. Her eyes were soft, expression firm but not judging, just… listening. He scoffed again, incredulous. “Because you stopped me.”

“No, I didn’t. You weren’t thinking, I made you stop and think. That could have ended worse, if you were truly determined. You had plenty of time to fire. Why didn’t you?”

…why didn’t he?

It would have been justice. A life for a life, and the least Cerasi would have deserved.

But Cerasi was the one who said to work for peace, not to kill for it. But that was so hard.

“I wasn’t even there.” He said finally, weakly. “Nield said she died mere weeks after the point in time that I left. I should have been there. I feel like… I feel like I left her there.” Left her, when it meant so much to her and the Young when he had stayed, rather than go back to the Jedi. Even if he knew it didn’t happen like that- in the terms of timeline, he was there, the him that would one day become Master Kenobi. The knowledge didn’t help. “For me, I fell asleep next to her, then just woke up in a future where she was gone. It’s been twenty-six years for everyone else, but for me, it was just a few months ago. Nobody gets that. I should have been there. I wasn’t and somehow that’s worse.” He broke off, breathing shakily.

Padmé took that in quietly, considering. “So you had no closure, I suppose. And killing Senator Mawat would give you that?”

“No! I- I don’t know. I just- miss her.” He hated the way his throat closed over, the way his eyes burned. He had cried far too many times recently, in his opinion. “I just want to see her again. Everyone- all of them.” His Nield, the Young he remembered, Master Qui-Gon. “Even just to say goodbye.”

Padmé sighed. “I can’t help you there.”

There was an underlying message there, he was sure. They both knew he only could help himself, in that regard. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t go back- he couldn’t. He had made up his mind.

“So how much trouble am I in, really?” He said again, cupping his hands around the tea.

“From me?” She shrugged. “Well.. you acted on impulse, and arguably as a trauma response. I can hardly be angry at you for that.”

Oh. Huh.

“I do hope we can find strategies for dealing with responses like that which don’t involve shooting people, though.”

That did make him laugh a little. “I assume I can’t go back to the Senate, though?”

Padmé mused. “Senator Mawat said he had no intention of pressing charges. And as far as most any witness are concerned, your blaster was a toy. And, after inspection, Commander Fox did us the grace of confirming that bit of misinformation.”

Ben groaned, putting his tea down to bury his head in his hands. “Fox is going to kill me.”

“Probably. But that can be an incentive for you to stay on your best behaviour when you come back. If you want to.”

Ben blinked back up at her. She was inviting him back?

“Senator Mawat will still be there, of course. But I won’t make you see him if you don’t want to, and I doubt he will seek you out if you don’t want to see him, either. He said his apology, apparently, and I think that’s all he needed.”

He nodded. He could agree to that. The tea was warm and sweet when he sipped at it. It tasted like home.

Padmé stood, but didn’t leave. “Oh, and one more thing.”

Ben glanced at her quizzically, and then very gracefully managed not to spill his tea when she reached into her pocket and slid its contents across the bench towards him.

He glanced between his blaster on the counter and Padmé and the blaster again for a long moment, gawking just a little. “You’re giving it back to me?”

“I am.”

“After I just tried to shoot a man? With a blaster you expressly told me not to take to the Senate? Why? ”

“Because I trust you.”

He just continued to stare at her in disbelief. She sighed again.

“Ben. I do realise that you don’t actually carry it around with the intention of shooting anyone. I hope you know that I expect to never see it again, and never to hear that you’ve been pointing it at anyone, but I know you are capable of making the right choice with it. And I think you need to be shown that you do have people on your side.”

Oh. He maybe liked the sound of that. Just a little.

x+x+x

The Grand Convocation Chamber was a solidly intimidating place, Ben decided. Too big. Too dark. Too many people in one place- too much scrutiny, certainly.

It was the place where some of the biggest decisions in the Republic were made- the majority of people of which who made them did not deserve to.

Specifically, the ostentatiously dressed Chancellor who perched upon his central podium, flanked by his aides. Only a person who enjoyed the scrutiny could put themselves in a position such as that, Ben decided.

The artificial lights threw long shadows across the dark interior, and he did not like how it concealed so many places from his sight. He was just very, very glad he didn’t have to be out in the repulsorpod with Padmé, as selfish of him that was. There wasn’t a full set of chambers behind the pod dedicated to Noobian representatives, but there was an office, and Ben was perfectly happy to remain there and watch the proceedings through the entryway. He sat, back against the doorway by the edge of the opening, one leg dangling off the pod’s connection bay. Nobody would see him there, thanks to the convenient stark shadows- he had made sure of it.

“I have been talking with Senator Mawat, recently.” Padmé had told him in the days prior. She had said it tentatively, as if she wasn’t too sure how he would take it.

Ben wasn’t too sure how he took it, either. “Oh?” He prompted, beneath an apathetic mask. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Padmé talking to Mawat, and he certainly couldn’t prevent Padmé from doing whatever she liked. He couldn’t help it if he felt just a touch protective, though.

“Yes. He certainly had quite some eye-opening opinions on the Senate and the war.”

Ben hadn’t been sure if that boded well or not. But it was something Padmé clearly wanted to tell him about, so he listened.

Mawat and the discussions that he and Padmé took part in- had, apparently, pushed Padmé to go through with a decision she had been considering for a decent amount of time. War did not end peacefully by means of conflict, Mawat had said. It never worked like that. Ever. It was something all three of them- Mawat, Padmé and Ben alike- had learned through experience. Wars that were ended by means of conflict- only truly ended with death. With sacrifice. With genocide.

There was still the chance to avoid that, with this war. There was still the chance for negotiations, for peace through peace. But if Chancellor Palpatine wouldn’t concede to diplomacy, Padmé had resolved, then she would call for the leadership of someone who would.

So now Padmé was aloft in her repolsorpod, before the audience of thousands of beings. Ben very quickly decided she was the bravest person in the galaxy.

The meeting had started hours ago. Padmé had waited with impeccable patience for her time to come- waiting through reports, bills, minor votes and whatever else the Senate as a whole came together to discuss. But now it was her turn.

“Not one of our worlds is untouched by war,” Padmé had begun after the usual introductory formalities, repolsorpod aloft in the centre of the room, amplified voice carrying across the domed space. “We are united through our suffering.”

She hadn’t caught the room’s attention yet, Ben noticed. Plenty of speeches started this way.

“But I call to you- why can we not be united through peace? This war we are trapped within, it must not continue. It cannot. It should not have been allowed to continue for this long! It is ruining our way of life- and why do we continue to let it, when this needless conflict could have been ended before it started? ” A murmur- an echo of a cheer, whispered like thunder from the audience. Padmé lifted her chin. Ben could see where her gaze pierced- directly at Palpatine. He met her eyes with elegantly veiled contempt. Padmé continued, unfazed.

