Redemption

by obaona

A/N: The first part of this - this first post, here - was originally posted as a vignette. I decided to expand upon the fic. :) (No idea why.) This first part was beta'ed by LadyPadme way back then (as a vignette). :) PadawanKitara kindly beta'ed the rest.
 

The cloaked figure kept to the corners and dark shadows of the buildings, running lightly along alleyways. His shoulders were hunched down protectively, his arms held curved in front.

It was raining heavily, making the normally dark and dirty Corellian city of Mangeht appear even grungier. Mangeht was known for its total dislike of any government entities, and their interference. Here, everything was a matter of survival and money, never ethics.

It was a good hiding place for a Jedi and his charge.

The watching man would never have believed the cloaked figure was Obi-Wan Kenobi, had he not seen the Jedi's face purely by accident. Obi-Wan had been crouched on the ground, his dirty, torn cloak pooling around him in the sewer water in which he knelt, resting. His arms had been curled around something he was holding, his back hunched over it protectively as he gazed down. His hood was drawn down very low.

He had only been passing Obi-Wan when Kenobi shot a wary glance up and around; just as quickly he looked back down, and that brief appearance of his face vanished. He had seen the ginger hair, streaked with a few brushes of gray, stuck to the Jedi’s face with sweat and rain. The blue eyes, normally full of serenity and sometimes even a gentle humor, were dark and nearly unreadable, showing only worry and paranoia.

Though paranoia was a good thing to have these days, even for those that the newborn Empire had no interest in. He himself had held to wariness, had used what remained of his wealth from the days of the Republic to make himself a haven where he would never be found.

He should just leave the Jedi alone. It was none of his concern.

But something within him held him back from doing that. When Kenobi had risen from checking whatever he was holding, the watching man had followed him, keeping his distance carefully. Obi-Wan could very well sense the presence of a tail if he wasn’t careful enough. The Jedi was skilled, and more importantly, he had something – whatever that bundle was – to protect.

Jedi took those things seriously. The watching man knew that very well, for the same principle had been drilled into him. For a time, he had lost that. Perhaps . . . perhaps he had found it again, in this ridiculous shadowing he was doing.

Even as Obi-Wan kept to the shadows, his follower did the same. He trailed at enough of a distance that he could barely see the Jedi. He would often glance at his surroundings, knocking his long black hair out of his eyes, and wonder where indeed the Jedi was going.

That was how he saw Obi-Wan’s other stalker.

He doubted this other one had his own such harmless intention – curiosity, really – as he followed Kenobi. This new stalker was clearly a bounty hunter, perhaps even one of those hunting specifically for Jedi. The camouflaging matte color of the Twi’lek’s clothing spoke of experience, as did the easy, silent way in which he moved and the distance he kept from his target. Jedi could only sense so far, and Obi-Wan might not catch the bounty hunter’s presence in time - especially if the bounty hunter used the tranq gun he was holding. It looked to be of the type that shot darts that exploded into mist when caught in heat – like the heat of a lightsaber, for example.

Yes, the bounty hunter might very well succeed.

To the watching man, the question was, what was he going to do about it? He owed nothing to Obi-Wan. Nothing at all. He had never harmed the boy.

But Force knew he owed so much else, for his crimes against innocent beings and whole worlds.

Before the thought had finished and fully formed within his mind, the watching man had sped up, now stalking the bounty hunter instead of Obi-Wan. The hunter would become the hunted. He came up to the bounty hunter's side. His hand slipped to his dark belt and his matte black lightsaber hilt, which had been hidden with the ease of long experience. His long fingers closed around it and his grasp firmed.

He moved past empty, precariously balanced boxes without making a breeze in his passing. His muscles were tense with the effort of maintaining complete control. His dark hair fell into his eyes, but it didn’t matter. The Force around the watching man was alive with tension, to which, of course, the bounty hunter was oblivious.

The watching man's breath stirred the back of the bounty hunter’s clothes. The bounty hunter whirled, his lekku’s hitting the side of his own face, his boots scuffling. There was a brilliant flash of a violet blade that dimmed when it intersected with the bounty hunter’s body. The Twi’lek’s red eyes blinked, and his mouth gaped open with the laxness of death.

The man didn’t bother to halt the Twi’lek’s fall.

Unfortunately, the interchange had made noise. Obi-Wan, his senses already attuned, heard it even from where he stood. He had already paused when he had heard the sound of a lightsaber igniting. He had stopped in the street, his back to the dingy wall, covered with the marks of different gangs and criminal affiliations. His blue eyes were wide and held steady on the man who had saved him.

The watching man straightened slowly from his combat ready position, looking into the Jedi’s eyes. He said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth for a moment, then paused. As he did so, the bundle in his arms made a noise. It was the soft sound of a baby gurgling. Hesitating and looking down, Obi-Wan jiggled the baby to calm it.

The baby.

Only meters from Obi-Wan, his rescuer now knew the bundle for what it was, a blue eyed young infant. Mere weeks old, he guessed.

Kenobi was gazing at him again when the rescuer's eyes lifted from the baby. He couldn’t sense the baby through the Force – the Jedi was shielding its presence that strongly. The wary look in Obi-Wan’s eyes gentled as he looked at the man standing before him. A smile touched his cracked lips, and something like joy crossed his face and brightened his eyes with tears. Or . . .  perhaps it was hope?

Hope for what? That he had saved Obi-Wan's life? He himself was nothing. He was not as Obi-Wan was, he was not a Jedi. Not one of the hunted – if anything, he was one of the hunters. But now, one who no longer cared to hunt, no longer cared to kill. One who no longer cared to know the darkness so intimately it crushed his soul. He know he had done evil things, wrong things, and he knew – he hoped – he would never do that again.

He wasn’t a do-gooder. Was he? He looked at the child Obi-Wan held. Once, he would have cared nothing for that little death. If there ever was such a thing as a little death. His business schemes had killed many, he was certain, and among those killed there were surely children. Death had taken his father and given him darkness. That one death . . . had led to so many.

Obi-Wan spoke firmly, quietly. His voice was hoarse, unsteady. It revealed his exhaustion as much as the gauntness of his face did. “May the Force be with you, Xanatos.”

