Family over Fate by Glacis. An AU ending to Revenge of the Sith and a testament to how much I don’t like Vader and do
love Obi-Wan, mixed with a whole bottle of a lovely Pinot Grigio. Rated NC-17. note: I’ve taken
some liberties with the timeline of Episode III. Notes and !Warnings! at
the end of the story.
He knew it was going to be a bad day before he even
got up.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was getting pretty damned tired of
Darth Dooku tossing him around like a youngling’s
doll. It was bad enough when he was
barely a Knight and Anakin was still a Padawan… now that he was a full Master
it was getting embarrassing.
He also hated waking up from a fight only to find
himself dangling hundreds of meters up an elevator shaft hanging on to Anakin
like a baby leaper-monkey. Wasn’t like
it was the first time it happened, either.
“Did I miss something?”
Didn’t he often, since Anakin entered his life?
Still, they did manage to escape, eventually. Even if it did take piloting a disintegrating
battleship planet-side and even if Grievous did escape again. At least they walked away from the landing,
and the Chancellor survived.
Funny how that didn’t seem as encouraging as it
should. He really didn’t like
Palpatine. But Anakin did, and Padme
did, and Obi-Wan could escape him, most of the time. Like tonight, holed up in the back of the
Senate cruiser with a contraband bottle of Corellian Greshya wine, and a damned good vintage at that.
“Master?”
Anakin popped his head through the door and Obi-Wan
aborted his instinctive move to hide the wine.
“C’mon in, Anakin,” he invited expansively. There was another bottle stashed beneath his
bunk, and he called it to hand with a judicious application of the Force. “Put the Chancellor to bed already?”
Anakin gave him a confused nod, a grin growing on
his face. He entered the cabin
completely and, when the hatch closed behind him, leaned against it to stare
down at his extremely relaxed master.
“Are you drunk?”
“Not yet, but soon,” Obi-Wan admitted
hopefully. “Join me?”
He tossed the second bottle to Anakin, who caught
it one-handed and looked the label over, whistling soundlessly at the vintage
and vintner.
“Not bad, Obi-Wan.”
He twisted off the foil cap and pulled the cork, sniffing appreciatively
at the neck of the bottle. “What’s the
occasion?”
“You have, once again, saved my ass, Padawan-mine,”
Obi-Wan said with sincerely affectionate appreciation. “You deserve it. And I am getting too old for this shit.”
Anakin snorted in disbelief and shook his head,
summoning a glass and pouring a hefty measure of wine into it. “Nonsense, Obi-Wan. You’re not that old.”
“It’s not the chronology, it’s the battle damage,”
Obi-Wan sighed. Ignoring Anakin’s offer
of a glass, he continued to drink as he had been, directly from the bottle.
Taking a deep drink and licking his lips
appreciatively, Anakin stared long and hard at his master before crossing the
cabin and sinking down on the edge of the bunk.
“What’s this about, Obi-Wan?”
Obi-Wan glanced up at him, then
back down at his bottle. “We made it
through in one piece. Senate’ll be happy, Council’ll be
happy, everybody’ll be happy…” He
trailed off and took another, quite large, gulp of wine.
Concerned now, Anakin leaned over and put his hand
over Obi-Wan’s on the now nearly-empty bottle.
“You don’t sound happy.”
Bright hazel eyes caught and held his. They held an amazing depth of pain, some
fresh, some old and embedded in his soul.
“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said quietly, “I think I’ve forgotten what that
feels like.”
Moving on instinct, what Obi-Wan would have called
‘feeling the Force’ if Obi-Wan wasn’t drunk nearly off his ass, Anakin drank
the last of his wine and carefully placed his glass out of the way. Then he gathered Obi-Wan up in his arms and
hugged him tightly.
“Nearly lost you today,” he mumbled into Obi-Wan’s
hair, only now allowing himself to feel the fear the
mid-combat adrenaline overpowered.
There were two people in his life he could say he
loved; Padme and Obi-Wan. With the way
the war was going, as thinly as the Jedi were stretched, he had an ever-present
fear that one day he would lose the man who was closer to him than any brother
could be.
Anakin didn’t like to lose. Anything, or anyone.
“S’okay,” Obi-Wan
whispered against Anakin’s throat, pushed there by the iron grip on his
shoulders. “Everything’s all right, Ani,
s’all all right…”
His hands were petting slowly up and down Anakin’s back in a movement no
doubt intended to be comforting.
Whether it was the near loss,
the hefty glass of very strong wine, or simply the fact that it had been much
too long since he’d held Padme this way, Anakin found himself responding in a
wholly inappropriate way.
Being Anakin, instead of containing, controlling
and releasing his passion into the Force, he followed his instincts. He wound his real hand into Obi-Wan’s thick
hair, pulled his master’s head back far enough to reach, and kissed him.
Obi-Wan tasted of grapes and peaches, tart and
sweet to Anakin’s tongue. It took a long
enjoyable moment of exploration before Anakin realized that, not only was
Obi-Wan not fighting the kiss, he was actively participating.
Sweet, indeed.
