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kryzobi-wan · 7 months

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hope like the sun

Obitine Week 2023!

Day 1 (Korkie, triumph, sunrise)

Happy Obitine Week 2023! Much love to all content creators and readers <3

Tagging: @weekofobitine

Rating: G

Summary: Obi-Wan wakes in a world where Anakin Skywalker never became Darth Vader, where instead of everything going wrong, everything went right. Is that too much for him to ask for?

Read on Ao3

“Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you see it, you’ll never make it through the night.”

~Leia Organa

-.-.-

The air is still and silent. He lies in a cool abyss, surrounded by a peace that he isn’t sure he’s familiar with. But, oh, it feels like he is. Or he should be. It feels like an old friend.

Muffled sounds reach his ears. The comfortable coolness gives way to a growing warmth. Not burning, no, but the warmth of the first dredges of sunlight filtering through an open window. A beam of golden hued light dusts his eyelashes, causing them to flutter. The muffled noises become clearer.

Voices. Ones he doesn’t quite recognize. Children.

Squinting, he pries his eyes open, and is met with the sight of a sheer curtain billowing above him, the warm breeze blowing through the cracked window. Outside he hears faint notes of water rippling ashore, repeatedly washing over smooth stones before retreating the way it came. Birds take flight, rustling the leaves of the trees and chirping a happy morning tune.

The sunlight is bright in his eyes, causing him to all but close them against the glare. He shields his sight with an outstretched hand, lifting himself into a half-upright position and glancing warily at his surroundings.

The couch he is laying on is unfamiliar. As is everything about this place. Well, everything except—

“Angel, do we have any honeyfruit?”

At the sound of his former padawan’s voice, Obi-Wan sits bolt upright, his eyes blown wide. He scrambles around in search of his weapon, but it is nowhere to be found. His breathing comes in gasps, and he clutches at his chest with a shaking hand, certain that the organ which is now beating wildly beneath his tunic had been painfully removed from his body years ago.

His eyes, wild and afraid, flit from one corner of the room to another in search of the source of the voice, and he finds it.

It's him.

Standing behind a stone countertop in a large kitchen is Anakin, just as he remembers him. He is staring at Obi-Wan from across the room, an amused—if not a little concerned—smile on his face.

“Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” the apparition speaks. Or is it an apparition? How could it not be? “You alright there, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to answer, but it may as well have been filled with ash. He chokes on whatever words would have escaped, choosing instead to slam his eyes and his mouth shut and stand abruptly from the sofa. He makes his way over to a window, glancing out at wherever it is he has found himself, working to regulate his breathing.

He hears Anakin chuckle and return to stirring something in a large bowl.

Before him lies a glittering lake, with verdant mountains rising up from it in the distance. The sun is just peeking up from above the horizon, casting a warm glow on the lush landscape and causing the early morning dew to sparkle.

Naboo?

All questions of “how? why? when?” are too much to bear, and he shakes them from his head. He feels dizzy. He feels sick.

“Did you say something, dear?” a woman’s voice calls out, and Obi-Wan turns. Just entering the room is Padmé Amidala, dressed in a flowing but relatively simple lavender dress, by her standards anyway. She fastens an earring to her ear as she approaches a beaming Anakin, leaning in to give him a light peck on the lips, her hand coming to a rest on his sternum.

Anakin drops the spoon he was holding and grabs her hand instead, lightly rubbing the back of it with his thumbs. He murmurs something in response, but Obi-Wan can’t hear it. The voices he heard earlier are back, shrilly increasing in volume as they make their approach from down the hall.

Before Obi-Wan can prepare himself, two tiny bodies throw themselves face first into his sides, nearly knocking him over.

“Uncle Obi-Wan! Uncle Obi-Wan!” they call out, the little blond one practically trying to climb him like a tree. Their chattering continues at speeds the old Jedi can’t keep up with, not in this state, and he finds himself being handed toys of various shapes and sizes, mostly from the little brunette who seems to be trying to tell him something.

“Sl—slow down,” he manages to stutter out, squinting as if that might make it easier to parse out what the tiny girl is trying to say. It doesn’t. His knuckles turn white gripping a toy ship in his hands.