Then Obi-Wan turned and walked away, leaving Xanatos behind. His steps, while still furtive and silent, had more . . . energy in them. As Xanatos watched, Obi-Wan pulled his hood down farther, and hunched himself over the tiny child he held, once again as he went. Wherever it was that was his destination.

How long had it been since anyone had said that to him? Had wished him to know the Force? Since long before the death of Qui-Gon Jinn, Xanatos imagined. Since his fall to the Dark Side. Since before Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan – a mere child then – had believed him to be dead. Since he had taken up his father's path, of selfishness and greed. Why had Obi-Wan said it? What did it mean?

Why was he crying? Tears leaked from his dark, midnight blue eyes, rolling down his face and off his chin. Guilt had weighed down his soul for years. And he had risked his own life, his disillusioned soul, in the protection of innocence, of an infant. Truly the most innocent of any creature.

Perhaps Obi-Wan had meant it. Had meant the words that could affect a fallen Jedi so. Perhaps it was message, that he was not completely lost from the Light Side, that the Force could be with him. That Obi-Wan believed him to not be lost. If he was not lost – if he could find that light again, and keep it – if he had found it again – those words would be true. The Force would be with him, would lighten the dark corners of his mind. Perhaps he could do as he did with Obi-Wan, and help, and by those actions know the Light again.

May the Force be with you.

And maybe he would find his redemption.

It was the absence of the light pitter-patter of rain that alerted Obi-Wan to the presence of the intruder. He had little money on him, and was forced to resort to ‘lodgings’ that were protection from the heavy rainstorm, and not much else. There was no door, and the room itself was small, smaller than many cells. From the smell of the place, it had been used by vagrants from time to time, when the ‘owner’ wasn’t around to charge.

Throughout the night, Obi-Wan stayed awake, listening to the pitter-patter of rain falling outside the door. When the sound quieted, he knew immediately that something had to have interrupted the steady stream of water.

He soundlessly and quickly rose to a sitting position, lightsaber in one hand. A figure stood outside the door, wearing a dark and heavy cloak with the hood pulled down. A brief flit of panic wormed its way into him as he wondered if the Twi’lek that had been killed a few days ago had accomplices. But as Obi-Wan watched, tense and ready to fight, the man threw back the hood, and took a cautious step in after a moment of edgy silence.

Xanatos.

Obi-Wan exhaled in something akin to relief. A strange reaction, but considering the events of a few days ago . . . well. The encounter with the former Jedi had been full of mixed feelings – fear, relief, hope. Xanatos was looking well, if not exactly worry-free. His black hair was only slight damp, and fell past his shoulders. His midnight blue eyes stared at Obi-Wan deeply, his face tilted downwards, giving him an even more intense look. The broken circle scar was faded, almost invisible, something Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed before.

The other thing he realized was his failure to realize who Xanatos was before he pulled back the hood. Obi-Wan’s control of the Force, his trust in it, was slipping. It was something he had first recognized days before, but he was filled with fresh dismay.

Xanatos, looking awkward, finally broke the silence. He jerked his chin at the bundle besides Obi-Wan. “Is that the child?” he asked.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied cautiously. Luke lay beside him, sleeping, curled up in Obi-Wan’s cloak. It left the Jedi rather cold, clad only in a black tunic, pants, and his boots, but it kept Luke very warm, and that was the most important thing. Especially as young as Luke was. He would also have to get more milk for the boy soon, and that didn’t promise to be easy.

Obi-Wan sighed, after another minute of silence as Xanatos . . . fidgeted. “Why don’t you just tell me why you’re here, so I can sleep?”

“I . . .” Xanatos hesitated. “You’re not going to sleep anyway,” he finished with a bit more confidence.

Obi-Wan gave Xanatos his best flat expression, refusing to blink at the silly dodge. “I don’t know what you expect of me for what you did –” What was this? Had saving Obi-Wan been part of some plot after all? He had not thought so at the time, but the knowledge that Xanatos’ had saved his life – and Luke’s – was days old, and wariness took over.

“I don’t expect anything,” Xanatos said hurriedly. “I – I didn’t have an ulterior motives, Obi-Wan.” He paused uncertainly, looking absurdly vulnerable to Obi-Wan’s cynical eyes. “It was just . . . coming, sooner or later.”

“You mean – the fact that you aren’t dark?” Obi-Wan asked curiously, not really relaxing but more willing to listen to what Xanatos had to say. His interest at Xanatos’ presence and attitude was growing by the moment. He had pushed the incident where Xanatos saved his life out of his mind, focusing on other things instead of pondering how out of character it was for the man. Not to mention his curiosity at the man’s survival.

Xanatos nodded. He cautiously took a few more steps into the shelter, eyes flitting around and finally resting on Luke. Not looking away, he spoke. “I came because you looked like you needed help.”

“And what brought you to that conclusion?” Obi-Wan replied instantly.

Murky, dark eyes flashed up and met Obi-Wan’s icy ones. “Quit the pride, Obi-Wan. It doesn’t become you.”

“Go to h –”

“I’m sorry,” Xanatos jumped in, looking suddenly contrite, wincing, and making a complete turnaround. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.” He paused, but Obi-Wan said nothing, feeling suddenly tired and foolish. “You’re not staying in this dump to lay low. Not with a child.”

Obi-Wan sighed, angry at himself and frustrated with Xanatos. He rested his elbows on his knees, and put his face in his hands, rubbing it roughly to get some feeling. “No. You’re right.” He was being prideful; foolish. He looked up. “So you’re willing to help, then.” Without even knowing what I’m doing? Obi-Wan wondered.

Xanatos nodded again, somewhat hesitantly. The man was acting truly odd, at one moment seeming eager to please and the next falling back to his old, taunting ways.

The Jedi restlessly rubbed his fingers against one another, trying to stave off numbness. Luke slept on obliviously. “So you really have turned from the Dark, then,” he said, not quite a question, but seeking confirmation nonetheless.

“Apparently,” Xanatos whispered, eyes lowering. “Apparently,” he repeated, with a shaky smile. He met Obi-Wan’s gaze. “What do you need?”

