Chapter Text
Obi-Wan gazed out over the rain-soaked vista with a pensive wonder. Three weeks of ceaseless rain, and water was now beginning to pool in the dunes, collecting slowly but surely.
It had already flooded most of the major hubs, the cities and towns all but deserted. Only the Tuskens still roamed the dunes. And only those too poor to leave were left struggling to adjust to the new normal.
“That was the last of them,” a soft, modulated voice announced from his side. “They were afraid to leave without their master’s permission.” The voice gained the edge of a snarl.
“And where is their master now?” Obi-Wan asked.
The young man beside him tugged down the cloth covering his face to take a swig from his canteen.
The rest of his body was covered in the hardy cloth particular to the Tuskens, but the goggles he normally wore hung around his neck, a recent change as he grew more comfortable with Obi-Wan.
The man had the most beautiful blue eyes Obi-Wan had ever seen.
His friend took another drink and then scoffed sharply after he swallowed. “Where do you think?”
His voice, unfiltered, was one of the loveliest Obi-Wan had ever heard. Under other circumstances, Obi-Wan might consider asking about spending a night together, but there never seemed to be a good time for it.
“If I had to guess,” he mused, half-teasing, “Canto Bight?”
The man laughed, but the sound was bitter. Obi-Wan wondered about his history that he hated these people so completely.
“Lucky for him. I woulda killed him myself if he was still here. Or better yet, left him for the seas to claim.”
Obi-Wan turned back to look out at what were once sand dunes as far as the eye could see. After the weeks he’d spent here, he could believe that the planet would become an ocean again with nothing less than time.
He was privileged to be allowed to witness it for himself and on behalf of the Jedi.
The Force felt strange here though, strange and almost distant, as if it didn’t hold as much power while the rains were falling. His strange Tusken friend was the only exception to that rule, shining as relentlessly in the Force as one of the now hidden suns.
“Why now?” Obi-Wan wondered aloud. “What’s changed that could cause such a rapid alteration in climate like this?”
He had been turning it over in his mind for over a week now as he and his nameless new friend helped evacuate those left behind.
For a moment, he thought to ask for his name again, but dismissed it as a waste of time. If his friend wanted him to know his name, he would tell him. It seemed to be some aspect of privacy, but as an outsider, Obi-Wan wasn’t privy to many of the wherefores.
His friend frowned audibly. “What do you mean? Isn’t it obvious?”
Obi-Wan turned back to him, all curiosity. “Not to me. Could you explain it?”
“But you… You’re the one who told me about your Force. Surely you know about the others?” When Obi-Wan remained silent, his friend continued with clear bemusement. “Tatooine cannot be the only planet with gods other than your Force.”
Obi-Wan drew up short. The air around them changed, crackled with new energy.
“No,” Obi-Wan allowed, “but I’ve never heard of gods taking direct action before. Not like this.”
In fact, he had rarely if ever heard others talk about their gods. Jedi were comparatively uncommon in their willingness to speak openly of their religion. It hadn’t occured to him to wonder about that before, but he couldn’t avoid thinking about it now.
How many other religions served an active god or gods? How many simply kept silent when speaking with offworlders? Would Jedi ever normally be allowed to learn of them when they already served another?
His friend toyed with his staff, biting his plush pink lips until the skin turned pale beneath his teeth. “I’m not supposed to… You’re an outsider. We’re not meant to talk about this so freely,” he explained with audible frustration.
Obi-Wan raised his hands. “I won’t lie; I would very much like to hear more about your gods and the rain, but I don’t want you to get in any trouble for it. I won’t push; you have my word.”
His friend bit the tip of his thumb where it was exposed by the holes in his gloves, brow furrowed. His eyes reflected the clouds until they too looked stormy instead of simply blue. His long eyelashes lowered, casting them in a darker shadow, before he perked back up, decision apparently made. “Come with me.”
His friend pulled up his mask and goggles, obscuring his handsome face once more, and tugged Obi-Wan to their speeder.
