Chapter Text
‘Master Skywalker! There are too many of them. What are we going to do?’
The voice echoed in Obi-Wan’s mind as he stared unseeing at the darkened holo-emitter. In another life, he pushed past it and kept moving, kept acting, kept going, but in this one he let himself have a moment to breathe through the pain. Just one moment to mourn, to grieve the lives that had been lost, to try to fight the images of tiny bodies on the floor. To try not to imagine more of them in the creche….
…the creche. His head snapped up. “Master Yoda. Anakin was never in the creche.”
Yoda blinked large eyes at him for a moment, clearly not understanding. Then they went wide.
“Know it he would not,” Yoda said, straightening. “Know its secrets he would not.”
Obi-Wan gestured to his shoulder and barely waited long enough for Yoda to leap up to it before bolting for the creche as fast as the Force would take him.
Anakin had never lived in the creche, and had been sour enough about it the first time that he had been assigned to help there as punishment that Obi-Wan had not done so again. Helping in the kitchens had been just as suitable and much less likely to end up with crying children caused by Anakin’s attitude. He had regretted it in recent years, but he would regret it no longer. Having spent so little time in the creche meant that Anakin would not know of the Hides.
The Temple had been sacked before, after all. There were small stasis pods, disguised as part of the walls and behind Force-suppressant fields, scattered throughout the creche. They were never used, and seldom spoken of. But now it meant that there was a chance, however tiny.
His feet nearly lost traction as he rounded the final corner, clumsy in his haste, but Yoda did not scold him. Their minds overlapped as they reached and reached and reached, searching for that tiny tell, that almost-unnoticeable fuzziness that meant the Hides were active. Not that one. Not that one. Or that one. That one. Only one. It was just a tiny bolt-hole, a small compartment barely big enough for an adult, possibly two if they crammed themselves in tightly enough. When closed, every living being inside would be locked in stasis until retrieved. He hit his knees in front of it, his hand shaking as he triggered the hidden cover to expose the keypad and fumbled to punch in the release code. Yoda brushed his hand away impatiently and did it himself, as impatient and hopeful as Obi-Wan, but steadier.
The camouflaged pod hissed open, revealing four little bodies curled up around each other, which immediately began to stir, then to cry.
“Oh, darlings,” he breathed, hitting his knees. Yoda jumped down and joined him in seeking the children out with their hands, petting shivering backs and wiping away tears. “It’s over, we’re here, you’re safe now. We’ve got you.” He would not tell them that things were all right now; at the moment it felt like nothing would ever be right again, but what he had told them was the truth.
“Protect you, we shall,” Yoda agreed. Their eyes met over the children. Whatever nascent plans had begun to form to deal with Anakin and his new Master would have to be re-written. This was their highest priority now, as far as Obi-Wan was concerned.
As they revived and recovered they began to register their surroundings. Between their own introductions and Yoda’s knowledge, Obi-Wan learned who they were. Livain he was familiar with, Quinlan Vos’ cousin’s child, eight years old and given to the temple four years ago to protect him from his great-grandmother’s machinations. Little Grogu, of Yoda’s race, twenty-eight but with the development of a two year old human. Var’ahele, a six-year-old Twi’lek with no particular gender, and Rabra, a four-year-old Togruta.
Taking a deep breath, he shoved everything he was feeling into the Force and clamped an iron hand of control around anything that might leak back in. “Right,” he said. “The first step is to get out of here. Master Yoda, if you can take Grogu I believe I can carry everyone else. Livain dear one, do you think you could hang onto my back, or do I need to help?”
“I, I can hang on,” Livain whispered.
“Are you sure? There’s no shame if you can’t, I promise.”
“I can do it,” Livain said, a little stronger.
“Brave boy,” Obi-Wan said, kissing his forehead. “Rabra, Var’ahele, I’m going to carry each of you on one side, all right? We’re going to have to be very small and very quiet now.”
Rabra bared her teeth at him and gave a Tooka-kit growl, but Var’ahele pinched the end of her nose, which made her blink and hiccup, then pout. “Quiet,” she nodded, and so did the rest.
He helped Livain tuck his feet into his sash and positioned his grip so the constriction in his throat wouldn’t get any tighter, then gathered Rabra and Var’ahele to him.
“Look, you should not,” Yoda told the children. “Closed, your eyes should be. Things there are out there, that see you should not.”
“Master Yoda is right,” Obi-Wan agreed. “Close your eyes, darlings, and remember: Very small and very quiet. We’re playing Don’t See Me right now, all right?”
The hours that followed were the most harrowing of Obi-Wan’s life, and he was counting Bandomeer, Melida-Daan and Mandalore. Sneaking four children and two adults, all in Jedi robes, through the dense population swarm that was Coruscant when the only thing on every news screen was stories of their treason and ‘assassination attempt’ (even in his own mind he couldn’t be quite as sarcastic as that deserved) was a nightmare. Especially when Rabra got hungry and cranky, Var’ahele started to cry every time something startled them, and Grogu wandered off the second no one was looking directly at him. Livain was a tiny rock of stability and more good sense than an eight-year-old should be able to muster, but even in such desperate times Obi-Wan didn’t want to put more responsibility on his little shoulders than was absolutely necessary.
Obi-Wan would never be able to say, later, how long it had taken to get to their destination in the lower levels, and honestly he would never want to think about it hard enough to try. It was enough that they were all there, still together and in one piece, and hopefully no one but him any more traumatized than they had been when they set out from the Temple.
Bail could be trusted. Obi-Wan knew this as a simple fact. He had complete faith in his friend. His hand still shook as he reached out to enter the code, and he held his breath.
The door opened.
There were no alarms, no alerts, and the ‘fresher light was on–a signal that the safehouse had not been compromised, though it was of course not definitive. Still, the ever-present sense of impending danger grew no stronger or more specific, so it was hopefully as safe as it seemed. He and Yoda ushered everyone inside, and he did a quick check to find everything sharp, precariously balanced, delicate, or excessively expensive-looking and lock it in a closet. After a moment’s thought and a long look at Grogu, he entirely disconnected the wires that let the door open at all.
While he was doing so, Yoda managed somehow to get them all through a trip to the ‘fresher, and was trying to herd them toward the bedroom.
“Don’t wanna!” Rabra was shrilling. “Don’t wanna nap!”
“Nap, you do not have to,” Yoda assured her. “But lonely your friends will be, if lay down without you they do. Cold perhaps as well, hm?”
“Please, Rabra?” Var’ahele said, making begging eyes. Rabra wavered, obviously exhausted and suffering from stasis-sickness but also too wound up to settle.
“Sing for you, Master Obi-Wan can, if lay down you do,” Yoda coaxed. “Offer I would, but my singing younglings always complain about,” he said with a sniff. Obi-Wan wanted to tease him a bit about Crechemaster Sallaros chasing him with a stick for using bribery to get younglings to behave… but then he remembered. Livain and Var’ahele smiled a bit, but Rabra only scowled and Grogu clapped excitedly but didn’t seem entirely sure what he was excited about.
“Well,” he said, offering his best smile. “I do need a drink of water to wet my throat, but if everyone’s in bed by the time I finish, I could see myself being up for a song or two.”
