Chapter Text
A Trio of Suns in A Desolate Sky
A Post-Revenge of the Sith Obitine AU
"You are the sun in the desolate sky
And your life's in these words and it can't be denied
Wherever you take me, it's clear I will go
Your love's the one love that I need to know"
-The Goo Goo Dolls, "Boxes"
"Split up, they should be."
"Absolutely not."
"Satine–"
Icy blue eyes land on his from his left, her gaze piercing and hard. "Oh no, do not take that patronizing Great Negotiator tone with me, Obi-Wan Kenobi," she says, her voice sharp. "I am well aware that you all are exhausted and confused, and in more pain than you think yourself able to bear, but this-this-this scheme the three of you are cooking up – separating the only pieces of your friends that you have left – is madness."
Obi-Wan releases a slow breath, not at all surprised that she has managed to cut to the heart of him so easily. She's always been able to do that. Even after spending years apart and reconnecting during some of the worst times of their lives, she still has the ability to look at him and just know what's happening deep down inside his heart and mind.
She's not at all Force sensitive; she just knows him inside and out.
"I will take them both," Satine announces when nobody argues further with her assessment of the beginnings of their plan – they don't want to separate Luke and Leia, after all; they don't want any of this to have happened.
But it has, and now they must deal with the consequences.
"A danger, this is," Master Yoda says, his voice low. He's not cowed by Satine's fire, but he clearly doesn't want to quarrel either. "Extraordinarily strong in the Force, they are. Safer, it would be, for them to be separated. For Senator Organa to take the girl as he intended to suggest, and to Tatooine with the boy, Obi-Wan should go."
Satine doesn't linger on Master Yoda, turning instead to Bail Organa. "Bail, I don't doubt that Leia would be very well off with you, so loved and happy, but…these are Padmé's children, they deserve to be raised together." She lifts her chin, defiance clear in her gaze. "And I am familiar with how to keep children like them safe and undetected in a world where people don't necessarily look favorably on the Jetii. I can do it again," she says, her voice low but clear, and it takes a moment for the implications of her words to become clear.
Stunned, Obi-Wan's eyes cut to her, staring at her ear and raking over the curve of her cheek until she faces him.
She offers him a small smile, almost apologetic, reaching out as if to pat his knuckles only to change her mind and return her hand to her lap. It's for the best, he's sure, because if they did make contact, he might not have the strength to let go. No, he knows he wouldn't have the will to release her, not with everything that has happened, not with what he's just learned – or what he thinks he's just learned. His own hand lifts to his chin instead, stroking his beard to give him something to do.
He resolves to ask her later, once they're alone.
(Assuming they are ever alone again. Master Yoda may very well send him away immediately.)
"I cannot return to Mandalore," she continues, "no matter how badly I want to. But I can make my exile worthwhile. I can take the children somewhere remote, we can have a quiet life, and they can be together. As their mother and even their father, in his best moments, would have wanted."
"I will go with you," Obi-Wan says before either Bail or Master Yoda can speak. He doesn't look at the elder Jedi, lest he see judgment in Yoda's eyes. "I have no doubt that you are capable of protecting them and raising them well, but having extra help and protection never hurts, does it?"
Thankfully Satine seems to understand–of course she understands, she knows the fine line he has walked for so long.
The Jedi Order as he's known it his entire life is no more, but perhaps there's something good that can come of the destruction and darkness. Something worthwhile and pure. He wants to be with her in this strange new world they're navigating.
"Easy it will not be," Yoda warns, his voice low. "More difficult and dangerous than your previous experience, Duchess. Vigilant, you must be. Well hidden, you must be."
If Satine is embarrassed or intimidated to be reminded of her subtle bombshell, she doesn't show it. No, she simply lifts her chin again and nods, bearing it all with her usual grace.
"Nothing about this situation is easy, but it will be worth it, Master Jedi," she insists, firm in her resolve. "They will thrive together, knowing each other as family, being given the opportunity to be children for as long as possible."
A fond but sad smile touches her lips, intensifying Obi-Wan's desire to ask, to learn everything she isn't saying, everything she hasn't said for – apparently – a very, very long time.
"Adopt them, you intend to?"
Satine nods. "I do. I will raise them as my own, but they will also know of their heritage."
She's careful not to look in Obi-Wan's direction now, though he feels the careful tug of her heart, pulling him toward her. He reaches back, hoping he's able to project what he cannot manage to express verbally.
"A mother they will have," Master Yoda says, turning his knowing gaze to Obi-Wan, "And a father as well, hmm?"