The rest of the evening was rather blurry. Anakin knew there was more wine involved, and
from early on in the proceedings there was nudity. There were many, many kisses, slow and fast
and deep and teasing, on mouths and chests and shoulders, on cocks and bellies
and the small of Obi-Wan’s back. The
last one was right before he curled up behind Obi-Wan and eased into him, the
soft-sweet-gentle curve of Padme’s memory blending into the hard-sweet-strong
curve of Obi-Wan’s reality.
Obi-Wan never completely hardened under his touch,
no doubt due to the wine, or perhaps, judging by the tear tracks on his cheeks,
and the barely-heard whisper of Qui-Gon’s name, it
was the depth of a memory to strong to overcome. When Anakin finished, he stroked his hand
soothingly over Obi-Wan’s skin, lending his master his warmth against the cold
of that loss, and fell asleep still joined to him.
When he awoke the next morning, he was hard again,
still buried in Obi-Wan’s body. His
conscience told him he should withdraw, should leave Obi-Wan his dignity, but
the hot hold around him convinced him otherwise, and when Obi-Wan woke, it was
to Anakin moving within him again.
This time Obi-Wan did get hard,
and Anakin moved his hand firmly over that hot length, biting gently at the
juncture of neck and shoulder beneath his mouth as Obi-Wan bit his own fist to
keep from crying out when he came. The
shudders that caused pulled Anakin to his own completion, his cry muffled on
his master’s flesh.
They lay together for some time, breath and pulse
gradually slowing, until Anakin gingerly pulled from Obi-Wan’s body, prompting
a slight hiss of pain from Obi-Wan and a bone-shaking shudder from Anakin. Anakin hugged Obi-Wan tightly and asked
quietly, directly into his ear, “Are you all right?”
The breath tickled Obi-Wan, and he shivered, then
he gave a short, rueful laugh. “Yes,
Anakin,” he answered, his voice reassuring, “I’m fine. Yourself?”
“Good,” Anakin told him, enjoying the shiver for a
moment before reluctantly letting Obi-Wan escape his embrace. “Very good.”
Obi-Wan turned to look at him, wincing slightly as
his weight came solidly down before shifting to one hip. Then he did something Anakin hadn’t seen in
years. He blushed.
Anakin couldn’t help it. He chuckled, then leaned forward and kissed
Obi-Wan on the nose. “You look like an
initiate caught with his hand in the candy box.”
Grinning himself, Obi-Wan shook his head. “Feel a little like it too.” Abruptly sobering, he gestured down at their
nude bodies, legs still tangled together.
“Really, though, are you all right with this?”
Replying with the seriousness the question begged,
Anakin said, “Yes. No advantage was
taken unfairly here, unless perhaps it was me taking advantage of you. I’ve never seen you put away that much wine
at one time, Obi-Wan!”
Pulling further away, Obi-Wan gathered the blanket
around them both to give a semblance of modesty, late though it was. “We’ve never been on a mission together
during this time since you’ve been a Knight, Anakin.”
It took but a moment’s thought for Anakin to get
the reference. It was the fifteenth
anniversary of Qui-Gon’s death. Reacting to the pain in that thought and the
answering pain in Obi-Wan’s heart, Anakin leaned forward and kissed Obi-Wan
very gently. It was a comforting kiss,
not a passionate one, and Obi-Wan sank into it for a long moment before they
both pulled away.
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said gently, not clarifying
just what it was he was thanking Anakin for, and not needing to, as Anakin
could read it in his eyes.
“It was my pleasure,” he assured Obi-Wan seriously,
then smiled sweetly at him. Breaking the
solemnity of the moment before it overwhelmed them both, he quipped, “First
dibs on the shower!” then scrambled off the bunk and headed for the sonics without waiting for a response.
Obi-Wan’s laughter followed him out of the room.
That night was not spoken of again, by either of
them, for several weeks. Anakin was
distracted by other things, Padme’s pregnancy, Palpatine’s
plans, the Council’s distrust, and Obi-Wan…
The news that Grievous had been discovered was
good, even if the source was suspect.
Obi-Wan hadn’t wanted to ask Anakin to spy on his good friend the
Supreme Chancellor, but something was rotten in the Senate leadership and Anakin
was their best chance to find out what.
The war plans and political intrigue should have
been enough to keep him busy, but Obi-Wan found himself fighting his own body
as well. Always fit, physically able to
fight through pain, injury and illness, at least until he could collapse or be
tossed into a bacta tank by the healers, he ignored
the warning signs as minor inconveniences.
Fatigue, easily explained away by too much combat,
too many politicians to appease, and not enough time spent immersed in the
Living Force, hard to find as it was on Coruscant. Nausea, particularly when he first woke,
probably due to too much rich food at the myriad of diplomatic receptions, or
the last remnants of a virus from the last swampy battleground he’d fought on
and the last muddy hill he’d slept on.
The occasional bout of dizziness, never when doing his katas or engaged in combat, but late at night, or mid-day,
no doubt simply low blood sugar, since he hadn’t felt much like eating lately.
When he passed out on the way up the ramp into his
cruiser as he was trying to fly to Utapau to track
down Grievous, he could no longer ignore it.
The healers wouldn’t let him.