“We cannot end this war with more war. Suffering brings suffering, and I will not stand by and watch liberty die. We must call for diplomacy. It is the only way to end this, and we all know it. The conflict must cease, before we are all destroyed and we take the whole galaxy with us.” A few cheers resounded now, a rumble of low noise in the cavernous space, like the breathing of a beast. “I have called for negotiations to resume before. So have many, many others. We have not been heard. We will not be ignored any longer. If our Chancellor will not acknowledge our only hope for salvation, then we must be led by someone who will.”

Her voice rose, not in volume but in strength, carrying the hearts and fortitude of a thousand peoples. Ben, whimsically, imagined that she didn’t even need the microphone for everyone to hear her and listen. “I move for a vote of No Confidence in Chancellor Palpatine’s leadership!”

The Senate erupted into chaos.

It was impossible to tell who the rising cheer was for or against. Everyone was on their feet, yelling accusations, applauding, stomping appendages. Even from his distant seat, Ben could see the slight pinch of uncertainty in Palpatine’s expression.

“Order! Or-der! ” The Chancellor’s aide called across the maelstrom. Eventually, the noise simmered down.

“Senator Amidala!” Another amplified voice called- some random senator Ben didn’t know. Fury was wrought in every word, and Ben hoped they knew just how desperate they seemed. “It was you , nearly thirteen years ago, who called for the last vote of No Confidence against our Chancellor. What is the meaning of this? What is your malice, your right? Why is it you alone who calls against this Republic’s leadership?”

There was a glimmer in Padmé’s eye. “Honourable senator. I am not calling alone. I know of the many who will rally behind me in the call for peace. And if I was alone I would stand alone, still- I will call for what we all know is right, alone or not. But I am not alone. And still, I call for change as I am the one with the strength to do what must be done.”

Once again the chamber was filled with deafening noise. It was another voice this time, microphone carrying it above the din.

“I second the move for a vote of No Confidence!” Senator Mawat declared.

There. That did it. The vote could not be rescinded, not now. And everyone knew it.

The noise of a thousand voices rolled and boiled like an ocean, or the heart of a star. Only two were silent against the cacophony.

Palpatine’s mask had dropped- just the barest hint of shock and a tick of anger in his jaw, that smug smile finally, finally wiped from his face. He had planned for many things, Ben was sure, but this? Oh, he had not expected this.

The only other silent being was Padmé. She stood tall, and with the slightest dip of her head, met Palpatine with a small, genuine smile.

In the dark, to himself- Ben grinned, and turned away.

Chapter 22: Sticks and Stones? More Like-

Chapter Text

In a dark, cold, menacing castle, far away from Coruscant but not at all far from its troubles, Yan Dooku, Count of Serenno, leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, former Jedi Master, now Darth Tyranus- Sith Lord, was having a rather complicated day.

He did not appreciate complications. Nor did he appreciate problems, as they were commonly the source of complications- this instance being no different. He currently had two- the pair of problems being inextricably linked, as it were. Problems usually happened in such a way.

The first problem was more directly his Master’s problem, which therein automatically made it his problem also- something else the Count did not appreciate.

This foremost problem was the current state of the Republic. While the Republic was a problem on a good day, given the Republic was the very collection of systems that his own were at war against, it was proving to be even more so now, for a reason that Dooku and his Master had collectively not foreseen.

His Master had the Republic thoroughly wrapped around his little finger. That was indisputable. His Master had made sure of it. Their futile little Senate and the abysmal Jedi Order were so completely consumed by their own problems- the war and one-another alike- that they were too blind to see the real threat that had assured their destruction over a decade before their ruin would truly come to pass.

But now, something had changed. He felt it in the Force- a turn in the tides, a shift in the currents- something had been brought to pass, and the galaxy as a whole would feel the ripples in its wake.

It wasn’t just in the Force. The Republic’s Holo-news was full of it- a sudden surge in propaganda and whistle-blowers against their benevolent inevitable destructor- their Chancellor Palpatine. Known to very few as Dooku’s Master, Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith.

And that- that was unexpected.

Nobody had found out about his Master’s true identity. They can’t have. If that was the true motive behind the distrust in the Chancellor, it would involve something more along the lines of treasonous accusations, a few dead Jedi, then many, many more following them. Which hadn’t happened- yet. So Dooku’s Master was safe from being revealed. But he was not, perhaps, safe from a simple movement in political loyalties. Or- as the latest news from Dooku’s intel had revealed- he was also not safe from brash Senators calling for new leadership.

That wasn’t unexpected. Like all politicians, Chancellor Palpatine did have enemies, and had as such prepared for the possibility of a Vote of No Confidence.

There was another factor, though. One that Dooku’s Master couldn’t have possibly accounted for.

That was where Problem Number Two came in.

Said Problem was in the form of a little boy. This seemingly irrelevant child was- apparently- the source behind the anti-Chancellor Palpatine opinions sweeping the Republic.

This propaganda, as well as the Vote of No Confidence, were each individually inconsequential. Mere bumps in the grand plan of Darth Sidious to raze the Jedi and raise his Empire. At least- that’s how they would be apart. If they happened in tandem as they were, though?

Once, it would have been inevitable that Chancellor Palpatine’s rule would not be disturbed by the vote. He could have simply been re-elected- thanks to his overwhelming popularity- and the plan would go on just as it had been prepared.

But Dooku was a man of foresight. Not through the Force, necessarily, but in the practical sense. One did not become to be in his position without that skill. And in this situation, his foresight told him that the outcome of the vote- thanks to the public’s turn against the Chancellor- had the possibility of not being what his Master required.

And, well. If there was any possibility of Chancellor Palpatine losing his political position of power- then there was the possibility that the whole grand plan would topple.

It was unlikely. It was very, highly unlikely. But it was not impossible.

Dooku had found himself getting steadily more and more displeased with his role in his Master’s plan. His bothersome former apprentice had become a lost cause as of recently, and Dooku’s failure to dispose of her was one he was still being punished for. Again- something else he did not appreciate.

He was also becoming more and more aware of just where his Master’s plan may leave him. The Rule of Two stood firm, after all. If Skywalker was to Fall, as was destined and planned, that did not put Dooku in a particularly favourable position. His Master would have Dooku killed- that was becoming more and more clear.

That was his true reason for Dooku’s slow turn of loyalties, of course. Self-preservation. Survival. Nothing else. Definitely not anything to do with the aforementioned Problem Number Two.

He had never met his youngest Grand-padawan before he had left the Order. No, it was on the other side of politics and conflict that he met the famed Obi-Wan Kenobi, which had made things far easier. Far easier to see the grown man, the general, the Master, the soldier, the enemy. Nothing else. But that, too, had changed. Perhaps, even, that was the change.