Perhaps he should feel shame, perhaps he should protest the entire plan and eschew the notion of all of this – going with Satine, raising Luke and Leia as anything more than younglings in a Jedi's care – but the words die on his lips. This isn't the same choice that Anakin made, he isn't trying to hide his desires, he isn't trying to have both worlds. He's just…
"Teach them both as the Force wills it, you will. And this mysterious other charge of the Duchess's as well."
Master Yoda lifts an eyebrow and there's just enough of a wry twist to his lips that Obi-Wan sees he's not being reprimanded for that either.
"Master Yoda, I… I assume her… charge is much older than–"
He chances a glance at Satine to find her as composed as ever, save for the grip of her hands against her skirt.
"A dangerous time it is, prepared we must all be. Now, rest we must. Meditate I must. Discuss more we will before we part; a mission for you I also have, Master Kenobi, but another conversation you must have first."
With that he leaves his chair, stopping beside Bail to gesture to the Senator. Obi-Wan doesn't need heightened senses to see the exhaustion on Organa's face, nor the disappointment at being denied a chance for fatherhood, even under these terrible circumstances.
"Walk with me, Senator. Always in motion, the future is. Your help another child will need soon, I sense."
The two of them slip from the room without another word, leaving Obi-Wan and Satine seated at the table regarding each other with uncertain eyes.
"Sa–"
"His name is Korkie," she says before he's even able to complete her name. "I raised him as my nephew. It was the safest option at the time, though not at all the one I wanted to choose."
He closes his mouth, giving her a short nod to continue.
"He looked so much like you at one point, I thought for sure the ruse would be discovered, especially once the war started and your face began appearing on every holochannel."
"As you recall, that was not my choice. None of it was."
Satine tilts her head, reaching out and touching one of the scorch marks on his tunic. "I know, my dear. I know."
"Does he – Korkie – does he know?"
She licks her lips, giving her head a small shake. "I never told him. I never told anyone I absolutely didn't have to confide in. But he is special, he's intuitive and he's fearless; I'm sure he's figured out enough. And no doubt he wants to know more."
"And where is he? He wasn't – when we left Mandalore, he wasn't with you."
She straightens in her chair, sucking in a harsh breath. "He has been with my sister since he broke me out of prison and facilitated my getting the message for help to you. He was hurt that day, and her Nite Owls took him in, but he's long-recovered now; it seems he inherited your hard head."
Obi-Wan rubs at his own temple, nodding.
"He's a good boy, he always has been. Thoughtful and sweet. We communicate once a week if we can – though recently it's been every other week – but even with that, I miss him terribly. This is the longest I've ever gone without seeing him, even when he was at the academy."
Her sadness washes over him, but her smile is proud anyway.
"Perhaps," he begins, "we can send for him once we're settled. Or have him meet us before we reach our destination and all travel together. I would like to meet him and–"
"He's wanted that for years, Obi. It only intensified after he met Anakin and Ahsoka. He was so disappointed that you weren't with them."
He blinks. "Well, that's good."
"It's a shock, I know," she says, her voice sympathetic. "I wished so many times that I could tell you and that it wouldn't throw your life into turmoil if I did, but…"
"Well, what's a little more turmoil at this point?" he quips. Pain flashes across her face and he makes sure to soften the blow with the brush of his hand over hers. "I didn't mean it like that. This – learning of Korkie – is… a lot to take in, but it isn't negative. Quite the opposite, in fact."
Satine nods. Her hand turns over beneath his, fingers locking around his sore digits. They both pretend they don't feel the other trembling. "Can you sense him? I've always wondered."
"I've…I don't know. Perhaps I do and I just haven't realized?"
She nods again. "I suppose if you've never known to try, you wouldn't have any reason to know that's who you're sensing."
"Yes. That's pretty much it."
He takes a deep breath, allowing his eyes to droop shut. He takes a moment to settle, attempting to center himself. He can feel Master Yoda and the twins – oh, so bright and so guileless and trusting in sleep – easily, and Satine, Bail, and the various other crew members of the Tantive III milling about, but once he stretches out beyond the ships there's too much. Too many lifeforms, too much chaos, sadness, and pain.
"I can't feel him right now, but that's not to say I won't be able to once we've met and become more familiar. It's difficult right now, though…"
She squeezes his hand. "I imagine there's a great deal happening in the Force at the moment."
"You're not wrong about that."
