Chapter Text
Mace Windu felt like he would choke on all the shatterpoints spinning around him. They seemed to shine through his eyelids, refusing to be ignored even as he tried to settle himself, to meditate, to make sense of them. To make sense of this day.
Mace sighed and shifted, clenching and unclenching his fingers, shooing away the vision of shatterpoints he couldn’t make himself understand.
‘Send him to me, I might be able to help.’
Why in the Stars would the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic care about one difficult, if powerful Padawan? Skywalker might very well be as promising as Palpatine had professed, but why should one outside of the Order care? The boy was twelve, impatient, impetuous and disinterested in politics, hardly the making of a desirable companion for someone like Palpatine. If anyone, he should have been seeking Kenobi’s friendship, who was well-known for his steady character and silver tongue.
Could the Chancellor have been disinterested? Had Mace spent too many years dealing with corrupt politicians that he let his judgement of the man be clouded? He hadn’t felt any disturbance around the older man in the Force, never had. Palpatine had always been as stable as any of the Jedi.
And yet, at times, he had watched Skywalker like a hunter coveting a prey. Always at the edge of Mace’s vision, when Obi-Wan was distracted by his Padawan.
‘Why, young Skywalker is a Jedi, is he not? The Jedi are under the Senate’s jurisdiction. And as I am the Chancellor of the Senate…’
And he pushed. After Mace refused his assistance, as was his right, the Chancellor had forced the issue. It was a brazen move, one who could sour the relation between the Senate and the Jedi Order for the rest of his mandate if Mace decided to make an issue of it.
By the Force, did he want to make an issue of it.
And the shatterpoints. There had always been an abundance of them around Skywalker, the Chancellor, and even Kenobi to a lesser extent. Palpatine’s words, his unsubtle threats, his hunger for Skywalker, had turned the three of them into a minefield of vibrating cracks in the Force. Mace hadn’t been able to look at any of them until he had left the Training Salle, and they hadn’t left him in peace ever since. They followed him to his rooms, driving him into a migraine.
These days, all of his headaches seemed to trail back to Skywalker.
Why did Palpatine care so much about Anakin Skywalker? The Chancellor couldn’t have known about the Chosen One prophecy. It was a closely guarded secret of the Council. The only non-Council member to know of it was Kenobi, and he would never endanger his Padawan. Or give his cause for greater arrogance.
Was it sexual? Mace shivered in disgust at the thought, but it needed to be considered. Palpatine never struck him as the type, but in his years as a Jedi, Mace had found much more saintly men to be guilty of even lower depravities than lusting after young boys.
It was the most obvious answer, and not one to be discarded when an old, powerful man demanded private access to a twelve year old, but surely, he would have not been so obvious about it? Should anyone notice anything off with Anakin, should Kenobi suspect anything untowards, Mace would know right away who to blame. Perhaps Palpatine thought that the Senate’s hold on the Order was so strong that they would be willing to disregard the abuse of one of their charges in order to keep him happy?
Mace felt bile rise to his throat, and forced himself to let go of the thought for the moment.
If not for sexual favors, why else? Perhaps, his insistence had been nothing more than a demonstration of his hold over the Order. Perhaps he had been passingly intrigued by Skywalker, but Mace’s refusal had given him the perfect excuse to remind the Master of the Jedi Order of his place, of Palpatine’s superiority. Skywalker might be nothing more than a pawn, someone Palpatine was willing to sacrifice in his search for dominance.
But what if he wasn’t a brief fancy, a cog in a power grab? What if Palpatine hoped to groom a promising young Jedi into being his puppet? If he followed in his Master’s footsteps and realised his potential, Mace had no doubt Skywalker would be a great Jedi Master, even earning his place on the Council. Should Palpatine live to see it, and had the opportunity to cultivate loyalty from Skywalker, it would give him a greater hold on the Order than any of his thinly veiled threats could.
Knowing Skywalker’s penchant for strong attachments and fierce loyalty to those he cared about, a politician used to charm folks into believing in him and supporting him would find swaying the young boy a very easy task.
No.
Chancellor Palpatine couldn’t be allowed access to Anakin Skywalker, private or otherwise. For the sake of the Order, and for the sake of the boy.
But Mace couldn’t refuse the Chancellor. He knew very well that there had been a dangerous edge hidden under Palpatine’s smile when he had reminded him of their allegiance to the Senate.