“A ship and money,” he said shortly.

“I can provide both,” Xanatos said firmly. “I have a few here, and money accounts just about everywhere.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “Thank you,” he said quietly. He paused, looking away, thinking fiercely. He knew there was something he should be doing, but he didn’t know what it was. Nearly wincing at the internal struggle, he finally reached out for the Force. It came, as it always had, though Obi-Wan’s bitterness at it – it and it’s prophecy, at not telling the Jedi what was to come – lessened the strength of his connection.

His next words fell from his lips loosely, unleashed. “Come with me.” He looked into Xanatos’ astonished eyes. “Come with me, to where I’m going,” he said carefully.

“Why?” Xanatos whispered, and Obi-Wan could see his hands were clenched into fists.

No backing out now, Obi-Wan thought. He felt he could probably trust Xanatos, and the Force was urging him to do so, but . . . “How long has it been, Xanatos, since you were at the Temple? Since you touched the Light fully?” He paused, letting that sink in. “You fell, Xanatos. You don’t recover with a snap of your fingers.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“You need someone to guide you back to a firm path, Xanatos; someone of the Light. I don’t see myself as the best candidate for the job, but I’m the Jedi who’s around,” Obi-Wan said matter-of-factly.

Xanatos still looked shocked, but he finally acknowledged Obi-Wan’s point with a nod. “And what’s in it for you?” he asked eventually, some suspicion in his eyes.

Obi-Wan pursed his lips, thinking, but decided to go for honesty. “If . . . if even you can turn from the Dark, then maybe Vader can.” He ignored Xanatos’ look of confusion. “Maybe . . . there’s hope.” His lips twisted into something resembling a smile, even as he forced searing tears back. Anakin, once again in the light? It seemed too much to hope for. Only the passing of years would tell. But hadn’t Xanatos also been lost? He could not help but compare the two, as he had done days earlier. “And besides,” he said, cocking his head, considering the former Jedi before him, “is it not my duty?” he finished dryly.

Xanatos looked at the baby, then back at Obi-Wan. “Then let’s go,” he said softly.

“If you were dead, or rather, thought to be dead, how did you retain your wealth?” Obi-Wan asked curiously.

Xanatos glanced back at him, trying to read the expression on the Jedi’s face. Obi-Wan looked back at him calmly, showing none of the animosity of earlier, nor the broken exhaustion of when he had first met him on Corellia. He seemed rather on edge. However, considering what was happening to Jedi all over the galaxy, Xanatos wasn’t surprised. He still looked rather . . . scruffy, but a shower at Xanatos’ apartment and a change of clothes made him look like a normal citizen instead of a homeless man. The baby was remarkably well-behaved during the whole process, thankfully. Xanatos hadn’t had to do much – just sit there and watch it while Obi-Wan got some food and clothing.

“I had a paper heir created. One that didn’t really exist – ‘he’ inherited everything, and he was really me, so . . .” He shrugged. “Getting it so that I didn’t have to appear in court was a little more difficult than expected, especially as big as Offworld was then, but a few well-placed bribes took care of that. I had to sell the company, of course – running it was too . . . public.” Xanatos took a quick look at Obi-Wan again.

Obi-Wan merely nodded. The baby gurgled, and Obi-Wan absentmindedly soothed it with a few quiet words, gazing down in quick flicks. His eyes were constantly roving, never keeping still, and Xanatos could tell he was mentally assigning possible threats and escape routes in the spaceport. Xanatos hadn’t noticed anyone giving them particular attention, just the usual motley crowd of businessmen and everything else. The spaceports were unusually busy, as well, crowded and dirty, and following anyone would be difficult without a lot of help.

Xanatos went ahead, smoothly cutting a path through the people, Obi-Wan effortlessly following. Obi-Wan remained silent, asking little, and Xanatos decided to wait until they were on board the ship before asking the questions he had. Obi-Wan hadn’t even asked how Xanatos had found him, but Xanatos was overflowing with questions – the most important being the identity of the child.

The ship he had chosen was a beautiful ship of Nubian design. It was, like other Nubian ships, very sleek in appearance, weapons and other devices hidden beneath the hull, ready to unfold for use in a moment’s notice. The others of her class were usually brightly colored, but the one belonging to Xanatos was a shiny silver and matte black.

Obi-Wan blinked when he saw it, looking rather surprised. Xanatos repressed the urge to ask what he was thinking, and silently led him into the interior of the ship. It was actually not a den of decadent luxury, like Xanatos would have insisted upon years before. As the years passed, and he grew sick of his darkness – and he did grow sick of it, eventually – he grew to like the sparse, elegant lines of it. He had bought it on a whim, but he used it most commonly these days. Despite that, he knew the Empire wouldn’t know of it – Xanatos had stayed hidden throughout the years with total success. And he had no doubt Obi-Wan, like all the other Jedi, was running from the Empire and its bounty hunters.

“There are three rooms, a dining area, and the cockpit,” Xanatos said as he stepped through the hatch into the cockpit, briefly explaining what the ship had. “The cargo area has all the supplies you need – including baby formula – and hard credits.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Thank you.”

“We’ll take off in a moment,” Xanatos added, looking at the controls and then heating the engines. “Where are we going?” he asked, finally facing Obi-Wan.

The Jedi was expressionless, composed. “Yekken, for now.” Yekken was a planet Mid-Rim, small population, famously lax spaceport laws. It wasn’t precisely a haven for criminals, but those who didn’t want to be found.

“Not our last stop.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “We have to make sure we aren’t followed or that there are any records of where we go. That Twi’lek you killed might have friends – or enemies who were smart enough to keep up with what he was doing.”

“Got it,” Xanatos said, turning back to the controls and setting the coordinates as he prepared to take off. “You better go and strap down, not that I expect there will be any trouble.”

“All right,” came Obi-Wan’s quiet voice. He heard footsteps going away, and tried to focus on lifting off. Wondering, privately, what he was doing. What had possessed him to search the streets for days, trying to find Obi-wan? Xanatos had turned to the Light because he could no longer stand the Dark – somehow, as the years had passed, he had started to remember his days as a Jedi. Some dim remnant of light had remained in him, and taken root. And he began to take a careful look at himself. What he found was a continually desperate attempt to sate himself, to make himself happy with power and wealth. It didn’t work, and when he realized it never would . . . The Light brought its own problems, of course – guilt chief among them.

