This is not the best idea I have ever had, Obi-Wan thought, scrambling to keep his hands on the controls as the escape pod shot out into the upper atmosphere. He could hear the massive payload of proton bombs behind him straining against the restraints holding them in place. He laughed despite himself, accepting the gravity of the situation. He was going to die there, now, alone.
His body felt numb and electric at the same time, his mind racing. He’d almost died many times over the course of his life, from youngling to Padawan to Master to General, countless brushes with mortal injury or total and instant annihilation. This would be the latter, at least. He did not fear joining the Force, but of course his life was precious, too.
Anakin was in danger, as was half the population of the planet, and it was essential that he protect them. I would pay any price. I will pay. He resolutely steered the capsule toward the stars, up into the thinner air and away from the ground. He hadn’t been able to disarm the bombs before the pod was fired, and he had been fired along with it. All he could do was choose where they would detonate.
He heard a loud beep and glanced at the timer on the bombs, seeing the final minute begin. So soon. It was growing colder, and he tightened his grip on the controls. Soon. So soon.
There is no death, there is only the Force.
He only regretted that Anakin was not nearby at the end. He didn’t wish for him to die too, of course, but something felt wrong, beyond his own awareness of standing on the edge of oblivion; he’d always felt on some level that Anakin would be by his side when he died. It had been an oddly comforting thought, but it had to be sufficient now to know that Anakin was safe. If there was anything his Padawan could handle, it was battle.
Obi-Wan hoped that Anakin would find his lightsaber among the enemy camp and return it to the Temple. That way, his body might not make it home, but his heart would. He could picture it too clearly, Anakin sitting bowed with grief in the transport, eyes wet, Obi-Wan’s hilt clutched in his hand with white knuckles. He would hold Obi-Wan’s life in his hands, and he hoped it brought him any comfort, any closure.
The timer beeped again, and he closed his eyes, drawing an icy breath and savoring it. Soon.
He heard it before he saw it—the squealing, mechanical whine of an EMP wave—and then blue energy crackled through the pod, leaving dead electronics in its wake. Obi-Wan lifted his hands off the controls and watched the panel’s screen flicker and go black, the imminent danger of the bombs behind him melting away.
The pod began to fall into the planet’s gravity well, no longer moving under its own propulsion, and the light on his wrist lit up, a familiar, precious voice crackling through.
“Going somewhere, Obi-Wan?”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said on a shaky exhale, trying to slow his racing heart. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and connected the link, putting all his questions into three syllables. “Anakin?”
“Hold on, I’m nearly there.”
“What?” Obi-Wan craned his head to see out of the small porthole window, but all he saw was the ground miles below, and it made his stomach twist. “How?”
“I said hold on!”
Obi-Wan returned his hands to the controls just in time to avoid slamming his nose into them as the pod jerked to a stop, abruptly losing momentum in a tractor beam. He scowled at nobody for his own clumsiness, wiping a sheen of sweat off his forehead, flushed and overheated despite the chilly air, the lingering adrenaline in his system from his near brush with death making him feel jittery.
He reached for calmness in the Force, and found Anakin there instead. He smiled softly at the familiar supernova of concern in the living Force that was Anakin’s heart and mind as he waited in his seat as he drew closer. He used the parts of his mind that meshed with Anakin as a focus to bring him peace, and he felt Anakin’s pleased awareness of his mental contact.
His heart had almost completely slowed by the time he felt the pod reach its final placement in the hangar of the Resolute. He pushed himself out of his chair and turned, straightening his tabards and collecting himself before the door opened.
Anakin peered inside, a slightly peeved expression on his face and a wry twist to his voice. “Hello there.”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan greeted him warmly. He walked carefully past the towering block of disarmed bombs as he made his way out the back of the pod. He stepped down into the busy hangar bay, turning sideways to give space to two munitions troopers hurrying in to assess the danger. He couldn’t help but ask, “The battle on the ground?”
“Never took place.” Anakin grinned boyishly as he drew near, his features lighting up with pleasure at delivering news he expected Obi-Wan to like. “I brokered a deal.”
“Did you really?” Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows and clasped him tightly on the shoulder, communicating his thanks without saying the words.
Anakin leaned into his hand slightly and nodded. “I got on the comm, and convinced the opposition that destroying us would only lead to their own destruction. It was your favorite argument, Master. I made them accept the idea of symbiosis.”
“Did you really?”
Anakin waved a hand dismissively. “There were some trade subsidies too.”
“Very good,” Obi-Wan said with approval, the corner of his mouth curling up in an involuntary, satisfied smile that made Anakin’s presence in the Force bubble with pleasure. He squeezed his grip on Anakin’s shoulder a final time and then dropped his hand to his side. “Soon they’ll be calling you the Negotiator, not me.”