General Kenobi’s mysterious disappearance from the war effort had been excellent news- that had been the only importance of this strange development. Skywalker- the pest- would undoubtedly flounder without the clingable support of his master. Sidious had spoken to Dooku of it- the plan had required the removal of Kenobi eventually, ideally by Skywalker’s hand. But they were prepared for a change in plans, and this was no different. Skywalker, without Kenobi, would come desperately to Palpatine in his former Master’s place. It was an excellent change in plans. But somehow, it hadn't worked. Sidious was instead left perturbed, as his prospective apprentice had instead grown steadily more distant. Dooku, however, had secretly found it amusing.

Skywalker’s Fall was not his focus, not currently. He had a war to run, after all. So Dooku sat at his desk and examined intel from his Republic spies, as per usual. And as he stared at the image on the datapad before him, he was confronted with something other than what he had forced himself to see.

It was a flatscreen holo, likely from intercepted security footage in the Senate building. A little grainy, unfocused, but perfectly captured the small figure in the centre. His sandy red hair was rumpled in an endearing way, on his way down some corridor in the Senate Building with a gliding walk that he had undoubtedly learned from his late Master. He was turned- just a little, to look behind him as he walked, giving the camera a clear view of his youthful face, not untouched from conflict and scars. There was the ghost of a smirk in his expression, one that his future padawan had learned from him. And, there was an intense twinkle in his eye that pulled on something in Dooku’s weary, old heart that he had not expected.

No, Dooku had never met his grand-padawan, not before he had lost the claim of that lineage. And that made it easier. He could face the general. He could meet the Negotiator in a battle of words, meet the soldier in a battle of swords. But Dooku feared that if he met this child in any form of opposition, he could not see it though.

Weakness is what it was. His own weakness of wills, of unfaithfulness to his Code and his Master. Not care. Not compassion. Not love. Sith did not suffer such weakness to live. Dooku knew that, and yet-

He had not meditated on it, even though he knew he should. He couldn’t bring the thought of that child to the Dark side of the Force, as if he feared it would taint the boy’s Light. He should want that. He should want to corrupt him, to urge him into the shadows, or to crush his spark from its luminance. But he didn’t.

Sidious would destroy Dooku, if he knew of such weakness. And of course, Dooku didn’t want that, either. So that was the true reason behind his concealment of his feelings from his Master- at least, that is what he told himself. Cowardice and self-preservation, not care.

So in truth, that was his foresight. That- if he wanted to live, to let certain others live- it would be a wise idea to perhaps… disappear. From Serreno, from the Separatists, from the Sith, and most importantly from his Master. Not because he wanted to aid the Republic or the Jedi, which his absence would inevitably do. No, that wasn’t his intention.

It would compromise his Master’s plan further, but his remarkable foresight told him that was inevitable by now. So in leaving, he wasn’t bringing down his Master, more… ensuring that he himself wouldn’t be brought down, too.

Dooku sat back in his chair, breaking his impeccable posture for just a moment, dropping the datapad back onto the desk. He did not like complications, and this was likely the most difficult situation yet. But perhaps, just this once, it was worth it.

He stood, straightened his robes, and left his office, perhaps for the last time. Good riddance.

Slipping away would not be easy, but nothing for him ever was. He had done it before, he could surely manage it again. Or he would die in the process. Perhaps that would be preferable. Either way, it meant he would die whether he stayed or not.

As far as he was concerned, he would take the option that gave him a chance at escape over the one that ended in his inevitable demise. Mathematics and the advantage of foresight- that was all his decisions were. The selfish desire to survive.

Nothing else, he told himself. Nothing else.

x+x+x

Anakin had come back from tour briefly, again, and Ben was still trying to figure out how he felt about the older man. Not thinking about it at all was his personal favourite strategy. For the most part, he just stayed away, and while he had a feeling that hurt Anakin a little, he didn’t particularly see that as his problem. Staying out of the way worked well- Anakin was just there to see Padmé, of course, not Ben. Why would he want to see Ben, after all?

Ben was happy to stay tucked away in the lounge, scrolling on his datapad, while Anakin and Padmé caught up in the kitchen, as adults did. He was half-listening to their conversation, which he probably shouldn’t have been doing, but they hadn’t told him not to, so.

“I get why, just not- why the vote? It’s Palpatine, we could have just talked to him.” Anakin was saying.

Ah. Now Ben’s attention was caught. Idly, he got to his feet, listening as he walked closer. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake as last time and eavesdrop around the corner, so instead he casually entered the opposite side of the same room and sat there, in full view, pretending to ignore the others completely. It seemed to work- they didn’t stop talking or anything at his entry.

“Haven’t we tried that? It hadn’t worked in the past.”

“Yeah, I guess… I haven’t even met up with him for ages- maybe if I had…”

“I don’t think it would have helped. He’s a stubborn man, even if he pretends not to be. Like someone else I know.”

“Ha, ha. So- just hoping the next elected Chancellor will be more compliant to diplomacy? That could go really badly, you know.”

Padmé sighed. “Yes, I know. I’m half worried that calling for the vote was pointless anyway- somehow, Palpatine has managed to run for Chancellor again. The chance of him simply being re-elected is so high. He should not have been able to get away with that, he’s already been in the position for three terms, but there really isn’t anything to be done.”

Ah yes. Ben knew about that. He and Padmé had both been mortified when they found that out. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about anything was fair, and it frustrated him to no end. That already had him in an ongoing bad mood, and it wasn’t like the Force cared about him enough to be present and able to release emotions into.

“You should run for Chancellor, Padmé.” Ben spoke up. She laughed a little, which finally made him look up from where he was sitting. Anakin and Padmé were standing close to one another, leaning against one bench. “I’m serious,” Ben said again.

“That’s sweet. But I don’t think I could handle running the whole Republic. Maybe one day. But besides- if I was, somehow, elected, it would hardly be inconspicuous to suddenly have to disappear on maternity leave.”

Ben snorted. True.

“No, we just have to hope that whoever will be elected will be the right person for the job- and will understand what must be done to end this war.”

“I still don’t like it.”

Padmé glanced at her husband quizzically. “What?”

“Not the ending the war - just the fact you had to go against Palpatine to do it. He’s a friend. And- well. Diplomacy is great and all, but I can’t really help with that. It’s just not something I’m good at. And no fighting is great, but if I’m not leading a war, what am I good for?”

That was a sentiment that Ben found surprisingly similar to his own. He didn’t let it show on his face.