Even if Mace went to the Council and convinced all of them to refuse the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic based on nothing more than his unease, he doubted it would be enough to deter him. Not if he wanted Skywalker enough to be as brazen as he had already been. He would find other ways to get to the boy. The more underhanded they forced him to be to gain access to his prize, the harder he would be to uproot. The deeper he’d dig his claws into Anakin.
As long as Anakin Skywalker was on Coruscant, the Chancellor could find him.
But what could Mace do? They couldn’t just expel Anakin, send him away from the Order. For better or worse, they had begun to train him. Every Initiate and Padawans had points in their journeys where they were too unstable in their knowledge to be left unsupervised, their curiosity too voracious for their capacities to control their abilities. That was one of the reasons Padawans were closely bound to Jedi teachers. To have someone to accompany them in all their moments and make sure they wouldn’t burn themselves out.
Anakin Skywalker, ever the overachiever, had mixed this expected instability with his own staggering power in the Force. Left to his own devices, the boy was a timebomb, one whose potential for destruction no one could predict.
Even if he could survive the first few years on his own, expelling Anakin Skywalker, who had done nothing wrong, would foster resentment and anger against the Order in a boy that was already prone to violent emotions. It would not be a matter of if Anakin Skywalker fell, but of when. And of how many Jedi would be lost to put him down.
But that was all pointless theories, because Anakin Skywalker would not leave the Order alone. If Mace had Anakin Skywalker expelled from the Order, Obi-Wan Kenobi would follow him. Because of his promise to his Master, because of his promises to Anakin, because he was too attached to the boy to leave him on his own when a grave injustice was committed against him.
Perhaps he could speak with Obi-Wan. Speak to him of the Chancellor’s demands, and of his suspicions. Obi-Wan trusted Mace, and he was stiflingly protective of his Padawan. There was little doubt in Mace that he could convince the young Knight to take the boy and run, go on a “long-term assignment” for the Order, somewhere in the Outer Rim, or even the Unknown Regions. Obi-Wan had proven himself capable of such a feat when he went on the run with the Duchess of Mandalore for more than a year.
Anakin Skywalker might be safe. He would certainly be cared for. And the Order would lose one of its most promising Knights. Obi-Wan Kenobi had proven over the last few years to be everything a Jedi should be. He was skilled, balanced, steady, and he had been the first person in over a millenia to kill a Sith.
And he had fought so hard for the chance, the privilege, to prove himself worthy of being a Jedi. He had had to go through terrible ordeals to convince Qui-Gon to take him as a Padawan, had worked himself to the bone to improve himself to meet his own impossible standards, and he had excelled.
Three years into his knighthood, he would have to give all of it up, only to be given another impossible task. Mace didn’t doubt that Obi-Wan had done as well as anyone could have asked, could have hoped for, in training the boy, but even here, within the framework of the Order and with all the resources of the Temple, he was struggling. Three years in, Anakin Skywalker was still angry, still scared.
Obi-Wan loved the boy. He loved him more than he should perhaps, more than he was equipped to handle certainly. He loved him enough to abandon his entire life, all he’d ever wanted for himself. But he didn’t see him clearly.
Obi-Wan, when he was barely older than Anakin, had learned to control his anger, his aggression, and he had done it the way Jedi were expected to. Through meditation and discipline.
Mace and Yoda had hoped that the man who had tamed himself into one of their most balanced members would be able to teach Anakin to do the same. But here they were, balancing on a mountain of shatterpoints on the verge of breaking.
Obi-Wan had learned to dissipate his anger, but so far, he had not been able to teach his padawan to do the same. Perhaps he hadn’t the perspective needed for it. Mace himself had long struggled to release his anger, instead learning to harness it, to redirect it as one would guide a river.
Perhaps, given enough time, Obi-Wan Kenobi could break through to Anakin. But perhaps, freed from the framework of the Order, the two of them would spiral out of control, with no one to help them break their fall.
A choice had to be made. Now, before the Chancellor grew suspicious, before he had time to create contingency plans.
Anakin Skywalker had to leave the Temple as soon as possible.
Anakin Skywalker couldn’t leave the Temple alone.