Anakin scoffed. “Well, I heard from several eyewitnesses about you diving headfirst into an escape pod loaded with proton bombs, so you seem to have No Fear, Master. You can never lecture me about recklessness ever again.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Obi-Wan laughed, his stomach turning over pleasantly with how bright Anakin’s beaming smile looked in the fluorescent lights; his teeth were very white. His happiness made his eyes almost squint closed. “How many is this that I owe you, eight? Nine?”
“I lost count at about fifteen, Master.”
Obi-Wan made an offended, skeptical noise, and Anakin revised his figure down. “Okay, maybe ten.”
“Perhaps ten,” Obi-Wan allowed, crossing his arms across his chest. He inhaled sharply with surprise as Anakin reached to his belt and produced his lightsaber. “You found it!”
He extended a hand, but Anakin pulled his hilt back out of reach, his tone so leading, almost teasing. “And what is it?”
“My life,” Obi-Wan said dutifully, snagging it from his loose grip.
“Try not to lose it,” Anakin said pointedly.
Obi-Wan briefly met his eyes but dropped his gaze under the weight of his stare. “I do try.”
He rolled the hilt on his palm, enjoying the familiar weight of it, the sparkling heart of the blade singing its pleasure in the Force at being reunited with him. He clipped it back to his belt with a sense of rebalancing, his feet back on stable ground, the world back to how it should be.
Anakin sighed loudly, and Obi-Wan felt a large, hot twist of energy in the Force as Anakin’s strong emotions brushed his mind, the mental contact fleeting but so intense. “How about next time, you stay on the planet and leave all the flying to me, old man.”
Obi-Wan pushed a wave of reassurance with his words, trying to make Anakin's doubts and fears fade away. “Agreed, my former and yet still very young apprentice.”
“Excuse me!” Anakin put his hand on top of his own head and then slid it forward to hover above Obi-Wan’s, as if to emphasize the small but noticeable height difference, ignoring his unimpressed stare. He set his hand down heavily instead, shaking Obi-Wan’s head slightly and messing with his hair. “I’m very much grown.”
“You are,” Obi-Wan said, ducking out from under his heavy hand and feeling a sort of aching tenderness that he could never put into words. “You have.”
“Hmm.” Anakin accepted his concession without much conviction, as though he didn’t trust or believe he meant it, and looked away, checking in with a trooper who jogged over to report about the bombs.
Obi-Wan listened without processing the words, caught by a twist in his stomach as Anakin withdrew his attention in the Force and their moment of intense connection faded away. He couldn’t shake the sense of disappointment mixed with pride as General Skywalker refocused and resumed his responsibilities.
Anakin suddenly felt very far away despite being right by his side, close enough for Obi-Wan to catch the familiar scent of his sweat, his leather tabards and breath bitter with caf. He burned so bright and warm in the Force. It was such a relief to simply exist in his near proximity without rushing away, but it couldn’t last forever.
A harsh beeping from both of their comlinks broke the silence, and they both turned to read the message. They were being summoned urgently to the bridge for a briefing with the Council already waiting for them.
Anakin sighed loudly with displeasure, and Obi-Wan shook his head fondly, not quite in the mood to say his familiar, schoolmasterish lines and scold him about his attitude. There was nothing about Anakin that needed to be changed or fixed; he didn’t need it.
“I hope this doesn’t take long,” Anakin grumbled. “I’m hungry. You made me miss lunch with your heroics, Master.”
“Apologies,” Obi-Wan said lightly. “I’m sure it won’t be terribly long, at least for you.”
He himself was not overly excited to discuss Council business. The Naboo Festival of Light was coming up, and he knew that the Chancellor wanted to visit his home planet. There were tremendous security concerns about such a trip, and he knew that deciding how to handle it would be the topic of much heated debate.
Anakin hummed again, a low and displeased noise. He was never happy at the prospect of being excluded from any conversation—such a mess of contradictions, never satisfied, and affection swelled in Obi-Wan’s chest again. He studied Anakin’s pale face, the dark smudges beneath his eyes, and sent him warmth in the Force. “I’ll make sure you can eat soon.”
“I don’t need you to look after me, Master.”
“Don’t you?”
Anakin sighed and tipped his head toward the lifts with a playfully resigned expression. Obi-Wan clapped him on the shoulder once again, squeezing tight before letting go and walking toward the command center. Their steps fell wordlessly into sync as they went, their footfalls tapping out a soothing, familiar rhythm, a single and united drumbeat on the floor.