Chapter Text
Pacing back and forth in front of the large window that covered most of the classroom wall, Anakin shushed the unsettled toddler in his arms with a series of coos and softly whispered words.
At least, that was what he was trying to do. But the baby was obviously distraught, clinging to Anakin like his young life depended on it, chubby arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He found that he didn’t mind though, and he held his son with an equally desperate grip as their Force signatures brushed up against one another.
His son.
Anakin knew the Force worked in mysterious ways; hell, he and Obi-Wan had been bickering about it nonstop since the tiny human appeared out of nowhere. One moment he had been standing near the solitary uneti tree that grew in between the twisting spires of the massive Jedi Temple, eyes shut in deep concentration; in the next, there was a frightened child crying his heart out underneath the shade of the mighty branches.
Obi-Wan! Anakin pulled hard on their Force connection, unsure of what to do. He was the one who ordered Anakin to ‘listen to the inner voice,’ whatever that meant, and surely his vague instructions were the reason why a distressed boy just materialized out of thin air.
He looked around to see if any of the other Jedi had witnessed this moment of madness, but unbelievably, he was alone. Anakin couldn’t help but snort; not once since he stepped foot on Coruscant had he enjoyed a peaceful second of solitude, and now, there was no one in the immediate vicinity.
Shaking his head at his rotten luck, Anakin stepped forward tentatively to observe the sobbing baby more closely. He seemed to be healthy – no cuts or scrapes to be found on his exposed hands and face. The youngling was dressed in black, which seemed an odd choice for a baby, but what did he know. Crouching lower so that they were at eye level, he regarded the boy carefully before his head started to pulse with awareness and understanding.
The youngling must’ve felt it too, because he stopped crying and stared curiously at Anakin’s face. Familiar blue eyes locked onto his, and Anakin couldn’t help but grin.
“Anakin, what is the meaning of this?” asked Obi-Wan, slamming a gate behind him and raising a hand to his forehead to block out the sun which was unusually strong for this time of day.
“Look, Obi-Wan! I have a son!”
Picking up the little bundle of baby, he rushed over to Obi-Wan’s side in excitement.
“See? Isn’t he the cutest?”
The child slid down his chest, forcing Anakin to hold him awkwardly. He started squirming, clearly uncomfortable, and his bottom lip jutted out unhappily.
Obi-Wan could only sigh and shake his head as he helped rearrange the child in Anakin’s grip. Luckily, he had some experience dealing with babies as he had often looked after them when he was first brought to the Temple as a young boy.
But this…he had no idea what to do next.
“Where did this child come from?”
Anakin bounced the boy in his arms gently, trying to soothe him. He had never done it before but tried to remember the techniques his mother used to calm him down after a tough day.
“Master, I swear I was meditating, just like you told me to do” – he gave Obi-Wan a pointed look, which caused the other man to raise an eyebrow skeptically – “and then I heard a baby crying, so I opened my eyes and my son was just sitting there! Who did this to him?”
Obi-Wan didn’t miss the slight increase in the volume of his padawan’s voice, nor the flash of fury that clouded his blue eyes. He was clearly angry and reacting emotionally to the day’s event, which was the last thing any of them needed. The Force didn’t make sense sometimes, and he certainly wasn’t a stranger to its quirks and twists. We plan and the Force laughs, Qui-Gon once told him. Still, he tried to rack his brain for any kind of explanation, some parallel to an historical incident he had perhaps read about in the Jedi archives. But there was nothing he could think of.
The boy was still unsure and seemed extremely close to breaking down again. Anakin threaded a hand through his son’s silky blond hair and he calmed, somewhat.
“I don’t know, Anakin,” Obi-Wan answered slowly. The Force around him was tense and hazy with dread. Danger was flashing at him, sharp and insistent, but he couldn’t place it. All he knew what that they should take the child away from any prying eyes – they weren’t safe out here. He shivered despite the heat of the morning. “But we need to take him someplace else.”
*****
That someplace else was an empty classroom, which Anakin immediately locked behind him as soon as he entered as Obi-Wan went to the kitchen in search of toddler-appropriate food. He carried his son the entire way, shielding his little round face from the inquisitive stares he noticed from the other Jedi and younglings scattered about. Word would soon spread that Anakin and Obi-Wan had a baby with them, so they didn’t have much time to try and figure out their next steps before the Jedi High Council was informed.
Anakin had already tried to reach inside the boy’s thoughts and get a sense of why he had come here. But he was met with a dense, foggy barrier and a blur of disjointed images – an armored figure, clad head to toe in midnight black. A helmet resembling an insect's head. A clash of lightsabers, followed by an explosion. Sadness, sorrow, then acceptance. Anakin couldn’t make any sense of it.
He stopped in front of the window, turning the boy in his arms slightly so they could both gaze out to watch the speeders pass below.