Particularly when his first
action upon waking in the infirmary was to roll over and vomit over the side of
the cot. Healer
Padawan Mrawmner was NOT happy. Well, it wasn’t as if he’d aimed for her,
after all.
Sequestered in the Healing Wing of the
Master Yaddle answered
the comm. “Master Kenobi. Good to see you it is. Feeling better, are you?”
“Master, I’m sorry about-“ he
began, but atypically she cut him off.
“All right, it will be, Obi-Wan. Concentrate on getting better, you must. Off to face General Grievous has gone Master
Gallia.” Her head turned and she spoke
to someone off-screen, too quietly for Obi-Wan to hear her words. When she turned back to face him, she looked
unusually stressed. “Leave you I must,”
she told him gently. “Listen to your
healers, you will.”
“Yes, master,” he responded, barely getting the
words out before she cut the transmission.
That worried him. Something
important was happening, and he had a bad feeling about it, but he couldn’t do
a damned thing to help while he was flat on his back in the infirmary.
Before he could call for a healer and see about
escaping, er, being released from care, Master Healer
Brid came in.
His normally cheerful deep silver face was a study in conflict, his
mouth frowning, his eyes excited, his ear stalks laid back in concern; not
signs that Obi-Wan would be escaping the healers any time soon.
“What is it, Master?” Obi-Wan asked with
trepidation. “A virus? A biological attack?
Some sort of poisoning?” He wouldn’t put
it past Palpatine.
“Nothing of the sort, Master
Kenobi,” Brid assured him, “quite the opposite,
really. Natural,
well, in a way, in the way of life, if not particularly under these
circumstances, but then the Force does work in mysterious ways…” Brid paused,
running his long, articulated hand stalks vaguely in the air before Obi-Wan’s
increasing glare encouraged him to get to the point.
“You’re pregnant,” he blurted, then looked
apologetic.
Obi-Wan waited a moment for the punch line, then responded, “You’re delusional.”
Brid managed to look both firm and affronted at the same time. “I assure you, Master Kenobi, we have run the
tests… several times… as this is… unusual… in the extreme…”
His voice trailed off into silence and he looked at
Obi-Wan with a vaguely lost expression.
It was nothing compared to how at-sea Obi-Wan felt.
“I’m male.”
He tried pointing out the obvious. Brid shifted
nervously, hand stalks fluttering faster.
“No uterus,” he added. Brid shook his
head.
“Not quite,” Brid told
him. “Your planet of origin is Nadel, correct?”
Not waiting for Obi-Wan’s mystified nod, he swept
on. “Nadelese
include four sexes: male, female, intersexual or
hermaphroditic and intrasexual, commonly referred to
as asexual, although that’s a bit of a misnomer, as intrasexual
beings are also capable of sexual intercourse, desire, and sexual
reproduction. As your humanoid
subspecies developed, the third and fourth sexes became less common, due to
lack of genetic variation, overwhelmed by the wider genetic output of the
larger populations of male and female Nadelese, but
they did not disappear completely.
“Asexual reproduction by the intrasexual
Nadel is a form of apomixis, only rather than
reproducing using a seed, it uses a fetus within a protective pod. It could, in effect, both bud and blossom,
but the offspring is essentially identical to the parent. As the asexual population could not adapt as
well to a changing environment or evolve defenses against new diseases, it was
at risk of extinction.
“Many asexually reproducing organisms are therefore
capable of reproducing sexually as well, including the Nadelese
fourth sex, and they did, cross-breeding with the male and female Nadelese. Over time,
the capability for asexual reproduction became dormant and secondary sexual
characteristics were used to classify the fourth sex as dominantly male or
female.”
Obi-Wan wondered if he’d actually been hit with a
brick to the head or if it was just an over-abundance of healer
tech-speak. “I, er,
have a uterus?” He would have laughed,
except that Brid was nodding.
“You are not exactly male,” he pointed out.
Obi-Wan was completely
unable to stop himself from checking to make sure his penis was still intact.
“Well, you do have secondary male characteristics,”
he clarified.
Obi-Wan kept his hands from wrapping comfortingly
around his penis and covering his testicles by sheer will power.
“However, approximately eight weeks ago there was
an infusion of sperm and a jump in the midichlorian count in your bloodstream. This combination, in effect, awakened your
reproductive capability and induced pregnancy at that time. The fetus is a hybrid, secondary parental
characteristics unclear though no doubt tied to the influx of midichlorians,
and it is viable, in fact, quite healthy.
It is growing at a normal rate for your sub-species and you should give
birth-”
Obi-Wan didn’t hear any more. He fainted again. His last thought before the world went dark
was, ‘I’m going to kill Anakin.’
The next evening, Anakin returned from Chancellor Palpatine’s quarters in a state of panicked confusion. He confronted Master Windu with the evidence
that the Chancellor was, in fact, the Sith Lord for whom they’d been searching
for years, then waited at the Temple with increasing frustration as Mace and
his hand-picked Knights went to arrest Palpatine. Mace said, if Anakin
stayed at the
His thin patience finally snapped and he whirled on
his heel to run from the Council chamber and follow Mace. On his way out the door he nearly ran over
one of the people he least expected to see.