“Luke! Leia!” Anakin says, his voice commanding yet kind, “Get off Uncle Obi-Wan, he just woke up.”

The children obediently bound into the kitchen, two fiery balls of endless energy. Padmé has taken up station at the stove, working on something Obi-Wan can’t see from his vantage point.

He’s just glad to finally be free of the unexpected onslaught of tiny limbs he’d found himself in.

The children are hopping up and down, tugging on Anakin’s hands and clothes and staring up at him with the purest look of adoration he’s ever seen. Anakin crouches down and ruffles their hair, and Obi-Wan can just make out the words, “How would you feel if I came in and jumped on you while you were still waking up?” which is met with squeals of delight instead of the appropriate abashed apologies.

Obi-Wan’s knees feel weak as everything that has occurred in the last few minutes catches up with him. He sits himself heavily on the couch, eyes glazing over in deep thought.

Luke. Leia. The last time he’d seen them this close, they were newborn babies, motherless and fatherless. But there’s Padmé, looking alive and well. And Anakin…

Anakin is wearing an apron and cooking him breakfast.

If this is a dream, it’s a strange dream. A very strange, and cruel, and heartbreaking dream.

Before him lies everything as it should have been. Anakin and his family, Padmé and the twins, living together in the brightness of day, unashamed of the forbidden nature of their relationship. Anakin is a father, in every sense of the word. It comes naturally to him, like this is what he was always meant to be. It’s comfortable in a way that makes Obi-Wan feel uneasy, because as lovely as this picture is, it can’t be right. It can’t be real.

“Hey, Obi-Wan,” Anakin calls as he stands to his full height once more, shifting his attention back to his former master. “When’s the missus get here? Food will be ready soon.”

Obi-Wan opens and closes his mouth, unsure what he could possibly mean by that, only to feel his heart stop at the sound of someone knocking on the door.

No. It can’t be. Absolutely not.

Padmé grins and says, “I’ll get it!” She makes her way to the door, Luke and Leia quick on her heels, and Obi-Wan holds his breath. He doesn’t dare hope.

The door opens, and he shoots to his feet as his suspicions are confirmed.

Satine. Looking… radiant as ever.

Oh, Satine.

Obi-Wan’s eyes fill with tears. It has been so long. So, so long. He wants to approach her, to reach out to see if she’s real, but his feet are glued to the floor, and he seems to be having difficulty swallowing. He presses his lips together tightly in an effort to still the trembling of his chin, but he’s met with little success.

Satine.

Anakin is watching him from his place in the kitchen, flashing a knowing smirk in his direction. He glances away for a moment, wiping his hands on a dish towel, before making his way over to Obi-Wan and clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Master, I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen her, but there’s no need for that!” Obi-Wan tears his eyes away from Satine just long enough to meet his padawan’s eyes, and stubbornly wipes at the wetness forming on his cheeks. “Go say hello to your wife!” Anakin encourages further, pushing him toward her and barely concealing his amusement.

Obi-Wan mechanically puts one foot in front of the other, somehow managing to carry himself closer to her. The toy ship he still holds drops to the ground.

Ghosts, all of them. He’s surrounded by ghosts.

As he approaches her, Satine turns from her conversation with Padmé and grins, opening her arms to him. Words fail him. His tongue is as silent as the grave she is supposed to be in. But there she stands, welcoming him into her embrace. He takes one last disbelieving look at her and collapses into her, burying his face in her hair and holding her tightly.

She’s solid, real. He nuzzles further into her neck and holds back a sob, straining to keep silent.

His intensity catches her off guard, but she recovers quickly, smiling bemusedly and rubbing circles on his back.

“Satine,” he whispers into her shoulder. The word sounds like a prayer spoken directly into her skin, where he hopes it, and all he means to convey, will make its way to her soul. He marvels at the way her name feels on his lips after so long of it being unspoken. Thinks of the time he spent trying to forget what had happened to her.

“Goodness, someone’s extra clingy today,” she says with a laugh. “Miss me?”

Obi-Wan can do nothing but nod numbly into the crook of her neck, never letting go.

Anakin slides an arm around Padmé, watching his friend with a contented look on his face. “Obi-Wan is a lifesaver,” he speaks, “I don’t know what I would have done with these two rascals while Padmé was at the Senate if he weren’t here to help.”

