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Anakin jolted awake with a start, gasping for air as he stared up at the ceiling.
Which was the ceiling of the apartment that he’d shared for so many years with Obi-Wan at the temple.
“Oh, thank the kriffing Force.” It’d worked! It’d been a long shot—the only sort of instructions the relic had had were half-forgotten legends—but it’d worked! He almost started crying as he reached into the Force to find the lights of thousands of Jedi, all of whom had been gone, taken down by their own troopers—never again—in mere moments.
Anakin reached for his bonds, checking first on Obi-Wan and then on Ahsoka. Both were still sleeping peacefully, Obi-Wan on the other side of the apartment and Ahsoka a few floors down in the area for Initiates. Both of their force-signatures felt different than he remembered, brighter—and for a moment Anakin panicked, had he messed up?!—but after a few moments he realized that they were changing, slowly shifting towards the war-weary ones he knew. Anakin reached out into the Force, searching out the other Jedi that he knew would have come back—Aayla Secura, Plo Koon, Depa Billaba, and so many more—and found the same sort of shifting. They wouldn’t be awake for a few hours, then.
Anakin reached for the bond he’d formed with the 501st, carefully lowering the shields he’d built to keep out that awful, empty silence and to keep the troopers from realizing he was still alive—and was thrown into a storm of fearconfusionpaingriefhorrorguilt that left him gasping for breath when he yanked out of it.
Evidently, the troopers were awake.
Anakin threw his shields back up and scrambled for his comm, and when he didn’t find it in his dresser, had to search through the bag he’d packed to ship out back then for it. It took an annoying five minutes—why had they even had separate Jedi comms and military comms in the first place? It definitely hadn’t lasted long—but turning it on revealed the bright, lonely contact of CT-7567.
Anakin bounced in place impatiently as he waited for Rex to pick up, worry pricking at his chest when the first call wasn’t answered.
Rex picked up the second time. His holo popped up and Force, he looks like a shiny—except for the haunted look in his eyes and the way his shoulders were held stiffly, as if he were in pain.
“How can I help you, General Skywalker?” Rex asked in a monotone that shook ever so slightly.
Anakin blinked at the tone, then realized that while he knew who had come back, Rex didn’t. “Well, you can start by telling your vod’e that what happened because of those karking chips is not your fault.”
Rex flinched, the mask dropping as he looked away. “But, sir—”
“If we’re gonna blame anyone that isn’t that kriffing Sith, we’re blaming me,” Anakin said vehemently. “I’m the one who didn’t listen to Fives’ warning.” Shame curled in Anakin’s gut at the memory—if only he hadn’t so blindly trusted Palpatine, then Order 66 could have been avoided—
“But I was there—”
“And I told you not to listen! But either way, it doesn’t matter because we are blaming the Sith. Not a single Force-karked trooper is responsible for what happened, even if they were the ones who pulled the trigger on their Jetii! N’gar buirkan, nu draar, you hear me?!” Anakin’s chest was heaving and he realized with a start that he’d been shouting. But if that was what it took to pound this into his troopers’ heads, he’d do it. “And I know that not one of us Jedi who came back blames you either. Not. One.”
Rex was visibly blinking back tears, his face twisted in anguish. After a few moments his expression smoothed into cracked determination as he straightened. “Understood, sir.”
“Jate.” Righteous fury was still boiling in Anakin’s veins, but he shoved it back. He’d save it for later.
“Uh, sir.” Rex took a shaky breath. “You said ‘the Jetiise who did come back’? Did not all Jetiise come?”
Trust Rex to catch that. Not that Anakin didn’t want him to know—Rex of all troopers deserved an explanation, being one of Anakin’s closest friends—but explaining what he’d done to get everyone back here would be . . . complicated. And take a fair amount of time, which meant that Anakin really didn’t want to explain all of it over and over again. “Long story short, every trooper’s Jetii came back—by which I mean every Jetii who fought alongside and cared for their troopers and were cared for by their troopers in return. So not every Jedi—I don’t think any of the Corps came back—” Realization smacked Anakin in the head. “—or half of the current Council.” Which might be a problem. “But all of the vod’e’s Jetiise are back.”