The scramble toward the bed, with Rabra being dragged and Grogu being carried like a stuffed tooka, was at least flattering. He caught Yoda’s eye pointedly as he went to the sink, but all he got back in return was a look of complete innocence. Rabra rowled irritably as they settled in, but it trailed away as soon as Var’ahele flopped down on top of her and pressed her into the mattress, which Obi-Wan made a mental note of for later.
Fetching a glass and drinking quickly, he crouched next to the bed and unearthed an old lullaby from the depths of his memory. As he (and no doubt Yoda) had expected, a verse and a half in and all four children were dead to the world. He stayed there a moment longer to watch their faces as they slept, aching in his heart and soul.
In his body too, now that he was holding still long enough to notice. Being blasted off the cliff on Utapau had done him no favors, and every inch of him felt… well, like he’d been blown up, thrown off a cliff, and pelted with rocks. Still, there was too much to be done to take the time to complain about it, so he hauled himself to his feet and left the room, pulling the door nearly-closed so they could hear if any of the children cried out in their sleep.
He took a seat next to Yoda and they stared into the middle distance in front of them for a breath. Two. Three.
“Done, something must be, about Skywalker and his new Master,” Yoda said. Obi-Wan restrained a flinch.
“Agreed,” he said. “But the younglings must be our first priority.”
“Hunted they will be, so long as the Sith live,” Yoda argued.
“Without at least one of us guarding them,” Obi-Wan said heavily, “they will not live long enough to be hunted.” That silenced Yoda, and his ears drooped. “I will go after Anakin,” he continued. “Padme will know where he is, of course. While I am gone, use the secure comlink to contact Breha– I trust her and Bail with not only my life but with theirs as well,” he said, indicating the bedroom door. “We will all need to get off-planet one way or another even if we are completely successful. There are too few of us now to be safe here. When I return, we can make plans about Palpatine.”
Yoda sighed, but nodded. “Go, you must. Arrangements here, I will stay and make.”
Obi-Wan stood and fished the cred-chip for his third backup account out of its compartment in his boot. “Here, this will help. If nothing else, you’ll need to buy food. Clothing that doesn’t look like Jedi robes. Some toys to keep them from driving you mad. They’re lovely, but bored children get into so much more trouble and we can’t afford that right now.”
“Yes, yes,” Yoda said irritably. “A padawan I am not. Changed your diapers, I did!”
“I know, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan placated him. “I just… have a bad feeling.”
“Safe, the children will be,” Yoda assured him. “On the present your mind should be, much preparation you need as well.”
Obi-Wan’s stomach twisted. “Yes, I do.”
***
Days later, he stood in the searing sulfurous air of Mustafar, staring down at the writhing body of his padawan, his friend, his family.
“You were my brother! I loved you!” he shouted, his heart torn to pieces in his chest, and the only lie in it was the past tense.
“I hate you!” was the only reply he received.
Numbly, he reached out and summoned Anakin’s lightsaber to his hand. The crystal had not yet bled, but it was wounded, wailing, and crying for help against the darkness that surrounded it.
‘How could you do this. Why did you do this. How. Why. How. Why. Why. Why. Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy…’ the words pressed against his mind but did not, could not, escape. No answer was possible. No answer could be enough.
Obi-Wan approached Anakin and grabbed his tunics, dragging him up the slope a few feet and rolling him over onto his back. He dodged the flailing blow of Anakin’s one remaining limb almost absently and knelt beside him, meeting his maddened red-ringed yellow eyes.
“I love you,” he said quietly over Anakin’s pained and ragged breathing, his incoherent snarls, in this moment dropping all self-protection. “And I am sorry. I am sorry for all the ways I failed you, for whatever I have done or not done that lead you to this, but I cannot change the past. I cannot change the choices you have made. I am sorry. I am so sorry,” he said, and activated his lightsaber where he had pressed it against Anakin’s chest. The blade went entirely through him, and with one last gasping rattle, one last clutch of his mechanical hand at the front of his robes, Anakin was gone.
Obi-Wan wanted to break. Wanted to scream. Wanted to throw himself on the ground and beat his fists against it like a child throwing a tantrum. Instead he turned his lightsaber off, returned it to his belt, and stood. Anakin’s body could not be taken to Coruscant and given a pyre; he wasn’t even sure he would have been able to make himself argue that Anakin deserved it after what he had done. There was fire aplenty here, though.
Working quickly, he gathered the pieces of Anakin’s body, pressed his forehead momentarily against Anakin’s slowly-cooling one, and sank him into the lava with the Force. There was no guarantee that Sidious had not gathered DNA before this, but one way or another his brother’s body would not be desecrated.
Then, a spark of life nearby that he had put to the back of his mind began to flicker.
Padme. “Fuck!” he hissed, and reached into the Force for speed.
***
Holding two more children that he was now responsible for, Obi-Wan looked down at Padme and wished her last words had been for them and not for Anakin. He hadn’t felt the need to tell her Anakin was already dead while she was fighting for her life, but… well. He would need to tell them about her someday, and it would have been nice to have that to offer them, instead of her final words of desperate attachment and willfully blind faith.
‘Still good in him,’ she’d insisted. How bitterly he wished he could have felt the same after what he’d seen.
“Well,” he said to the rather confused-looking bundles in his arms as the med-droid set up the stasis for Padme’s remains. “I suppose it’s just you and me for now, at least until we get back to Coruscant.” And the med-droid, but he wasn’t entirely sure how much he trusted it. “Right,” he told them. “A quick stop on the way back to Coruscant to make sure I have supplies for you two and fuel to get us all there, and the rest will be quite easy.”
It was not easy. He’d never cared for crechelings quite so young, and it turned out that newborn and extremely Force-sensitive twins meant sleep was a long-forgotten myth, and the more his exhaustion weakened his shields the more easily they picked up on his distress, which kept them from sleeping. Which they didn’t prefer to do at the same time anyway; a minor nudge to their unformed minds gave him the indication that so long as at least one of them was awake they felt they wouldn’t miss anything. They were three days old. He wasn’t even sure where they had somehow developed the idea of ‘missing something’ as a concept!
It was probably safe to blame Anakin.
Still, caring for them kept him either too busy or too exhausted to think, which was better than the alternative. It also meant he was too tired to dream when he did manage to snatch a few moments, which he appreciated.
He used Padme’s diplomatic codes to get into Coruscant atmosphere and land, which would be terribly obvious later but hopefully not until he was long gone, wrapped the twins against his chest, and kept out of sight as much as possible on his way back to the safe-house.
The dingy door in the back of a filthy alleyway looked like a haven, and he sent the slightest, faintest brush ahead of himself to let Yoda know he was coming… but something seemed wrong.
Hurrying now, he tapped in the code and slid inside, dropping the bag of formula and diapers on the ground to one side of the door. He had never really realized how much it took in the way of supplies to care for infants. Grogu and Rabra were playing push-pull with a little sponge ball while Livain and Var’ahele filled the far corner of the room with some manner of complicated construction involving at least three different kinds of building toys. Yoda… Yoda was on the sofa, on guard but somewhat the worse for wear, with visible bruises.
Obi-Wan wanted to begin the interrogation immediately, but there seemed to be no immediate threat and worrying the younglings too much just wouldn’t do. So he glared briefly at Yoda to warn him, then pasted on a smile.