“Master?” he asked in shock, stopping an inch from
plowing into Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan,
who was supposed to be fighting Grievous on Utapau. Was
this yet another indication of how little they trusted him? That they would call his master to baby-sit
and ensure he followed their commands?
Barely noticing Obi-Wan’s unusual pallor and the
unexpectedly bright fever in the eyes staring up at him in his anger, Anakin
went to brush by just as Obi-Wan said, “Anakin, we have to talk!”
“Later,” he started to say, but Obi-Wan stood like
a rock in his way. As Anakin made to go
around him, Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin’s left hand and planted it over his abdomen.
The jolt of consciousness that went through him
threw Anakin off balance. Unable to
completely stop his forward momentum, anchored by Obi-Wan’s firm hand holding
his against that foreign beat of life, Anakin ended up standing behind Obi-Wan,
his left arm wrapped around Obi-Wan’s waist to keep his left hand where it was,
his cybernetic right arm wrapping around Obi-Wan’s chest to keep his balance.
Already emotionally unstable from the tensions of
the day, he was unprepared for his body’s physical reaction to Obi-Wan’s
closeness. The scent rising from his
hair, his skin, the silkiness of his beard beneath Anakin’s cheek, the solid
strength of his body pressed full-length against Anakin from his chest to his
feet. Feeling light-headed, Anakin
dipped his head and nuzzled past the folds of material at the base of the side
of Obi-Wan’s neck until he could lick the soft warm skin there.
Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s moan shake him where his back
rested against Anakin’s chest. Obi-Wan’s
pulse was strong and a little fast under his mouth, echoed by the beat of life
thrumming under his left hand; echoed, but not by Obi-Wan; there was a third
life there.
Dimly over the rush of blood in his head he heard
Obi-Wan say, “I’m pregnant.”
More words came then, something about midichlorians
and dormant physiology and hybrid something or other, but the sheer unreality
of the last several days, from his nightmares to Palpatine’s
Sith identity to this surreal miracle, was submerged by the rising tide of
lust. His body and his Force attunement
reacted to Obi-Wan’s with the force of a tidal wave and he gave no resistance. Given the rapidly rising erection below the
warm place where his hand rested, Obi-Wan was similarly affected.
This, at least, he understood. The rest
they could sort out later.
Standing in the center of the Council Chamber,
Anakin deftly pulled the fastenings of Obi-Wan’s tunics apart, licking and
sucking his neck and shoulder as he did.
Obi-Wan was babbling still, less about the baby and more about, well,
wanting more, as Anakin slowly stripped him, holding him up with one arm as the
other explored his skin.
It hadn’t been an illusion; Obi-Wan’s hair was
silkier, even the thick curls on his chest were softer, flattening in sworls under Anakin’s fingers as he caressed the breadth of
Obi-Wan’s chest. Anakin plucked gently
at a nipple, the resultant surge of sensation through Obi-Wan’s nerves rippling
through the Force between them and causing Anakin to catch his breath. That was more sensitive, too.
His hand dipped to the closure of Obi-Wan’s
trousers, and he easily pulled them open, sliding his fingers into them to
protect the erection now straining against the material as he urged the pants
and leggings down. Obi-Wan was panting now, hips rocking back against Anakin’s
still-clothed cock, torturing them both.
Anakin rubbed his hand soothingly over Obi-Wan’s belly where the Force
warmth proclaimed their miracle, then further down his abdomen, giving the hard
length there a single stroke that nearly sent them both over the edge.
Not wanting things to end so quickly, aware of his
own strength and deliberately gently his touch, Anakin avoided Obi-Wan’s
straining cock and curved his hand over the heavy sac beneath it. Even the wiry bush of hair at the base was
silky, lying in curls that wrapped around his fingers, making him take care not
to pull.
“Hormones…” Obi-Wan said, surprising Anakin, who
hadn’t realized he’d been speaking aloud.
“Changes… healer called it budding…”
Anakin pressed his palm up behind Obi-Wan’s
testicles, pressing gently between his thighs, and Obi-Wan yelped and spread
his legs.
“Touchy,” Anakin murmured, tearing his hand away
just long enough to reach between them and open his own pants, allowing his
erection its freedom.
“Fuck,” Obi-Wan groaned, grinding down on Anakin’s
palm.
Unsure and uncaring if that was an exclamation or
an order, Anakin took it as direction. Rubbing
his cock up against Obi-Wan’s ass, rocking into the cleft, he stroked his hand
up from between Obi-Wan’s thighs, over his balls, then the length of his cock,
in one strong movement. Obi-Wan shouted
through clenched teeth, and Anakin did it again, this time adding a bite to the
muscle running along the top of Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Holding Obi-Wan with teeth and cybernetic
arm, he then brought his hand up to the top of Obi-Wan’s erection and rubbed
firmly, over and over, until, not long after he began his concentrated assault,
Obi-Wan gave in and came.
It was a good thing Anakin was holding him up,
because Obi-Wan’s knees gave as Anakin milked him gently until he was
empty. Then Anakin took them down to the
floor in a Force-assisted fall, ending with his body curled around Obi-Wan’s,
Obi-Wan’s head cushioned on Anakin’s shoulder, his hands wrapped tightly around
Anakin’s cybernetic forearm.