He watches as she opens and closes her mouth a couple of times before she gets to her feet and turns to face him fully, gripping his arms and yanking him up and into a hug. Surprised, he practically stumbles into her embrace, but he doesn't pull away.
"I'm so sorry," she murmurs into his shoulder. "I wish I had something more adequate to say, but I am so sorry."
Obi-Wan shuts his eyes, sinking into her embrace. His throat tightens, burning with tears and the remnants of ash from Mustafar, but he still manages to breathe her name.
Her fingers slip through his hair, practiced in their ability to offer comfort. Her lips touch his neck, delicate and soft.
"Let it out, darling," she murmurs.
"I just wish I knew – I wish I'd seen… I wish I'd been able to–"
Satine shakes her head. "You are powerful and wise, Ben, but you are not omniscient. There is no shame in being blindsided just as everyone else was."
"I–I knew he struggled. I knew how hard it was for him to let go, to keep from feeling so much. I knew he loved Padmé more than was proper for a Jedi. I should've – could've…"
"Put a stop to it the way Master Jinn put a stop to us?" she drawls, stroking the back of his neck. "Korkie's existence speaks to his resounding success."
Obi-Wan huffs. "I still walked away from you, from him – even unknowingly."
Her arms tighten. "And I think that, even if it was the best choice for the time, we know the weight of the sacrifices we both made in doing so."
He sags again. Yes, she is right. He'd said as much once to Anakin, in fact. The undercurrent of remorse that came from leaving Satine and Mandalore behind, he'd said, or something to that effect.
"It wasn't your fault," Satine insists. "You feel just as deeply as he does–did. You did what you could to help him be happy, even if his happiness was unorthodox or potentially contrary to the way you were taught, while guiding him toward the right path. But you couldn't make the choices for him."
Her mouth brushes his cheek. "He made his choices, Obi-Wan. I need you to understand that. What happened in the end…it wasn't because of Padmé, it wasn't how many times you hugged him when he was small, or if you scolded him too harshly when he was a teenager and behaving like an imbecile. It wasn't even how many times he met with the chancellor along the way or because that vile man told him everything he wanted to hear; Anakin made the choice to do the awful things he did. Every step of the way, he made a choice."
His breath falters as it leaves his lungs. Obi-Wan nods in acknowledgement, dropping his head to her shoulder and allowing any tears that might fall to land against the fabric of her dress. He feels Satine's hand land against the back of his head again, keeping him tucked to her as long as he needs.
It's only the occasional catch of her breath that tells him she's coping the same way he is. She's lost her friends and her home (twice, no less), just as he has. They truly are together in their despair.
And in the potential for their future.
With one last shuddering breath, Obi-Wan lifts his head to find everything he's feeling reflected on her face and in the damp, shining paths moving down her cheeks. The pain, the hope, the love.
Her lips tremble a little, but she manages a gentle smile as she shores up her defenses.
"Well," she breathes, laughing quietly when her voice catches, "should we– I should go check on the children. You should go change into a clean tunic. I'm sure tearstains on your clothes are a tad unbecoming for a Jetii."
"We should," he says, answering her original question. "They're sleeping right now, but I suspect it won't be for very long."
"No," she agrees. "At this age it's never for very long. And I would rather they wake up with us there instead of waking up alone."
Obi-Wan nods but doesn't release her immediately. As he'd expected, her touch isn't so easily dismissed, not when can finally admit to himself that he's yearned for it for too many years to count. Satine allows it, though, her body loose in his arms.
"What can I do?" she asks once a few minutes have passed, and they haven't moved. "Is there even anything that can be done?"
"Just give me time," he says. His forehead lowers to rest on hers.
"I will give you the rest of our lives," she murmurs, the promise fierce and sure.
Obi-Wan exhales. "As will I, my love. As will I."
Her palms cup his cheeks, drawing his mouth to hers.
The kiss is quick, far shorter than either of them wants, but it is enough. It serves to bind them to their words, and to each other. It serves as a promise to one another that there will be time to make sense of this new life they're embarking on, and to decide where they want to go from here; whether it's to continue as they are and have been since he brought her to Coruscant from Mandalore, or to make it something more official, they will determine that soon.
Not now, when emotions are running high and everyone is a little bit raw, but soon.
This time when they part, she steps away, offering him a soft, bright smile. "Now, let's get you cleaned up a bit, and then I believe we have children to attend to."
She grasps his hand gently, giving him a short tug to get him to follow her first to the 'fresher and then to the makeshift nursery that's been set up for the twins.