At Rex’s withering I-know-you’re-not-telling-me-everything look, Anakin sighed. “Look, I promise that I’ll explain everything later. The other Jedi who came back aren’t going to wake up for a few hours, but in all honesty, as soon as they wake up they’re gonna want to see you guys. I’d suggest figuring out who’s gonna come down to the temple if you don’t want them coming to find you—and people better karking show up or else they will, chips or not. That includes you—I’ll comm you when the others wake up. After that, well, we’re going to fix things. Including getting those kriffing chips out.”
Rex had flinched at the mention of the chip. Now his expression was sober. “Understood, sir.”
“And again, Rex,” Anakin added, softly this time, “this wasn’t your guys’ fault. Not the slightest bit.”
The corner of Rex’s mouth pulled up in a broken smile. “Message received, vod.”
Anakin let his smile mirror Rex’s own. He’d only been called vod a handful of times, the last few of which being when it’d become clear that the war was ending (though they’d thought that they were on the winning side—how horribly wrong they’d been), and a warm glow filled Anakin’s chest at the knowledge of what it meant. “K’oyacyi, vod. May the Force be with you.”
Rex echoed the sentiment and then signed off with a sloppy salute, something that had become an inside joke of theirs only a few months into the war and made Anakin huff a laugh.
The road wasn’t going to be easy, but (Force will it, and he thought it did, considering that it’d let him bring everyone back) everything was going to be alright.
Anakin traded his military comm for his Jedi one, then hesitated when he went to create a new chat. While he had a general idea of which Jedi had come back, he only knew a handful of which specific Jedi those actually were. He had to get this message out to all of them, though.
After a moment’s deliberation, Anakin created a new chat with every single Master, Knight, and Padawan—plus the Initiates, when he realized that a lot of the Padawan-Commanders would be with the initiates again, including his own Snips. It took a few minutes to create a message that was vague enough to not alarm (well, majorly alarm) the Jedi who hadn’t come back but would be clear as day to those who’d lived through the war.
Suppression chips in the vod’e are actually control chips, Sith gave them orders they couldn’t fight—if you didn’t see the Empire rise, they succeeded. I survived and decided to take the nuclear route, so check your chronometers. The vod’e and anyone the vod’e were attached to are back. The vod’e are distraught and waiting for your summons. Don’t do anything stupid. - General Skywalker
Anakin tucked both comms into his pockets, then realized that he’d gone through everything on his Very Important Things to Do list that he could do before the rest of the Jetiise—Anakin had decided to refer to the Jedi who’d come back by the Mando’a term so things didn’t get confusing—woke up. So what did he do now?
After a few moments of thinking he slipped out of his bedroom.
Stepping into the common area he’d shared with Obi-Wan since coming to the temple was a strange sort of slap to the face. It was just as he remembered it: Obi-Wan’s teas on the counter, various droid parts and data pads scattered across every available surface, a half-finished game of Saabac taking up the end of the kitchen table, holos of him and Obi-Wan filling the spaces on the shelves of Qui-Gon’s and Obi-Wan’s collective library. It was all the same but also not, and it only took Anakin a few moments to pick out why: their apartment hadn’t looked this lived in since—well, since the start of the war. Which was now where Anakin was.
That’s when it finally hit. He was in the past. He was in the karking past and he’d brought all of the vod’e and at least a thousand Jedi with him, and the war had barely started and so many planets were whole again and so many people hadn’t died yet, and outside of the vod’e and the Jedi no one knew how bad it was going to be, didn’t know that they’d just given emergency powers to the very man who’d orchestrated the war, a Sith—the vod’e had slave chips in their heads and could have their autonomy taken away from them at any point—kark, kark, kark—hang on, had Padmé come back? He’d had to base the spell around the vod’e, and none of them knew her super well—kark, his kid, they didn’t exist anymore—all of the Jedi had died but he was back and they were alive and most of them didn’t know—Anakin had been friends with, had trusted a Sith Lord—he’d been Falling, he’d almost killed the younglings—
Anakin couldn’t breathe, everything that he’d compartmentalized over the last few tendays crashing down on him all at once.