Shifting his hips back just far enough to reach
between them, Anakin gathered up the spill from Obi-Wan’s climax and used it to
coat his own erection. Moving slowly,
with a tenderness he usually showed only with his wife, Anakin rocked into
Obi-Wan’s body, tiny increments at a time, watching for any discomfort, both
from the penetration and the pregnancy.
He’d done this with Padme several times, and found it oddly natural to
do the same with Obi-Wan.
Looking down between them, Anakin found it
unbelievably erotic that he was still completely dressed, except for the
opening in his trousers where his cock thrust out, while Obi-Wan was wearing
nothing but his own trousers, puddled around the
ankles of his boots. The black of
Anakin’s clothing against the pale skin sent a shiver through him, provoking an
answering shudder from Obi-Wan. They
were so connected through the Force that every sensation one felt was echoed in
the other. It was unlike any sexual
encounter he’d ever had, with anyone else.
He couldn’t get as deep into Obi-Wan from this
position as he could from others, but that was just as well. He didn’t thrust hard, but he went slowly and
steadily, eased in his advance by Obi-Wan’s complete relaxation from his
intense orgasm. Already stimulated by
Obi-Wan’s reactions and the way Anakin had felt that climax through their
connection through the Force, it didn’t take long before Anakin came as well.
They lay there together for some time afterward,
Anakin petting Obi-Wan everywhere he could reach, Obi-Wan running his hands
back and over Anakin’s flanks, up over his shoulders, turning to meet mouth to
mouth in a touch that was somehow more than a kiss.
Eventually Anakin calmed enough to realize that
he’d just fucked his master in the middle of the Council chambers while at any
minute the single Council member who disliked him most might come back from
slaying a Sith. That thought galvanized
him into gently withdrawing from Obi-Wan and disentangling their arms so that
he could pull Obi-Wan’s trousers back up over his hips. Obi-Wan tried to help, but his movements were
slowed by exhaustion, and Anakin quickly stilled him with a whispered
admonishment to let him do it.
It was a testament to just how tired Obi-Wan was that he let Anakin get away with it. Moments later, Anakin had Obi-Wan dressed,
then he gathered Obi-Wan up in his arms and, with a little lift from the Force,
he carried Obi-Wan through the Temple to the landing pad where Padme’s cruiser
was docked, taking care not to jostle him.
Stirring against his chest, Obi-Wan blinked up at
him blearily. “Where we going?” he
slurred.
Anakin couldn’t help his grin. Obi-Wan was
ridiculously adorable when he was shagged out.
Then he sobered. Shagged out and pregnant.
Which was why Anakin had to get him away. They had to deal with this. And they couldn’t do that if they were caught
up in the aftermath of Master Windu’s Sith-hunt.
“Somewhere safe,” he murmured to Obi-Wan, then sent
him to sleep with a light Force suggestion.
It didn’t take much.
After Anakin got Obi-Wan settled into the cruiser
and launched toward their destination, he wondered aloud, “How in all the hells
am I going to explain this to Padme?”
Far away from the personal drama being enacted at
the
Letting his fear, pain, and grief flow into the
Force, Windu fought as he had never fought before. Mind, body and soul were united in a
desperate attempt to bring down the Sith. At the apex of the battle, feeling his
strength diminish under the unrelenting storm of power coming from Sidious’
clawed hands, he cast his fate to the Force.
Whirling in place, allowing the power to wrap around
him, Mace Windu brought up his light saber, still tangled in Dark Force energy,
and deliberately collapsed onto the Sith’s body. The unexpected move allowed the full punch of
the Dark to streak through him, ripping his life from his body… but not before
the deep purple blade sliced all the way through the Sith’s
neck, separating his head from his body.
The ensuing explosion of Force energy shattered
windows for several kilometers around the Senate complex, and dropped
Force-sensitive beings in their tracks.
Windu didn’t feel a thing, as he was already one with the Force.
His duty was done.
~~
Sex hot enough to melt the plastisteel
on the floor of the Council Chamber hadn’t exactly been what Obi-Wan was
expecting when he told Anakin about the baby, but he was too damned tired to
wonder what caused the firestorm. Anakin
had stripped him down, pleasured him until he couldn’t move, then gathered him
up and taken him from the
“Anakin,” he patiently explained for the third
time, “I’m not chilled, I’m not thirsty, and if you try to tuck that blanket
around me one more time I’m going to tear it in strips and use it to tie you up
and throw you in the corner.”
The mental image of Anakin all tied up tripped his
tongue for a moment. He glanced over at
Anakin and saw a tide of red flush from his neck all the way to his hairline,
but judging by the somewhat feral smile on his face, his reaction wasn’t
comprised solely of embarrassment.
Obi-Wan sighed.
Before he had the chance to say another word, Anakin jumped. At the same moment, Obi-Wan felt a
disturbance in the Force, one of great relief and great pain. Loss and triumph. It confused him. He turned to Anakin to ask for the other
man’s impression, but Anakin was already talking.
“That reminds me.