“See that, little guy?” asked Anakin in his softest voice, though he was cursing himself inside. Force’s sake, he didn’t even know his son’s name. “See how fast they’re going?”
Truthfully, traffic never ceased on Processional Way and it took painfully long to travel anywhere via ground transportation in Galactic City. But the boy obviously enjoyed the street scene below, and even babbled some contented gibberish and pointed at the blinking traffic lights. He eased him onto the floor just as the door unbolted and Obi-Wan slipped into the room, juggling a few boxes of cereal, a carton of blue milk, a sippy cup, and a bowl precariously in his grip.
“Finally,” Anakin growled, lunging forward to take the items. He filled the sippy cup with blue milk and squatted down to hand it to the boy, who began drinking so fast he had to tell him to slow down.
In the meantime, Obi-Wan stacked the bowl to the brim with cereal and passed it to Anakin. “Finding a sippy cup was damn near impossible,” he griped as his padawan angled the boy to face the window.
Obi-Wan turned away from the duo and scratched his chin thoughtfully. A hundred thoughts floated through his mind, but he kept returning to the fact that in the not-so-distant future, Anakin had a son.
A son.
Attachments were forbidden in the Jedi Order, and it was a tenet that was drilled into the heads of every padawan that stepped foot in the Temple. Judging by his lips, nose, and the shape of the child’s face, he knew exactly who his mother was.
Obi-Wan wasn’t angry at his padawan, or even disappointed. But he had to broach the subject with Anakin, and he could tell by the other man’s barely restrained irritation and confusion flooding the Force, that it was going to be tricky.
He decided to start with something simple.
“How do you know he’s your son?”
Anakin rose to his feet, checking on the boy before trudging over to stand by Obi-Wan.
“The Force told me. I don’t know how to describe it. But when I came closer to him, something just…clicked in my brain.” Anakin shut his eyes for a brief moment and shrugged, looking shockingly neutral despite the conversation they were having. He shifted his gaze to watch tiny bits of cereal drop from the boy’s mouth and onto his tunic. At least Anakin had taken his tiny footwear off and set them to the side.
Who dresses a baby in black leather boots, anyway?
“Jedi cannot have children, Anakin.”
Something indecipherably dark flickered in Anakin’s eyes before he swallowed and settled himself down. He didn’t respond to Obi-Wan, though, just alternated his gaze between his master and his son.
“Is he senator Amidala’s child?”
“Yes,” he replied a few seconds later, blowing out a deep exhale as he did so. “We’re married.”
A heaviness settled in the room as Obi-Wan processed his padawan’s words. He wasn’t a fool – he could plainly see that Anakin and Padmé had feelings for one another and probably already acted on them. Perhaps he should’ve been more surprised by the revelation, but he sensed there was still more from Anakin to come. The Force was screaming at him now, and Obi-Wan had the distinct sensation that he was trapped in the path of an oncoming train.
“Anakin, you know that you cannot…”
“What, Obi-Wan?” he huffed. “I know what our code says. I know what the Council will think. But I won’t choose between the Jedi and my family.” Anakin gestured to the little boy behind him, who was watching them with attentive eyes, fascinated by the noise his father was making. He picked up a handful of cereal and pressed his palm into his hungry mouth. Streaks of blue milk dripped from his chin.
His son was a mess, his tunic covered in the bits and pieces of his snack, but the sight helped to soothe Anakin’s ragged nerves. The boy was just so adorable.
“And then what? You plan to leave the Order?”
“If I must, yes.”
Obi-Wan shrugged helplessly, eyes locked onto Anakin’s in utter disbelief. “Do you even know your son’s name?”
Enraged blue eyes grew wider and the Force trembled around them as it was punched apart by the strength of Anakin’s fury. The boy whimpered in fear behind him, and just as quickly, the stifling sensation was gone.
“I can’t seem to read him,” Anakin explained. He shook his head and carded his fingers through his hair. “When I try to, it’s like there’s some blockage. All I can see are blurry memories.”
The two twisted to look at the child, now distracted by the sounds of sirens and honking horns on the avenue below. Obi-Wan could admit that there was something powerful about him, that he was pure light and warmth in the Force. But he encountered the same problems that Anakin had when he tried to touch his mind – all he could sense was some kind of black mass, a red lightsaber striking a green one, an eruption of saturated colour, and then…nothing.
Whatever this child witnessed had caused the Force to heave him back in time. But for what purpose? Was he here to make something happen?
Or stop something from happening?
The Force had no answers; it continued to bob around them, cautious and uneasy, but gathered tenderly around the boy in a protective embrace. It favoured him, and Obi-Wan could see why.
“The child can’t stay here, Anakin,” he said imploringly. “I will help you. We can bring him to the Jedi Council, and they can advise us…”
“No!”