Kark, kark, kark, kark, kark—
“—breathe, Anakin, you’ve got to breathe—” There was a hand combing through Anakin’s hair, and dimly Anakin registered that he was kneeling on the ground, leaning against someone’s chest.
Obi-Wan.
Anakin keened, pressing his face into his Master’s—brother’s?—shoulder. His thoughts were still storming through his head, too many to fast too much—so he focused on Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force, that warm, strong glow that he’d relied on since he was a child. He reached out to his brother through their bond, silently crying out—and Obi-Wan responded by wrapping Anakin in his presence, radiating warmth and comfort and safety and love.
Gradually, Anakin’s breathing began to slow, his thoughts quieting as they stumbled over each other.
“—that’s it, Anakin, it’s okay, I’m here, you’re safe,” Obi-Wan was murmuring in an endless stream, just as he’d been doing since he’d pulled Anakin into his arms.
Eventually Anakin let out a last, shaking breath, turning his head slightly so his face wasn’t completely buried in Obi-Wan’s robes.
“Master,” Anakin said hoarsely.
Obi-Wan’s voice was soft, just barely concealing affection. “Padawan mine.”
“‘M not a Padawan anymore,” Anakin murmured on reflex.
“No, you’re not,” Obi-Wan acknowledged. Then he seemed to register where they were, confusion and alarm flooding the bond. “Anakin, what—how did we get back to the temple?! It isn’t—” He cut himself off, falling silent.
After a moment, Anakin sent a questioning pulse at him over their bond.
“Your hair is short,” Obi-Wan said, sounding absolutely baffled.
Anakin blinked, reaching up to feel his hair. It was short, barely an inch longer than his Padawan cut.
“Huh,” was his only reaction. It made sense.
“Anakin Kenobi Skywalker,” Obi-Wan started, his tone half bewildered and half dangerous. Anakin bit back a grin. Being referred to as a Kenobi always made him feel warm inside, even though it only happened when he was in big trouble. It had been a complete accident by a sleep-deprived Obi-Wan the first time, but since Anakin didn’t have a middle name for Obi-Wan to properly convey how much trouble he was in it had stuck.
Admittedly, it’d also backfired as Anakin had done some truly stupid stuff just to hear his big brother call him that.
Obi-Wan continued, “What in the kriffing haran did you do?”
“Um.” This probably wasn’t going to go over super well. “Time travel?”
Obi-Wan muttered a long string of curses, including several that Anakin had never heard before. Which was impressive, really, because, well, Army.
“Right,” Obi-Wan sighed. “I’m assuming it’s not just us?”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Anakin pulled back so he could see Obi-Wan properly. “You’re not mad?”
Obi-Wan sighed, running a hand down his face. “Considering how things turned out, no, I’m not mad. Surprised, certainly, but not mad.” His gaze went to Anakin’s hair. “We’re back at the beginning of the war, I take it?”
“The morning before we shipped out,” Anakin confirmed. He should probably scoot back so he wasn’t half-sitting on Obi-Wan’s lap, but the physical contact was comforting and Obi-Wan didn’t seem to mind, so he didn’t.
“Right. I can work with that.” Obi-Wan stroked his beard. “Who else time travelled with us? Ahsoka, I’m assuming?”
“Yeah, and, uh, a few others.” Anakin cringed a little.
Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed. “Define ‘a few.’”
“Uh. Seven million?”
“The kriff, Anakin?!”
“I brought all of the vod’e back!” Anakin explained.
Obi-Wan flinched, alarm flooding their bond—oh, kark, he didn’t know. “Anakin—”
“They have slave chips in their heads!” Anakin defended vehemently. “Palpatine—Sidious—ordered them to, and they couldn’t fight it!”