Who’s off fighting Grievous?” Anakin asked with the air of one
determinedly avoiding the subject.
“Adi Gallia,” Obi-Wan
answered. He wasn’t sure if the subject
Anakin was avoiding was the pregnancy, the recent sexual activities, or
something else altogether.
“Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord,” Anakin
then blurted, immediately clamping his jaws shut and looking appalled at himself.
“Shit!” Obi-Wan exclaimed involuntarily, then began to fight his way from the cocoon of blankets and
soft pillows imprisoning him.
Anakin pressed him back on the cushions before he
got very far. “I told Master Windu, and
he’s taken a squad of Knights over to take the Chancellor into custody.”
Sighing with relief, colored by a sad foreboding
that things hadn’t gone so well for Mace, Obi-Wan asked, “How did you find
out?”
“He tried to recruit me,” Anakin admitted.
Rage cut through Obi-Wan, and he snarled before he
could prevent it. “Over my dead body!”
he barked.
Anakin gave him a startled look, which rapidly
shifted into pleased and affectionate.
“Thank you, Master,” he said softly.
It was Obi-Wan’s turn to blush. “Well, not that you would ever Turn, but the thought of him even trying…” He breathed out carefully, releasing his
hostility into the Force. He didn’t
notice the vaguely guilty look on Anakin’s face. “Uhm, Anakin,” he
continued, “why did you bring me here to Senator Amidala’s
home?”
“Ah.”
Anakin’s gaze skittered away from Obi-Wan, bouncing off the window, the
wall, the sculpture in the far corner, before becoming enraptured with the
absolutely plain grey floor. Obi-Wan
watched silently, one eyebrow slowly climbing higher as he waited for Anakin to
answer his question. Eventually, abashed
blue eyes flickered up to meet his then went back to stare down to the floor. “We’re married. She’s my wife. She’s…”
“Pregnant,” Obi-Wan breathed. Well.
Wasn’t that one for the odds-makers.
“I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to be
forced to leave the Order,” Anakin rushed on, words streaming out as his
confession fell between them.
From the pain behind the words Obi-Wan could tell
his former Padawan had been tormented by this for some time. Obi-Wan’s heart ached for him. He also felt as if he’d failed him, that
Anakin couldn’t come to him with this situation. Putting aside his own guilt and shock,
Obi-Wan leaned closer, one hand falling to rub Anakin’s shoulder comfortingly.
His voice easing somewhat, Anakin continued, “We
were married five years ago, on Naboo after the battle with Dooku. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid…
anyway, since we came back to Coruscant and I found out she was pregnant, I’ve
been having these terrible nightmares, recurring dreams that she would die in
childbirth. They terrified me.”
“Oh, Anakin!” Obi-Wan couldn’t stand the pain
in Anakin’s voice. He pulled Anakin’s
left hand into both his own, sending strength and comfort to the young man
through the Force.
“Palpatine was kind, so interested, and he drew me
in. Told me he knew of ways to make sure
Padme survived, the baby survived, and the whole time it was a lie. He was trying to Turn
me, playing on my fear, preying on my anger at the Council’s lack of trust in
me…” Anakin’s voice trembled to a halt.
“He failed, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said softly but
firmly. “You have Light in you, strength
to balance the anger, love to outweigh the fear.”
Anakin finally looked at him. Obi-Wan caught his breath at the sheer
intensity of emotion in those eyes.
“I have Padme, and I have you. Without you both, I would have Fallen,” he
admitted quietly.
“I will never believe that,” Obi-Wan told him
promptly.
“Neither will I,” said a feminine voice from the
doorway.
Anakin started, and Obi-Wan dropped his hand to
lean sideways and peer around him. Padme
stood in the doorway, leaning against it, arms cradling her pregnancy-swollen
belly. Her shoulders slumped and there
were shadows of fatigue on her face, but her eyes were luminous as she stared
with love and trust at her husband. Obi-Wan
smiled. He must have been blind not to
see their joining.
“If you can’t yet trust yourself,” he told Anakin,
“trust your wife and your old Master.”
Anakin made a sound suspiciously like a sob, and
rose to embrace his wife. Obi-Wan
watched as Anakin led her to the wide chair opposite the couch and settled her
into it, perching on the arm, keeping her hand clasped in his.
“I bring news,” Padme said quietly.
Obi-Wan lost his smile at the pain in her
voice. “What happened?”
“Padme?” asked Anakin.
She gave Obi-Wan a reassuring look then smiled
briefly up at Anakin before her face regained its serious expression. “We are safe.
Palpatine was killed in battle,” she told him, then looked back at
Obi-Wan. “He slew all five of the
Knights and Masters who went to arrest him.
In his last moments, Master Windu sacrificed his own life to kill the
Sith Lord.”
Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat, and Anakin
swore under his breath.
“Security cameras in the Chancellor’s office
recorded the entire battle,” Padme continued.
“The Senate is in disarray.”
Anakin dropped a kiss to the top of her head and Padme squeezed his hand
in grateful response for the support.
“The Jedi Council are in emergency
meeting. They’re looking for you both.”
Obi-Wan started to rise and was
startled to feel a gentle Force push keep him in place. He gave Anakin a look.