“Come, everyone, and meet your new Clan-mates,” he said cheerily, carefully laying the twins on a rug in the middle of the floor. “This is Luke,” he said, stroking wispy blond hair the boy had been born with, “and this is Leia,” he finished, running a finger along scowling little eyebrows. She was still as bald as an egg, and he marveled for a moment at the differences between them.
Rabra examined them closely, chewing on her thumb. Obi-Wan reflexively pulled it out of her mouth and summoned a chew-stick to his hand from the pile on the counter and offered her that instead. She took it without looking and began to gnaw.
“They’re babies,” she finally decided.
“Yes, babies,” Obi-Wan agreed. “They’re very small and very new, so be gentle, all right? No biting.”
“Won’t bite,” she said with a mournful sigh.
Obi-Wan turned to Grogu. “No biting,” he repeated. “That means you too.” Grogu gave him a wide-eyed look with perked up ears that didn’t fool him for a moment. “No. Biting,” he said again. Grogu’s ears drooped, and he visibly sulked.
“Master Yoda,” he said evenly. “Lovely to see you well. May I speak with you in the other room for a moment?”
Yoda nodded, heaved himself to his feet, and made his way into the next room. Obi-Wan followed serenely, closing the door to all but a crack so he could hear if the younglings needed them.
“Preparations, completed have been, to flee Coruscant,” Yoda began. “Waiting only for you were–”
“What did you do?” Obi-Wan hissed. “Why are you injured? Was there an attack?”
“Attack here, there was not. Attack on Palpatine, there was,” Yoda said, as though that wasn’t absolutely insane. “More powerful than I expected, he is,” he continued, his ears drooping. “Defeat him I could not, but dead he believes me to be.”
“You left the younglings?!” Obi-Wan demanded. “You said– no, you didn’t,” he realized. “You never promised, or even agreed with me. I should have been paying closer attention. You left the younglings to go fight Palpatine! What if one of them had gotten hurt while you were gone?”
“Asleep they were, when I left,” Yoda said. “Asleep I ensured they would remain until I returned.”
“And if you hadn’t? They’d have slept until they died!”
“Returning, I sensed you were,” Yoda defended.
“‘The future is always in motion,’” Obi-Wan retorted. “I could have been delayed, I could have been attacked and diverted entirely, the blasted hyperdrive could have died, a thousand things could have gone wrong before I got here, and the younglings would have paid for it.”
“Focus on the present you should,” Yoda scolded. “Harmed, the younglings were not. Might-have-been serves us not.”
Obi-Wan stared at him, speechless, then passed a hand over his face and took a deep breath, releasing his anger to the Force.
“We will be discussing this more later,” he said calmly. “For now, you said that preparations to get us off-planet were in place?”
Yoda gave him a narrow look, but nodded. “A ship we have for the few hours to Byblos,” he said. “There we will meet with Bail Organa, and finalize plans for the younglings.”
“Very well. Let’s get as many of their toys packed as we can and get going.”
“Have attachments to material possessions, Jedi should not,” Yoda grumbled. He didn’t actually seem to mean it, only to want something to grumble about after Obi-Wan had scolded him; still, Obi-Wan had little patience left for his griping.
“Do you want to be trapped on a ship with four very bored children? Because I do not.”
Yoda gave him a sour look, but opened the door and began gathering things up. Obi-Wan took a few moments to duck out and buy some small-sized packs to let the children feel useful by carrying their own things; Yoda hadn’t thought to add such things to the shopping list.
When he returned the children were squabbling irritably, and Yoda’s attempts to calm them down weren’t being terribly effective. Rabra was delighted (and distracted) by the purple pack that matched her markings and began cheerfully shoving an entire set of blocks into it. Obi-Wan handed her the pack of dried hide chews and urged her to make sure she packed them, then went to coach Livain and Var’ahele on how to choose their favorite things to put in their own packs. Everything would probably end up fitting, but it distracted them from their bickering. The tiny blue pack he’d gotten for Grogu got a handful of crispy-grub snack boxes, a rattle, a shiny silver duraplast ball, and a tiny bracelet of colorful beads.
“All right,” he said, slipping Grogu’s arms into the straps and clipping them together across his tiny chest. He took the tails where the straps adjusted and tied them together, then double-knotted them. “This is yours, and it has your things in it. It’s your job to keep track of it, all right?” Grogu nodded, eyes wide. Obi-Wan gave it twenty minutes before the pack was dropped off a walkway, never to be seen again.
He stuffed as much food and water into the diaper bag as he felt he could reasonably carry, and mediated three more disputes on who got to carry the peg-block building set and who got to carry the stick-and-socket building set.
He put more snacks and drinks in their packs too, careful not to make them too heavy. Then Rabra needed help with her shoes and Var’ahele had their tunic on backwards and he was exhausted and they hadn’t even left yet. Yoda had already checked the twins’ diapers, but he did it again out of reflex, which earned him a slightly sour look, then put the carrier back on and tucked them into it.
“Master Yoda, if you don’t mind being Grogu and Livain’s Mama Nexu– er, I mean primary supervision, I can do the same for Rabra and Var’ahele.” That way each of them got one more challenging child and one child more likely to help as much as was in their capacity.
“Yes, mind them I will,” Yoda said somewhat impatiently. “Go we must.”
“Master Yoda, no one is more aware of the need for haste than I am,” he replied, releasing his temper to the Force. Again. “But this is about as fast as it goes with small children. Now,” he said. “Has everyone been to the ‘fresher?”
***
Fortunately, getting everyone to the ship and off to Byblos went without incident. The older children were excited enough by their first trip out of atmosphere to be glued to the windows, and Grogu was content with a seemingly endless game of ‘roll the ball across the floor and chase it’. Those novelties wore off eventually, but a snack and storytime from Yoda helped settle them down again.
As they approached Byblos, Obi-Wan sent a single ping to Bail’s most encrypted comm-code, and immediately received a ping-back with a single-use encryption code, which he used to properly connect. There was docking space waiting for their ship, and Bail had sent the descriptions and identifiers of two people who would be there to mind and guard the children while they briefed Bail on what was going on, so they would not have to speak of what had occurred with the younglings listening.
Obi-Wan was grateful for the consideration, even while the back of his mind screamed that he shouldn’t take his eyes off them, and the rest of him would just rather not talk about it. Alas, the universe spun on, Bail deserved to know what had happened, they needed to figure out their next steps, and necessity had never paused for what he wanted.
They docked, and Obi-Wan met their contacts and exchanged the appropriate code phrases. A Wookie and a Besalisk were excellent choices for minding six Jedi crechelings for a while, and if Bail sent them then they were trustworthy, so he only felt moderately terrified at the idea of leaving them on the ship instead of completely panicked. The Force said it was safe enough, and Yoda looked like he was going to start a lecture on attachment, so Obi-Wan reluctantly peeled himself away.
Had he been alone, Obi-Wan might have permitted himself a hug when he saw Bail, but Yoda’s presence restrained him to a relieved smile and clasping his shoulder, which Bail reciprocated with a knowing look in his eye.
