Title: Crossroads
Era: Saga, some pre-saga, AU
Genre: General/Drama/Romance
Characters: Obi-Wan centric, Qui-Gon, Siri, Vader.
Ships: Siriwan in part 2.
Summary: "Everyone follows different crossroads, roads that change slightly with every decision made. What would have happened if some of those decisions had been different, and those unwalked paths explored?" Five things that never happened to the characters we all love/lust/fangirl/loathe (take your pick)
Notes: This has been one of those evil bunnies that has bounced through every fandom I know, trying to make me write as many characters as possible. And half of this one has been sitting for about 18 months. Cause I was very, very annoyed that the hardest 2 sections to write for me (Sacrifice and Flipside) were written... then someone stole my USB drive. And I only had the first two parts on file and a handwritten version of the last part. Much sulking was involved, and have only just worked up the courage to try and write those sections again.

May expand into other characters later, but at this stage, it's just Obi I'm victimising—I mean, focusing on.

Vig One: Obi-Wan Kenobi

I. Always a Dreamer...

A ginger-haired boy peered around carefully to ensure no-one else was around before tucking himself securely into his usual hidey-hole in the barn. Young Obi-Wan Kenobi watched the sky and dreamt of all the things he wished to see—the planets and moons he'd read about in his school books, the aliens he'd seen pictures of but never seen in person, and the stars he gazed at every night—at a much closer proximity. He knew he'd be in trouble again if his father caught him daydreaming the day away when there was still work to be done, though. And it was harvesting time, so there was certainly no lack of work to be found around the farm.

His father had little tolerance for people with their heads stuck among the stars rather than on planet with everyone else. His father and older brother, Silas, were straight-forward thinkers—they did what needed to be done. No second-guessing and rarely thinking of anything beyond their sheltered existence on the small agricultural rim planet they lived on.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, had been full of questions for as long as anyone in the community could remember: "Why do the stars sparkle? What are people like on other planets? Can Twi'leks really move their head-tails like we move our arms? Is Mon Calamari truly all ocean? Why does the sunset cause lots of different colours?" His insatiable curiosity was well known, and was capable of driving his family crazy from time to time. But what worried them more than anything was his knack for knowing things. Unpredictable things.

Like the time he'd suddenly yanked Silas back from the farm's trusty old speeder, which the pair of them had been working on, only to have the engine suddenly explode seconds later. Or when he found his father's missing toolkit in a matter of minutes, despite swearing he hadn't hidden it there. Anytime there was one of these episodes, his parents would start fidgeting, sharing significant glances and muttering behind closed doors. He and Silas, who was only 18 months older than Obi-Wan, had both tried eavesdropping on occasion, but were sadly disappointed, only catching tantalising phrases such as "should have let him..." "Coruscant, though?" "...too old for training now..." "...trouble in the future, though..."

But things would return to normal soon enough—and Obi-Wan would be once more in trouble for daydreaming.

He couldn't help it, he mused as he watched the sun make its way towards the western horizon. He just had this inexplicable feeling that he should be elsewhere. That there was more to him than the dreaming farmboy he'd been raised as.

That he was mean to be living a life completely different to the anonymous one he was leading here.

II. Domesticity

Obi-Wan heaved himself out of bed with a sleepy sigh as his wife began to stir beside him.

"I got her, Siri," he murmured, receiving little more than a vague sound of agreement that may or may not have had a note of thanks as the blonde woman slipped back into her slumber.

He quickly padded towards the nursery where his daughter's insistent whimpering had graduated to full-blown cries. Reaching down to pick the infant up, Obi-Wan was relieved when she started quiet down once again as soon as she was nestled in her father's arms.

"Hey there little Asha. How come you don't co-operate like that with your mum more often, hey?" he questioned softly as he collected one of his daughter's pre-prepared bottes. It was true that six-month-old Asha almost always began to settle down as soon as she was in her father's arms, whereas Siri often struggled to get the infant to settle down to her bottle, especially during the night. Siri claimed that it was a sign that she was going to be a daddy's girl; Obi-Wan, however, simply claimed that it meant that she was going to be as temperamental as her mother.