“No, Obi-Wan, not yet.” Anakin was determined. “First, we…”
His voice trailed off and he looked helplessly from Padme to Obi-Wan and
back.
“Oh.” Right. That. Obi-Wan swallowed. A dry voice in the back of his head told him
to hope that Padme wasn’t the jealous type.
“Is there something else we need to discuss?” Padme
asked, suspicion coloring her voice.
“Yes,” Anakin said at the same time Obi-Wan said, “Er.”
Then Obi-Wan said, “Perhaps it would be best-” at
the same time Anakin said, “Something came up and we…” They fumbled their way to silence.
Padme looked back and forth between them then
smiled, shaking her head. “Anakin,” she
said firmly, “what’s going on?”
“Obi-Wan’s pregnant. By me.” The blunt statements fell like bricks between
the three, and Obi-Wan groaned.
Diplomacy had never been Anakin’s strong
suite. There was a reason Obi-Wan was
called the Negotiator, while Anakin was the One Without
Fear.
Padme laughed.
Then coughed.
“You’re serious.”
She sounded dazed.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath. Perhaps if he treated this like a mission
debriefing he could get through it before she ripped his head off. As calmly as he could manage he said, “I’m Nadelese. My
physiology included the ability to reproduce but the organs were dormant. Several weeks ago after Anakin and I rescued
Chancellor Palpatine…” He glanced up at
Anakin, “That must have been a trap!”
Anakin nodded.
“He was working on me then, getting me to kill Dooku
for him.”
Padme cleared her throat. “Pregnant?” she prompted.
Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “We can talk about that later, Anakin,” he
offered, then forced himself to look back at Padme,
who was watching him with fascination, and something else he couldn’t quite
identify. Forging on, he continued, “The
successful completion of that hazardous mission coincided with the anniversary
of Qui-Gon’s death.”
Her eyes softened, sympathy shining from her, and
Obi-Wan had to look away for a moment before he could continue. “I drank a bit more than I really should
have, and invited Anakin to join me.
Loneliness and understanding companionship were a potent combination, and we…”
“Had sex,” Anakin blurted again when Obi-Wan tried
to find a delicate way to put it.
Obi-Wan couldn’t help himself. He rolled his eyes. Padme gave a choked laugh and waved at
Obi-Wan to keep going. Anakin blushed
again, and muttered, “Sorry.”
“It was the first time we’d ever been intimate,”
Obi-Wan tried to reassure Padme. “I
wasn’t aware that Anakin and you were married, but please know that he did not
make a practice of breaking that vow. He
loves you with all his heart.”
She gave him an appreciative smile, and he went
back to his explanation. “As it turns
out, unbeknownst to either of us, Anakin’s extremely high midichlorian
concentration in his… bodily fluids…”
Damn, this was difficult. Obi-Wan
felt his color rise and plowed on, “interacted in an unexpected way with my
dormant physiology, activating certain responses within my body that resulted
in a viable hybrid fetus. I was unaware
of the situation until I was rendered incapable of performing my duties-”
“He passed out before he could get on the cruiser
to go kill General Grievous,” Anakin inserted helpfully. Obi-Wan glared at him and Padme stifled
another laugh. Anakin reddened further. “Sorry,” he said again.
Manfully ignoring him, Obi-Wan growled, “At which
time the healers discovered the pregnancy.
When I escaped… er, was able to leave the
Healers’ Hall, I made my way to Anakin and informed him of the situation.” He stopped abruptly. There was no way he was going to tell Padme
that he and Anakin—
“We had sex again,” Anakin said,
his apparent compulsive confession-making not quite completed for the evening.
“Anakin!” Obi-Wan yelped.
“Anakin!” Padme yelped.
Obi-Wan and Padme stared at each other.
“Sorry,” Anakin said very, very quietly. “I’ll just shut up now.”
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan told him with exaggerated
courtesy, certain at any moment his own face would explode from the sheer
amount of blood rushing under his skin.
He’d never blushed so hard in his life.
Oddly enough, Padme didn’t appear insulted or
angry. If anything, she seemed…
intrigued. Obi-Wan shook off the thought
and gritted his way through the rest of the explanation. “Anakin brought me here. He explained about Palpatine, about your
marriage, and about his fears for your safety.”
“Obi-Wan!” yelped Anakin.
Padme and Obi-Wan both looked at Anakin, Obi-Wan
with confusion and Padme with understanding.
“Is that what you’ve been so worked up about,
love?” she asked gently.
Unable to speak, Anakin nodded his head miserably.
“You didn’t tell her either?” Obi-Wan asked. That explained a lot. When Anakin turned his miserable gaze on
Obi-Wan he hastened to reassure the poor young man. “It’s not all your fault, Anakin. Palpatine was influencing you, trying to win
you over. He was no doubt clouding your
mind.” He paused and took a breath. “However, we are going to have a talk about
how much negative emotion you’ve been dealing with, how you left yourself open
to attack, and my failure as both your friend and your
Master to recognize your struggle and help you with it. We all have something to learn from this, I
think.”
“First things first,” Padme said, drawing Obi-Wan’s
attention. “What do we do about,” she
gestured first at her own rounded abdomen then at Obi-Wan, “this?”