With perfect Alderaani manners, Bail poured them both tea, and Obi-Wan wrapped his hands around the cup and breathed in the scent gratefully as he sat. Yoda took his own cup and sat as well, looking more serene than he had all day. Obi-Wan had never been so grateful for someone as he was when Bail let them simply sit and breathe until they had finished their first cups of tea and he had poured them another round.
“So tell me what happened,” he said at last. And Obi-Wan did.
It took a great deal more effort than he would have liked, to keep his voice level and his eyes clear. Bail’s expression of horror and sympathy, his regret at Anakin’s turning and his clear grief at Padme’s death were more of a balm on Obi-Wan’s weary spirit than Bail could possibly have known. Bail could express what Obi-Wan himself could not, and it relieved some small portion of the pressure on his soul.
“Then, while I was travelling back from Mustafar….” Obi-Wan started, then turned to Yoda to chime in for his own portion.
“Confront Palpatine I needed to,” Yoda said firmly. “Underestimated him, I unfortunately did. Underestimated me, he did as well. Defeat him, I did not, but dead he thinks me. Useful, that will be, in the long run I think.”
Bail shot a look toward Obi-Wan, clearly doing some mental math and looking a bit confused. Likely wondering where the younglings had been during Yoda’s confrontation. Obi-Wan gave him a minute shake of the head, and he frowned.
“That brings us to planning the future,” Bail finally said, sighing and sitting back. “The Rebellion has already begun. There are a few–a very few–senators I trust, a few others here and there; pilots, intelligence, acquisitions… we’ll have a good foundation. But it’s only a start.”
“I want to help you, Bail,” Obi-Wan said heavily. “You have no idea how much, but the children are and must remain our first priority. Palpatine will eventually find out that they survived, we didn’t have time to do as thorough a wipe on the Temple records as I would have liked, and he will hunt them.”
“Separate, we should,” Yoda suggested. “One for the children, one for the Rebellion.”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan nodded thoughtfully. “I could take the children out into the Unknown Regions, find a primitive planet with a large enough population to get lost, and hope they have enough variance to accept us all.”
“Take the children I should,” Yoda argued. “Younger are you. General are you. Leader of a third of all our forces, were you. Useful, your head for strategy and logistics will be.” He huffed out a creaky laugh and tapped Obi-Wan’s shin with his stick. “A peaceful retirement I will have, teaching the children.”
Obi-Wan forced a smile. “I think peaceful is the last thing trying to raise six crechelings alone would be,” he said. “You’d probably get more rest on an active front. Your wisdom is much respected and would be an asset to the Rebellion.”
Frowning, Yoda poked him again. “Stubborn you are. Best it clearly is, for you to join the Rebellion.”
“Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan said, and hesitated. Breathed. Decided to be blunt. “Master Yoda, I no longer trust you with the safety or well-being of the younglings. Not when your impatience to confront Palpatine when I was only days out could have done severe damage or worse.”
Yoda opened his mouth, but Obi-Wan raised his hand. “And not,” he said very softly, “when this is not the first time I have seen you set aside a child’s well-being as less important than your own goals.” He met Yoda’s eyes calmly, firmly, until Yoda looked away. They had never discussed the apology Yoda had offered for the meddling in his late Initiate years. Obi-Wan had forgiven, freely and easily. He had not forgotten, and he never would.
“These younglings deserve better from us. They are the future of our Order. The future of our people. I will be taking them to the Unknown Regions, and I will raise them to be Jedi as best I can, and pray to the Force that I do a better job this time. If you decide not to split up after all and choose to come with us, I will welcome you. If you believe that going our separate ways is for the best, then that is your path to chart. I do not and will not try to control where you go; only where I will go.”
Yoda… crumpled. There was no other way to describe it. For the first time in Obi-Wan’s memory, despite his theatrical creaking and groaning about his age, his walking stick and decrepit waddle, he looked old.
“Apologize, I do,” he said softly.
“I don’t want it,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. “Your priorities and mine are different, I accept that. As Grandmaster of the Order, you did what you thought was best. I can’t say it didn’t upset me, and I can’t remotely say I agreed with it, but I do know you meant only the best for all of us, as I do. I suppose… I suppose that as you are Grandmaster and I am the only other available Master present, I have become Crechemaster by default, so that is what I will be.” He managed a bit of a cheeky smile. “If it helps, I think I may be being somewhat kinder than Crechemaster Yirrwi would have been to you, if he were here to see all this.”
Yoda thought that over for a moment, shrinking even further and going a sickly yellow. Crechemasters were all infamous for being willing to protect their charges at all costs, but Wookie Crechemasters were particularly notorious for having no boundaries when it came to the defense of their cubs. Crechemaster Yirrwi’s reaction to leaving crechelings without care or supervision would have been excessively violent, and he would not have cared that it was Yoda he aimed it at.
The tiniest movement out of the corner of his eye caught Obi-Wan’s attention, and he saw that Bail was all but holding his breath, staring out the viewport to give them as much privacy as he could. Obi-Wan felt for him; he had not signed up to bear witness to the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order being lambasted, and had to be feeling exceptionally awkward.
“My apologies, Bail,” he offered. “That was a discussion that needed to happen, but it probably should have been had elsewhere.”
“No apologies necessary,” Bail hurried to reassure him. “Though… may I ask your final decision, Master Yoda?” Yoda sighed. “Say my farewells to the younglings, I will,” he said heavily, sliding down from the sofa to stand. “To your Rebellion I will offer my aid and advice as best I may.” He leaned heavily on his gimmer stick, looking exhausted, grey, and old. Obi-Wan refused to let the seed of guilt take root in his stomach. He had said nothing untrue, though he felt like he might have chosen a more diplomatic way of saying it.
Well. Maybe a little guilt.
“I’ll be along shortly, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan said. “I want to work out a few details with Bail before I make any firmer plans.”
“Very well,” Yoda said, his gaze still downturned. “Await you in the shuttle, I will.” He trudged away, letting the door slide shut behind him. Obi-Wan slumped, covering his face in his hands. After a moment, he felt Bail’s weight on the sofa and the warmth of his body at his side. He let himself lean in a little closer.
“So, the Unknown Regions,” he said. Obi-Wan was so grateful that Bail was letting him ignore everything that had just happened that he went a little lightheaded.
“I want to make a quick stop at Jedha,” he said. “Warn them to pack up and evacuate anyone particularly vulnerable, and see if they’ll let me have some lightsaber materials for training sabers, and for when the younglings are older. They’re outside the Republic but I do not see Darth Sidious leaving them alone for long. He will not permit any who do not submit to him to thrive.”
“Hm,” Bail said thoughtfully. “That sounds like a good idea. And then?”
“And then I beg the Force to tell me where to go,” Obi-Wan sighed. “That’s the other reason to go to Jedha; the planet itself is very rich in the Force, and short of a very few other places would be the best choice for what I need to do.”
“That sounds….”
“Shaky? Dubious? Like I’m just saying ‘the Force will provide’ and flinging myself and six younglings into the winds of fate with no safety measures and no backup, just as I have repeatedly complained about others doing? Trust me, the irony has not escaped me.” He rubbed his eyes and dropped his hands. “I just don’t see other options. I don’t know how much– how much Anakin would have said. He and Sidious were friends for years. I let him spend time with a Sith–” he cut himself off. “Even stories shared in complete innocence would tell a great deal about how I think, who my allies are, where I would go. If I make a decision logically, it’s predictable. If I let the Force guide me to somewhere I cannot be found, somewhere we will be safe, somewhere we might even be able to find allies… there’s at least a chance.”