But why Obi-Wan, of all people? He was practically blindly following the man. A man younger than him, a man he hadn’t seen, hadn’t spoken to in twenty years. He had seen sound bites of Obi-Wan, of course, very briefly when the younger man was a General in the Clone Wars, but that was it.

Why did he feel like Obi-Wan was his last hope to make peace with himself?

“Obi-Wan?” Xanatos wandered down the narrow corridor, peeking around sleek doorways into rooms. At the last one, he finally found the Jedi.

Obi-Wan was sitting at the table, the chair facing the doorway. He was looking down at the baby, giving him the most curious look of apprehension even as he rocked the child. The baby was awake; his little hands balled into fists and waving around, blue eyes wide.

“Ready to get started, Xanatos?” Obi-Wan said without looking up.

Xanatos shifted his weight. “Well . . . I was actually going to ask what next.”

Obi-Wan looked up at him, breathing deeply and blinking exhaustion away. “Come here.” Noticing Xanatos’ hesitation, his lips quirked into a smile. “I don’t bite,” he said, amused, but not attempting to irritate Xanatos. The older man just took a deep breath.

Xanatos stepped over cautiously. “What?”

Obi-Wan gestured with his chin at the baby. “Take him.”

Xanatos blinked. “I didn’t sign on for baby-sitting –”

“You remember,” Obi-Wan said smoothly, “what I said about putting you back firmly on the path of Light? Well, guess what – this is it.” He raised an eyebrow. “Now take him.”

Wondering when he had agreed to this, Xanatos held out his arms, obeying. Obi-Wan placed the baby in them, changing the position of his hands to support the child properly. Xanatos held the child stiffly.

Obi-Wan laughed. “You look like he’s your executioner. Relax. Hold him close. And don’t forget to support his head,” he advised.

Shooting Obi-Wan a glare, Xanatos held the child closer to his chest. The baby looked up at him curiously, his eyes shockingly blue. Then he suddenly gave Xanatos a toothless grin, mouth open, and waved his fists at the former Jedi. It was such a look of pure, ridiculous happiness Xanatos felt himself answer it with a faint smile.

Then he looked up at Obi-Wan. “What does this have to do with me keeping to the Light?” Xanatos asked, giving a sigh.

“Everything and nothing,” Obi-Wan replied with a small smile.

“How helpful,” Xanatos muttered, gazing down at the child again, who grinned again at the attention.

“You’re already in the Light, Xanatos. It’s just a question of deciding if you want to stay there. And you haven’t decided, yet,” Obi-Wan said softly.

Xanatos shifted his eyes to meet Obi-Wan’s. “Then why trust me with this?”

Obi-Wan broke their gaze, turning it to the baby. “Trust has to start somewhere,” he said simply. “And so does he,” he said, stroking the child’s head, a sad smile touching his lips. “And you,” he added, just as cryptically, meeting Xanatos’ dark eyes again.

“What does that mean?” Xanatos asked, frowning, eyes narrowing.

Obi-Wan shook his head, not really in any kind of negative, more as if answering a thought. “His name is Luke,” he said at last, the sadness changing to affection.

Xanatos stared at the Jedi, totally confused. “Luke, eh?” The baby – Luke – grinned up at him. He sighed. “Luke.”

“Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan?” Xanatos called out in the echoing confines of the room. How in the galaxy did Obi-Wan just go off and disappear? Xanatos got distracted for a moment by Luke as the two had silently sat, and then the man was just gone. Still holding Luke, Xanatos looked around corners and into the rooms, searching for the man. Luke gurgled, and Xanatos rocked him. “Shh. I’m trying to find someone who can actually take care of you,” Xanatos whispered to him.

He finally found him in the cargo bay. The bay was, for a ship of this one’s size, fairly large, and the supplies Xanatos had ordered did not fill it up. He noted immediately that the supplies had been moved, pressed up against the wall. In the middle, there was an empty area, which held nothing, save for Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The Jedi’s eyes were closed, serenely, and his longish ginger hair fell over his face as he spun and jumped, going through a kata with an un-ignited lightsaber. Xanatos was familiar with the form, as were all Jedi – it was one of the first taught to Padawans. It had the unique quality of being useful, no matter your skill. There were always more ways to perfect the kata and Jedi would spend their entire lives doing so, becoming more skilled at it. It was not possible to master the kata; merely know it better.

Obi-Wan must have wandered around, and recognized this space would be useful for practicing, Xanatos realized.

Xanatos waited until Obi-Wan was finished before interrupting, taking note of how gracefully the Jedi moved. But he also saw something else – the tiny slips and stumbling. That Obi-Wan knew the kata well was not in doubt, but he didn’t move as if the Force flowed through him. Frowning, Xanatos stretched out with the Force – his own attempt less than graceful, as the Light was not to be bullied and forced, but taken in and accepted – something he had little practice at.

Firstly, Obi-Wan was exhausted. It was very obvious to Xanatos, who was watching through the Force; it showed in every line of his body, every twitch of the other man’s muscles. Xanatos didn’t even know why he was attempting a kata in that condition. And he was not touching the Force – at least, not with any more skill than an initiate. When Xanatos had first met Obi-Wan he had more closeness to the Force than this.

Obi-Wan finally stilled, panting lightly.

“Obi-Wan.”

The Jedi wearily opened his eyes.

“Are you all right?” Xanatos stepped closer, aware he looked concerned and not really caring that it could be perceived as weakness, as he would have before.

Obi-Wan’s tired blue eyes flicked to Luke. “He’s fine?”

“I think so,” Xanatos replied, letting his eyes narrow. “Hungry, I think. You’re the one that isn’t looking so well.” He shifted his hold on Luke, bringing him closer absentmindedly.

Obi-Wan nodded. “I’ll go get some milk for him,” he said, turning to one of the supply crates.

“Obi-Wan, what is the matter with you?” Xanatos asked bluntly, curiosity getting the better of him. “I may have been dark for quite a while, but even I can sense . . . the wrongness.”