“This child will be in danger if we keep him.”
Anakin’s gaze drifted upwards, as if he were mentally preparing himself to receive the lecture of a lifetime. And maybe he was about to.
“Obi-Wan, please. If there’s something I can do to help him in the future, then I should. I just need to spend more time with him, is all.”
But the older man just shook his head, hands placed firmly on his hips. Anakin despised when Obi-Wan did this. Why couldn’t he just understand?
“I do understand,” he said as gently as he could, picking up on his padawan’s errant thought. But Anakin’s emotions were threatening to overwhelm him if he didn’t get them under control. Obi-Wan tried to centre and calm himself so he wasn’t influenced by Anakin’s erratic state of mind.
“Anakin, I’m not judging you. I’m trying to help you. But you’re playing with fire and putting yourself and your son” – he looked toward the youngling and regretted not searching for a bib – “in harm’s way.”
“No, you’re the who’s putting us in harm’s way,” Anakin snapped. “Do you know what the Council will do if they find out about him?”
Sighing, Obi-Wan shifted away from Anakin and glanced towards the front of the classroom. He fixed his eyes on the colourful posters that lined the wall, each with a line from the Jedi code in big, bold letters followed by a short description.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
There is no death, there is the Force.
Every Jedi had to memorize the words as a youngling and recite them during daily meditations. But how many stayed true to its philosophical ideals? How many had accidentally touched the dark side in a desperate bid to change their fate?
And how many of them had fallen in love?
His mind raced with every possible scenario imaginable, attempting in vain to predict the reactions of the Jedi Masters once they discovered Anakin’s secrets. He saw their raised brows and the tension in their jaws; he pictured the harsh reprimands, the demotions, and the insistence that the boy is powerful in the Force and must become a Jedi despite Anakin’s pleas.
Their overwhelming disapproval and judgement were so visceral that Obi-Wan swore he could already feel their condemnation.
No, the Council wasn’t their best option, but what other choice existed? The Jedi Order was the only way of life they knew.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” said Obi-Wan, rubbing his eyes wearily and turning to face Anakin once more. “Your anger and pride are getting the better of you. These are traits of the dark side.”
Anakin’s stare was so intense that Obi-Wan nearly jerked back in shock. His face hardened at the indictment, the air around them growing taut like a rubber band threatening to snap. He stepped closer until he nearly towered over his master. Perhaps it was the sunlight streaming in, but Anakin’s eyes glowed an unnatural yellow from this perspective.
Despite himself, Obi-Wan trembled. He wasn’t afraid of Anakin or his abilities; it was just that the sudden appearance of his son was causing their frayed relationship to strain even further. They never spoke about their differences, or confessed the inner conflicts that churned somewhere deep in their souls and kept them awake at night. His connection with Qui-Gon was easier, in comparison. With Anakin, he often felt as though he was walking on a tightrope, as if one illspoken word or misplaced deed might cause a detonation.
“You’re holding me back,” Anakin roared, pointing an accusing finger at the other man’s face. His voice became deeper than Obi-Wan had ever heard it, and a faint echo bounced off the high ceiling. “You and the Council. You don’t trust me! You never did. I’m not getting the respect I deserve!”
Obi-Wan flinched from his padawan’s words, the sudden movement making his head spin. Anakin was furious – that much was plainly obvious. But a quick scan of their Force bond revealed a young man who was in pain, who desired more from life than the Jedi Order would allow. He had formed an attachment that was proving impossible to break and was suffering for it.
He didn’t have any solutions for Anakin, but he had to prevent him from going down a dangerous path or they would both reach a critical point from which there was no return.
“I want you to succeed. There is good in you. But the dark side…”
“Don’t lecture me about the dark side!”
The room shook from Anakin’s outburst. Tables and chairs squeaked and the window pane rattled. The Force felt oily and venomous when Obi-Wan reached for the light side’s grounding presence. The walls seemed to be closing in and the stench of fear and rage weighed heavily in the air. Anakin shut his eyes and spun away, his chest heaving and his fists balled by his sides.
Their argument had escalated too quickly and now they both lost sight of what was at stake.
“Anakin, you’re my brother. I will not allow you to destroy yourself.”
He put his hand on his padawan’s shoulder in what he hoped was a friendly gesture, but Anakin vehemently shrugged him off. With a snarl, he faced Obi-Wan and opened his mouth to speak when a loud, piercing sob snapped him out of his daze.
“Son,” he said softly and full of regret, and rushed over to him. The youngling stood up on wobbly legs to toddle towards his father, who scooped him up and hugged him close. Whatever darkness had descended in the room was now gone, and the familiar and calming feeling of the light side shrouded them in its soothing warmth.
