Chapter Text
Ahsoka enters his room just as the sun is rising. Even after Anakin gently forced her to go back to the villa, she hadn’t been able to get a wink of sleep.
The rest of the night was a nightmare of tossing and turning and pacing and staring at the intricate designs on the ceiling.
It’s how she ends up standing outside the guest room Obi-Wan occupies, for what seems like hours, before taking the plunge and opening the door.
It only occurs to her, as she pads across the polished wood, that Obi-Wan might not even be in here. Ahsoka doesn’t remember him coming back, but she also hadn’t cared much about him in those late hours.
But she thinks of Anakin’s words on the beach.
He needs you.
And Ahsoka realizes that maybe, just maybe, she needs Obi-Wan, too.
“Obi-Wan?” she whispers. Her voice echoes across the room, soft and wishing.
There’s no answer. It’s made clear by the crisp way of the made bed that Obi-Wan isn’t around. And if Ahsoka had to guess, he hasn’t set foot in the room since yesterday morning.
She sighs, crossing her arms.
She doesn’t know why she thought Obi-Wan would be in his room. Between him and Anakin, Ahsoka doesn’t know who’s the bigger insomniac.
Though the past couple days — weeks, years, really — Ahsoka reasons that she can’t leave herself out of the running.
She sighs again, resigned, and leaves the room. She wanders aimlessly through the hallways, staring but not seeing the sculpted artwork that made up the Varykino villa.
Ahsoka walks down a corridor, through a door, and finds herself in a garden full of lush greens dotted with soft pinks and ivories. There’s a tree off to the side, rich with life and a swing swaying off one of its branches. It’s low enough to the ground to allow Ahsoka to use her legs to push herself in a steady rhythm of back and forth.
She leans to the side, closing her eyes. She lets herself go, immersing herself in the Force. She listens to the birds sing as the other animals begin to stir with life. The sun feels warm on her skin like a blanket from her childhood.
It’s peaceful.
And for once, Ahsoka doesn’t have to will her body to relax — it just does. The tension that’s plagued her muscles and mind ease away.
She closes her eyes and sleeps.
When she opens them, the sun is high in the sky, indicating that it is well past noon. The other thing Ahsoka notices is that she’s no longer on the swing. She’s on her back, and as she becomes more aware of her surroundings, the grass becomes more uncomfortable.
She sits up slowly, stiffly. Despite the screaming of her muscles, Ahsoka actually feels refreshed. It’s probably been the best she’s slept since… she doesn’t even know how long. Before the war at the very least.
She stretches her arms behind her, allowing her back to crack as she gets to her feet. Ahsoka lets herself stare at the sky, cloudless and warm, and breathes deeply. Her mind is fresh, like the years-long fog has finally begun to drift away.
Resolving herself, Ahsoka decides to head back to Obi-Wan’s room. She’s not sure how long she was out, but surely Obi-Wan has migrated back to it from wherever he’s been.
Her luck is answered when Ahsoka pokes the door open and peaks her head in. Obi-Wan is sitting on the window seat, the sun hitting his hair at just the right angle where it makes it look like shining copper.
He turns at the sound of the door, and Ahsoka tries not to wince when he looks surprised.
“Hi,” she says sheepishly, closing the door softly behind her.
“Hi,” he says back.
Ahsoka makes sure to sit at a respectable distance, bringing her knees up to her chest.
For a while, they just stare at each other: two fragmented people who are physically ten feet apart, but emotionally, they’re worlds away.
Ahsoka knows it’s not wholly her fault, but she has played quite a significant part in the deterioration between her and Obi-Wan.
Outside, birds chirp happily, peacefully, unaware of the churning of Ahsoka’s stomach.
“I’ve been awful to you lately,” she says eventually, not wanting to beat around the bush any longer. “I’ve been frustrated, and upset, and confused, and I — I don’t know. I was tired of holding it all in.”
“I know,” Obi-Wan says softly. He’s looking at her with such kind eyes. A lump forms in Ahsoka’s throat, and she wonders what she’s ever done to deserve someone as compassionate as Obi-Wan in her life.
“I’m sorry,” Ahsoka says.
Obi-Wan’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Thank you. But you don’t need to apologize.”
“Yes I do!” Ahsoka insists, and it comes out too brashly. She swallows. “Yes I do.”