Obi-Wan held onto his friend as he drove them quickly back toward his camp, the rain whipping past them. They crested dunes fast enough to lift off, soaring briefly through the air. It was exhilirating and terrifying at once; Obi-Wan let himself hold tighter with a secret smile.
His friend laughed, loud and unabashed.
Obi-Wan would never get used to how fast his friend could make the old speeder go. Even now, after they’d been using the machine for over a week to guide anyone left behind to the mesas closest to them, he found his stomach flipping and his heart pounding.
Obi-Wan gazed out at one of the mesas, high above what would likely become sea level. There, the people left behind could wait out the storms together, safe from the floods.
There were bound to be growing pains, especially as the people from the cities now shared the mesas with the various Jawa tribes, but they would all have to adjust.
Everything was changing now, and only the Tuskens and Jawas seemed to know why.
They arrived at his friend’s camp shortly before nightfall, though the dense cloud cover made it difficult to see any difference in the time of day.
His friend strode confidently into the camp, speaking and signing quickly as he approached the group’s leader. Obi-Wan followed at a respectful distance, hands tucked into his cloak sleeves, hood raised against the rain.
Their leader listened quietly, closely, and asked several short questions.
His friend answered with clear enthusiasm.
The leader consulted with another Tusken, this one shorter and almost hunched. Elderly?
The hunched Tusken nodded with enormous gravity; the leader seemed to sigh, but echoed the approval.
His friend whooped and darted back to his side. “Come on, before they change their minds!”
Obi-Wan let himself be pulled along, unsure of what exactly was about to happen. His friend urged him into a hut, and the hunched Tusken and the leader followed he and his friend inside.
The hunched Tusken unrolled a wall scroll, one that looked older than some of the Jedi texts Obi-Wan had seen in the Temple Archives, though it also looked almost shiny. Was it waterproof?
There was writing on it in a heavy, dark ink, as well as beautiful illustrations in what must be an older artistic style, smooth and flowing and at odds with the harsh desert he knew Tatooine to be.
It was like nothing he had ever seen, and yet somehow, Obi-Wan felt like he’d seen it somewhere before, like it was something he’d always known.
“Long ago, when the oceans were wet,” his friend translated, his voice following the signs and speech of the—probably an elder, Obi-Wan thought—elder Tusken, “our ancestors committed an evil act of great hubris. In answer, the gods—fair and just in their infinite wisdom—cast our ancestors from their home waters and forced them to wander a waterless waste until they finally atoned for their many sins.”
Obi-Wan leaned forward, eyes darting from the elder to the scroll. Sure enough, the images seemed to match the tale, beings prostrate before a great power, the two suns above desert sands, the wandering Tuskens…
“Only with a selfless act that benefits the gods they harmed could they earn the return of their home waters.”
This, too, was depicted. The steady rains were shown just before an image much like the first but with beings shown in ecstatic gratitude instead of abject despair.
“Even we do not know with what act we may have finally pleased our gods.” The elder bowed their head. “It is not for us to know, and it was done without expectation of reward, whatever it may have been. And that is all that matters. Now that the waters return, there is naught to do but wait and prepare and pray.”
Obi-Wan stroked a hand over his beard. How fascinating. “Thank you for allowing me to hear your people’s history.” He bowed his head. “I am truly grateful for it.”
The elder leaned closer; Obi-Wan had the sense he was being studied.
“You,” his friend continued to translate. “Wait, what?” He spoke and signed rapidly, confusion and distress evident.
The elder signed pointedly, repeating their earlier signs, looking only at Obi-Wan.
His friend continued, voice tight and almost petulant. “You are touched by the Sky Walker, as is our borrowed child. Will you help him find a new home when the waters have returned?”
Obi-Wan blinked, looking between his friend and the elder. “Sorry, Sky Walker?” he asked aloud.
“She means your Force,” his friend explained. “People touched by it on Tatooine are called Skywalker to mark it. My mother was a Skywalker, too,” he admitted.