Luke and Leia giggle, ducking their heads to evade Anakin’s hands ruffling their hair again.

Obi-Wan feels Satine hum a laugh of her own and she rocks him gently, her fingers running through the hair at the base of his neck in a comforting swirl. “What did I tell you? He’s the best co-parent in the galaxy.”

At that, Anakin lets out a burst of laughter, glancing at Padmé. “I think I’m obligated to object to that on principle, but I’ll put him down as a close second.”

Obi-Wan is intoxicated. She smells just as he remembered. Like lilies and warm spices. All the cares he’s collected over the years are slipping away by the minute and he can barely keep up with the conversation. What is this about co-parenting?

And then another voice sounds, this one younger, but on the verge of becoming a man.

“Father, you’re blocking the doorway.”

Obi-Wan stiffens. Satine chuckles and lets go of Obi-Wan, only to find herself still trapped in his embrace. “My dear,” she jokingly grumbles, “As much as I’d love to stand here for the rest of eternity, it has been a long trip and I’d like to eat sooner rather than later.”

Slowly, Obi-Wan lets his grip around her waist loosen and he steps back, afraid to even look to see who had spoken. The moment sufficient space becomes available, a boy, just a few years shy of approaching Obi-Wan’s height, rushes through the gap created between him and Satine, carrying a tray of some Mandalorian breakfast dish he couldn’t even name anymore. The boy busies himself with placing it on the table, oblivious to how Obi-Wan stares after him, his heart breaking repeatedly in waves.

What is this? Some cruel dream? His deepest hopes and desires laid out before him? What entity would subject him to this?

Obi-Wan sways on his feet, overwhelmed and ill-prepared to face these spectres of his past after so many years separated from the living Force.

“Darling, are you alright?” Satine asks, placing a hand on his forehead. The boy is seated next to Anakin, chattering away about getting to fly the ship to Naboo, and Obi-Wan shakes his head, uncertain if anything he has heard since he woke up this morning is true. Satine glances in the boy’s direction, following Obi-Wan’s gaze.

“Korkie, come say hello to your father.”

The boy, Korkie, turns his head back to them, ceasing his conversation with Anakin. Before he can get up, though, Obi-Wan steps forward, kneeling to the ground at his feet and searching his eyes for some unknown truth.

He finds it.

His son… his son, smiles at him, and it’s like looking in a mirror. The perfect mixture of himself and Satine’s features on display for all to see. Tears well in his eyes as he slowly brings a hand up to trace the boy’s cheek, his chest swirling with awe and longing, joy and heartbreak.

“Did you hear I flew the ship?” Korkie asks eagerly, oblivious to his father’s roiling emotions.

It takes Obi-Wan a moment to summon his voice back from wherever it had gone, but eventually he chokes out, “Yes, I am very proud of you.” Tears shine in his eyes, and to prevent any more embarrassment than necessary, he pulls the boy into a fierce hug, his face coming to rest against Korkie’s chest. He can feel a heartbeat there telling him this is real, but he still doesn’t believe it. Giggling, Korkie wraps his arms around his father’s shoulders for a moment, just a moment, before squirming to get away.

His impatience reminds him of another young boy Obi-Wan had once known.

“Is this real?” Obi-Wan asks. He doesn’t want to question it, doesn’t want to break the spell, but the words leave his lips anyway. He’s been hurt far too many times in the past to accept a gift such as this without hesitation. He knows it’s too good to be true, and yet, he hopes. He hopes and hopes and hopes, and knows before he sees her face what the answer is.

He turns back to look at Satine, and her face is sad. Around them, the house and people fade away, until all that is left is him and her and an impossible sunrise, surrounding them from all sides. He kneels in sparkling water a few inches deep that reflects the reds and oranges and yellows of the sky above and around them. They are floating in this imagined space, and he drops his head to his chest, feeling once more as if his heart has been torn from his body.

“Why?” he asks aloud. It is silent for long enough that he suspects he is alone again, but when he looks up, he sees that she has moved closer. Her hand finds its way to his cheekbone, brushing across it in a sad but loving gesture. Her eyes lock onto his as she kneels in front of him, the water soaking through the garment she wears.