“You have worth as a person whether or not you’re ‘useful’, Ani. You told me that, when we first met. That hasn’t changed now, never will.” She entwined her fingers with his. He sighed a little, but lent into her touch. “Besides, you’ll be plenty busy soon enough.” She finished with a pointed smile, and catching her meaning, Anakin laid one hand on her stomach, where a baby-bump was certainly visible by now, especially while not wearing clothes tailored to hide it. Anakin’s soft smile could have warmed the room. The two of them were just a little cute, not that Ben would admit that.

“Yeah.” Anakin said softly. “I guess you’re right.”

“I always am,” Padmé joked, standing on her toes to kiss him.

Anakin sighed again after a long moment, breaking away from her embrace. “I guess I just feel bad- going against Palpatine, after everything he’s done for us.”

Ugh, really? Ben rolled his eyes. Padmé nodded, sympathetic, which kind of just annoyed Ben more. “I know. I’m sorry.” She said. “You’ve lost too many people, recently.”

Oh, Anakin had lost too many people? Who? Ahsoka- who wasn’t even dead? Kriffing Palpatine, who was not only an absolute veermok, but wasn’t even gone anywhere? If there was anyone else, Ben sure couldn’t think of them.

Anakin had lost people? Compared to Ben? Really?

Anakin hmmed, apparently oblivious- or just completely ignoring- the seething pre-teen in the corner. Anakin had something in his hand, Ben realised- his flesh hand- fingers wound tight around it. Ben was too far away to see what it was.

“Padmé-” Anakin started, clearly hesitant, eyes on the object in his hand. “I- I didn’t know whether to tell you, but I’ve been having visions- I think. About… about you.”

Padmé’s expression grew tense at his words, brow furrowing. Internally, Ben scoffed. Oh, so that’s what Anakin had apparently been having visions about? Probably about Padmé leaving him, likely. Or insisting their baby be named after her father instead of Anakin’s, or something stupid like that. How nice. While Ben still hadn’t had a vision since the one with the Star-Bird, he would have gladly traded his horrific, galaxy-ending visions for Anakin’s.

“Is everything alright?” Padmé asked gently.

“Yeah- well… no, but I- I don’t know. I’m trying to trust that everything will be fine, but I just… if I lost anyone else I don’t- I don’t know what I’d do.”

This time, Ben did snort aloud. What a self-centred moron.

He was met with a twin pair of glares, one more hurt than the other. Ben shrugged, nonchalant. “What?”

Anakin bristled, but with a tired, slightly exasperated sigh, looked back to Padmé. “Anyway, in slightly better news, apparently it's not just the Republic who are having leadership problems.”

Padmé took the pointed change of topic for what it was, and humoured him. “I had heard rumours. What’s the situation?”

“Count Dooku has disappeared. No warning, no nothing. Just gone. We don’t know if he’s dead or otherwise.”

“A ploy, do you think?”

“Not sure. We’re suspicious, of course, but from the way the Separatists are panicking in the power-vacuum he left behind, I don’t think so. Ventress is a neutral party now- I reckon she finally got him, that’s my theory.” Anakin mused. “The Council was hoping this might finally force the mystery Lord of the Sith out of hiding to assume leadership, but no such luck. Maul's still causing trouble on Mandalore, but General Grievous seems to be in charge of the Seppies now- the 212th are trying to track him down.”

“You really haven’t found the Sith Lord?” Ben scoffed. “Still? ”

Anakin looked like he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. “No, not yet. It’s not like they’re right under our noses. They’ve managed to stay in power for this long for a reason.”

“My bad. I would’ve just thought the Jedi Order would have been able to find the Lord of the Sith by now.”

“We’re also kind of leading a war at the same time.” Anakin said tersely. “That tends to take up a lot of your time and energy.”

“Oh, I know. Remember? I’ve led a war, too. You’re not special.”

This time, Anakin did sigh, edged in frustration. “This isn’t a who-has-the-most-messed-up-life competition, Ben.”

“Oh, it isn’t? Then stop acting like it.”

Anakin scoffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t start, you two,” Padmé said tiredly. They both ignored her.

“You’re kidding. I’m acting like it?” Ire tinged the Knight’s incredulous half-smirk.

“Yeah, you are. I know you like to pretend that the galaxy revolves around you, but other people do, in fact, have bigger problems than their ego.” That was probably a little harsh. Ben had realised well enough that Anakin’s suave-ness was mostly an act- a coping mechanism, even. But it was still an easy jab, and he wasn’t about to apologise, not now.

“What the hells, Ben? What is your problem with me?” Anakin threw up his hands, one still closed around the object.

Ben laughed, dryly, watching the slivers of darkness and slaughter bleed off Anakin’s Force-presence. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

A tick worked in Anakin’s jaw. He stared for a long moment, before looking away “You know what? Forget it. I’m not going to fight with you.”

Ben scoffed again, mind swirling with half-formed rebukes -something about backing down from a fight, probably- that he couldn’t be bothered to put into words.

Deliberately not looking at Ben, Anakin turned to Padmé. “Anyway, Padmé-” he passed whatever was in his left hand to his right in order to take her’s, and Ben got a glimpse of it as he did. “I was wondering if you wanted to-”

Ben was on his feet in a flash. The datapad on his lap clattered to the floor, forgotten. He stared at the item gently cradled in Anakin’s gloved prosthetic, heartbeat loud in his ears.

It was a stone. Small, round, glassy black surface reflecting the light and shimmering on the pale red veins that ran through the surface. A rock from the River of Light on Master Qui-Gon’s home planet. The one that had saved Ben’s life. The one that Qui-Gon had given Ben for his thirteenth life-day. The only piece of his Master that Ben had left.

“Why do you have that?” Ben said, voice breathless and dangerously cold.

Something in his tone must have caught Anakin’s attention because his sentence trailed to a stop, turning to Ben, confused. He looked between Ben and the stone in his hand. “What? Oh… I never got the chance to give it to Ahsoka.”

Ben didn’t care. “No.” He hissed, stalking closer. “Why do you have it?”

Anakin’s brow creased again, as if he couldn’t kriffing realise what was so wrong. “Because… it’s mine?”

“How dare you?” Ben spat. His eyes burned. “It’s not yours! Do you even know what that is? ”

“Uh, yeah. It was a gift.” His grip shifted on it, closing his fingers around it, and it sent a thrill of rage through Ben’s veins as it disappeared from sight. “From Obi-Wan, for my thirteenth. What’s so-”

“You have no right! ” He wanted it out of Anakin’s hands, he wanted to cross the kitchenette and take it back. He couldn’t, he knew- Anakin had every physical advantage over Ben. Instead he just stood, teetering with enough fury to fill the room. “It’s not yours!” He yelled again. “That was my Master’s! ”

“I know! ” Anakin said back, his voice rasing in response to Ben’s. Padmé pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh as Anakin stood from his lean against the bench. “Qui-Gon gave it to Obi-Wan, just like Obi-Wan gave it to me. Why the hells are you so worked up about it?”