Bail sighed, resigned. Obi-Wan hummed in agreement.
“You’re not coming back, are you?” Bail asked softly. Obi-Wan reached into the Force, seeking answers.
“The future is ever in motion,” he said. “But… no. I think this is very likely the last time we will see one another in person, my friend.” It hurt to know that. He had never let pain stop him from doing what he had to do.
A hand touched his cheek, turning his head, and then he was being kissed. It was a lovely kiss, firm, commanding, a little overwhelming. He heard himself make a little sound of surprise, then sank into it.
When it was over, he couldn’t help the question: “Breha?”
Bail chuckled. “That one was from Breha,” he said. “This one’s from me.”
This kiss was softer, sweeter, gentler. Just as overwhelming, but comforting and wonderful. Bail’s hands were warm. It felt like so long since he’d been warm. He wished it could last forever, but it couldn’t. When they finished, he rested his forehead against Bail’s for a long moment. There was nothing really to say. Both of them would do what they had to.
“I have a ship ready for you and the younglings,” Bail said. “The twins are a bit more of a surprise, but I’ll have formula and diapers added, and a pair of cribs bolted in. It’ll take a little time. Garran and Naddaarra can stay with you until you leave to look after the younglings, so I’d strongly suggest you take a nap.”
“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan protested automatically.
“Obi-Wan, I am sitting right here. I can see you.”
Obi-Wan wanted to argue, but found himself laughing instead. “I am going to miss you. No-one else ever calls me out on my nonsense.”
“And you have so much nonsense to offer,” Bail said, squeezing the back of his neck.
“I’ll nap when the children do, when we’re on the way,” Obi-Wan said. “I need to speak with Master Yoda. I should probably apologize.”
“I would advise against it,” Bail said. “I don’t have all the pieces, but from what I gathered he did something incredibly foolish and dangerous, and put the younglings at risk. If you apologize it diminishes that.”
“He is the Grandmaster of the Order, I owe him respect,” Obi-Wan protested.
“Think of your favorite three Crechemasters,” Bail suggested. “Would any of them have apologized for speaking up in the same situation?”
Obi-Wan thought it over.
“...one of them might have apologized to Healer Che for making her clean up the mess,” he admitted.
“There you have it then,” Bail said. “It’s understandable that you want to, but just because you love and respect him doesn’t mean he wasn’t wrong.”
Obi-Wan sighs. “I suppose you’re right,” he says. “Still, I have contacts I should share with him, information I should pass along. There is very little time and far too much to do.”
“I will trust your judgement then,” Bail said. “But please, for my sake and the younglings’, you need to take care of yourself.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” Obi-Wan promised. Bail looked skeptical, but let it drop. At least on the surface.
“I need to go make those arrangements for the extra supplies,” he said. “You should stay here and finish up the tea I made so it doesn’t go to waste.”
Obi-Wan gave him a look for that, but admitted privately that it would be a shame to let such nice tea go cold.
***
Obi-Wan had to admit he felt better, when he returned to the shuttle, for the ten minutes or so to drink the rest of the tea in privacy. He hoped that no one old enough to notice would be unkind enough to comment on the redness of his eyes.
He had nothing to worry about. Stepping inside he was met with a double-blast of emotional turmoil screaming in the Force… as well as actual screaming, ringing in his ears.
Cursing himself, he hurried into the main passenger compartment, where Rabra had her fingers wound desperately into Yoda’s tunics, Var’ahele was clutching his arm, Livain was burrowed into Naddaarra’s fur, and Grogu and the twins were huddled into Garran’s arms. All of them were crying at varying levels of volume, and Yoda looked bewildered and upset himself. Obi-Wan cursed himself at length for letting Yoda discuss leaving the children without himself being present.
“Here now, what’s all this?” he said, going down on his knees in the middle of the uproar. Rabra flung herself at him and shrieked into his neck, making him wince.
“Leaving!” she wailed. “He’s leaving!” It got an extra burst of tears and noise from Var’ahele and Livain. Frankly, Yoda looked like he might be on the verge of joining them.
“Oh my darlings,” Obi-Wan said, rocking her and rubbing her back with one hand. “I know, I know. It’s very upsetting, isn’t it? Things have been very scary. A lot of people you love have gone away and it seems like everyone’s going to, doesn’t it? It’s true that Master Yoda has work to do, he has to go help people like a Jedi is supposed to, but I’m here and I’m going to stay with you. I’m not going to let anyone take me away from you. All right?” He reached out into the Force to soothe the panic and pain the children were exuding, wrapping them in a blanket of reassurance and care.
Slowly, the crying started to taper off. Obi-Wan crooned and rocked Rabra, and held his arm out to Var’ahele, who flung themself at him and clung. He gave Yoda a pointed look over their heads, and those big green ears drooped.
“You promise?” Var’ahele quavered, muffled by his tunics.
“I promise,” Obi-Wan said, squeezing them close. “We’re going on a bit of an adventure, and we're going to find a nice new place to settle in and make friends. I’ll make sure of it, all right? I know it’s strange, and I know it’s scary, and I know you miss the Temple and everyone in it, but I will not rest until I find somewhere we can be safe and happy.”
Obi-Wan grimaced as Rabra wiped her runny nose against his neck, but said nothing. He continued petting her back and Var’ahele’s until they slumped into an exhausted sleep against him. He carefully laid them side-by-side on the seating and turned to hold his arms out to Livain, who also clung to him and sniveled a bit until he fell asleep as well.
Livain went on the other sofa, and he took Grogu to hold in his lap while he and Yoda talked. Garran murmured that she and Naddaara would take the twins into the cockpit to feed them, and then Obi-Wan and Yoda were effectively alone.
“Yes, yes,” Yoda said, waving his stick. “Correct you were. The children’s caretaker, the new Crechemaster, you should be.”
“Thank you, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan said mildly.
“Gloat so much you should not,” Yoda grouched. “Smugness, of the Dark Side is.”
“Master Yoda, if that were true, you’d be a Sith Lord.”
Their eyes met, and they looked away again hurriedly. Obi-Wan at least was suppressing laughter that would wake the younglings. It wasn’t funny at all, except in all the ways it was. Despite their training in releasing negative emotion to the Force, sometimes it was still a bit of gallows humor that was the only way to keep sane.
Obi-Wan fished a handkerchief out and used it to wipe his neck, then cleaned the younglings’ faces as they slept. “Poor little dears,” he murmured. “This has been very hard on them.”
“Hard on you it has been as well,” Yoda pointed out. He drooped. “Hard on us all.”
Obi-Wan shrugged. “We’re adults. We have many more tools to deal with things than they do.”
Yoda hummed in acknowledgement. “Sorrow you are allowed. Grief you are allowed.”
“When there’s time,” Obi-Wan said with a meaningless smile. “In the meantime, there’s a great deal of information I have to share that may be useful in the future.” Yoda nodded and assumed a meditative pose, ready to ‘record’ the remainder of their conversation.