But whichever reason it was, neither of them particularly cared while they had their precious daughter with them.

For the millionth time, or more even, Obi-Wan gazed in wonderment at Asha's tiny hands trying to grip the bottle; her clear blue eyes focusing on the bottle, and the tuft of soft, strawberry-blonde hair.

If someone had told him a few years ago that he'd be in this position, he would have most likely laughed in their face. The Order didn't allow for such things, after all. And at that point, the Order was his life.

But he and Siri had been forced to make a choice: themselves or the Order.

It hadn't been an easy decision by any means, not with Qui-Gon and Adi so desperate for them stay but also wanting them to be happy, nor the disbelief of the Jedi within their own age group. But in the end, they chose to follow their hearts.

They still kept in contact with a few people at the Temple; Qui-Gon, Garen and Bant mostly—but even that contact was sporadic at best. They'd fallen out of contact with most others, who simply couldn't understand how they could have chosen to leave the Order.

Adjusting to life as normal citizens of the republic hadn't been all smooth sailing, but they had managed—after a lengthy readjustment period. They'd made new contacts and friends and—most importantly to them—they had their young daughter.

Looking down at the now dozing Asha Kenobi, Obi-Wan knew he wouldn't swap this moment for all the stars in the galaxy.

III. Sacrifice

He could feel his heart pounding as he immersed himself in the power of the Force. The tattooed attacker maintained his steady stream of rapid-fire strikes, the momentum behind each strike threatening to force Obi-Wan to his knees. He could feel Qui-Gon moving to attack their assailant from his right side.

Qui-Gon traded no more than a few blows with the dark warrior before it made a force-jump to the catwalk above them as Qui-Gon struck again, the sudden lack of opposition meaning he had to jump to the catwalks below. While he recovered from the failed strike, Obi-Wan was already chasing the attacker once again.

The next few minutes were dominated by the flashes of blue against red, the jarring sound of lightsaber against lightsaber filling their ears, Obi-Wan desperately trying to gain the upper-hand but only succeeding in hampering the attacker. One fortunate lunge from Obi-Wan saw the attacker lose functionality of one end of his double-sided saber—which the tattooed attacker countered with a force push towards the power generator.

Obi-Wan used the momentum to gain some distance from his assailant, making sure to alter the course of his path to avoid the deadly shields blocking entry to the reactor core. He's been herding me here

He had no more than a moment to gain his stance before the fight continued in earnest. Sparks flew as their lightsabers glanced off the surrounding equipment as the dark warrior started to back down the now open corridor to the power generators. Obi-Wan could once again feel Qui-Gon ready to join the fight again, fast approaching their position.

A fleeting feeling of imminent danger through the Force was all the warning he got before the energy shields activated once again. As his tattooed assailant snarled at him from the core of the generator an unsettling thought crossed his mind, he was leading me here all along. He wanted to separate the two of us. He tried not to focus on the prowling figure before him, choosing instead to calm his mind and prepare for the fight to continue. A hiss from the shields, and he'd launched his attack once again, circling the shaft that plummeted from the middle of the room, occasionally having to flip over it to avoid the burning red lightsaber.

Another hiss and the energy shields snapped shut again, and from the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan could see his Master looking frustratedly at the last energy shield that was keeping him from the battle. The attacks from the tattooed assailant suddenly intensified, and Obi-Wan found himself resorting to more and more defensive techniques to stave him off.

Then, seemingly from nowhere, he felt the red lightsaber slip under his guard and pierce his abdomen. His world blurred and slipped out of focus as he crumpled to the ground, only vaguely aware of his Qui-Gon's cry of shock. He remained in a semi-waking state for the next few minutes, knowing from years of talking with his healer friend Bant that even if he were to reach bacta, he wouldn't survive such a blow.