Obi-Wan pulled lightly at his beard and silently cursed his behaviour. He and his padawan needed to have a serious talk when this ordeal ended. He had unequivocally felt the evil of the dark side, how deeply rooted it had become in Anakin. Their issues had come to a head and could no longer be ignored by either of them. But for now, the conversation would have to wait.
He watched intently as the youngling held on to Anakin like a lifeline, no longer crying but still distressed. The resemblance between father and son was undeniable and Obi-Wan bit back the urge to sigh. Anakin noticed but otherwise ignored it, focusing on the child in his arms and planting gentle kisses atop his blond head.
“Please, Obi-Wan,” Anakin admitted sadly, the baby babbling softly in his father’s embrace. “I need your help.”
“C’mon,” he said, jerking his head toward the door when Anakin looked befuddled. “I have an idea.”
*****
The uneti tree looked the same as it did a few hours ago, except now it was even hotter than before and Obi-Wan was beginning to swelter. He used the hem of his tunic as a fan as he sat down in front of Anakin, cross-legged. The child rested serenely in his father’s lap, leaning back against his chest and watching in wonder as Anakin wrestled his leather boots back on.
“You think this will work?” Anakin asked a minute later as he secured his arms possessively around his son, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice.
“I hope it does. Your son showed up here, so I believe it makes sense that the next piece of the puzzle will be here, too.”
The logic seemed flawed, and Obi-Wan was sure he could find enough faults if he had more time to look. But worry gnawed at him, the sharp sensation prickling his skin. The Council would be coming for them and master and padawan had already committed a laundry list of transgressions. Not to mention how Anakin briefly gave in to the dark side back in the classroom, a flareup in the Force that any nominally trained Jedi in the Temple would’ve been able to sense. How in the galaxy were they ever going to explain that?
Obi-Wan considered it dumb luck that they had escaped scrutiny for this long. How much time they had left before the Council seized Anakin’s child was anybody’s guess.
Anakin closed his eyes, sinking into the Force. Obi-Wan observed his eyes fluttering behind his closed lids, then shut them as well.
The Force welcomed him lovingly, as it always did. But the meditation was strangely…vacant. He could clearly feel Anakin’s signature, now seeped in the light side of the Force. But the boy’s presence felt increasingly distant, like a melting candle extinguishing its flame.
Foreboding creeped into Obi-Wan’s mind. He could feel a myriad of sensations – his padawan’s restlessness; the child’s fading, scattering light; Master Yoda’s unfolding interest in their activities; the uneti tree’s consciousness.
Anakin began to fidget and despite his best efforts, Obi-Wan couldn’t block the movement out of his sense of awareness. He hadn’t felt this unmoored since he was a child, but Qui-Gon had been there to ease his troubles and offer words of encouragement.
Their joint meditation – or whatever it was they were doing – mercifully ended when a sharp, mental snap pierced their already shaky concentration and echoed in their minds, like a grenade blast rocking along their Force bond. Desperately, they each grabbed at it in unison, and sighed in relief to discover that it hadn’t severed.
“That was strange,” Anakin chuckled, his eyes still closed. “Always something new with the Force.”
Obi-Wan wanted to share in his padawan’s amusement but he couldn’t stop the unnerving feeling burrowing deeply in the pit of his stomach.
“Yes, I suppose it was. After this is over, you and I are taking a detour to the archives and…”
Anakin’s loud, shattering yelp caused Obi-Wan to blink his eyes open. At first, he didn’t detect anything amiss, squinting against the harsh, penetrating rays of the midday sun. He shifted over a few inches, and then he finally saw it.
The boy was gone, as if he never existed. In his place, there in Anakin’s lap, was what looked to be a black helmet crafted from pure obsidian, singed and smoking, but still retaining its terrifying, unnatural shape.
Crawling over the Anakin’s side, he observed as his padawan held it, turning it over and examining every detail. Its opaque lenses stared back at them and Obi-Wan shuddered in revulsion.
“What do you think this is?” Anakin asked wildly, his pitch increasing with each syllable, an expression of outright alarm written plainly on his youthful face. “What does this have to do with my son? What does this have to do with me? Did the owner of this” – he extended his arms out to fully observe the armored headgear, alarm transforming quickly into disgust – “thing do something to my family?”
Utterly helpless, Obi-Wan could only shrug in resignation. All he knew was that the Force had succeeded in giving them more questions than answers.
Anakin continued to panic as booming, persistent footsteps rang out behind him, loud enough that they could be heard over the sounds of unceasing Coruscanti traffic. They both sat there in the slight shade of the uneti tree as Mace Windu appeared before them, his white robes fluttering from the faint breeze, visibly out of breath, and tremendously annoyed.
Obi-Wan and Anakin looked up at the Jedi Master and felt their hearts drop.
“So, Jedi Knight Skywalker,” he began, crossing his arms over his chest, deep brown eyes contemptuous and reproaching. “Where are you hiding your son?”