“I have favors that can be collected from the senators of Alsaka, Aloxl, Ambria, Antar….”
***
“...and the Prime Minister of Yortuba funded his run for office with truly an exorbitant amount of embezzlement from his former employer, who happened to be his primary rival for the office.”
Yoda waited a beat, then opened his eyes, looking impressed. “Busy you have been,” he said approvingly.
“Master Yoda, you’re the one who gave me most of those assignments before the war started; you should know precisely how busy I’ve been.”
“Regret I do, that the weight on your shoulders was so heavy.”
“Well it’s being useful now,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “So I suppose it’s just as well.”
Yoda looked discontented, but didn’t pursue the line of thought. The shuttle hatch opened, and Obi-Wan and Yoda’s eyes both snapped in that direction, before they recognized Bail’s presence and relaxed.
“When you’re ready, your ship is too,” he said as he entered. “Diapers, diaper sanitizers, an entire crate of formula tabs, a few extra bottles in case yours fail, and a pair of cribs. Each of the younglings has their own bed, and so do you.” He looked at the limbs sprawled over every soft surface in the shuttle, and his face softened. “I had extra blankets and a few soft toys added, just in case,” he added. For a moment, Obi-Wan feels so fond he can hardly stand it, and he smiles.
“Thank you,” he says fervently. “We should wake the younglings so they can say goodbye.”
“Wouldn’t it be better not to put them through that?” Bail ventured. Obi-Wan shook his head.
“Everything has vanished out from under them and they had no say in it. Right now it’s best to let them say goodbye, even if it makes them sad.” He gently started shifting Grogu where he was sprawled with his head thrown back, faintly snoring. It got a grumpy noise so like the ones Yoda liked to use that he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. “Come now, Grogu. Everyone needs to wake up now.”
Grogu sat up and rubbed one tiny hand across his eyes, pouting. Obi-Wan stroked the top of his head and sat him on the floor to go wake Rabra. As he was pinching the tip of her nose playfully to urge her from sleep, he heard an outraged shriek. He turned to see that Grogu had climbed up next to Livain and, apparently, licked his face to wake him up. Livain was rubbing it away and making disgusted noises, Var’ahele was laughing at him despite being still half-asleep themself, and Grogu was giggling and clapping his hands. Rabra just rolled over and tried to fold her arms over her montrals.
“Grogu, we don’t lick people without asking,” Obi-Wan said firmly, then looked at Yoda. “You could have stopped him.”
“No harm, it did,” Yoda said unrepentantly. “And funny it was.”
“I didn’t realize what he was going to do,” Bail apologized, but he was laughing too. Obi-Wan sighed, but was glad the younglings were given a reason to forget their troubles for a moment. He gently pulled Rabra so she was sitting upright, withstanding with great fortitude the bleary glare that was aimed approximately three inches to the left of his actual face.
“Come on now dear one,” he coaxed. “We’re ready for our next adventure, so it’s time to say goodbye to Master Yoda.” That woke everyone all the way up , and Rabra’s lower lip started to wobble. Obi-Wan poked it, and smiled reassuringly at her. “You can be sad if you want,” he reassured her. “But first go give him a hug, all right? You’ll have as long as you need to be sad, but the hug is only for now.” Her face firmed, and with an adorable look of resolve she squirmed down from the couch and squeezed Yoda in a hug so tight he gave a comically over-done squawk.
Then Var’ahele threw his arms around both of them, and Livain piled on as well. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure exactly how much Grogu understood, but he sat down near Yoda’s feet and wrapped his little arms around Yoda’s legs.
Yoda’s arms went around the children as best he could in return, and as his eyes closed Obi-Wan could see tears glistening in their corners. The frustration he’d been feeling with Yoda’s actions and behavior softened. None of this was any easier on him than it was on Obi-Wan or the younglings, and now he was having to say goodbye to some of the only members of his people he had left.
He knelt himself, and threw his arms around the entire group.
“We are not the only ones,” he reminded Yoda. “You can feel them as much as I can. Reach out. You will not be alone.”
“Never alone am I, when the Force I have,” Yoda said, but his ears perked up.
“The day you can gossip with the Force as efficiently as you’ve always gossiped with everyone else, do let me know how you’ve figured that out,” Obi-Wan said dryly.
“Find a way to contact me, you must,” Yoda said. “Miss out on all the good stuff, you will.”
“I’ll make it a priority,” Obi-Wan promised. They all soaked in the embrace for another few moments, then Obi-Wan stood.
“Come along, little ones,” he said gently. “It’s time to go.”
Detangling the little ones from their grips on Yoda was… challenging, but he wasn’t a Jedi Master for nothing. He had Grogu in his arms and the rest holding on to either him or each other, and shared a long look of farewell with Yoda.
“Ready?” Bail said, looking fairly impressed.
“Lead the way,” Obi-Wan told him. Garran and Naddaarra followed with the twins.
The ship Bail had arranged was lovely. Not fancy or expensive, but the younglings had a bedroom to share, and there was another one for himself and the twins, so the newborns wouldn’t wake everyone in the middle of the night when they needed to be fed or changed. There was a small cooking area, the cockpit had a door that locked with a code, and the ‘fresher was large enough for him to kneel down to help any of the children that needed it.
“Bail, you are a wonder,” he said. “I couldn’t have asked for something half so perfect.” The twins were carefully tucked in, then their minders quietly said their goodbyes and left.
“If this is all I can do, then I’ll do the best I can,” Bail shrugged. “There’s a Shadow-grade–and I know because I got it from Quinlan Vos–encrypted comm under your bed. It can’t do holocalls but it’ll send and receive text from anywhere in the galaxy. I don’t expect to be pen-pals, and I know you won’t be able to let me know where you are, but you will let me know if you need something. I’ll find a way to make it happen.” Livain perked up a little at the mention of his cousin, but kept his mouth shut and his ears open (far more than Quinlan could ever be expected to do when he wasn’t working).
“He’s alive,” Obi-Wan said to the unasked question. “I don’t know how, and I don’t know where, but he’s still out there somewhere. He’ll be a good ally, if you can lay hands on him. You should probably mention it to Yoda; that wasn’t on the list I gave him and I was always closer to Quin than most.”
“I will,” Bail nodded, but he looked sad.
Obi-Wan put Grogu on the floor and handed him his tiny pack, already opened. “All right everyone,” he said. “There are drawers in your bedroom for you; go decide which ones will be yours and put your things away.”
Livain gave him an amusingly knowing look that made him resemble Quinlan far too much, and herded the rest of the younglings into the next room. Obi-Wan and Bail just stared at each other for a moment. Obi-Wan made a small noise and flung himself forward, caught and crushed in Bail’s arms until his ribs protested.
They didn’t kiss again. It would only hurt worse.
“Goodbye Bail,” Obi-Wan said. “Live well.”
“Good luck,” Bail replied. “And try to take even half as good a care of yourself as you do of others. Please.”
‘I don’t need luck, I have the Force’ was on the tip of Obi-Wan’s tongue, but this wasn’t really the time. “I’ll try,” he said instead, and was glad for so many reasons that Yoda wasn’t present.