“Then so do I,” Obi-Wan counters. “I haven’t been a very patient person myself, as of late.”
And despite herself, Ahsoka allows herself to copy Obi-Wan’s smile. “Do you think we can start over?”
“I don’t think that’s entirely possible,” Obi-Wan says, but his eyes are twinkling. “But I’m sure we can try.”
“Master Yoda doesn’t believe in trying,” Ahsoka quips, and she’s grinning now.
“That is such a stupid saying,” Obi-Wan grumbles to himself. “And it’s a good thing you’ve had someone to teach you that it’s okay to try.”
Ahsoka blinks. “You didn’t teach me that.”
And Obi-Wan only inclines his head knowingly. “No, I didn’t.”
“I guess I can’t give you all of the credit,” Ahsoka muses.
“Anakin certainly deserves a lot of it,” Obi-Wan agrees.
“I suppose he does,” Ahsoka says softly, looking out the window wistfully. “He is right about some things, from time to time.”
Obi-Wan only quirks an eyebrow. “About what?”
“That we need each other.” She does her best to not think about how Anakin excluded himself from the statement. Her heart hangs heavy. It’s been twisted to the point of no recognition, and a wrinkled heart, no matter how soothed one may make it, is never the same shape again.
She wonders if Obi-Wan feels the same. She tears her gaze from the window to him, to see a contemplative expression on his face. There’s no frown, but it’s a close thing.
“He said that?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“Last night,” Ahsoka says, haltingly. Like she’s revealed too much of a secret and is trying to stop herself from spilling more. “After you left.”
Obi-Wan says nothing. He only strokes his beard, a faraway haze sinking in front of his eyes.
“Master?” Ahsoka says tentatively.
“Hm?”
“Are you okay?” It feels like such a stupid question. It is, and Ahsoka wants to smack herself, because since when have any of them been okay?
Too long, her mind whispers, unhelpfully.
“Oh,” Obi-Wan says distractedly, “I’m just thinking about my own conversation with Anakin last night.”
Ahsoka can’t help but wince. “I take that it didn’t go well?”
“Not at all.” Obi-Wan grimaces. “We both — said things.”
“I can only imagine,” Ahsoka mutters to herself. Anakin and Obi-Wan, she’d quickly learned in the early stages of her apprenticeship, were two halves of the same whole — and this remains true until the end of time. They got on as well as fire and gasoline, always in sync. And when they fell apart, they fell apart hard. Not a wildfire out of control, but thousands of stars exploding.
No wonder Ahsoka had been stumbling over herself for what seemed like forever. The universe was out of balance because Anakin and Obi-Wan were out of balance — simple as that.
Obi-Wan runs his fingers through his head, dejected. “I don’t know what to do,” he says, and it takes Ahsoka a second to realize he’s mostly talking to himself. “I’ve had a lot of instances where I didn’t have the answers, but I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Master?” Ahsoka murmurs. Whatever lighthearted atmosphere that’s been created is gone now. She scoots closer to him, places her hand on his knee. “Obi-Wan?”
“Palpatine bonded with him,” Obi-Wan says, sighing heavily. “For thirteen years, it’s been happening right under my nose, and I didn’t see it…”
“None of us did,” Ahsoka says, after a beat. She’s frowning. “I don’t even think Anakin knew. Not until it was almost too late.”
Until he very nearly joined the dark side.
“I still should’ve seen it,” Obi-Wan says. His hands are palmed into fists, close to his chest. “I should’ve seen it.”
And Ahsoka doesn’t say anything for a while, because she can’t formulate any words of comfort. How can she, when she feels the same way?
She wonders if even Padmé was stuck in the dark, same as them. It’s something Ahsoka has had to come to terms with, Anakin telling Padmé things that he never would’ve uttered to her or Obi-Wan.
“Still,” Ahsoka begins quietly. “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”
She’s not sure if she’s directing the words to Obi-Wan or herself, but they nonetheless remain true.
Obi-Wan lets out a disbelieving sigh. “Really? I was the reason Palpatine got his hands on Anakin in the first place. I should’ve said no…”
“Do you really think that would’ve worked?” Ahsoka demands. “Obi-Wan, he was a Sith. A very talented Sith. He didn’t want anybody to know, until he did. It’s not your fault, and it’s not mine or Anakin’s — it’s his. He did this.”
