Part I

Never in his life had Obi-Wan thought it would be up to him to care for an infant. He didn’t have the slightest idea of what was required of him in the long run. He was only supposed to have been Luke’s caretaker for as long as it took to get him to his family on Tatooine. Now he not only had to care for Anakin’s son, but do it while hiding from the Empire.

It pained Obi-Wan that Anakin could have no part of his son’s life. Having seen his former apprentice spend time with the younglings at the Temple, Obi-Wan knew just how at ease Anakin was around children. Anakin was very patient and kind to them, playing games with them in his spare time. Obi-Wan knows that Anakin would have been a wonderful father and each time he looks at Luke he can’t help but feel sorrow for the way events have unfolded.

Throughout it all there was a small part of him that clung to Padmé’s dying conviction. Foolhardy as he knew it was, there was a small part of Obi-Wan that wanted to believe there was something in Anakin worth saving. That the lava of Mustafar had turned Anakin completely into the Sith Lord Vader Obi-Wan did not doubt—that fire would have burned away whatever remained of the boy he had trained. But Obi-Wan had to believe that there was still something human inside that fire-ravaged monster. If not for the sake of his friend then for the child he held in his arms. In Luke was the last of Anakin’s humanity and Obi-Wan prayed that the boy would one day be able to do what he and Padmé had been unable to.

Lying in a small bundle of blankets next to him, Luke stared up at him with wide blue eyes. The little boy was unaware of all the turmoil swirling around him. He had never even had an actual home in the ten days he had been alive. Obi-Wan was the only constant thing in the infant’s life just as Luke had become for him.

As he reached into the makeshift bedding to pick Luke up, Obi-Wan was once again struck by the fact that not only had Anakin been unable to ever hold his son, but Padmé had never held her children either. She had lived long enough to name them and to briefly touch Luke, but in the end Anakin’s betrayal had been more than she could handle and she’d passed on into the Force.

“Had your parents lived, you would right now be living in the lap of luxury in Naboo’s lake district,” Obi-Wan informed the small boy as he cradled Luke to his chest. “From what I remember hearing from your mother, you have two cousins, though I’m afraid I cannot recall their names. They would have made good playmates for you and your sister when you were older. Things being as they are, you shall have to make due with me. Your mother’s family is far too much in the public eye for you to be safely concealed there.”

It had taken Obi-Wan some time to become accustomed to the fact that he would receive no response from Luke aside from a few stray blinks and the odd yawn. After so many years he was used to Anakin’s animated conversations. The younger man would argue his case long after the faults in his logic became obvious. Obi-Wan had always indulged him because he honestly enjoyed bantering with his former apprentice. They had been so long together that by the end they would quite often finish each other’s thoughts. Many times their lives had been saved in battle because they were so intoned with one another. The two men could fight vast numbers of droids, ducking and weaving and moving as though they were a single entity.

That was what had made Mustafar so difficult. Not only had he been fighting his best friend, but also a man who had fought for years as his mirror image. The only advantages either had received came from punches and the like that were out of sequence with the fighting forms they used. With a lightsaber neither could best the other when engaged in that elegant dance.

Until the very end. It was Vader’s arrogance that had sealed Anakin’s fate. At any other time Anakin would have never attempted so reckless a move. He would have been tempted, true enough, but Anakin would never have made himself so vulnerable. And Obi-Wan would never have been force to remove his friend’s three remaining limbs. While the memory of the act still made his heart clench, Obi-Wan reminded himself each time that it had not been Anakin he had left defenseless and burning on Mustafar. Rather, it had been Anakin’s murderer.

Anakin’s fears had given life to Darth Vader and in the end Vader had murdered the selfless boy Qui-Gon had found on Tatooine so many years before. He could blame Sidious for deceiving the boy for the rest of his days, but ultimately it was Anakin’s fears that had destroyed him and unleashed a horrible monster onto the galaxy.

“But perhaps your mother was right,” Obi-Wan mused before reaching into his satchel to remove a bottle of simulated breast milk for Luke. “Perhaps something of Anakin survived those flames.”

Unable as yet to allow himself that hope, Obi-Wan focused is whole attention on feeding Luke his dinner. Caring for an infant made for a rather uniform existence. He had to ensure that Luke was fed, changed, had plenty of attention, and was allowed to sleep undisturbed whenever possible. It was a far cry from the regimented life he’d lived as a Jedi no long ago, but it gave Obi-Wan something to focus on and kept him from dwelling inwards too much.