“Because he’s gone! Nobody kriffing gets that! I just woke up one day and I found out that my Master and everyone I love are never coming back!” Thick tears finally spilled over Ben’s cheeks, and that just made him even more furious.

“I do get that, Ben. Okay?” Anakin snapped.

“How could you- ever kriffing understand?”

“You’re not the only one who’s had a kriffed-up childhood. I would’ve thought you’d want someone who knows what you’re going through!”

Laughter bubbled in Ben’s throat, wet and hot. “Do you know, Chosen One? It must have been so hard for you, growing up as the main kriffing character in a prophecy. How many Masters were desperate to take you, huh? I’m so kriffing sorry that Qui-Gon died and you were left with Obi-Wan.”

Something in Anakin’s expression cracked.

“That’s enough.” Padmé snapped. Nobody listened.

Something deep and burning twisted in Anakin’s eyes, and despite the fury filling Ben’s bones, a trickle of fear ran up his spine. “You know what?” Anakin hissed. “That’s it. I have had enough. Things suck, I get it. I was a messed-up kriffing kid, too. But you need to stop taking it out on everybody else.”

“You don’t freaking know what I’ve lost!”

“I could say the same thing to you, okay? I’ve been where you are. I still am. You’re grieving and you’re angry and that’s okay. What’s not is being a bitch about it to everyone else. You’re acting like you’re fine and you lash out at everyone because it gives you control over freaking something, but I know all you really are is a scared little kid.”

Anger stole the breath in Ben’s lungs. “You don’t farking know me! You don’t know what I’m going through and you never kriffing will! When you lose your Master, then you can come kriffing crawling back.”

Anakin exhaled, hard and shaky, and Ben was caught off-guard by the glimmer of wet in his eyes. “Oh, you just don’t understand, do you?” Anakin’s voice had dropped low, venom dripping off his words. “What do you think kriffing happened when you came? You think you’re the only one who doesn’t want you in this time?”

“What the kriff are you saying?” Ben spat.

“I lost my karking Force-damned Master too, you selfish brat! ”

Ben recoiled, breath hammering hard in his chest, burning down his throat. Anakin’s vice grip trembled around the river-stone in his fist. The very air in the room seemed to be thick with tension, hot and dry and gritty like sand. Bile burned in the back of his mouth..

Anakin was right. That was the worst kriffing thing out of all of it. He had been so caught up in how he had lost his own Master that he hadn’t even freaking realised how his very existence took the same thing from Anakin. Not even the reluctant partnership that hadn’t even formed a Bond, but the man who farking raised him. How could Anakin look Ben in the eye, knowing what Ben was taking from him and knowing Ben could change that, and didn’t?

Ben couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look at the source of his own Master’s demise with mercy- he knew he couldn’t. He couldn't look at Cerasi’s. Anakin was far stronger than Ben would ever be.

And he hated it.

He hated that Obi-Wan was wanted. Not just as a Jedi, a Council Member, a General, but as a friend. As family. Nobody here wanted Ben. And oh, that hurt.

Anakin had broken his gaze away, swiping angrily at his eyes, breathing hard. “You know what, Ben?” He said, almost quietly.

“That’s it. Both of you- cut it out.” Padmé demanded, firm and authoritative.

“No.” Ben grit out. “If he’s gonna say something, he’ll say it to my kriffing face.”

“Ben-”

“Sure.” Anakin turned back, sneer twisting his features. “I’m happy to, because I want freaking answers. I have tried so kriffing hard with you. You’ve taken more from me than you can know, but at least I tried. I tried to make things right with you, and yet you have never been anything but an utter jerk. Why are you so kriffing scared of me?”

Anakin had torn into Ben with nothing but truth. But Ben had a few truths of his own, and he wasn’t farking going down without taking someone else with him. If it meant he couldn’t freaking step foot back into this home again, well right now, he didn’t kriffing care. He was fairly certain he had ruined any right to that already.

A sardonic smile curled at the corner of Ben’s mouth. “I don’t care what you see when you look at me. But you know what I see when I look at you? I have watched kids- my kids, the ones I was meant to protect- I have watched them die, again and again. I have held their farking guts inside their bodies. I have seen a blaster-bolt smear a child’s brains across the floor. I have seen a parent take their own baby by the hair and cave their skull in on the wall. I see death, do you understand? I still see it, on everyone who’s ever laid a hand on a kid. I know what it feels like, in the Force, when someone has murdered children. And you? You farking reek of it.”

Ben’s breath came as if speaking the very words had raked claws up his throat. His whole body kriffing trembled, the hot air of the room having suddenly turned very, very cold.

Padmé stood, motionless in the background, eyes huge and hand over her mouth. Ben couldn’t look at her.

And Anakin- Anakin stumbled back a step. All anger had melted away in a single moment, leaving distraught and fear and the weight of enough shame to cave a building. HIs eyes were oh-so wide, that desert-blue blazing. The man looked as if he couldn’t draw breath, and Ben briefly wondered if Anakin would drown in it.

He couldn’t look at either of them any longer. Not now. It was safe to assume they would never want to see him again, not after that. And that was Ben’s own fault to bear. Ruining everything all over again- right when he might have had the chance at a home.

He turned. The door was waiting, and he opened it with the agony of knowledge that he would probably never be back here again. No voices called his name, no footsteps followed. Nobody tried to stop him. The door closed behind him, and Ben ran.

Chapter 23: Theoretical Debates in the Liminal Hours

Chapter Text

It seemed that no matter where Ben ran, he always ended up in a garden.

He hadn’t gone there intentionally. In the same way he had wound up in Cerasi’s garden, he hadn’t particularly done anything more than run, anything more than desperately search for the thing he had lost in the place he could get as close to it as he could. This time, he had lost what could have been home, which didn’t really explain why he had ended up in the Temple.

Getting there had taken the better part of the day and maybe a hitchhike or two- Coruscant was not a small place. Sneaking in wasn’t hard, either. He had spent pretty much his entire life here, after all.

This late at night, the Room of a Thousand Fountains was pretty much deserted. Ben had expected at least a few people he would have to avoid- Masters from nocturnal species or a Senior Padawan taking a study break, something- and he was left oddly disappointed when he didn’t see another soul. The Temple was so, so much emptier than he was used to, and was just something else for him to grieve.

He wound up in a particular secluded little alcove, tucked away under soft, drooping bushes, up a few levels of stone outcropping that allowed for quite the view. He had to climb a little to get up there, but it had been worth it- finding the hidden pillow of moss beside a bubbling stream that cascaded with a trickle down the outcrop. It was a beautiful spot. Qui-Gon had taken Ben here, in their brief time back at the Temple between one chaotic mission and another.