Once Anakin Skywalker disappeared, there couldn’t be anyone who knew of his departure. There couldn’t be any links left to the boy, nothing the Chancellor and his undoubtedly numerous contacts could exploit to find him again. If Anakin Skywalker left with Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu would be left behind. Palpatine would know he had lost his prize because of him, because of their discussion.
Finally forced to contemplate the decision he had been circling ever since he had fallen to his knees in his quarters, barely a foot from his front door, grief burst through him, stronger than he had felt since he had lost Master Myr. It shot down his spine, leaving him numb except for the pain in his chest.
Pushing himself to stand on feet that barely belonged to him, Mace dragged himself to his kitchen. His hand was steady as he poured one last glass of brandy.
I’m sorry Depa, for leaving you behind despite my promises.
I’m sorry, Master Yoda, for leaving you alone with the weight of the Order. It’s too much for one person to bear alone, and yet I must go, for all our sakes.
Obi-Wan- Oh Force, Obi-Wan, I’m so sorry. I hope one day you’ll have the opportunity to forgive me.
Mace slammed back the drink and he strode out of his quarter to make the necessary arrangements.
Mace watched with a heavy heart as Obi-Wan’s small ship pulled away from the hangar. It had been an easy thing to fabricate a mission for him, a small conflict on a nearby planet, just far enough that even Obi-Wan and Anakin’s unusually strong bond would dull, but close enough to be a short trip. The mission needed to seem easy and short so Obi-Wan would eschew preparations and be gone as quickly as possible, but not feel conflicted about leaving Anakin alone on Coruscant.
Anakin, who had an exam in a few days, and needed to remain at the Temple to study.
Obi-Wan’s ship disappeared into the clouds, taking Mace’s last chance to change his mind with it. It was set now. Mace couldn’t delay the inevitable, not when their time was so short. Anakin needed to be as far from the planet as possible before Palpatine extended his first invitation to the boy.
The trek to Kenobi and Skywalker’s quarter seemed too short for him to properly bask in the tranquility of the early morning one last time. His home, for as long as he had been aware of what home was. The door seemed to appear out of nowhere, sneaking up on him.
Mace Windu was not a man who hesitated.
He was glad the door slid open before he had a chance to.
To his surprise, Anakin was already up, curled on the couch with a bunch of datapads and munching on a piece of bread. Studying, when most of the Temple was still asleep. Skywalker, the overachiever, Padawan of an overachiever. Kenobi and him balanced each other in many ways, but this was not one of them.
“Master Windu!” The boy startled, straightening himself on the couch, sending a couple of datapads clattering to the floor.
“Padawan Skywalker, may I enter?”
Part of Mace wanted to put the boy to sleep, get this whole ordeal over with as fast as possible. But even if he were capable of influencing someone of Skywalker’s power and stubbornness enough to knock him out, he couldn’t afford to. Kidnapping Skywalker would send him running back to Coruscant as soon as he had an opening, no matter how convincing Mace was later, when they were out of harm’s way. He wouldn’t forgive Mace for trying to take his dream of being a Jedi from him. He’d never forgive him from making him leave Kenobi.
Anakin Skywalker had to make the choice to leave the Temple on his own. He had to walk out on his own two feet.
Problematically, that all meant that now Mace had to convince him. The boy respected him, and admired him to a point, especially his lightsaber skills, but he was wary of him. Wary of his judgement. Mace had been harsh when Qui-Gon had presented the boy to the Council, and hadn’t made enough efforts to rectify the first impression the Padawan had had of him in the years since.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, of course, Master.”
“Thank you.”
“Obi-Wan isn’t here, he had an urgent mission this morning.” Anakin offered, confused at Mace’s early visit.
“That’s alright. I’m here to speak with you.”
Anakin Skywalker had three pressure points. Each of them contained mazes of complicated emotions and conflicting desires, but they were, in essence, quite simple. His desire to be a Jedi, his love and loyalty for those he cared about, and his hatred of slavery.
“May I?” Mace asked, gesturing to the other end of the couch, when Anakin failed to answer him.
“Yes.”
Mace sat down, trying to keep his expression as kind as he could. Despite his efforts, Anakin tensed as he settled against the armrest, clearly mentally sifting through the events of the last few days for what he had done wrong.