Obi-Wan hummed as he thought that through. Not unheard of, a name specific to Force sensitives, though it was interesting how many Force sensitive people had apparently gone unnoticed on Tatooine for there to be a surname to mark them. Did the Council know that children from Tatooine were being overlooked?
The elder was still gazing at him. Right, he owed her an answer.
“I would gladly see my friend settled somewhere safe. Anywhere he wished to go,” he agreed. “Though I suspect he wishes to stay here with his family.”
“Exactly!” his friend snapped.
The elder shook her head.
“Our borrowed child has no way to live beneath the water. We cannot keep him when the waters return, and so we cannot continue to protect him or provide for him.”
His friend’s voice broke, audible even through his modulator. He signed rapidly again, his hands shaking.
The leader placed a firm hand on his shoulder and bowed their heads together. He said something, brief but firm.
Obi-Wan looked away to give them privacy.
The elder was watching him again. She stepped closer and tugged him gently toward the scroll. She placed a finger over her modulator, motioning for quiet, before gesturing to a smaller section of the scroll, one he hadn’t noticed on a first look.
It depicted another powerful being, a god perhaps, surrounded by a group of the wandering Tuskens. But this being was different than the first, smaller. One of the suns was always shining just behind its head, lending it an air of nobility.
A king, perhaps. Or maybe a demigod.
Obi-Wan held his hand over the scroll, surprised to feel the Force centered strongly on that panel alone. The rest of the scroll was almost totally Force null.
Rather than a history, could the scroll be a prophecy?
And why would the Force be so strongly present in one small section on a scroll otherwise entirely focused on the gods and native peoples of Tatooine?
The elder took his hand and pressed it flat over the image of the demigod. The scroll was smooth and almost slick beneath his skin, and the Force within it surged against him as if in greeting.
It felt just like—
Obi-Wan shot a quick look over his shoulder where his friend was still in quiet conference with their leader. He stared down at the elder with wild-eyed amazement.
“Does he know?” he asked quietly.
The elder shook her head. She tapped her own chest and held up a single finger.
“Only you?”
She nodded gravely.
Obi-Wan looked back at the scroll where he could still feel his friend’s presence etched indelibly into an ancient material. “But how can he be? He’s powerful, to be sure, but he’s mortal, isn’t he?”
She shook her head and tapped him once on his sternum and again on his forehead.
Before Obi-Wan could ask, his friend was returning. “I won’t leave until I have no other choice.”
Obi-Wan glanced at the elder. She seemed expectant, like she knew what he was going to say before he did.
She reminded him suddenly and strongly of Master Yoda.
“Then we won’t leave until then. There’s much to be done to prepare the mesas for both the continued rain and its eventual conclusion.” Obi-Wan bowed his head. “I’ve been given leave to stay as long as I see a need. This is unprecedented, and it deserves to be witnessed. As long as I’m allowed, I am happy to remain.”
His friend looked askance at him as though he were the crazy one.
For a moment, when Obi-Wan looked at him, he thought he could see the sun glowing behind his head.
“I am right where I’m meant to be,” he assured his friend. The Force had never been clearer, in fact. Leaving would be the biggest mistake he could ever make, so he wouldn’t.
It was as simple as that.
“You haven’t asked me again for my name,” his friend pointed out, something lurking behind the too-casual tone.
Obi-Wan looked up from the mending he’d been given to work on and smiled. “It’s good to see you again so soon, my friend. What brings you here?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t ask one.”
His friend gave the impression of scowling behind his face coverings. “Why haven’t you asked again?”
“Because you will tell me when you want me to know it.” Obi-Wan returned to his sewing. “In the meantime, I’m content to call you my friend.”
His friend looked like he wanted to say something, but instead turned and stormed off.
Obi-Wan left it alone. He would explain himself in time or not. But for now, Obi-Wan had never felt more at peace within the Force. It was like all his life had been building to this moment, and to whatever was coming next, whatever it was they now waited for.
This was why Obi-Wan had become a knight, he knew. He could feel it in every note of every harmony of the Force as it sang through him and around him, bright and beautiful and no longer muffled by the unending rain.