At the same instant Obi-Wan removed the empty bottle from Luke’s mouth, the infant let out a milky burp that dribbled down his chin.

“Your father’s eating habits, I see,” Obi-Wan chuckled as he cleaned away the spit up with a clean cloth. “It was a well kept secret that the reason your father wore browns and blacks was to hide any spills on his clothing.”

Luke’s second burp was a little louder and then he snuggled deeper into Obi-Wan’s arms, nearly asleep instantly. Obi-Wan could only stare at the little boy’s face in wonder. In that brief instant he caught a glimpse of Anakin in Luke’s face. It lasted for only a split second, but in that instant he saw the best friend he had lost.

Obi-Wan wasn’t certain he would be able to handle seeing Anakin’s face staring back at him for the rest of his days. Anakin already haunted his nights, a silent figure in his dreams pleading for help as he burned away on the shores of Mustafar. And, if he was truly honest, Obi-Wan had been tempted to save Anakin when the flames had first engulfed him. No matter what he had done, Anakin had been his best friend and it had pained him to leave Anakin behind. More than once Obi-Wan had wished that Yoda had allowed him to face Sidious rather than Anakin.

Killing Anakin had never been his intention. Even after seeing the security footage, Obi-Wan had hoped there was some way to draw the younger man away from the darkness that was consuming him. He had hoped that there was something in Anakin that could still be saved. All of that had ended when he’d seen Anakin strangling Padmé with invisible hands. She was the one he had threatened the entire galaxy for and to see that he was willing to kill her without any hint of remorse frightened Obi-Wan. He had realized then that Anakin was no longer the man he had known.

His and Luke’s current destination was a remote system called Roon. It was far enough away from the Core Worlds for it to be easily overlooked by any forces still hunting the errant Jedi across the galaxy. Obi-Wan was still confused as to why his image was not being broadcast across the HoloNet along with the remainder of the living Jedi. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that Vader was somehow protecting him. Vader had been determined to kill him, a resolve which would have only grown following the events on Mustafar.

It couldn’t be any way else. Obi-Wan Kenobi was an enemy of the newly formed Galactic Empire because of the simple fact that he was a Jedi. At one of the spaceports, Obi-Wan had seen images of the Temple as it was now—ravaged and destroyed by fire. The building had been turned into a giant pyre, cremating the bodies lying dead within its walls. Obi-Wan’s knees had nearly given out under him as he watched the massive center spiral crumble in the wake of the fire. The High Council room, the revered seat of the Jedi Order had been impaled through two of its large windows by the base of the spire that had supported it.

As he watched the fire engulf the only home he had ever known, Obi-Wan found himself wishing that he had gone on the errand that had seemed trivial to him when he and Master Yoda were altering the distress transmission. Before he had seen the security footage and realized the extend of recent events, Obi-Wan had thought to return to his quarters and retrieve the small box that contained his and Anakin’s padawan braids as well as his late Master’s lightsaber. At the time of Qui-Gon’s funeral, Obi-Wan had explained away keeping the weapon as a temporary replacement for his own lost one. New the Knighthood and still becoming accustomed to both it and his new padawan, Obi-Wan hadn’t been sure how long it would be before he could construct a new lightsaber. Afterwards, he had simply found himself unable to part with Qui-Gon’s lightsaber. Now both it and the padawan braids were lost, consumed by the same fire that had destroyed the Temple.

To Obi-Wan, it seemed a fitting ending for those relics of Jedi Order.

There were enough scattered settlements on Roon for he and Luke to remain hidden away for a long while. It was a forested planet that they were bound to, lush and green and so unlike the planet that had created Anakin. Luke would grow up surrounded by trees and rivers and Obi-Wan hoped that he would grow up to be happy. From him Luke would learn of his parents for Obi-Wan didn’t intend to masquerade himself as the boy’s father. Luke would know of Anakin and Padmé. And later, once he was older, Obi-Wan would tell him of Leia and of their father’s fate.

The temporary home Obi-Wan found for himself and Luke was near the edges of a small village named Bantok. It was a simple mud brick building with a single bedroom, ‘fresher, a kitchen and a common room. In truth there was no much difference between it and the apartment he had shared with Anakin in the Jedi Temple save for the number of bedrooms. The amount of time he’d spent with Anakin over the years had also given him enough knowledge of mechanical things for Ben Kenobi to become part owner of a repair shop.