“Padawan Skywalker. I am here today to ask something of you. Something that no one should ever have had to ask of you. It isn’t because of any fault of yours. You have done nothing wrong. It’s not fair, but it is what must be.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. I will tell you everything I know, every reason I have to ask what I do. I will answer every question. But you must listen. Really listen and try to understand. Time is short.”
“Master, I-”
“Please, Padawan.”
Anakin’s eyes widened at his words, gentler than he had ever gotten from Mace, at his pained tone, at his slumping shoulders. He pushed himself so he could sit cross legged on the couch cushion, fully facing Mace, straightening his back.
“Yes, Master.”
“There have been people, very important and powerful people, who have started taking a keen interest in you. People that would want to have you, to use you for their own means.”
Anakin paled, and only kept himself still through obvious effort. Fear spiked around him, permeating the air between them.
“Use me, Master?”
“Yes, Padawan. I don’t know exactly why they are so interested in you, but they have already started making disquieting inquiries about you.”
Mace paused, giving Anakin a few seconds to absorb the news. The boy was stiff, fingers clenched into the edge of his tunic. His fear wasn’t tinted with panic, but with something that tasted like resignation. Of course a child that had been raised as a slave would know what some people would want to do to a young boy.
“Is it because I’m the Chosen One?” Anakin asked in a muted voice.
Mace had hoped Anakin hadn’t remembered Qui-Gon’s claim about the prophecy he barely believed in himself. He had hoped that by keeping the knowledge of it restrained to the Council, the boy would have been able to live without the weight of it.
“Maybe. No one outside of the Council should know of it, but it can’t be dismissed.”
Skywalker’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away, waiting for Mace to continue.
“Even without being the Chosen One, Padawan, you are very strong in the Force. And everyone that has ever taught you or been on missions with you agree that you have the potential for great things.”
The boy’s chest puffed out with pride, but his eyes grew stormy with confusion. Mace had never been one to praise him, and perhaps he could sense the wrongness in Mace’s heart. Skywalker had the habit of being very perceptive at the worst of times.
“All of this means that if someone, someone like the kind of people that have started paying attention to you, could get to you, turn your allegiance to them, you could do a lot of damage, to this Order, and to the Republic.”
Skywalker sprang from the couch, anger exploding from him, so strong it took Mace a few seconds to push his own echoing resentment back down.
“I would never betray the Jedi!” Anakin shouted. “I’m not dangerous!”
“I know.”
“Why do you al- What?” The boy stopped himself from ranting mid-sentence, the storm in the Force shifting to wary confusion.
Always dizzyingly mercurial.
“I trust you, Anakin.”
“Than what-”
“I’m not worried about you, Padawan.” It wasn’t exactly true. Anakin Skywalker was still surrounded by more shatterpoints than any other child Mace had ever met, and the strength of his anger just now was concerning. But he had come to ask Anakin to trust him with his life. He would need to extend trust in return. “I’m worried what those people would do to you if they did get their hands on you and you refused to do as they say.”
Anakin seemed puzzled at that, which wasn’t unexpected. The boy still had a disquieting low regard for his own well-being.
“And I am worried what they would do to others to try and get to you. Those are powerful people, Anakin, and powerful people sometimes will hurt others to get what they need. Hurt people you care about so you would do as they ask. They might try to harm the Jedi Order, or your friends, like Padawan Secura.”
The blood left Anakin’s face so fast, Mace shot forward to catch him as he swayed, but the boy caught himself on the back of the couch with a white-knuckled grip.
“Or Obi-Wan.” He whispered, eyes wide in terror. Mace’s silence was all the confirmation he needed. “No. No! They can’t. We can’t let them, Master Windu, we have to do something! ”
“Yes, we do.”
“You said you had to ask me something. So you have a plan? Do we go and fight them?”
“These are not people we can fight, Anakin. They are too powerful, and we don’t even know why they want you yet. We don’t know how many of them there are.”
“Then what?”
“We need to leave. Tonight, as soon as we can go unnoticed. We need to leave, and hide somewhere they won’t find us.”
“For how long?” Anakin asked, already moving to pack his bag.
Mace closed his eyes, bracing himself.
“I don’t know. Years, probably.”
For a moment, Mace wondered if he had died. The Force disappeared from the world, leaving him colder than he had ever been. He opened his eyes, to stare into Anakin’s horrified face.
“No.”