His friend came by at least once a day. Sometimes he helped Obi-Wan settle disputes between the displaced people from the cities and their new Jawa neighbors. Sometimes he quietly fixed mechanics while Obi-Wan mended other things, mostly ceramics and fabrics.
“Is there really nowhere else for you to be?” his friend demanded one day, setting down his wrench.
Obi-Wan looked up. Despite the face coverings, he could tell his friend was frustrated about something. He set down the tarp he was strengthening. “I am right where I’m meant to be. The Jedi Council have approved my staying as long as I feel necessary.”
His friend was silent for a long moment.
Obi-Wan considered resuming his work, but before he could decide, his friend crossed his arms.
“Will you really take me with you when you leave?” he asked.
Obi-Wan shrugged. “That depends on you, my friend. I would be happy to take you wherever you wanted to go, but I won’t force you to leave your home, no matter what your elder asks of me.”
His friend looked at him for a long time, expression unreadable behind cloth and goggles. Still, he had the strangest sense of… expectation building between them.
“You told Elder—the elder—that you’d take care of me in their stead.”
“Is that what you want?” Obi-Wan asked. “You’re Force sensitive, so there’s no reason you cannot come with me to the Temple if you like, but I’m not going to take you anywhere against your will.”
“The Jedi Temple?”
“On Coruscant, yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “It’s my home.”
His friend sat down across from him. “Do you like it there?”
“Yes, although… I’ve always preferred the Temple itself to the rest of Coruscant. The gardens are so lovely, and the rest of the planet is rather… low on plant life. But the other Jedi live there, and they are my family, so it is my home.” Obi-Wan leaned closer. “Do you like Tatooine?”
His friend laughed, surprised. “What a question. I’ve never been anywhere else, so it’s not like I have anything to compare it to, but… Well, no, honestly. I’ve always hated this place. The Hutts, their cronies, the people who look the other way, the fucking sand.”
He sounded so offended that Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile.
“I stayed for my mom, and when she died, I stayed because the tribe had already claimed us, and I didn’t know where else to go.” His friend looked down at his hands. “I still don’t, I guess. And they don’t want me to stay.”
Obi-Wan reached out to take his friend’s hand. “They only want the best for you, my friend. It was clear to me that they love you very much.” He squeezed his hands. “When you picture yourself happy, where are you?”
His friend looked at him for a long beat, bewilderment evident. “When I picture myself…”
Obi-Wan gave an encouraging smile. He would wait as long as it took. This answer was important. It mattered.
“I’ve always wanted to fly,” his friend admitted. “I used to podrace when I was a child, and I’ve always… I know it’s dumb, but I always dream of the stars.”
Obi-Wan leaned closer. “That isn’t dumb at all.”
His friend pulled his hands away and turned his head.
“Anyway, what about you? Where are you happiest?”
Obi-Wan clenched his hands, oddly bereft. “Anywhere peaceful, I suppose. I’ve always loved plants and other wild life.” He laughed a little. “But travelling is what allowed me to meet you, so I suppose I’m at my happiest doing that.”
His friend stood up, wrench suddenly in hand, and buried himself back in the engine. “Really ought to get this done,” his voice said, muffled in machinery. “We’ve taken a long enough break, I think.”
Obi-Wan frowned, but picked his tarp back up. His friend had the strangest reactions sometimes. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his friend flustered.
Obi-Wan dreamt of a forest, larger than he’d ever seen and teeming with life. The voices of the trees echoed through him, welcoming and eager to speak with him about their lives and their peoples and—
“I’ve never seen so much green in my life,” his friend said with quiet awe, warm hand bare where it gripped his own. “And how can such a quiet place be so loud?”
Obi-Wan turned to face him, to answer, but the dream shifted around him as he moved.
There was a woman before him now, and his hand was empty. His friend was gone.
The woman was worn and tired but radiated love. She was smiling, and there was a tiny boy with bright blonde hair hiding behind her skirts.
