It hadn't been especially difficult to set Padmé up on a planet not far from Tatooine, where he could visit her if needed, keep an eye on her without her knowing how close she was to one of her children. The Outer Rim planets wanted nothing to do with the Republic, now the new Empire; for the most part the inhabitants kept their heads down and kept to themselves. Establishing the former senator as yet another refugee wanting anonymity hadn't taken much.
Obi-Wan hated to deceive her, letting her think her children were both so far away. But all these years of knowing her, he knew if she was aware of how close Luke was, she wouldn't be able to stay away. No matter how much she understood the risk, she wouldn't be able to help herself.
He understood that urge, because he had a hard time parting with her when he returned to Tatooine. She was broken, and he didn't know if time could heal her. He wasn't sure if time could heal himself, come to that. Anakin's betrayal had done so much damage to the lives of all those he cared about, those he proclaimed he wanted to protect at all costs.
There were days - many, many days - where he didn't leave his small hut in the desert. (He didn't know it, but already rumors were starting about the "hermit" who now lived in the wilderness outside of Mos Eisley.) He put away his lightsaber; buried it at the bottom of a chest of clothes and other sundry items that no one would think to dig through. A remnant from a life he had to put behind him.
But he could not abandon the Force. It still flowed through him, and slowly, he began to reconnect with it. At first, he had tried shielding himself from everything; tried turning his back on it. What had the Force ever done but bring death, and betrayal? No being should have access to that kind of power, for it only bred greed for more. Once arrogant and self-confident, Obi-Wan was a Jedi now broken, disillusioned.
But slowly, his grief lifted enough that he could again begin to see patterns, the past and present merging and weaving together to show what had happened.
He began meditating again. His grief was still strong, but other emotions began to take root. One word began to get echoed in his thoughts, and he clung to it.
Patience.
Years would unfold before anything could happen. He could do nothing but wait. Wait, and prepare himself mentally, and emotionally. He had time. That was all he had, now.
And then, one night like any other, the Force reached out to him. In a bout of fitful sleep, Obi-Wan had a prescient dream. Padmé, overcome with despair, unable to see past all that had transpired. Pushing her body until it was as broken as her spirit, unable to continue. After waking, he could still feel the echoes of her pain in his own mind and heart, as if they were tethered together by the Force itself.
Dreams, like any other sort of prophecy, were dangerous to try to fulfill, or subvert. In trying to do so, one could easily enable the very outcome they had been trying to avoid.
But Obi-Wan simply couldn't sit by and do nothing.
Packing a few spare clothes, he headed back to the planet he'd left Padmé on, intent to check on her, and help in any way that he could.
He arrived back on the planet five months after he had left, the current climate now nearing winter. It was late when he arrived where she now resided; such a meager, humble place, especially compared to the places he knew she'd been raised on Naboo. He knew she could live, could thrive anywhere, but it still hurt him to know this was how she was now forced to live.
Padmé deserved so much better. In all things. But they could not afford the scrutiny a better lifestyle would bring.
no subject
Obi-Wan hated to deceive her, letting her think her children were both so far away. But all these years of knowing her, he knew if she was aware of how close Luke was, she wouldn't be able to stay away. No matter how much she understood the risk, she wouldn't be able to help herself.
He understood that urge, because he had a hard time parting with her when he returned to Tatooine. She was broken, and he didn't know if time could heal her. He wasn't sure if time could heal himself, come to that. Anakin's betrayal had done so much damage to the lives of all those he cared about, those he proclaimed he wanted to protect at all costs.
There were days - many, many days - where he didn't leave his small hut in the desert. (He didn't know it, but already rumors were starting about the "hermit" who now lived in the wilderness outside of Mos Eisley.) He put away his lightsaber; buried it at the bottom of a chest of clothes and other sundry items that no one would think to dig through. A remnant from a life he had to put behind him.
But he could not abandon the Force. It still flowed through him, and slowly, he began to reconnect with it. At first, he had tried shielding himself from everything; tried turning his back on it. What had the Force ever done but bring death, and betrayal? No being should have access to that kind of power, for it only bred greed for more. Once arrogant and self-confident, Obi-Wan was a Jedi now broken, disillusioned.
But slowly, his grief lifted enough that he could again begin to see patterns, the past and present merging and weaving together to show what had happened.
He began meditating again. His grief was still strong, but other emotions began to take root. One word began to get echoed in his thoughts, and he clung to it.
Patience.
Years would unfold before anything could happen. He could do nothing but wait. Wait, and prepare himself mentally, and emotionally. He had time. That was all he had, now.
And then, one night like any other, the Force reached out to him. In a bout of fitful sleep, Obi-Wan had a prescient dream. Padmé, overcome with despair, unable to see past all that had transpired. Pushing her body until it was as broken as her spirit, unable to continue. After waking, he could still feel the echoes of her pain in his own mind and heart, as if they were tethered together by the Force itself.
Dreams, like any other sort of prophecy, were dangerous to try to fulfill, or subvert. In trying to do so, one could easily enable the very outcome they had been trying to avoid.
But Obi-Wan simply couldn't sit by and do nothing.
Packing a few spare clothes, he headed back to the planet he'd left Padmé on, intent to check on her, and help in any way that he could.
He arrived back on the planet five months after he had left, the current climate now nearing winter. It was late when he arrived where she now resided; such a meager, humble place, especially compared to the places he knew she'd been raised on Naboo. He knew she could live, could thrive anywhere, but it still hurt him to know this was how she was now forced to live.
Padmé deserved so much better. In all things. But they could not afford the scrutiny a better lifestyle would bring.
Stepping forward, Obi-Wan knocked on the door.