He did this.
It strikes Ahsoka then, how much she means it.
Obi-Wan stares at her for a while, studying, searching.
“Maybe so,” he says eventually. “But that doesn’t necessarily fix the situation, does it?”
“No,” Ahsoka says. “But have you considered that Anakin might want to make amends, too?”
“I don’t think he wants to.”
“I think he does.”
“Ahsoka—”
“Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka mimics. Then, softly: “I think you both want to.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t say anything at that.
Ahsoka doesn’t push him.
Luke is crying in his arms. Leia, blissfully, is not, but she’s got a beady stare that will have grown men trembling when she’s older.
Anakin bounces his son, trying to soothe him, trying to ignore the stares Obi-Wan and Ahsoka give him.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, for what seems like the thousandth time. “They’ll come back and visit.”
It sounds like a lie on his tongue and it burns him. Anakin’s not actually sure if Obi-Wan and Ahsoka will bother to come back. He hadn’t asked them, when they announced that they would be heading back to Coruscant.
Ahsoka’s smile is small and soft. She hurries forward, crouches until she’s eye-level with Luke.
“Don’t worry, Little Skyguy—”
“Really, Ahsoka?”
Ahsoka waves her hand at him. “Shush. As I was saying—” She wipes the tears from Luke’s cheeks “—We’ll see each other again. Your dad will need to come to my Knighting ceremony.”
“Ah,” Anakin says, some of his discomfort evaporating in favor of the tell-tale quirk of his lips into a smirk. “That won’t be for another twenty years, I think.”
“Funny,” Ahsoka says, smacking him in the shoulder just as Luke begins to cry anew.
“Anakin!” Padmé hisses disapprovingly.
“Sorry, sorry,” Anakin says, brushing his hands through Luke’s hair. “We will absolutely come to watch Ahsoka’s Knighting ceremony.”
Except he’s not even sure that’s possible. Knighting ceremonies were sacred and traditional, between a master and his apprentice. Only the Council was allowed access to such occasions.
Anakin isn’t on the Council anymore, his stint in the chair laughably brief. Nor did he consider himself a Jedi — just a Force user who lost his way, someone who brought balance everywhere except himself.
He isn’t even sure if he’s allowed back on Coruscant.
But Anakin tells the lie to his son anyway, because his son loves Ahsoka, and Anakin can’t bear to see Luke cry.
“Promise?” Luke sniffles, rubbing his snot-covered face on Anakin’s tunic. He tries not to grimace.
“Of course,” he murmurs, and feels like the worst parent in the world. “Why don’t you give Ahsoka a big hug in the meantime?”
He hands Luke over to Ahsoka. His little arms wrap themselves around her neck in an instant. It makes Anakin smile.
It also allows him to make his way over to Obi-Wan, who has not moved from his place at the ramp of the ship.
“Leia’s going to miss you,” he says, by way of greeting. “Are you sure you don’t want to say goodbye again?”
“I think she’s going to burn my hair off with that glare of hers,” Obi-Wan comments dryly.
“I think you’re right,” Anakin agrees mildly. He looks at his daughter, who’s now scowling. “Though it would be a shame if she succeeded. You don’t look good bald.”
“I appreciate your honesty.”
“Always at your service, Master.”
Obi-Wan pointedly stares at the ground, and Anakin does his best to not feel hurt by this. Force knows he hurt Obi-Wan more times than he could count. He deserves this.
He takes out his lightsaber, which had previously been hiding out of sight in the pouch around his waist. He tries not to think about how familiar it feels in his hand, like a piece of him has come back. At the same time, it feels out of place. There’s just the slightest bit of dust coating it — Anakin had placed it snugly in a box and kept it on a shelf, untouched.
Obi-Wan’s eyes are wide with surprise when Anakin holds it out to him.
“What is this?”
“My lightsaber,” Anakin says, rolling his eyes. “You don’t need your eyes checked, do you?”
“Anakin.”
And he sighs heavily. “I don’t know if Ahsoka’s told you—”
“She’s said many things to me over the last couple days.”
“Do you want me to speak or not?” Anakin demands.
“Alright.” Obi-Wan crosses his arms, dips his head indifferently. It stings more than Anakin would like to admit. “Speak.”