“Hello there,” he greeted them.
“Hello, Obi-Wan.” The woman rested her hand on the boy’s head. “Do you know who I am?”
Obi-Wan considered her. They’d never met, but something in her features, the curl of her mouth… He looked down again at the boy who was now gazing up at him.
He’d only seen eyes like that once before.
“You’re his late mother,” Obi-Wan answered. “This is my friend as a young boy.”
Something in her features relaxed. “Yes. Yes, that’s right.” She took a step back into the small house. “Come, sit with me. I’d like to know you.”
Obi-Wan followed her inside. The building looked familiar. They were still on Tatooine, in one of the cities.
“Ma’am, are these slave quarters?” Obi-Wan asked as he sat down.
“Yes.” She sat across from him, and his friend darted off somewhere. “And call me Shmi. Shmi Skywalker.”
“Skywalker meaning you’re Force sensitive, right?” Obi-Wan asked.
“Receptive might be more accurate, but yes. Nothing like my son is, though. Do you like him, Obi-Wan?”
“Yes,” he said. “He’s incredible. I’ve never met anyone like him before. You’ve raised a wonderful young man.”
Shmi smiled at him. “Thank you. He can be a handful, but he is my pride and joy.”
Obi-Wan looked around, but there was no sign anyone else lived in the house with them. He frowned. “And… his father?”
“He has no father,” Shmi said. “And until we were taken in by the Tuskens, I had never.” She raised her eyebrows, pointed.
Obi-Wan stared, disbelieving. “You… I’m sorry?”
“My son is a miracle. I won’t entrust him to just anyone, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
Obi-Wan pressed his hand over his mouth. His friend really was a demigod. A son of the Force in a very literal sense; the truth resonated within him, the Force around them singing sweetly with it.
He let out a heavy breath. “Was there somewhere you wanted me to take him? Someone you want me to take him to see?”
Shmi paused, surprised by the question, but then she chuckled. “Yes. Help him find his husband,” she answered. “That’s all I’ll ask of you.”
Obi-Wan nodded, decisive. “I swear it, Shmi Skywalker. I’ll stay with him until then.”
She laid a hand on his, her smile bright. “See that you do. And remind him that I love him, and I am very proud of the man he’s become.”
“I will.”
A tiny hand tugged at his sleeve. His much younger friend looked up at him, old eyes in a young face. “You have done well, my child.”
Obi-Wan blinked hard, a tear escaping. His friend’s small hand brushed it away.
“You are worthy,” his friend said. “You are enough.”
Obi-Wan sat up, rain drowning out the sound of his gasp. Dry in his tent, his face was wet with tears. And yet, his chest felt full with a warmth he could not explain. He shuddered and bowed his head.
The Force was quiet around him, cradling him as if to ease him back to sleep.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I’ll tell him when I see him today.”
As he lie down, the Force sang him back into a dreamless sleep.
Obi-Wan spent most of the next day alone. Every time someone passed by his tent, he found himself reaching out in the Force, but it was never the presence he was expecting.
Lunch came and went, and there was still no sign of his friend.
Too distracted to continue, Obi-Wan set his work aside and wandered out into the settlement, reaching out for his friend’s familiar presence, a beacon drawing him to the outskirts and then a little further.
His friend was sitting on the edge of the mesa, his feet hanging over the side.
“Rather precarious,” Obi-Wan commented, his voice carrying even through the rain.
His friend glanced back at him, but turned forward again. He didn’t say anything, but in the Force, Obi-Wan felt a pull against him, urging him closer.
Obi-Wan sat down beside him, leaving a little space between their legs.
The view really was incredible. The sands were beginning to hold water in earnest, the pools growing larger by the day. It seemed the gods wanted their seas returned as soon as possible.
“I missed you at lunch today,” Obi-Wan said. “Have you been here long?”
His friend shrugged. “I had a lot on my mind. And I’ve been having strange dreams.”
“Dreams? About what?”
But his friend shook his head stubbornly.