During the day Obi-Wan was able to put up the pretences of living a content existence with his son. The story of their past was that Ben and his infant son Luke were from a system that had been invaded and destroyed by the Separatists. The injuries his wife had received had allowed her to live only long enough for the infant to be born and after seeing to her burial he and Luke had fled the system. There were enough such tales that existed in the wake of the Clone War for it not to be remarkable.

For the most part Obi-Wan was content. At least during daylight hours. Between caring for Luke and working at the repair shop, Obi-Wan kept himself far too busy to think about Anakin or the life he had once lived. Nighttime was a different matter entirely. Try as he might, Obi-Wan was unable to guard his dreams against things that he would rather not think of.

“You underestimate my power!”

“Don’t try it.”

Even more than a month later, Obi-Wan could still feel the heat of Mustafar against his skin and taste the sulfur in his every breath. He sat up in the center of his bed, panting and sweating profusely as a result of yet another nightmare while the heat of Mustafar once again infused his skin. Obi-Wan didn’t think that he would ever be free of those flames.

Across the room, Luke let out a frightened whimper. Obi-Wan rose swiftly from his bed, cursing silently for having frightened the boy. While Luke was not yet to the point where he slept through the night, Obi-Wan’s accidental projecting had woken the infant sooner than he would have on his own. He crossed the room hurriedly to where Luke’s basinet stood against the wall opposite his bed.

“Hush now, Luke,” Obi-Wan murmured as he gathered the baby up in his arms. “I’m sorry for waking you up, young one. I am usually much better at guarding my thoughts, I promise you.”

Still obviously upset by whatever visions he had absorbed from Obi-Wan’s nightmare, Luke continued to whimper and nuzzled deeper into the man’s arms. Obi-Wan wandered about the moonlit room, talking softly to Luke in hopes of calming him. Ever so slowly Luke’s scrunched up features began to relax, his eyes blinking owlishly.

Luke gurgled at that, wiggling about in Obi-Wan’s arms. He was much like his father in that respect, denying his need for sleep. When Anakin was young Obi-Wan had had to force the boy to bed nearly every night. It was as though Anakin was afraid he would miss out on something while he slept regardless of his body’s need for rest. Just as it had been with Anakin, though, Obi-Wan was able to coax Luke back to sleep with gentle nudges of the Force.

“I always said that Anakin would be the death of me,” Obi-Wan sighed as he set the sleeping boy down in his basinet. “Never did I once think it was possible that I would be responsible for his death. I loved him then and I still do.”

Obi-Wan watched over Luke until the morning rays began to lighten the sky. The baby slept on, completely unaware of what was going on around him. Tempting as it was, Obi-Wan didn’t envy Luke his innocence. Even in the midst of the war there had always been something about Anakin that remained innocent, right up until the very end. It was what had helped Palpatine turn Anakin to the dark side. The Dark Lord had spent years manipulating the innocent boy that was Anakin Skywalker, twisting him into the creature Darth Vader. He would not get the same chance with Luke.

His former master was out there somewhere. Obi-Wan was infinitely crafty and had somehow managed to survive the Jedi purge, a fact which didn’t surprise Vader. If there were any Jedi to survive the Order’s destruction it would be his former master. Vader wished that Sidious’ intelligence had been false and that Padmé was still alive—still with Obi-Wan. So long as it meant she lived and that the baby had survived.

Staring out at the endless expanse of space, Vader knew that it was only a foolhardy dream. Padmé was dead, by his hand, and so was their child. A child that he had loved before it had even taken a single breath and that he had killed. Vader realized now that it was his own fears that had killed Padmé. He had refused to see it then, but if he’d done as Yoda had instructed and forced himself to come to terms with the fact that Padmé would one day die, both she and their child would still be alive.

“Lord Vader, the Emperor wishes to speak with you.”

Vader raised his left hand, absently waving at the clone as he continued to stare out at the thousands of stars dotting the sky. Obi-Wan was on one of those systems and eventually Vader would find him. It was impossible for Obi-Wan to hide from him forever. One day Obi-Wan would make a mistake and Vader would find out the truth of what had happened to Padmé and his child.

Closing his eyes, Vader was able to shut away the red computer lens that filled his vision. If he concentrated hard enough he could see Padmé as he remembered her that night on the balcony when he had first learned that he was to be a father. Before his nightmares had begun. She had been so beautiful then; her skin glowing and her eyes alight with such joy. Padmé had been so excited about the baby.

Slowly blinking his eyes open, Vader turned away from the transperisteel window. It was not wise to keep the Emperor waiting.

“I will find you, Obi-Wan.”

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