Ben wondered if Obi-Wan kept coming here. Had he taken Anakin? Ahsoka? Maybe it was a little secret between their lineage. Did Dooku take Qui-Gon here? Yoda- Dooku? Ben wondered how far back this secret spot was shared. If Anakin never took on another Padawan, Ben realised, then their lineage would be at an end. Somehow, Ben knew that that felt very, very wrong. Maybe the Force still had plans for all of them, or maybe not. Maybe he wouldn’t ever know. That hurt more than he had realised.

Eventually, his hands found a clump of wilting leaves scattered on the ground, and he tore at them aimlessly, scattering little pieces of green around where he sat.

Master Kenobi- Obi-Wan- may not have been gone because of Ben, but Ben was undeniably the reason Obi-Wan couldn’t come back. Obi-Wan could return any time Ben chose to switch back, he had been told so by the Jedi. At first. Ben had been so sure, so sure that he was making the right choice, keeping Obi-Wan from this future. He had thought that he was saving the galaxy from another general, another corrupt and incompetent Jedi Master, but slowly he had seen that wasn’t true. The rest of this future had been so different from Ben’s own time, that he had been positive his own future self would be so different from Ben, too. But that had been proven wrong to him too, hadn’t it?

Obi-Wan was a Master, a mentor, a friend. He was family to people. He was loved- he was wanted, while Ben wasn’t.

So in truth, the real reason Ben didn’t want to let Obi-Wan back was because of where that would leave Ben. Back in the past, in his time, on Melida/Daan, with no Master and doomed to lose the closest thing he had to home. Could he ever truly choose to go back, if it meant losing Cerasi, Qui-Gon, and everyone else? Sure, if he went back, he wouldn’t probably wouldn’t remember his trip to the future or any of his current knowledge of their deaths, but that just made it worse. How could he choose that? How could he doom himself to lose them, again?

He had reconciled to himself that he was staying in this time forever, as complicated that made him feel. But he had justified that by thinking it was his duty to keep Obi-Wan away. So what was he meant to do now?

Obi-Wan was a far, far better person than Ben could ever be. Even if he knew that somehow, Obi-Wan was once some version of Ben, he couldn’t help but think it to be true. It kind of scared him- how perfect Obi-Wan was. How could he ever be that? Ben wasn’t even a Padawan anymore.

Obi-Wan would probably be brave enough to go back to his time, no matter how much suffering it would cause him. Obi-Wan could do it. But Ben…? Well. He had always been certain that they were not the same person. Maybe that was still true.

The last thing he expected was to be missing Anakin of all people. Something about taking people for granted, then missing what he didn’t have, probably. If anyone would know about Obi-Wan, it would be Anakin- Ben could have asked him, maybe, what Obi-Wan was really like. As a Master, a friend. How could Ben ever be him?

But Ben had ruined that, now. Anakin was right- he had been an utter jerk the entire time, and justified it with something he hadn’t even known the details about. Maybe Anakin was like Mawat- he had done something wrong, but had spent every moment since regretting it. That didn’t make things okay , it didn’t bring people back, but Anakin had certainly seemed distraught at the very accusation. And if Anakin was killing himself inside for it just as much as the death that lingered on him, well maybe he deserved to at least apologise to whoever he needed to, expecting no forgiveness. Maybe he deserved to forgive himself, too.

What he didn’t deserve was to have it all shoved back into his face by someone who was just trying to hurt him. Ben had some apologies to make, too. He wanted to, even. He would apologise, if he could possibly be given the chance. But Anakin and Padmé- if they never wanted to see him again, -considering they had lost Obi-Wan to someone like Ben, someone who took their friend from them then made their lives that much worse afterwards- he would understand. He didn’t deserve them.

He was still angry. At Anakin, a little- Anakin had said some awful things too, but they were all true things. He was angry at the war, at Palpatine, at Mawat, at Nield. But mostly, Ben was just angry at himself.

Eventually, he heard the quiet movement of leaves and the sound of footsteps up the outcrop- someone coming his way on light feet, but allowing him to hear their presence before they arrived. Ben didn’t move, only glancing up under hooded eyes from his hands coated in shredded pieces of life.

Two long green ears appeared in his peripheral vision, twitching a little as their owner struggled up the rise with all the grace of the elderly. (Exaggerated, surely. Ben had heard the tales of the Grandmaster’s agility when he decided to use it.)

Master Yoda clambered up to the level with a huff, picking up his gimmer stick from where he had tossed it to free his claws to climb. Then, the little old man settled himself back down on the moss, grumbling under his breath as he shifted to get comfortable. Ben blinked at him, as Yoda let out a contented sigh, finally apparently satisfied, looking serenely through the leaves at the beautiful vantage point that the outcrop gave of the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

“Usually, meditate, people come here, to.” Yoda grumbled. “Not destroy the greenery.”

Ben brushed the plant remains from his hands like they had been the ones committing some kind of offence. “Yeah, well. You need to be able to meditate to be able to… meditate.” Force, he sounded stupid. He should be addressing Yoda with a formal greeting, he should be getting to his feet and bowing, something. But he didn’t, and if the Grandmaster was miffed about anything other than the climb, Ben couldn’t tell.

“Hmm? ” Yoda trilled, one ear quirking. “Teaching your clan to meditate, I remember. To meditate upon the Force, you know how. But do, you say you cannot?”

Ben wasn’t really sure what to say to that. Do or do not. “Well… no. I can’t.”

“And yet, understanding your feelings, you are. Releasing your emotions into the Force, you are. Meditation, is that not?”

Um, no? Ben had been doing that all along, in some kind of way. That didn’t mean it was meditation. “All I’m doing is tearing up leaves.”

“Many strange kinds of meditation, I have seen.” Yoda said, and Ben had a very hard time trying to tell if it was a joke or not. Did Master Yoda even have a sense of humour?

“I’m not meditating. I can’t meditate if I don’t have the Force.”

Master Yoda’s deep eyes turned on Ben, now, and he couldn’t help but feel scrutinised. “Uuhhmm. Believe this, why do you?”

Ben scoffed. “Because? The Force is gone- I can’t use it, ever since I ended up in this time. It’s just left me.”

“Leave you, the Force cannot.” Yoda said solemnly. Ben blinked as one claw poked between his eyes accusingly. “Believe this, why do you?”

“Because it’s true!” Ben threw up one hand. “I can’t use it, I can barely feel it. I’ve tried.”

“Tried, have you?”

“Yes! And every time I do, I- ow!” Ben snatched back his hand from where the back of it had been cruelly whacked by the hard twisted wood of the gimmer stick. “What was that for?”

Yoda chuckled. “Trying, you say you have been.”

Oh. Wise-ass troll. Ben sighed. “Do or do not, I know.”