Obi-Wan stroked his beard. “I had a dream last night, too. It’s been a while since I have, actually.”
“What was it about?” his friend asked.
“I’m not sure you’ll believe me, but… Well, I did promise. I dreamt of a woman named Shmi Skywalker.”
His friend jolted and nearly toppled over in his haste to turn around. “What?” he demanded.
Obi-Wan caught him by his sleeve, eyeing the drop warily. “Easy now, my friend. I’ll tell you everything I can remember. Please don’t fall.”
“Fine, fine, but what did she say?”
“She asked me to remind you that she loves you, and that she is very proud of the man you’ve become.”
His friend grabbed his arm, gaze intense even behind his goggles. “She said that?”
Obi-Wan nodded. “She did. She was very clear about that.” He smiled. “You resemble her, you know.”
His friend lowered his head. “I saw her, too. She didn’t say anything, though. She just… She kissed my forehead, like she used to.” His friend pressed two fingers to the spot. “It felt so real.”
“The people we love are never truly gone, my friend. The Force is in all things, and she is one with the Force now.” Obi-Wan squeezed his arm.
His friend was quiet for a long time, nothing but the rain’s steady drone.
His friend pulled down his goggles and his face coverings and let his hood fall back.
Obi-Wan startled, but greedily drank in the full face on display. Fine features now wet with rain, full but delicate lips, earnest blue eyes, and dark, wavy hair losing volume as the rain soaked it through.
“Anakin,” his friend said. “You should call me Anakin.”
Obi-Wan, for a delirious moment, thought he might succumb. Never had the urge to kiss him been so overpowering.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, testing the syllables. “It is a pleasure to know you, Anakin Skywalker.”
Anakin’s cheeks grew pink despite the cold water pouring down them. Rain was caught in his thick eyelashes like dew drops. It slid down his face, catching on the bow of his lips.
Obi-Wan reached out, fingers itching to tangle in thick curls or curl around the back of his neck.
“Kenobi! Come quick!”
Anakin jolted, expression darkening even as he turned his face away from the voice.
Obi-Wan clenched his fist against the shocking strength of his disappointment. Foolish. He was a Jedi, and this was inappropriate. Anakin was his friend, and he trusted him to find a new home for him. He couldn’t be complicating that now, not when they’d never even discussed what it meant that Obi-Wan was a Jedi.
Still, it was with regret heavy in his breast that he watched Anakin wrap himself back up in his hood, wiping water from his face before replacing his goggles and mask.
This better be important, Obi-Wan thought uncharitably.
“What’s wrong?” he answered as soon as Anakin was covered again.
He pushed to his feet and offered Anakin a hand, relieved when his friend accepted it, stepping up and into his space, just for a moment.
“There’s a fight broke out over the supplies. Jawas say they’re being cheated, and—”
“Oh dear,” Obi-Wan said. That probably was important then. Unfortunate. “Will you help me resolve this, my friend? I would appreciate your expertise here.”
Anakin, he thought. My friend is called Anakin.
“I may as well. I’m already here,” he said dismissively, but Obi-Wan could feel the warmth just beneath his words.
Warmth and no small disappointment.
But that wasn’t worth considering. He wouldn’t think about that or what it might mean.
They had work to do.
Anakin’s few belongings had begun to migrate into Obi-Wan’s tent. It took a little while for Obi-Wan to notice, but there was a growing assortment of things around him that weren’t his.
He turned one of the trinkets over in his hand, the Force and a strong sense of Anakin curled warmly around the carved wood. He was pretty sure it was a bantha figurine, but it was difficult to be certain.
Whatever it was, Obi-Wan liked it. It was tempting to slip it into his pocket to carry it around with him, but he knew he shouldn’t. It didn’t belong to him. He couldn’t just do whatever he wanted with it.
Anakin poked his head through the tent flap. “You’re still in here? Normally you’re making your rounds by now. Feeling okay?”
Obi-Wan waved off his concern with a smile. “Perfectly fine, just taking my time this morning.” Was there a way to casually set down the figure without Anakin noticing?