“I think these past few years have made it clear that I’m not coming back. So I’m asking you to take it. I certainly don’t have any use for it anymore.”
Something unreadable flashes across Obi-Wan’s face as he stares at the lightsaber, before placing his gaze on Anakin.
“The lightsaber is your life,” he says. His voice wavers.
“For a Jedi,” Anakin corrects. Not unkindly, but certainly with less tact than probably would’ve been preferred for a situation like this. “And I’m not a Jedi. It’s not my life anymore.”
“Anakin—” Obi-Wan says, and his voice is oddly choked.
“I’ve made so many mistakes recently,” Anakin mutters. “But this isn’t one of them. I wasn’t a good Jedi, though Force knows you tried—”
“Anakin—” Obi-Wan says again.
“—but maybe I can be a good dad. Do better, for Luke and Leia.”
Obi-Wan blinks at him. If Anakin had to guess, he’d think that Obi-Wan looked stunned. But he doesn’t know anything about anything, anymore.
“You already have,” Obi-Wan finally murmurs.
Anakin draws back, suddenly uncertain. This certainly isn’t the response he’d been expecting. “I’m sorry?”
And Obi-Wan — Obi-Wan smiles. It’s not big but overt, and so very him. “You chose the Light.”
Anakin flushes and stares at his feet. “I almost didn’t.”
“Indeed,” Obi-Wan says. “You certainly had more brushes with the dark side than I would’ve liked — but you persevered.”
“I’m sorry.” There’s a lump in Anakin's throat. It makes it hard to swallow. He feels twelve again.
“As am I,” Obi-Wan says.
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re not a coward, Anakin. Far from it,” Obi-Wan says. “I spoke harshly that night. I was angry and I took it out on you.”
“Okay…” Anakin says slowly. “But it’s not like I haven’t done that to you several times over.”
“True. But that does not excuse what I said.”
“I deserved it.”
“Perhaps.” Obi-Wan says. “And perhaps not.” He pushes Anakin’s lightsaber back toward him. “The apology still stands.”
“Obi-Wan…”
“Keep it. You’ll need it someday.”
“For what?”
Obi-Wan nods over to where Ahsoka and Padmé are standing with the twins, a slight smile on his face. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Anakin’s heart goes to his stomach. “I don’t think I’d be a very good teacher.”
“Ahsoka’s character says otherwise,” Obi-Wan counters.
“Yeah, but you’ve had her for almost as long as I did,” Anakin mumbles.
Obi-Wan shrugs. “She’s more like you than you realize.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
“That is to be determined.”
Anakin sighs and shuffles his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest. Closes his eyes and allows the Force to sing to him. Tentatively opens the bond between him and Obi-Wan. “So what now?”
“Ahsoka and I head back to Coruscant,” Obi-Wan replies. “I do think I need some space to think about — things. And you need some time with your family. Let your mind heal, Padawan.”
Anakin opens one of his eyes, side-eyeing Obi-Wan. “I’m not a Padawan anymore.”
“I know.”
“You’re my family, too.”
And Obi-Wan smiles a true smile at him. “And you are mine.” He places a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. It’s comforting, warm. It doesn’t take long before another set of arms wrap themselves around his waist, followed by a candlelight presence in the Force.
Ahsoka holds on tight, and it’s like the final piece of the puzzle in Anakin’s mind, the three of them together as it should be.
Eventually, Ahsoka lets go and Obi-Wan drops his hand, moving in sync until they’re at the top of the ramp.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan calls out as the engine starts. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“Yeah, Skyguy!” Ahsoka shouts. “Answer your kriffing comm every once in a while.”
Anakin salutes her.
The ramp shuts. A moment later, the ship is heading out of the atmosphere.
Padmé walks over, holding the twins. Anakin takes Leia from her arms, wincing as she grabs at his hair and pulls.
They stand outside, watching the ship until it disappears into the sky.
“Ani,” Padmé says. She’s smiling at him. “Let’s go home.”
Anakin lets his eyes linger on the swirling blue above him. The Force blankets him with the aftertouch of Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, stronger than ever.
He thinks, maybe, he’s finally hit the turning point of better. Maybe one day, he’ll be at peace.
“Yeah,” he says, taking Padmé’s hand in his. Right now, it's a start. “Home sounds good.”