The Jedi halted, still facing away. “I . . .”

“I doubt anything you say can shock me,” Xanatos said quietly, encouragingly.

Obi-Wan finally turned, his boots scuffing the floor. He walked right up close to Xanatos, staring into his eyes, his own face full of sadness. He looked lost, uncertain, but the effect was subtle, controlled.

He’s gotten taller, Xanatos thought inanely when he realized Obi-Wan could look him directly in the eye.

“How do you think,” Obi-Wan said softly, appearing to search for words, “Qui-Gon handled it when you turned?”

Xanatos jerked, briefly shutting his eyes. Qui-Gon. His old master. Dead. Gone. “Not well, I imagine, in the beginning,” he said quietly, surprised at the change of subject, but willing to answer. And he had a feeling it did have something to do with the state Obi-Wan was in. “By the time he accepted you as his Padawan . . . he was a lot better, I think. I could tell even then.”

Obi-Wan didn’t move except to look away. “I can’t figure it out,” he whispered, a hint of helpless confusion in his voice. “It just won’t stop hurting. I can’t stop doubting the Force.” A single tear slipped down his cheek – not a messy tear, just a single clear one, so small as to pass almost unnoticed. His eyes held a desperate confusion.

“Obi-Wan . . .” What the hell?  Did Obi-Wan, like Qui-Gon, have an apprentice who had turned?  Xanatos didn’t keep up much with the Jedi, or Obi-Wan, over the years. Not even really news that turned up on holochannels. Shaking away his own confusion, he said briskly, “Take him,” and pushed Luke in Obi-Wan’s direction.

Obi-Wan numbly obeyed, taking Luke and pulling him tight against his chest. He looked up at Xanatos from the child, clearly about to ask a question, but Xanatos spoke before he could.

“When I turned, I did so partially for the power, and partially, well, to punish Qui-Gon – for killing my father,” Xanatos began quietly but matter-of-factly. “I know I succeeded. Can you imagine my fury when you appeared and messed up everything? I had him well on his way to driving himself to an early death on dangerous missions when you came along.” Xanatos gave a snort.

Obi-Wan blinked, giving a tired half-smile, more out of befuddlement than any real amusement. “What?”

“It’s taken me a while, of course, but I finally figured out how you managed it.”

“Managed what?” Obi-Wan asked, bemused.

“You made him care,” Xanatos said simply. “When I turned, he shut people out. He tried to stop caring, because he’d been burned, and . . . well, I guess that’s the natural reaction.” Xanatos shrugged, and stepped away, running a hand through his hair and thinking.

He saw Obi-Wan nod out of the corner of his eye.

“And you see,” Xanatos said, jerking himself from those memories – they still had some power, even after so long – and turning back to face Obi-Wan, “you care. You still care, I should say. If that weren’t the case, you would have left me. I gave you the opportunity, and you didn’t.” He shrugged again. “My point is, yeah, it hurts, but the way I see it, you’re already on your way to healing from . . . whatever.”

Obi-Wan blinked. “But –”

“Now, I don’t know the circumstances of what is bugging you – your apprentice turning, or whatever, but that’s the way I see it,” Xanatos said smartly. He paused, cocked his head. “Now why am I, the really screwed up one, telling you this stuff? Seems like it should be the other way around . . .”

Obi-Wan laughed, looking rather amazed. “I still win the never-turned-to-the-dark-side prize,” he replied, still appearing rather taken aback.

“Ah, well,” Xanatos said, and smiled, pleased with himself.

“Though . . .” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully, giving Xanatos a dubious look, “it seems to me you’re already learning, Xanatos. Helping others is definitely part of the Light Side path package.”

Xanatos put his hand on his forehead, and looked at Obi-Wan suspiciously. As Obi-Wan turned away, to get milk for Luke presumably, jiggling the baby, Xanatos spoke. “Why do I get the feeling you’re making this up as you go along?”

“Because I am,” Obi-Wan called back with a light tone, glancing at Xanatos. “I don’t see any textbook around on the subject, do you?”

Xanatos sighed quietly, so Obi-Wan wouldn’t hear, even as he watched the Jedi hold Luke in one arm and scan the titles of the packing crates, fingers of his other hand skimming lightly along the top as he searched for the correct one. “Great, Qui-Gon took a good, respectful fourteen year old boy and turned him into a smartass.”

Luke turned out to be a fairly easy child to take care of, Xanatos discovered. Sure, he had to be changed – that was always disgusting – and fed every few hours, but he was mostly calm, preferring to look at the world around him with quiet curiosity. In between the feedings and Obi-Wan’s baby advice, there wasn’t much to do on board but think until they arrived at Yekken.

Xanatos didn’t particularly want to think about himself, so he thought about Obi-Wan instead. Luke was there, of course, but besides the mystery of why Obi-Wan had an infant in his possession and where he was going, there wasn’t much there to ponder over.

Obi-Wan had changed a great deal from the teenage boy he had first known. At the time, Xanatos hadn’t thought of Obi-Wan as more than an irritating obstacle. Then when he became Qui-Gon’s Padawan, his feelings toward the boy fledged from irritation to hatred. He insisted on following Qui-Gon, and that very fact made Qui-Gon pause, think. And that made Qui-Gon dangerous.

When Xanatos’ attempt to destroy the Temple failed, he came up with the plot to fake his death, planning in the beginning to attack the Jedi again at a later date. He had to practice Force manipulation for months in order to get it right, and even then, he barely made it out of the acid before his control collapsed.

Then there was Obi-Wan. Even back when Obi-Wan was little more than a child, he had shown a quiet confidence that things would work out. He viewed the world through earnest eyes, through the eyes of a Jedi. Sometimes, Xanatos would catch Qui-Gon looking at the boy with a sort of wonder, as if he was seeing the galaxy through the eyes of a child.

The way Obi-Wan was now reminded Xanatos of war-torn soldiers he had once hired as his personal security for Offworld. That slightly emotionally glazed, cynical look that said they viewed everything from a distance, and didn’t believe in any of it a whit. From Xanatos’ vague memories of the Clone War, which he had not been involved in, Obi-Wan had fought in it, so that explained his emotional detachment, to some degree. The lack of Force skills, however, was baffling. He had expected Obi-Wan’s skills to grow as he matured, not this. Even war, death . . . did not explain it, not fully.