Anakin paused, head tipping down. “Oh, is that my—”
“Sorry, I was cleaning up a bit and ended up holding onto it longer than I meant to. Was this yours? It’s a lovely little thing.” Obi-Wan held out his hand to offer it back, but Anakin quickly shook his head.
“No, no, if you like it, you should keep it! It’s, um. It’s nothing special. I, uh. I carved it myself a while ago.” Anakin looked away, cutting himself off.
Obi-Wan ran his thumb over the smooth wood. “Are you sure?”
Anakin nodded firmly, but didn’t look back at him.
“I’ll take good care of it. If you ever want it back…”
Anakin shook his head. “I want you to have it. So it’s yours as long as you want it.”
Obi-Wan smiled and stroked the little figure again. “Thank you, Anakin.” When they were inevitably forced to part ways when Obi-Wan found Anakin his husband, it would be a lovely reminder of their time together.
He tucked the figure into his robes, within easy reach, and pushed back to his feet. “Well then, shall we? You’re here early enough, you can join me on my walk today.”
Anakin gave the distinct impression of rolling his eyes, but he felt pleased in spite of that. “I guess I have nothing better to do.”
They fell into step together with ease, as if they’d known each other for years and not a little over a month.
Obi-Wan would hate to lose this. Had he ever connected so easily or so well with any of his peers at the Temple? He’d thought he had, but now his friendships seemed shallow by comparison.
They worked together so seamlessly, it left Obi-Wan wondering about things he’d long since given up.
Anakin stepped a little closer so their shoulders brushed on their next steps; Obi-Wan let it happen again. And again.
In his pocket, his thumb brushed over the figure.
Soon, he would go back to the Temple, and all of this would come to an end. Anakin had a husband waiting for him somewhere and the whole galaxy to explore, and Obi-Wan would only inevitably hold him back.
His first priority was the Order. That hadn’t changed.
Obi-Wan cast a sideways look at Anakin, greedy to take in as much of him as he could before they had to part. It was a shame about the goggles and the mask. He had such a handsome face, and—
“Something wrong, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked. There was a thread of amusement in his tone.
Obi-Wan shook his head to clear his thoughts. “No, no, lost in thought, that’s all.” He looked out at the rising waters surrounding them. “It’ll be time to leave soon, won’t it?”
Anakin followed his gaze. “Yes. They’re planning to begin rebuilding soon. They, that is, the other tribes have already left. My tribe, they were just waiting for me to be ready.”
Obi-Wan leaned closer, offering silent support. “And are you? Ready?”
Anakin looked at him, and his shoulders lowered, relaxed. “I actually think I am. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “Leaving your home is a challenge, one not to be undertaken lightly. You should take as much time as you need.”
Anakin leaned against him. “I think I have. I… I want to go, I think. It might even be fun, leaving with you.”
Obi-Wan laughed, feeling shy under such an earnest compliment. “There’s a lot to see and more to experience. It’s a big galaxy.”
“Is that meant to scare me? It’s not working.” Anakin’s hidden grin was as contagious as his mounting excitement.
“No? Hm, I must be doing something wrong then. How’s this? Once we’re out there, I’ll teach you to fly.”
Anakin stopped walking. “You promise? You really will?”
Obi-Wan smiled. “Yes, Anakin. I really will.”
“I’ll never forgive you if you’re lying to me.”
Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he could survive that. Anakin’s ire was not something he wanted to court, nor was his disappointment. “I swear to you, I will teach you to fly.”
Anakin searched his face before his excitement burst again on the air with a whoop. “No takebacks!”
Anakin raced ahead; Obi-Wan followed at a more sedate pace. “I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Sure enough, within a few days, Obi-Wan found himself wrapping up within the camp, brokering agreements that he could only hope would be followed in his absence, and preparing to leave.
Anakin stayed with the Tuskens for a few days in a row—during which time Obi-Wan felt ridiculous for missing his company—before appearing with a bag on his shoulder, his staff in his hand, and his family behind him.