“That saying’s meaning, do you know?” Yoda asked idly.

When Ben stayed silent, expecting an explanation, Yoda raised the stick again. Okay! Okay- not a rhetorical question. He got the message. “It- uh… it’s about choice, right? You can choose to do something, or you can choose to give up. Saying you’ll try assumes failure even before you’ve begun- which leads to failure. Right?”

Yoda nodded slowly, a little bob of his head. “A wise understanding, for someone so young. Understand, you do, but try, you do, still. Fail when you try to use the Force, you say you do. What happens when you do? ”

Ben breathed deeply, looking out across the view. “When I do use the Force, it- it works, I guess.” Works too well, even. The guard and secretary outside Palpatine’s office. Escaping the Security Headquarters. Almost losing himself to the Force when he first meditated on Melidaan. “But I can’t control it.”

Yoda nodded again, as if that confirmed something for him. “The same strength in the Force as Obi-Wan, I sense in you. Control it, you do not know how.”

Ben nodded in return. Anakin had thought the same thing, hadn’t he?

“Learn to control it, you could have. It is your own strength, after all, even if you do not know it. So use it, why did you not?”

Ben shrugged, caught thoroughly off-guard. “I… It’s not that simple. How could I learn to use it when I’m not…”

“Not a Jedi?” Yoda finished for him, eyes squinting in a wry smile. “Matter, why does that?”

Ben’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Lose the Force, you never did. Lose your right to the Force, you thought you did. Lose your faith, you did. Because you are not a Jedi, you cannot use the Force, you think, hmm? ”

Ben stared at the potentially senile grandmaster in front of him. “Well… yeah. That’s… how it works.”

“Children of the Force, we all are.” Yoda murmured, closing his eyes. “Luminous beings, yes. For us to decide who can use the Force, it is not. That, the Force alone decides. What we do with the Force, up to us, that is. A Jedi can use the Force for wrong, hmm. Use the Force for right, someone else may! Yes! More important than simply being a Jedi, that is, is it not?”

Ben blinked, then blinked again. “That sounds… mildly sacrilegious, Master Yoda, but okay.”

Yoda chuckled. “For a Jedi, not a very traditional view that is not. What you are thinking, that is, yes?”

Ben half-nodded, half shrugged. He wasn’t about to say it out loud.

“Hmm. ” Yoda mused again. “Many untraditional things I have been researching, as of late. Thanks to you, that is.”

Ben blanched, eyes narrowing. “Me? What?”

“Clouded, you said the Force is. Dying, you said the Jedi are.”

Ben shifted. Was this an accusation? “I dunno… that’s just what I felt.”

“Much time in the Archives, I have spent.” Yoda continued. “Much time in meditation. Asking the Force, I have been- if these things are true. And true, they are.” His ears drooped and he sighed, and it became written all over Yoda’s face just how old and tired he was. “Blind, the Jedi have been. Blind, I have been. Clouded with darkness, we all feel the Force to be. War, we blamed it upon. Yes, war taints us much- our values, our strength, our faith- it destroys. But more, there is. More than war, hrrmm. Ourselves, we have been blinded by. Corrupted by. Allowed the Sith to return, this did. Allowed the Senate to control us, this did. War- destroys our bodies and souls, it does- but destroy our own minds and hearts, we, the Jedi, have. Dying, we are, war or no war.”

Ben let that sink in for a moment. He had never really thought about the Jedi being wrong.

“Because of you, find these things, I did.”

Ben stared at Yoda critically. “I didn’t do anything. You just said that everyone could feel how the Force had changed.”

“Tainted slowly, it was. Distracted from it by war, we were. Thrown into this change, you were, and tell us what we had tried to ignore, you did. Research, I would not have done, if lay the Order’s faults at our feet, you did not.”

Ben shifted a little. He supposed that could be true, in a round-about way. He didn’t feel like he could take credit for it, though.

“Why do you think the Force would do that, though, Master Yoda?” he said instead. “Why would the Force leave me with a power that isn’t mine?”

“Yours, it isn’t?”

“No. It’s Obi-Wan’s. Even you said that.”

“And different people, you say you are?”

Ben shrugged again. “It feels that way. Or close enough to it. A person changes in twenty-six years.”

“Ancient, I am!” Yoda trilled, waving his stick in the air. “A change in your years, I do not see!” He laughed to himself. “ Your own strength, the Force gives you, even if know it yet, you do not. Connections, perhaps it wanted to give you- to certain people, connections that you did not have before. Maybe it’s guidance, you will need, in times to come, more than ever.”

Ben squinted. That sounded awfully like guessing. Yoda stared back at Ben for a log moment, face completely straight, before his eyes crinkled with amusem*nt, likely sensing Ben’s scepticism.

“An ancient omnipotent power, the Force is. What it likes, it farking does.”

“Master Yoda!” Ben laughed, shocked.

Yoda chuckled again, wry. They both allowed silence to linger for a long moment, the only sound the melodic trickle of the stream. There was something bioluminescent in the water, Ben realised, and it cast the greenery in a soft blue glow.

“Why did you come to see me?” Ben asked softly, eventually.

“A headache, you are giving Master Windu,” Yoda said, as if that was an answer. “Changes, you have brought. Unforeseen changes, mm-mmh.”

“...Good changes?”

“Too soon to know, it is.”

“Why?’

“Because lived through their outcomes yet, we have not!” Yoda cackled. Ben rolled his eyes, which made the troll laugh all the more. Then, unexpectedly, Yoda sobered, clambering back to his feet. Leaning on his stick with both hands, he turned to face Ben, leaning close. Ben blinked, a little confused, as the Master -who hardly exceeded him in height with Ben cross-legged on the ground- studied his eyes intensely.

“A lack of Obi-Wan, these changes did not require.” He said seriously. “A fresh perspective, a loud mouth, and the stubborn, wondrous mind of a child, they did.”

Vaguely, Ben figured he should probably be a little offended by that- there seemed to be an insult in there somewhere. But he couldn’t find any desire to feel his usual frustration at being compared to Obi-Wan like he used to feel.

It made sense, he supposed. Even if his presence wasn’t exactly time-travel, his existence brought changes nonetheless. How much change, to a version of the galaxy where he never ended up in the future? Well… he supposed they would never know.

Maybe things were worse because of his existence- maybe if Obi-Wan was still on the Council, Ahsoka wouldn’t have faced expulsion from the Order and everything else. Maybe Ben’s existence was the very catalyst to the horrific future he saw in his visions. He hadn’t really thought about that possibility. His presence could have made things so much worse than they could have been. He supposed they wouldn’t ever know.