“What was that?” Obi-Wan asks, his voice breaking along with the rest of him. “Why would you show me that? Why would you—”

Tears spill from his eyes. His capacity for speech has left him.

“What I have shown you was the will of the Force,” Satine answers, confirming what Obi-Wan had begun to suspect.

It had shown him everything he wanted. The way he wishes things had gone.

“Was it—” he takes a breath, then another, “Was it my fault? Could I have stopped him?”

That was the question he’d been asking himself for more than half a decade.

Was that what triumph would have looked like? If Obi-Wan had been there to help him and hold him and comfort him in the face of great anger and suffering, would Palpatine have failed? If he had been encouraging instead of dismissive, would Anakin be alive? If he had allowed himself to love him, and assured him of his love no matter what shame and secrets he concealed, could that have been their life? Breakfast at Anakin and Padmé’s on a lazy weekend morning? Satine by his side and a son, a son he had never known was his own, proudly telling him of his accomplishments?

The possibilities and regrets are too much to bear.

He feels Satine’s hands wrap around his own, pulling them to her lap.

“My dear Obi-Wan,” she begins. “You must let go of this vision of victory. It was not to be.”

He ducks his head again, but she doesn’t let him. She tilts his head up to meet her serious gaze, ensuring that he receives this message.

“But there is a victory that can yet be won, my love. You must not let go of hope. The hope you carry is the last and only one we have.” She presses a kiss to his forehead, and he wraps his arms around her waist once more, clutching her tightly. “You have the strength to carry on. And I will see you again when it is finished.”

“Satine,” he gasps out, sensing that a final goodbye is imminent.

“Not a final goodbye,” she promises, speaking his thoughts aloud. “We will be together again, my brave Jedi.”

With a sense of urgency, Obi-Wan unwraps his arms from around her waist, grasping instead to her hand and drinking in the sight of her like a desperate man dying of thirst in the desert.

Maybe that’s a more apt description than he initially meant.

“I’ve always loved sunrises,” Satine speaks dreamily, glancing around at their surroundings with an easy smile on her face. “Has there ever been a darkness that hasn’t ended in a sunrise?”

Obi-Wan feels his lips curl in a watery smile, taking her words to heart. He shakes his head. No.

“Well then,” she grins, “I will see you in the dawn, my love.”

Before he loses the chance, Obi-Wan leans toward her and captures her lips with his own, his hand coming up to tangle in her hair behind her ear.

“I love you,” he whispers between kisses, “I love you,” repeating it over and over, and he cannot make himself let her go. She smiles against his lips, and he feels the years of grief and suffering release as tears down his cheeks.

“I’ll love you always,” Satine assures him, pulling away just slightly. “Till we meet again.”

He closes his eyes, memorizing the details of her face and the feel of her lips on his. And he feels the weight of her hand in his fade away until all he is left holding is air.

-.-.-

He wakes in a dark cave, the air stale but unfortunately familiar. It’s the closest thing to a home that he’s had in the years since the downfall of the Republic, a pitiful dwelling in the cracked ridges of Tatooine’s desert, but he’d never really call it home. Home was something he’d lost a long time ago. Speared through by a red lightsaber. Sliced to pieces by his own saber, which now lies dormant in the sands of this forsaken planet.

He drags himself up from his cot, rubbing a hand over his eyes and through his dirty, overgrown hair. The night’s sleep had not been restful, that wasn’t new, but never had a dream been so vivid and clear to him.

This, he ponders as he emerges from the cave entrance. The last glimmers of stars flicker out of the sky above, giving way to the first faint traces of sunlight on the edges of this vast and empty landscape.

He stands in the usual place, the speck in the distance being the Lars homestead. Just this once, though, he leaves his macrobinoculars in his bag. Today, he simply stands there, marveling at the beauty of the twin sunrise he had been taking for granted.

The nights on Tatooine were cold and harsh. Now, though, beams of light warmed his skin, and he closed his eyes to soak in the sensation.

There was hope, Satine had told him so. Dawn would come soon.

He only needed to make it through the night.

#obitine week #obitine week 2023 #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #satine kryze #luke skywalker #leia organa #obitine fanfic #my fanfic #korkie kryze #obi-wan x satine #sw tcw

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