Bail touched his cheek and smiled wistfully, then turned and left. Obi-Wan took a moment to steady himself. There was a thump, followed by giggling in the bedroom, but Obi-Wan did some quick math and decided that if no one was screaming or crying it was probably safe to ignore it, and turned instead to the cockpit to start the preflight checks, keeping one ear open for problems.
Everything was fine of course, and he called “Who wants to come watch us take off?” and was met by a stampede of tiny feet.
“Livain, would you like to be my co-pilot?” he asked, pulling Var’ahele into his lap and sitting Grogu on the arm of his seat.
“Yes please!” Livain chirped, climbing into the correct seat and having to kneel to see out the viewport. Rabra scrambled up beside him, and Obi-Wan had to stop her from propping her hands on the console to lean closer.
Obi-Wan did the flight calculations and coached Livain through which buttons to press and in what order, which the youngling did gleefully. He let Var’ahele push a few too, to keep it fair.
“All right,” Obi-Wan said, forcing cheer into his voice and his Force-presence. “Next stop: Jedha.”
The ship lifted off, and they were away.
***
The Holy City shone on the nightside of the planet as he approached, and his heart lifted. This, at least, was still the same. He sent the falsified credentials that had come with the ship, and got permission to land in an out-of-the-way port.
He had done a great deal of thinking and planning on his way here, and sent a short coded message as soon as they landed. This would be infinitely easier if there were another trustworthy adult around; he wouldn’t take them out of the safety of the ship where they might be spotted, but he also would not be a raging hypocrite and leave them alone. He must therefore rely on old friends and old favors… and hope.
Waiting felt like sitting on sharp stones, and he scanned constantly for danger in the Force. The notification that someone was outside startled him so badly it felt like an electric shock, but the mind he encountered when he reached out was pleasantly cheerful and more serene than most Jedi he knew. It was also familiar. He lowered the boarding ramp and unlocked the hatch, and went to meet his guest at the door.
“Chirrut,” he said gladly, stepping back to let the other man inside.
“My dear friend,” Chirrut said, his care warming Obi-Wan’s heart. He held out the hand that was not supporting a flimsiplast box, and Obi-Wan clasped it.
“It’s good to see you, even under the circumstances,” Obi-Wan said.
“It’s good to be seen,” Chirrut said, smiling a little. “The news we have gotten is… troubling,” he continues, sobering a bit.
“I hope you’ll believe me when I tell you not to believe a word out of Palpatine’s mouth,” Obi-Wan said.
“He’s a politician, saying such a thing would be redundant.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Obi-Wan said. “There’s a sofa five paces forward and six to the right, if you have time to sit.”
“I do, and you should stay a few hours at least so it doesn’t look strange,” Chirrut said, tapping his way over with his staff.
“I know,” Obi-Wan said. “But every moment I hold still….”
“Tell me what happened,” Chirrut said. “I know you said you have to move on, but perhaps you can find sanctuary here.”
So Obi-Wan girded himself and repeated the story as he had to Bail.
“A Sith?” Chirrut repeated when he was done. “And the Order fallen for now… this is terrible. My deepest sympathies, my friend.”
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, his throat tight.
“I see now why you can’t stay,” Chirrut said seriously. “This is a haven for all, but there is no guarantee we will remain free for long.”
“I would say the opposite,” Obi-Wan said, staring at his feet. “He will not countenance you not answering to him. As soon as he can justify occupation, he will, and it will be soon.”
“I will spread the word. Quietly. We will be careful, but the Holy City will still be here long after we are all gone. It will persevere, and so will we.”
“May it be so,” Obi-Wan said, and snapped his head around as the door to the younglings’ room opened. A tiny figure toddled out.
“Grogu, what are you doing awake?” Obi-Wan asked gently.
Grogu rubbed his eye with one fist and wobbled over to the couch. Without ceremony he climbed up and snuggled into Chirrut’s lap.
“Well hello, little one,” Chirrut said with delight, stroking the top of his head between his ears. Grogu made a contented noise and promptly fell back asleep. “How sweet,” he said, charmed.
“He can stay there until we’re done,” Obi-Wan offered. “I managed to save… heartbreakingly few younglings, and this has been very hard on them. If a little extra time in a lap makes him feel better, then I’m happy.”
“Well I believe our only other real business is the delivery I came to make,” Chirrut said, patting the box he’d brought with him. “Emitters, lenses, battery packs. A few crystals, but I couldn’t get anything terribly high quality while trying to stay subtle. You’ll need to figure out casings, but that’s the easy part.”
“That is more than I could possibly have hoped for,” Obi-Wan said with relief. “I’ll have to figure out a way to sneak them here or to Ilium when it’s time, but at least until then they’ll have practice sabers, and the art won’t die out.”
“They’ll need it,” Chirrut said solemnly.
“I know,” Obi-Wan agreed. He felt it too. These younglings would need to know combat and know it well. He could only hope he’d do well enough as a teacher.
“Until then, I will remain until morning, and you will go get some sleep.” “Why does everyone keep trying to make me sleep,” Obi-Wan said sourly. “I’m fine.”
“If everyone is trying to, perhaps you should bow to consensus,” Chirrut said dryly.
“I have a great deal to–ow!” Obi-Wan scowled and rubbed the mark on his knee. “You are getting far too much like Master Yoda,” he accused.
“You will sleep, and I will keep watch until morning,” Chirrut said serenely.
“I’m fi–ow!”
“You will sleep, and I will keep watch until morning,” Chirrut repeated. “If sleep is elusive, I have a packet of tea with me that will help.”
“I really don’t need–ow!”
“You will sleep, and I will keep watch until morning,” Chirrut said again.
“Very well,” Obi-Wan snapped. “Let me put Grogu back to bed.”
“He’s fine,” Chirrut said, smiling benevolently as he put a hand on Grogu’s little back. “I rather enjoy his presence.”
Obi-Wan wouldn’t admit it under torture, but he rather hoped Grogu peed on him.
Grumbling things he would deny later, he checked on the twins, then sat on the bed, leaning into the wall for balance to take off his boots. When he woke with the smell of cooking food in his nose, his back hurt, his boots were still on, and he had to admit that perhaps Chirrut wasn’t… entirely wrong about needing rest.
He checked the twins, deeply surprised to see that they were sleeping soundly. Surely he’d been asleep long enough that they should be hungry and wet.
“I fed and changed them,” Chirrut called through the open door. “Come and eat.”
“Are you sure you aren’t Force-sensitive?” Obi-Wan asked, standing in the doorway to watch him cook.
“Certain,” Chirrut said. “Livain, are you sure about this? It seems like far too much spice.”
“That would be for me then,” Obi-Wan said, smiling. “You’ve been speaking to Quinlan haven’t you?” he asked Livain.
“Mm-hmm!” Livain nodded seriously. “He said if you won’t eat, make it red, and since nobody else will eat it, you'll feel like you have to.”
Obi-Wan knew he was still tired when he had to make himself resist the urge to tell Livain what he thought about that.
“Well, then best eat it while it’s fresh, so the more transient form of heat will not subside,” Chirrut said, holding a hand out for a plate, which Livain passed to him. He filled it, then handed it to Obi-Wan. “Scrambled nuna eggs and sausage; even I can do that, but Livain was kind enough to offer his help.”
