Chapter Text
The light is low in the room, just as Obi-Wan prefers it. His comms are off for the day, a welcome benefit of not answering to anyone anymore. Or almost anyone.
“What are you doing?”
“Just enjoying the peace and quiet,” he says. He follows Anakin’s voice to what used to be a spacious reception area in a building not far from the Jedi Temple. A year ago, the street below their window would have been teeming with clones, patrolling officers, all kinds of upholders of the law. Those are mostly invisible now; one of Obi-Wan’s little details.
The end of the Clone Wars had come in intervals. First, they had found and terminated Grievous, a nuisance of a mission that had nearly cost Obi-Wan his patience more than once. Reorganizing the troops to their liking had proved to be easier than either of them had anticipated. As it turned out, Palpatine had had a backup plan with them, a contingency should anything happen to him. The clones were programmed to follow any of the twelve savior figures he had created, and since he and Anakin had taken care of the other eleven just two months after the events of Tatooine, that little problem was solved.
No one knew who he really was, of course. As for Obi-Wan, who had taken on the role of interim Chancellor after Palpatine: if any member of the Senate had batted an eye, he had not seen it. They had accepted him remaining in power after the agreed time was over. He was a respected Jedi after all, a war hero, and a skilled rhetorician. His ideas were sound, and his methods logical. And if one or two representatives had had to be convinced by different means, then that was between him and them. Politics he left to the Senate, but the shadows were his and Anakin’s.
“Enjoy it over here. You even get a view.”
“Are you talking about the window or yourself?” Obi-Wan steps into the room, smiling. Anakin can’t see him yet, but they developed a habit, almost unconsciously, of always being attuned to where the other was.
“Why not both?” Anakin asks. He turns his head when Obi-Wan places a hand on his shoulder, then raises an eyebrow at the look on Obi-Wan’s face. “Good news?”
“That depends,” Obi-Wan says and sits. “I found Mace.”
Anakin hums in surprise. “Where?”
“A backwater planet in the Endor System. It was chance, really, that led me to him. Good fortune. Well, we’ll see how good or bad it will turn out.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“I had a long day, Anakin. I’m just happy to see my friend alive; no need at the moment for any further steps than that.”
“Yoda might find him,” Anakin counters.
“Are you trying to get on my nerves on purpose?”
“Why, is it working?”
Instead of an answer, Obi-Wan pulls him in for a kiss. Anakin has been drinking, the taste faint on his tongue, but that doesn’t stop Obi-Wan. “What have you been doing all day?” he asks.
Anakin leans back on the settee they had dragged down here a few months ago. He’s right: the view is spectacular, especially in this light. “The itinerary. I think it’s done, if you want to look it over?”
This is one of Anakin’s little projects, a new role for him in this drama that is now their lives. He wants to continue the role of the Prophet, using his power instead of letting it grow stale in times of peace. And they need it, as much as Obi-Wan hates to admit it. Systems long out of control of the Republic that could be brought to reason by him, Faithfuls on small moons longing for a glimpse of their god. Sometimes they send a decoy, sometimes Anakin goes himself. This journey, they will undertake together.
“I will, darling. Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. It’s a balm, being able to say this with full confidence that it will happen. Tomorrow, Anakin will still be here. Obi-Wan will be with him. He doesn’t need to be able to see the future to know that. Their story will go on. The final chapter is here: its heading, in a book, would read, The Absence of an End.