Obi-Wan entered the room, Luke in his arms. “He’s being stubborn, won’t take a nap,” Obi-Wan explained, sitting down opposite Xanatos’ in the recreation room’s other chair.

Xanatos nodded, looking everywhere but Obi-Wan. The lounge was decorated similarly to the rest of the ship, except the smooth lines were in creamy and rich tones of ivory and burgundy. There were only two plush chairs, a few tables, and a large holoscreen on one wall with a couch across from it that Xanatos suspected he would sink into and disappear if he ever sat on it.

“What are you thinking about?” Obi-Wan asked finally, readjusting Luke on his shoulder. The boy settled right down, and from that Xanatos’ surmised he was being stubborn about being left alone to sleep. It would seem that at a very young age, Luke had already learned how to be a manipulative kid.  

“You,” Xanatos replied blandly, letting his eyes wander over to meet Obi-Wan’s steady, curious gaze.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan blinked.

“Well, I hardly want to wallow in guilt or whatever you’d think was appropriate,” Xanatos said, raising one eyebrow. Before Obi-Wan could respond to that baiting comment, he continued. “I realized you are quite adept at not answering my questions and confusing me entirely.” And that fact made him uncomfortable, not that he was about to admit it.

A deceptive Jedi was not a good sign.

Obi-Wan cocked his head, slumping comfortably back into the seat. “I’m not misleading you on purpose,” he said simply. Luke put his thumb in his mouth.

“Maybe not consciously, but certainly on purpose,” Xanatos retorted.

Obi-Wan sighed. “They are certain things I cannot speak of, you understand,” he said matter-of-factly, firmly. He shrugged slightly, not meeting Xanatos’ dark eyes, hesitating for hardly a moment. “Ask.”

Xanatos raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t expected Obi-Wan to accede to his request so easily. “All right. Why is your connection to the Force so . . . clumsy?”

The color of the Jedi’s eyes faded to a soft gray as he looked down, eyes almost closed. “I’ve lost faith, in the Force, I suppose. I can hardly bear to touch it anymore – it feels painful.” His eyelids flickered downward, and he watched Luke, who obliviously slept through everything.

Xanatos blinked, frowning. “You’ve – how did that happen?”

Obi-Wan looked at him tiredly. “You remember my question to you, about Qui-Gon?”

“Your Padawan fell, then?”

Obi-Wan gave a faint snort. “He did a lot more than that. Have you heard of Darth Vader? I assume so.”

Xanatos nodded blankly, shock tingling throughout his body. “That is your apprentice?”

“He might as well be dead,” Obi-Wan said flatly, giving denial of Xanatos’ use of present tense, looking away again, gazing at something he could only see in his mind.

“But he’s not,” Xanatos said, feeling like he was on to something. “And . . . I’m not either,” he added quietly, a question to his tone while he was really seeking confirmation.

He found it.

Obi-Wan shot him a startled glance, his grip on Luke tightening. Luke squirmed, and then settled down when Obi-Wan obediently loosened his hold. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re not.”

Xanatos nodded slowly. “I think I’m beginning to understand.”

Obi-Wan finally met his gaze squarely. “Think so, do you?” A flame burned in those eyes – not of rage, but not something entirely of the Light, either. Challenging and daring him to just say it, and accept the consequences if he did; it dared Xanatos to speak of what he believed of Obi-Wan’s motives.

Xanatos lifted his chin, calmly. “Allow me to guess, then. You feel like the Force betrayed you, by letting your Padawan fall, by not warning you, by not warning the Jedi.”

“Well . . .” Obi-Wan paused, contemplatively, sighing. The fire in his eyes dimmed. “That is certainly true, but not entirely the reason I have difficulty touching the Force – though it is a good part of it.” Obi-Wan paused again and acted busy by adjusting the sleeping Luke. “When I fought with him . . .” He shook his head.

“The battle was more than physical?”

“Yes.”

Xanatos fell silent, not sure what else to ask; or even ask if he should anything at all. Obi-Wan had been surprisingly forthcoming, though he had seen something in those blue eyes that disturbed him. So, evidently the battle had affected Obi-Wan’s ability to touch the Force in some fashion – it must have been some battle, to do that. He had never heard of such a thing. And that was only part of it? Maybe touching the Force reminded him of things he would rather not remember, and therefore he responded as if it was painful? Force, he needed a psychiatrist . . . or a degree in psychiatry.

“And what of you?” Obi-Wan returned, attentive, at Xanatos’ silence.

Xanatos smiled ruefully, jerking himself from these thoughts. “Well, the short version is I taught myself to keep liquid away from my body with the Force – which worked, thankfully, with acid. Testing that wasn’t fun. The skeleton you saw was provided by one of my dead workers.”

“Short version,” Obi-Wan said, slowly. “Well, that doesn’t cut it,” he said matter-of-factly, shooting Xanatos’ a little smirk.

“Persistent?” Xanatos asked with a grin. He folded his hands in front of him and looked down, sighing and letting the smile fade. “This is the time for explanations, is it?”

“Well, I’d prefer it if you returned the favor,” Obi-Wan replied cautiously.

Xanatos looked up, meeting the Jedi’s eyes. “When I faked my death, I did so with the intention of coming back, surprising and killing all of you. Qui-Gon most of all,” he began slowly. “I wanted revenge. The fact that I was continually hindered didn’t deter me in the least.” He sighed again, and let his head fall back.

“But something must have happened. For you to just – change your mind about everything,” Obi-Wan pressed.

Xanatos pinched the bridge of his nose, searching for words to express what had happened. “When people thought I was dead, and I sold Offworld, I had a lot of time on my hands. Oh, I plotted evilly,” he shot Obi-Wan a crooked grin, “but I found myself with a lot of unexpected free time. So . . . I got hobbies.”

Obi-Wan looked surprised, drawing back slightly, but didn’t interrupt with questions or disbelief, to Xanatos’ relief.