The blood drained out of Obi-Wan‘s face. “What?”
Tears pricked at Anakin’s eyes. “They just woke up screaming.” He’d been able to tell that much when he’d reached for his bond with the 501st.
Horror flooded both their bond and Obi-Wan‘s expression, then Obi-Wan’s shields shot up. Anakin flinched, then realized that Obi-Wan hadn’t locked him out completely, just enough that Anakin wouldn’t get feedback as Obi-Wan reached for the bond he had with the 212th—and more specifically, Cody.
Obi-Wan let out a low keen, tears filling his eyes as he pressed his hands to his mouth. “Oh, Force.”
Anakin grimaced, putting up his own shields so he could reach for the 501st again.
The 501st was still storming with emotion, but instead of the fearconfusionpaingriefhorrorguilt is was just paingriefhorrorguilt with only a few tendrils of confusion, as well as a sort of grim determination coming from Rex, one of the few people Anakin could pick out through the bond. Evidently, Rex had gotten the word out explaining what was going on.
“Kriff,” Obi-Wan swore. “Kriff. How do we . . . karking kriff.”
“We wait for the other Jetiise to wake up, then we get those karking chips out,” Anakin answered, after checking to see if any of the other Jetiise were awake.
“Jetiise?” Obi-Wan asked, just as much questioning the word choice as who Anakin was talking about.
“The other Jedi who came back. Not all of us did, only those that the vod’e care for. Which is at least a thousand, by my count, but not any of the Corps or half the Council. I’ve been calling them Jetiise in my head to not confuse myself.”
Obi-Wan grimaced. “Right. Well . . . actually, how does that work?”
“Uhhhh.” Right, explanation time. Anakin really had wanted to explain this all at once, but he knew Obi-Wan well enough to know that the piercing gaze his brother was pinning him with meant that they weren’t going anywhere until Obi-Wan got an answer. “You know those old stories about maldera?”
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “The ones about how any family who possessed a maldera were guaranteed to rise to power?” Then it clicked. “Oh. Because the entire family travelled back in time.”
“Yeah. I don’t know who created the things or how they work, just that when it’s used on a target it pulls them and their immediate blood family along with anyone their family cares for strongly back in time. I have no clue how it knows who said family cares about, but it worked, so.” Anakin half-shrugged.
“I’m assuming that it considered all of the troopers as one blood family, then?” Obi-Wan clarified. After Anakin confirmed, he added, “Where did you even find one of them?”
Anakin let out a dry laugh. “The archives have four different maps to supposed hiding places, each buried in boxes of documents. I was just looking for anything related to time travel, and maldera were the only artifacts to have evidence that they actually worked—and thankfully, the second map actually led me to one. Honestly, I was lucky to find them in time—the archives didn’t, uh,” Anakin winced, “didn’t get swept for survivors for two days.”
Obi-Wan winced. “Well, I’m glad you found it. We have a second chance, now.”
Anakin nodded in silent agreement.
They sat there in silence for a few minutes, processing everything that had happened and wordlessly exchanging emotions of comfort and grief.
Obi-Wan’s pocket chimed. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows and dug out his comm—his Jedi comm, it looked like. He glanced at the screen, eyes scanning—then barked out a laugh.
“What is it?” Anakin asked.
“Well, Padmé came back with us, it seems.” Anakin’s heart leapt. “She also very strongly suspects that you’re at fault for this, is very pissed at you for not answering your private comm—” Anakin winced; it was probably buried at the bottom of his pack. “—and wants to know what the kriff she’s supposed to do now.”
Anakin opened his mouth to respond, then realized that there wasn’t a specific reason that Padmé should be contacting him, and kark what did he say—
“Anakin, I already know that you two are married,” Obi-Wan said in exasperation.
What.
What.
“You do?” Anakin squeaked, gaping. “Since when?”
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, only since Artoo live-streamed me your wedding.”
“He what?!”