Obi-Wan hefted his bag, grateful that the tent could remain to be taken over by the next person who would need it.
“Where’s your ’ship?” Anakin asked as he approached.
Obi-Wan nodded in the correct direction. “Just around the bend there.”
Anakin fell into step beside him, close but without touching. The Tuskens spilled out around them, a few of the children tugging on Anakin’s robes and speaking to him with obvious enthusiasm.
Obi-Wan couldn’t understand their words, but he could understand laughter and love and bittersweet farewells.
The elder walked beside Obi-Wan, quiet but no less pleased by the arrangement. Amused, even, though he couldn’t be sure of why.
Just outside his ’ship, the congregation came to a halt. The elder walked around until she stood in front of them all.
She spoke a few words with strong hand signs, one of which involved making a circle with her hands and drawing another circle with her hands still held together.
She held out her hands toward both Anakin and Obi-Wan.
Anakin placed his hand on hers, so Obi-Wan mirrored him. Some kind of elaborate send off? He’d have to ask Anakin about it later.
She took their hands and pressed them together almost as though they were shaking hands. Anakin held his wrist; Obi-Wan matched him.
The elder spoke again, making the round gesture with her circled hands again. The next time she spoke, Anakin translated for her.
“We give our borrowed child unto your keeping.”
Obi-Wan fought to keep his face even; was he meant to reply? The beat of silence felt expectant.
Anakin squeezed his wrist.
He was expected to reply. Oh, dear. “I am honored by your trust,” he tried. Still, some expectation lingered. What else…? “And I will take him gladly.”
The Tuskens cheered and clapped them both on the back. The elder said something else, but it was drowned out in the commotion.
Obi-Wan found himself pressed against Anakin, an Anakin who was laughing as he tugged his goggles and masks down and off. Anakin beamed at him.
“What are they saying?” Obi-Wan asked, struck nearly dumb by how pretty Anakin looked just then, joyous and eager and bright-eyed.
“They’re wishing us luck and safe travels.”
Obi-Wan smiled. The elder caught his attention before she pressed two fingers above her heart, then against her forehead, and nodded once. Decisive.
He must have done as she’d hoped. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d gotten right, but her approval was nice either way. He bowed his head to her and to the leader who clapped him on the shoulder with more force than he anticipated.
He stumbled under the hit, but laughed even as Anakin steadied him. Only Dex had ever knocked him off his balance that way.
Anakin tugged him along, waving off eager hands as he guided them up the ramp. He waved down at the group, and Obi-Wan pretended not to notice the tears in his eyes.
And then, the ramp was lifting and they were off and into the cockpit. Everything was ready, thanks to the astromech droid he’d left with the ’ship.
“Oh, what’s your name?” Anakin asked. He dropped his bag carelessly as he knelt down to the droid’s level.
The droid beeped.
“R2-D2, huh? Ready to go home, R2?” Anakin asked.
The droid beeped again. Anakin laughed.
“Where did you find this droid, Obi-Wan? He’s hilarious!”
Obi-Wan glanced over from where he was steering them up and away from the mesa. “Him? Oh, yes. He works at the Temple. This is the ’ship he’s assigned to.”
R2-D2 beeped again, and again Anakin laughed. “Oh, I like you. I think we’re going to be fast friends.”
R2-D2 beeped again, and Obi-Wan had the distinct feeling that it was pleased. He laughed under his breath.
“I hate to interrupt, but Anakin? You’re going to want to see this.”
Anakin scrambled up and into the copilot’s seat, eager anticipation lighting him up. “What am I looking for?”
Obi-Wan flipped all the right toggles. He grabbed Anakin’s hand and placed it on the final lever. “Slide this up,” he said.
Anakin shot him a look, but then his hand was sliding up and they were punching into hyperspace. Anakin gasped, pink lips parted with amazement and eyes glittering with wonder and the stars streaking by.
“Oh, Obi-Wan, it’s beautiful.”
Obi-Wan, eyes still on Anakin’s face, couldn’t agree more.