“I learned, basically. Jedi training covers the basics of most everything, but I got into the nitty gritty details of things like astrophysics, economics, and art. I found a lot to enjoy, and in doing so, I eventually just lost interest in getting revenge.” He shrugged. “I know it sounds weird, but that’s the way it happened, sort of. It was like doing evil became a habit to me, comfortable and familiar. Faking my death and everything that happened to me afterward broke that habit, and I was . . . relieved.”

“Is that when you realized you were sick of the lifestyle you had been living?”

“It was around that time, and it was a pretty gradual process. At first, I just didn’t think about the changes in my actions, but every time I got the opportunity to get back at the Jedi, or you and Qui-Gon, it would come back again. That’s when I realized I was getting turned off of it. And I’d see things, and think . . . and understand, I guess, like I used to when I was a Padawan. I was starting to see again things from that perspective again, of doing the right thing. Because I couldn’t – wouldn’t – go back to what I was, to that unsatisfying life.” Xanatos swallowed. “That’s also when the guilt began.”

“So you do feel guilt,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

“Of course I do,” Xanatos snapped.

Obi-Wan winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant, I thought you were just pushing it away.”

Xanatos shrugged, letting his irritation fade and turning away into memory. “I suppose I do, to some degree. But it’s not like I don’t know what I did was wrong. I knew it even then, really, I just didn’t care. I was selfish, ultimately, and arrogant. I thought I knew best, that I was wise and I knew better than the Jedi, and I wanted power for myself. I wanted, don’t you see? It was all about me.”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer to that, and Xanatos didn’t look at him.

Of course, what kind of answer could he really give? None, really, Xanatos thought. There’s not much to say to someone who admitted he had done great evil because he was a selfish, arrogant piece of Hutt slime.

“There’s nothing I can say to that,” Obi-Wan said softly, startling Xanatos.

Xanatos looked up at him, wondering how Obi-Wan had spoken directly along his own thoughts, and saw only a gentle sadness in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“It’s saddening,” Obi-Wan said even more softly, “the things beings can do to each other out of such common emotions.”

“Like Vader?” Xanatos questioned, and then continued without waiting for an answer. “I – we – fell into it on our own. I can assure you that I knew full well what I was doing, and any attempt to convince myself of otherwise is no more than self-delusion. A person might be able to rationalize the actions that led them toward evil, but the truth is they still chose it, and whatever events led up to it, they stepped into that pit willingly.”

“And?” Obi-Wan asked his voice little more than a whisper, evidently seeing Xanatos was heading somewhere.

“Your apprentice made the decision he did; nothing excuses it – and that little thing called free will means it’s not your fault,” Xanatos added, seeing the opportunity to drive his point home, while still answering Obi-Wan’s question about himself. Why he had the urge to help Obi-Wan . . . well, Obi-Wan had said it was a Light Side thing.

Obi-Wan laughed harshly. “And how the hell do you know that? That I couldn’t have changed –”

“Oh, I know, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon could have done everything right – which he didn’t, by the way – and I could still have fallen. It was my choice to make. You can guide someone, and if they’re willing you can guide them to right actions, but they can still make the wrong decision,” Xanatos said firmly. “I’m not saying things couldn’t have been different if you had done things differently, but that’s true of everything. Things could be worse, even.”

Obi-Wan exhaled sharply in response. “I suppose.”

Xanatos snorted. “That’s a real firm response.”

“Oh, shut up,” Obi-Wan said testily, glaring at Xanatos. It looked rather ridiculous, though, with Luke in his arms. Especially with a tuft of Luke’s light blond hair sticking up, his thumb in his mouth. It presented quite the adorable picture, at odds with the look on Obi-Wan’s face.

“Losing our Jedi calm, are we?” Okay, maybe that was going a bit far. “Sorry.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “Anyway.”

“It’s okay,” Obi-Wan said, calming, but with a glitter still in his eyes. He took a deep breath, no doubt releasing some un-Jedi-like emotions. “So . . .” he began casually.

Xanatos stood up. “Maybe I should go do something else for a while,” he suggested, beginning to turn away.

Obi-Wan’s suddenly thoughtful voice stopped him mid-way. “All right. But I have a question for you.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know how Qui-Gon died?”

Xanatos spun around. “What kind of question is that?”

Obi-Wan looked at him calmly. “Close to ten years passed from your – disappearance, to his death. I was wondering . . .” He shrugged. “Did you know?”

Xanatos looked away, a horde of emotions filling him. For the most part, he was able to remember Qui-Gon in a detached way, but not always. It suddenly struck him that both him and Obi-Wan had really been his Padawans. Like his children. How strange, really, how little they knew each other. “I knew when he died, yes,” he said at last. “But how? No, I was never told. The Council classified it, you know that. I only knew he died on that mission to Naboo.” He sighed. “And that the Sith returned then – or that’s when the Jedi became aware of it.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “Did you –”

“Please don’t, Obi-Wan,” Xanatos said, looking into crystalline blue eyes.

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to,” Obi-Wan said just as quietly. “He’s too entwined in the reasons for your fall.”

“Later,” Xanatos requested quietly. He walked forward, and stopped at the doorway, hand resting on the edge of the entrance, then looked back.

Obi-Wan nodded, and said nothing.

Thank you, Xanatos thought, and left, unable, but still wishing, he could leave the memories behind just as easily.

You look so much like your father, Obi-Wan thought days later, holding a sleeping Luke. The boy was swaddled in blankets, little thumb stuck in his mouth and eyes tightly shut. He looked nothing like Obi-Wan’s last memory of Anakin, of course. Luke’s hair was lighter, too, though no doubt it would darken as he got older. The eyes, he thought, were probably the most similar thing. But there was something else, something that just hit Obi-Wan in the face and said, this is a Skywalker.

It was faintly disturbing. It was like he couldn’t help but see what the child could become, a thing of evil, of great evil – like his father – instead of what the boy was. An innocent child, free of his parents’ faults or virtues; no decisions, right or wrong, yet made.

Obi-Wan sighed, and got up from his bed to put Luke in his makeshift crib. Luke didn’t wake as he lay him down.