But if he ended up, somehow- impossibly- making changes for the better, well. The thought that these changes weren’t resting on his shoulders alone was a comfort. Obi-Wan could have made these changes himself, perhaps- Yoda was saying. Maybe Ben’s presence wasn’t necessary at all. Maybe everything could have been fixed without Ben.

But the Force had its reasons for things. And- Ben thought- could either he or Obi-Wan really claim fault or credit for anything when in truth they were the same person?

Maybe. He wasn’t totally convinced, not just yet. But… maybe.

Instead of any of those eloquent things, what instead came out of Ben’s mouth was- “...oh.”

That seemed to satisfy Yoda, who chuckled again and returned to sitting.

“Concern- in you, I sense.” the Grandmaster mused after a while. “For those close to you.”

Ben hmmed. “I can’t really say that they’re… close to me, anymore.” Or ever were. That thought felt like a lightsaber to the chest.

“Strange, for you two, that is. ” Yoda huffed.

Ben squinted at him. “I never said who I was talking about.”

“Need to, you did not.”

“Is this leading to a lecture about attachments?”

Yoda harrumphed. “ Attachments, hrrrm. Another thing the Jedi have taught wrong, perhaps. More to teach us yet- you have, I feel.”

Ben didn’t really know what he could possibly teach Jedi Masters, but he didn’t voice otherwise.

“Do not give up on each other yet, you should not. Find one another, you should, when you are ready.”

Ben nodded slowly. He’d do that. Eventually- when he could. If Anakin would see him, he would try.

“More to say about young Skywalker, have you?” Yoda squinted.

Ben could. He could tell Yoda about what he felt on Anakin, what he had seen. He knew the very two secrets that would ruin Anakin’s life- his marriage and his massacre. And it would be so easy, too. Just one conversation with Master Yoda, and Anakin would face consequence and punishment- which was perhaps what he deserved.

If Ben was any angrier, he wouldn’t have hesitated. But like Mawat, maybe Anakin had things he needed to say. He couldn’t do anything for Anakin, the older man had to do it himself. Ben didn’t know if he would. But he supposed he should give Anakin that chance. He deserved that much.

“No, Master.” He said, confidently. Yoda nodded.

“Too many children, this Order has failed.” The old man said quietly. “But hope for the two of you, I have, yet.”

He clambered to his feet with a dramatic grunt of effort, tapping his stick on the ground. “Meditate upon all of this, I shall.” He nodded. “Take my research to the Council, I will. Much to discuss, we do. Much change, we must bring, before we are lost forever.”

Ben breathed deep, taking in a moist, green scent of the gardens. It seemed like so much- how could things possibly be fixed? And that was just within the Order, let alone the war.

He had been so certain, for so long, that things never got better.

But maybe, just maybe- he could hold onto the hope that one day, they just might.

Yoda toddled away, back towards the edge of the ledge. He turned, briefly. “Your home, this is, young Kenobi.” Yoda said solemnly. “Jedi or not. Home, it is, should you ever want it.”

Home. Yeah, he thought. That would be nice. One day, maybe. When things got better. “Thank-you, Master Yoda.”

“Thank me? ” Yoda cackled to himself. “Thank me, he does! Hah! ”

And with that, cackling like a madman, Yoda flung himself over the edge, and vanished.

Ben was left very suddenly on his own -if not quite alone- and laughed to himself, if not in shock more than anything.

The gardens were quiet, and the peace that echoed through the branches and flowed through the streams was something that nowhere else in the galaxy surely felt like. Ben breathed.

The Force had never left him, Yoda had said. He had thought it had abandoned him, like everything else, but it was there, waiting. Waiting for him. The Force was always with him.

He settled himself until he was comfortable, and closed his eyes. And, without fear, he let himself feel.

The Force unfurled around him like a blooming flower, or the glowing of a star. It came alive within him, and he just allowed himself to be. And it was enough.

Home, indeed.

x+x+x

The air was thick and humid with the promise of coming rain as he headed through the door, a chime declaring his entry with tinkling tunes. When it rained on Coruscant, it really rained, building for a week in the air and the sky before opening up in a torrential downpour.

It wasn’t clean rain. The pollution turned it… not quite toxic- there were plenty of purification processes in the air that made sure no toxic rain fell on urban areas- but it wasn’t rain that grew things, wasn’t rain that brought life or renewal. But it did wipe the city clean. It cleared the smoke from the air, it swept the streets and washed away the pollution that had accumulated since the last rainfall. And then pollution would accumulate again, before the next rains came. It was a repetition of destruction and catharsis, a cycle, and Ben was sure there was something symbolic in there somewhere. He wasn’t quite sure what.

The rains weren’t here yet. But they would be. He wondered what they would wipe clean, this time. He supposed only time would tell. The rains would come when they wanted, no sooner.

For now, they promised nothing but building humidity in the air and the crackle of static between the plethora of metal that formed the city. The diner door zapped a spike of static onto his fingers as he pushed it open, and getting inside out of that tense air was a relief.

The diner had only just opened and was effectively empty, being this early in the morning. For Ben, though, it may as well have been the middle of the night. He had spent a good long while in the Gardens even after Yoda left, but meditation didn’t really count as sleep, unfortunately.

Getting here had taken a while too, longer than it took him to get from Padmé’s to the Temple, given that he didn’t know the way on his own, and whatever being relented to giving him a lift usually knew how to head in the direction of the Jedi kriffing Temple better than they knew directions to one of a thousand diners in Coruscant.

Ben knew he probably could have headed back to Padmé’s apartment, but he couldn’t help but feel as if he couldn’t… didn’t deserve to, not yet.

And Anakin had said that this was who to go to for a favour. Ben needed one of those right about now.

Dex was behind the counter when Ben walked in, looking up at the chime of the door. Ben watched his immediate customer-service smile widen briefly as he recognised who walked in, before the smile flickered with concern. Ben was alone, for one thing, which was probably concerning, and he did probably look like a wreck. He was really kriffing tired, and it likely showed.

“Hey there, Ben.” Dex said quietly, and Ben appreciated the carefully regulated volume immensely.

“Hi, Dex. I uh…” He tugged on the sleeves of his leather jacket. “Anakin said that I could come to you for favours. And you know Obi-Wan but we don’t really know each other, so I know I don’t really have any right to ask you… and I know it’s probably a lot to ask-”

“Ben.” Dex interrupted in that low, rumbling voice of his. “It’s alright. What can I do?”

“Can I, uh…” tears sprung, unbidden, to his eyes. Force, he wanted to sleep. “Can I stay with you? Just for a little while?”

The way Dex’s face softened, you’d think Ben was a lost Vulptex pup. It was affection he didn’t really know what to do with or why he deserved it, but nonetheless it was… nice. The Force swirled in approval, and Ben sighed in relief of being able to feel it again.

They had a long way to go, yet, for things to get better. But for once, Ben had hope.