“I am very sorry, Anakin, but until we can find out more about these people, who they are and what they want, we will have to hide. Hide from them and the Jedi both”
“We?”
“Of course. It’s the Order’s duty to protect its Padawans. I was the one they approached, the only one to know of them. It has to be me that goes with you.”
“But, Obi-Wan-”
“He can’t know, Anakin. If he knows, they can use him to find us. As far as Knight Kenobi and the rest of the Order can know, the both of us will have disappeared without a trace.”
“No! I can’t leave him!”
“Anakin. If you stay, if you leave him a note, or find a way to stay in contact, you will be putting him in danger. The only way for us to protect our family is to keep them ignorant.”
“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.” Anakin spat back at him, trying to muster anger, but Mace saw right through him. He saw them war behind Skywalker’s clear blue eyes, the now opposed urges to cling desperately to those he cared about, and the one to sacrifice everything he had, including himself to keep them safe.
Mace waited.
Waited until a ray of sunshine streaked through the window to bathe Anakin in light, and the boy slumped in defeat.
“Okay.”
“Where are we going?”
The ship Mace had commandeered from the Temple had just breached the first layer of Coruscant's atmosphere when Anakin piped up. The boy had curled in the co-pilot seat, not even arguing to be the pilot, pulling his knees to his chest as if to shield himself from his new reality, silent as a tomb.
Anakin Skywalker was rarely still, and he was never silent. Mace sighed and released his guilt into the Force.
“I don’t know yet. Somewhere far from the Core. We’ll have to find another ship soon, and then we’ll go somewhere in the Outer Rim.”
He started putting in coordinates for a small world he had visited a few years ago, a hub of smugglers and pirates. If anyone could get him an untraceable ship in a timely fashion, they could. At the corner of his vision, Anakin had tangled his Padawan braid around his fingers, biting his lip.
“We need to go get my mom.”
“Pardon?”
“You said they’d go after the people I care about to get to me. That means they might find my mom.”
Mace closed his eyes for a beat, once again cursing the Force that they hadn’t found Anakin when he was younger. Skywalker was not a common name, and it wasn’t a top secret that the boy had come from Tatooine. It was doubtful that even Obi-Wan could have restrained Anakin if his mother was in danger, but Mace certainly couldn’t. A slave on a Hutt controlled world had very little protecting her from the money and influence of the Chancellor. If he got his hands on her, Anakin would come running.
“Very well. We’ll go to Tatooine right away.”
Skywalker’s mother disappearing mere days after he did was more of a trail than Mace would have liked, but it was the lesser risk.
“What about the others? I had friends on Tatooine. As close as family. Like the Jedi.” Anakin finally turned to him, fingers clenching hard enough around his braid that it had to hurt him.
“We can’t free every slave on Tatooine, Skywalker.”
“Why not? It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do now.”
“We can’t get involved in planetary affairs without-”
“Without the permission of the Senate? Of the Council? Did we get permission to run away from them?” His voice was firmer than it had been since Mace had entered his quarters, righteous in the particular way he had. “We’re never going to get permission from either of them ever again. If we’re abandoning the Jedi, the least we can do is try to do some good.”
Mace leaned back as they jumped to hyperspace, looking back at Skywalker. He was very aware that he would not be able to keep this boy stashed in a cave for how many years they would need to hide. He could barely meditate after a long day of training and lessons and whatever else his master could throw at him.
Mace was also aware that he himself wasn’t made for a sedentary life. He’d be bored to madness within a couple of months of doing nothing. They would have to find a way to keep themselves busy, to do something useful.
Anakin Skywalker had three pressure points, and the best way to soothe going against one of them, was playing into another.
Instigating a slave rebellion it was.
“We can’t start with Tatooine. It’s too obvious. We’ll get your mother, then we’ll find somewhere to lay low for a little while and start planning.”
“Master-” Anakin tried to protest, but Mace raised a hand.
“We need to disappear for a while, Skywalker, if only to lose whatever trail we might have picked up. Also, meaningful change can’t be done in a day. We’ll need to scope various worlds, establish contacts and build a network. We’ll need ressources, weapons, intel. If you want us to free the slaves, we’ll have to do it the right way. Better to take more time and make a change that lasts.”