“I swear, Obi-Wan, you’ve been giving that kid the weirdest looks.”

Obi-Wan turned at the quiet words, somewhat surprised Xanatos had actually spoken. He had known the former Jedi was there, but had foregone letting him know. Xanatos had been very quiet the past few days, since their talk in the recreation room, perhaps wishing to avoid the inevitable talk Obi-Wan wanted to have with him about Qui-Gon. About everything.

Xanatos leaned against the frame of the door, dark hair falling into his eyes as he tilted his head down, though his gaze was steady on Obi-Wan. “Why is the kid so important? I know he’s not just some initiate, someone you helped.”

“He’s Ana – he’s my apprentice’s son,” Obi-Wan said simply, turning away to look over the side of the crib again. He felt more than heard Xanatos walk up to stand beside him.

“He had a kid? He had a kid and he turned?” He could hear the surprise in Xanatos’ voice, like he found the combination unfathomable.

Obi-Wan looked up. “He was married. For several years, until the Jedi – and I – found out about it.”

Xanatos looked shocked. “So it was a result of his attachment to her – the marriage and the kid.” He blinked, shaking his head. “Keeping all that from the Jedi Council? The boy certainly did not lack for courage.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Rebellion, more like,” he said dryly. He hesitated, and then rushed on. “Vader is powerful, everyone knows that. But he’s more than just powerful, Xanatos.”

“Then what is he?” Xanatos asked quietly.

Pushing the Chosen One prophecy out of his mind, Obi-Wan said, “He can’t be defeated by any of us. We’ve all seen that.”

“In the future? But how can –”

“We know,” Obi-Wan said, cutting him off with a gesture. “It doesn’t matter how.”

“But Luke – his son – might be able to stop him, is that what you’re thinking?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “It’s not entirely selfless, the Jedi’s protection of him. If Vader were to find him . . . I can’t imagine the damage he could cause.”

“So Luke is powerful like his father,” Xanatos stated.

Nodding again, Obi-Wan felt a glimmer of apprehension, suddenly remembering Xanatos wasn’t that far away from being a dark Jedi, and how dark Jedi always craved power, in any form.

Xanatos sighed. “Well, that explains that, I suppose,” he said, turning away for the doorway. Still walking, he continued, “I came to tell you we’re almost at the planet. We’ll arrive in another hour or so. It will be nighttime, planetside.”

Obi-Wan looked at him, seeing him standing outside of the doorway. “Thank you.”

With a slight bow, Xanatos started walking away.

“Is that all you have to say?” Obi-Wan asked quietly.

Xanatos turned back for a moment, just one dark blue eye gazing at Obi-Wan as he briefly got back in sight, half of his face showing. “Well . . . I do think this all sounds horribly epic and important, but there’s nothing I can do about it, is there?” And he was gone.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and a smile determinedly quirked the corners of his lips.

Once out of sight from Obi-Wan, Xanatos picked up his pace. He reached the cockpit quickly, and within moments was sitting in the pilot’s seat, pulling up files and requests and deleting them. Let Obi-Wan stay with Luke for a few moments longer, Xanatos thought.

“I knew it,” Obi-Wan said, coming from nowhere, his tone dark.

Xanatos jumped. Obi-Wan leaned over Xanatos’ shoulder, looking down at the screen. It displayed a request for all files on Obi-Wan Kenobi and related individuals – like Anakin Skywalker. And Padmé Amidala.

“You can’t have expected me not to be curious,” Xanatos said, eyeing Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan’s face was flushed with anger, and his jaw was clenched. “What did you find out? What if the Empire tracks your search? Xanatos –” He turned angry eyes on the former Jedi.

Xanatos held up his hands. “The company I chose is professional and discrete. They won’t be found. And I’ve told them to stop looking.” He rose out of his seat. “You haven’t been telling me everything,” he added, with jolt of guilt that for the most part, he had feared to ask, even as he tried to maneuver Obi-Wan out of the cockpit to somewhere he could calm the Jedi down with more safety.

Obi-Wan didn’t move. His expression calmed dangerously, and without another word, he struck Xanatos – doing so with enough force Xanatos was rocked back.

Xanatos could only give him a look of surprise. He touched his lip, looked at his fingers, and saw blood.

So did Obi-Wan. He looked ill for a moment, then whirled and left the cockpit.

Oh no, Xanatos thought. “Obi-Wan!” He followed, moving at a half-run, trying to keep up with Obi-Wan.

He found Obi-Wan in one of the empty quarters, throwing up in the refresher.

“Obi-Wan?” Xanatos touched the younger man’s shoulder gently. No reaction, though Obi-Wan seemed to be finished vomiting. He just stared straight in front of him, at nothing. Xanatos hesitated. “You should wash your mouth out,” he suggested.

Obi-Wan looked up at Xanatos, still leaning over the refresher unit, with sad, gray eyes. “Sorry,” he said simply.

Xanatos tried to give him a little grin, though he was more than a little baffled and frightened. He had not expected Obi-Wan to react so violently – to either Xanatos’ search on him, which could have admittedly led the Empire to the two of them, or to Obi-Wan striking out at him in the first place.  “Wash your mouth out,” he advised, again.

Obi-Wan nodded, and quietly obeyed. After splashing water over his face, he blinked, looked at Xanatos, and said matter-of-factly, “Luke’s crying.”

“He is?” Xanatos said reflexively. He reached out with the Force, and realized that Luke was indeed crying. He could feel the child’s distress in the Force, probably having picked up on Xanatos and Obi-Wan’s volatile emotions.

“I’ve got to go calm him down,” Obi-Wan said blankly, running his hand through his hair. He walked around Xanatos, who without a word followed him. Obi-Wan walked over to the child without any hesitation his stride, and Xanatos moved to stand beside him.

Luke’s face was red, and he cries were astonishingly loud – Xanatos realized the ship must have better sound-proofing between cabins than he had thought. Obi-Wan picked him up gently, and talked to him quietly, just saying reassuring words over and over. Luke calmed down slightly, but still cried.

After a moment’s thought, Xanatos reached out with his hand and the Force, touching the child’s mind as he stroked the small head, and sending out soothing waves of emotion. Calm.