All of a sudden, the dark presence that had surrounded the tattooed warrior vanished, and Qui-Gon was beside him.

Content that the fight was over, Obi-Wan relaxed, slowly letting himself drift into the welcoming embrace of the Force.

IV. Flipside

The temple was burning.

The acrid smell of destruction was heavy on the night breeze that wound its way past the former Jedi Master, the glow of the blazing ruins casting deep shadows across his face. While many of the Courscanti citizens watched the glow from afar, fearful as to what the coming days were going to bring, this lone figure felt his lips curl ever-so-slightly with satisfaction.

He couldn't believe that he'd taken so long to see the futility of the Order. They were so bogged down by the rules and regulations—their precious Code. He sneered at the mere thought of the blasted Code. So much of his life, he had sacrificed his own desires for the Code. And what was he given in reward? Pain. Loneliness. All consuming grief as he watched Siri murdered.

The Jedi have always been about taking from those within it. Never giving.

Anakin's death had been the final breaking point.

Chancellor Palpatine had found him in his time of need. He whispered plans of reform and peace all around the galaxy.

So while those around him thought that he was healing from the losses he had suffered, he was slowly transforming.

When Palpatine revelled himself as Sidious, he had felt the anger and burning desire for revenge—for Qui-Gon, for Siri, for Anakin, and every other friend he had lost as a result of this man's manipulations—fill his veins as he held his lightsaber to the Sith's neck. A part of him knew then that he had sealed his fate.

Sure, he'd run off to the council to tell them about Sidious, but Master Windu mistakenly included Obi-Wan in the strike team.

Lord Sidious had made quick work of most of the strike team, and within the hour, it was just the two of them left in the room. The Dark Lord pointed out to him once again the many flaws in the Order, and offered him the chance to change the future for the better.

And he'd taken it.

V. Sandstorm

He'd woken in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, heart pounding.

He's here.

Obi-Wan could feel the dark weight in the back of his mind as he shot out of bed. It had changed since their last encounter—darker, more malicious—but it was him. He supposed that it had been optimistic of him to hope that Vader would assume him lost to the purges. Vader had obviously maintained Anakin's persistence. And over the years that Obi-Wan had trained Anakin, he'd never once see him give up on a quarry. Especially when it was such an elusive quarry like himself. Their last encounter on Mustafar had guaranteed that Vader would hunt him down.

But at this moment, he had bigger problems. He had to get further away from the Lars Homestead. If Vader felt that pure, unshielded presence... Obi-Wan shuddered at the thought.

A quick glance outside confirmed that a sandstorm had blown up overnight. He braced himself and raised his hood as he began out the door.

He'd been trekking though the gritty haze for an hour when the dark presence in his mind intensified, and he imagined he could make out a dark figure ahead.

Fumbling for his lightsaber, he idly thought it ironic that Vader would face him again here, amongst the sand of the planet he'd hated so much.

"You thought you could hide from me, old man?" An ominous hiss issued from now clearly visible figure ahead.

"Didn't think that you'd come back to this place," Obi-Wan stated calmly.

"I have become more powerful than any Jedi ever was. You are no match for me."

"Strike me down and I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine, Vader," Obi-Wan countered.

The tall figure, now encased in menacing black leather and armour, waited for a moment, lightsaber in hand, before igniting the saber and lunging towards Obi-Wan with surprising agility.

Obi-Wan sidestepped and brought his lightsaber to a guard position. While it would be easy to let Vader finish him, he had to at least make it appear like a fight. If Vader focused all of his energy on killing him, his attention was less likely to fall on the Lars homestead. Obi-Wan knew that the Empire could not get Luke. If he had to die to ensure Luke's safety, he was willing for that to happen. He would just have to keep an eye on him, like Qui-Gon had done with him following his exile in the Jundland Wastes.

A spray of dust blew into his eyes, and Obi-Wan knew that the fight was nearing its end.

He felt the tip of the ruby saber pierce his chest a few seconds later.

~Fin