“Jedi can-”
“We will not be doing this as Jedi, Skywalker.” Mace turned to face him fully, leaning forward. He needed Skywalker to hear him, to understand him. “If we go lightsabers blazing, if we use the Force, we might as well be waving a beacon for whoever is looking for us. As of today, both are never to be used in public.”
Anakin’s hand fell to his lightsaber, clutching it as if Mace was about to rip it from him.
“Also, the people we’ll be freeing? They won’t be Jedi. If we only get their freedom under the threat of our swords, their planets will fall again as soon as we go to the next one.”
Falling silent, he watched as Skywalker mulled it over, trying to find faults in his reasoning, before he melted into his chair. Mouth pressed thin and tight, he unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, extending it to Mace.
“I guess you’ll want this.” He sounded petulant, but Mace supposed he had earned the right to it, only for the night.
“No. I trust you to be careful and discrete with it. We’ll have to get rid of our clothes as soon as we can find replacements, however.”
“What’s the point of me keeping it if I can’t use it?” Anakin had yet to pull back his hand, and Mace gently took it in both of his, closing the boy’s fingers tighter around the hilt of the lightsaber.
“You made a great sacrifice tonight, Padawan Skywalker. For the Order, and for our family. Continuing your training will not repay the debt we owe you, but it’s what I can do.”
“You didn’t want to train me before. You didn’t want me to be trained at all.”
“I didn’t. And tonight, you proved me wrong. I can’t, and will never take Obi-Wan’s place as your Master, Padawan. But I will teach you everything I can.”
“I’m not a Padawan anymore.” He mumbled, his other hand tugging at his braid, unmoored grief washing over his face. “I’m just Anakin now.”
Mace felt his chest tighten painfully.
“Well, then I suppose I’m just Mace too.”
If he had to betray the last wishes and hopes of a dead friend, if he had to break the heart and trust of a living one, then all he could do was guide and raise Anakin Skywalker into a good man. Into a Jedi in all but name.
Mace released Anakin’s hand, and they sat in silence for a long while, both trying to comprehend what they had lost that night. Tomorrow, Mace would release his loss and pain into the Force. He would move forward. But tonight he let himself think of all the friends he might never see again.
He felt Anakin move away but he didn’t shift. He had been at the Temple since before he could talk. Would his hands still be his if they didn’t wield a lightsaber? Would his feet still be his if they couldn’t take him down the Room of a Thousand Fountain? Would his soul still be his if he didn’t serve the Council?
Would he still recognize his life if he spent it protecting Anakin Skywalker and freeing slaves?
Who was Mace Windu if he wasn’t a Jedi? Was his name still his own anymore? He’d have to get a new one, at least for the rest of the Galaxy.
Would it be better to bury Mace Windu completely? Forget who he had hoped to be, except to offer Anakin the guidance he’d need?
Fingers clenching painfully into his thighs, Mace closed his eyes over his tears. For a moment, a blissful moment, he could pretend he was in the Council chambers, sitting beside Grandmaster Yoda, waiting for the rest of the members to join them.
A spike of distress tore through the Force, and Mace jumped from the seat, dashing to the fresher. What was Skywalker doing? Had he hurt himself? Had he already done something stupid, no, surely he hadn’t-
The door slid open, and Mace caught Skywalker’s wrist, stilling the blade he was trying to slide against the base of his braid. Looking at him through the mirror, Mace’s already tender heart broke a little bit at the tears rushing down Skywalker’s cheeks. Careful to keep his hold gentle and his movements slow, he pulled the knife from his shaking grip. It was a blunt, rusted little thing. From the frayed strands of hair spilling from the braid, Anakin had been trying to cut it off for a moment already.
Mace could only be glad that in his state, he hadn’t tried to use his lightsaber to cut it off.
Catching Anakin’s eyes in the reflection, they both came to the inevitable solution at the same time. Arms falling at his sides, Anakin closed his eyes, tears still spilling at the corner. Mace’s hand was heavy but steady as he grabbed his lightsaber and ignited it.
Obi-Wan, I’m so sorry. This is not how it should be. This was never how it should have been. I’m so sorry. It should be your hand on his shoulder. He should have you at his back. You should have his braid. This shouldn’t happen for so many more years.
Obi-Wan, I’m so sorry.
I’ll keep him safe for you.
Mace pressed Anakin’s braid into his hands, and held the boy as he cried himself silently to sleep.