It was very hard to stay grouchy and annoyed at someone who was handing you food, so Obi-Wan contented himself with making a face at Chirrut’s back as he sat, observing Var’ahele and Rabra contentedly eating their own breakfasts, and Grogu happily gnawing on something so chewed it was impossible to tell what it had been.
“Don’t give me that look,” Chirrut said without turning around, not that he could have seen it anyway. “You are my friend, and you were tired, and you were hungry. You are still all three of those things, but now hopefully two of them less than you used to be.”
“Which two is up for debate,” Obi-Wan said, making Var’ahele giggle, but he ate. Rabra was fascinated by the red color and demanded to try it, and after warning her twice that she wouldn’t like it, he let her.
She didn’t like it.
It amused Livain and Var’ahele to see her frantically gulping milk, and Grogu giggled along whether he understood why or not.
“I might tell you that you may not have something,” Obi-Wan told her, “but if I tell you that you won’t like it, then it’s because I believe you won’t.”
She pouted at him, and sulkily ate her own breakfast. Chirrut sat beside them, but declined food of his own.
“I’ll eat at home,” he said. “Unlike some people at this table, I don’t ignore my own needs for no good reason,” he told Grogu.
“If you keep that up, I’m going to ask Rabra very politely to bite you,” Obi-Wan said. Rabra perked up and looked eager.
“Well I am very sorry to disappoint Lady Rabra, but I’m afraid I have to go before I can earn your wrath,” Chirrut said.
“Yes, it’s well past dawn,” Obi-Wan said reproachfully.
“I never said dawn, I said morning. You will find that it is indeed still morning.”
“Barely.”
“The galaxy turns on technicalities, which I believe is something you taught me,” Chirrut pointed out, smiling.
“Oh get out of here you reprobate,” Obi-Wan said, then sighed. “And thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” Chirrut said. “Come, guide a helpless old blind man to the door.”
“You’re as helpless as a krayt dragon, and I’m four years older than you,” Obi-Wan pointed out, standing.
“Yes, ancient and decrepit,” Chirrut said cheerfully, walking toward the hatch. “Positively antique!” The younglings giggled behind him, and Obi-Wan let himself smile once his back was to them.
Chirrut stopped near the hatch and turned toward him, looking more serious. “I won’t ask where you’re going. What I don’t know I can’t share, whether by accident or under threat. But know I’ll be thinking about you, and wishing you well.” He patted at Obi-Wan until he grasped his arm, and squeezed it. “If you call, I’ll do whatever I can. Take care of yourself, my friend.”
“I’ll do my best,” Obi-Wan promised, patting Chirrut’s hand. “You take care of yourself as well. Times are only going to get more dangerous from here.”
“I will,” Chirrut agreed. “And were I to perhaps wish to contact someone with the eventual aim of theoretically aiding and abetting a tiny bit of treason here and there….?”
Obi-Wan sighed and gave him a comm code, and made him repeat it to ensure he had it memorized. Chirrut smiled.
“Excellent. I’m sure that will come in handy someday.” He patted Obi-Wan’s arm and gestured to the hatch. Obi-Wan opened it for him. “May the Force be with you,” Chirrut said as he stepped outside.
“And with you,” Obi-Wan murmured, as he closed the door behind him. He returned to the table and finished his breakfast, then cleaned up the minor event horizon of crumbs and goo that formed around younglings eating. They each had a minor task helping him do that, then with cleaning and putting away the dishes, even if all Grogu could really do was hold things that were small enough. He stored the lightsaber components carefully away where little fingers couldn’t get into them, and triple-locked the drawer.
When that was done, it was time. He set them up with their toys in the main room where he could keep an eye on them, did the preflight checks, then got flight permission and took off. He followed the path he’d logged until he was well out past the edges of the solar system, and stopped. Hovering in space, he opened the astronav maps and closed his eyes.
This was going to be the hard part.
He sank into the Force, leaving only the thinnest thread of attention behind on the younglings, and reached out. He spun himself out as fine as a hair, reaching, flowing, seeking. Nearly-lost in the currents of life and breath, spinning and twirling in the dance of the stars, those six bright little lights the only reason he stayed himself from going farther. A safe place, he breathed into the Force, begging. A haven. A sanctuary. A home.
His body jolted, and he snapped back into himself with dry eyes and a throbbing head. They were in hyperspace. Had he done that? Where were they even going?
One of the twins started crying. He thought it was Luke. He got to his feet and staggered, wetness on his upper lip. A nosebleed. Blast. He fished out a handkerchief and hoped he had gotten to it before it got all over him; it would only frighten the younglings.
‘Get it together, Kenobi’, he told himself. Drawing on the Force made him flinch, but cleared his head marginally. Right, care for the baby. Make sure the older children were well. Figure out where they were going, if possible. Possibly lay down for a moment if he got very lucky indeed. He wasn’t feeling particularly lucky.
***
He was right. He wasn’t lucky. It had been five diaper changes (per twin), a meal and two snacks for the younglings, half a meal and another nosebleed for himself, three headed-off squabbles, one actual fight when a clumsily-thrown ball by Grogu hit Rabra and she had to be stopped from eating him for it, Var’ahele locking themselves in the ‘fresher and needing the override code looked up to get them out, the younglings deciding on a very loud and high-pitched sing-along that woke both the twins and sent knife-spikes of pain into his eye sockets, and when he actually put the younglings down for a nap one of them (he still wasn’t sure which one) had broadcasted their nightmare so loudly that every youngling in the ship woke up screaming simultaneously.
None of them wanted to sleep after that, and he’d had the choice of soothing the twins with the Force and making his headache worse, or trying to comfort them without it as their screaming made his headache worse and upset the others, so he gritted his teeth, shielded his pain, and calmed their confusion and fear. The lack of a useful nap made them all short-tempered, which meant more squabbling and Livain and Var’ahele both narrowly being prevented from temper-tantrums when he put everyone to bed early to make up for it.
Then he finally got to be horizontal for a moment, but one or the other of the twins needed tending every hour or so, which didn’t lead to restful sleep or recovery. Nine hours of that and Livain was upset because Grogu had licked him awake again, which he had known was going to be a problem, thank you ever so much Yoda, and it was time to make breakfast for everyone. He hadn’t had time to even look at the astronav, but he supposed it was all the will of the Force, even if it meant the Force wanted him to suffer right now.
It set the pattern for the days ahead. The younglings were sweet, intelligent, obedient, and attentive. They were also younglings, which meant they were composed primarily of chaos and mischief. Moreover, they were traumatized younglings, who had seen everything they loved snatched out from under their feet, left with only one person they weren’t even that familiar with. Nightmares were common, tears were frequent. Tantrums were more occasional, but they happened as well. Grogu got into the drawer with the lightsaber components and spread them everywhere, so he relocated the box under his bed, where he would hopefully not think to look.
It took him until the fourth day to remember that painkillers existed and that there were probably some in the first aid kit, which made him feel like an idiot. The pain didn’t go away entirely, as it would take an extended session of safety and calm to meditate and heal which he did not remotely have the time for, but it became more manageable.
Then, when he was holding Rabra up by the back of her tunics to keep her from trying to eat Grogu for getting cranky and throwing a block at her, an alarm went off in the cockpit. Wherever they were going, they had arrived.