“They’re going to kick me out of the Order,” Anakin
said dolefully.
Obi-Wan regarded them both thoughtfully. “That would be a grave mistake,” he finally
said, “and you’d not be alone if they did.”
“They wouldn’t kick you out,” Anakin argued. “You had no way of knowing…” He tripped over his tongue and blushed again,
waving vaguely in the general direction of Obi-Wan’s mid-section.
“If they threw you out I would resign,” Obi-Wan
said serenely.
Anakin gaped at him. Padme beamed at him. Obi-Wan shook his head. “So we’d best make sure nothing so drastic
occurs, eh?”
“How will we do that?” Anakin asked, sounding lost.
“We go to Naboo,” Obi-Wan stated firmly.
“Yes!” Padme exclaimed, then
added quickly, “why? I mean I know why I
want to, but what justification would you give for you and Anakin to go as
well?”
“Palpatine,” Obi-Wan answered promptly. “As you noted earlier, the Senate is in
disarray. The Council will have its
hands full dealing with the rowdier elements to maintain order, as well as
tracking down Grievous and the rest of the Trade Federation and droid
separatist leaders. I will volunteer
Anakin and myself to go to Naboo to investigate Palpatine’s actions from his home base, to ensure no
further Sith activity will undermine the Republic.”
Padme nodded approval as Anakin grinned at
him. “Sneaky, Master. Do you think they’ll buy it?”
Obi-Wan grinned briefly at him in response before
allowing his sadness to show. “Master
Yoda will. Particularly once the healers
tell him about… my condition. The
Council is scattered to the winds, and the loss of Master Windu and the others
will preoccupy them for some time. Once
we’re on Naboo, I have no doubt we will find enough to investigate to keep us
there at least until after Padme has successfully delivered.”
“Then what?” Anakin asked plaintively. “It’s
still forbidden-”
“One emergency at a time, Padawan,” Obi-Wan
interrupted him. “We’ll fight that
battle when we come to it.”
Anakin subsided, and Obi-Wan fought his way out of
the blankets. Padme watched with amused
sympathy as Anakin leapt to his side and solicitously helped him up. The glare Obi-Wan gave him should have
scorched his hide but Anakin was completely oblivious to it.
“Get used to it, Obi-Wan,” Padme told him, laughter
in her voice. “He’s got the instincts of
a crèche master with one babe.”
“Two!” Obi-Wan interjected absently, then blushed again.
Padme laughed outright. “Two, indeed!”
As soon as Obi-Wan was on
his feet, Anakin bounced over to Padme’s side and ‘helped’ her rise as
well. Given that she was far more
advanced in her pregnancy, his assistance was actually helpful and she smiled
up at him before turning to Obi-Wan.
“Shall we leave you to sweet-talk the Council then,
Obi-Wan?”
He grinned at her.
“If you don’t hear from me by morning, send in reinforcements.”
She laughed again.
“I will.”
Then she drew Anakin out the door with her as she
left. Obi-Wan watched them leave, eyes
meeting Anakin’s for a long moment before the door closed behind them. It was a complex and tangled web they’d
woven, but after that conversation, he had hopes they’d come out of it intact.
Clearing his mind and centering himself, releasing
his lingering anxieties into the Force, Obi-Wan opened a channel to the Council
and set himself to the most delicate negotiation of his career.
Thanks to circumstances, Master Yoda’s
machinations, and a report from Master Healer Brid he
didn’t find out about until long after the fact, Obi-Wan was successful. As soon as the conversation was completed
they would be on their way to Naboo.
Anakin didn’t know what it was that prompted him to
spill his guts to Padme, in as much detail as Obi-Wan would allow. Perhaps it was the Force, or perhaps it was
his close escape from unwittingly becoming a Sith, but
the need to be honest about absolutely everything was strong on his soul.
So when Padme pulled him aside and said, “I want to
watch,” he looked at her in rampant disbelief and replied, “You want Obi-Wan?!”
with all the jealousy roiling around in his heart.
She looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “I want to watch him with YOU.”
The smile on her face could only be described as
lascivious anticipation. Anakin
blinked. Blinked
again. Shifted
his weight from one foot to the other to ease the sudden tightness in his groin
at the thought that his wife was aroused by the thought of watching him have
sex with his master.
Then he thought of his wife actually watching him
having sex with his master and he moaned out loud. Then fought for his composure and asked, “You
would bring Obi-Wan into our bed?”
“I want to watch you as you take him,” she
whispered, sidling close and breathing against his ear, doing nothing to his abate his rapidly-growing arousal. “I want to watch as he takes you, and feel
you take me with him deep inside you.”
Anakin bit off another moan and reached down to
grab his testicles through his pants so he didn’t come in them. Padme’s hand curled around his and worked to
loosen his fingers. He couldn’t tear his
eyes from the fire burning in hers.
“I want to kiss you as he licks me, as you ride
him. I want to watch him suck you until
you quiver with need. I want to touch
your flesh as it enters his body.”
Biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood, Anakin gave up the fight and jolted once, twice, leaving a mess inside his trousers.