Title: Life Among the Ashes
Author: taramidala
Rating: PG-13
Time Frame: Immediately post "Revenge of the Sith." Inter-trilogy AU.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to ginchy, salanderjade, lotusflower85, and SerendipityAEY for the beta reading.
Disclaimer: All belongs to Lucasfilm and the Disney Corporation, except for two original characters briefly mentioned.
Note: This story serves as a satellite/predecessor to a forthcoming longer AU fic. At the end, you'll start to see why (and that's all I will say for now).

Part 1: Obi-Wan. Chapter 1.

He finds her. In the shadows of the Theed streets at Padmé's funeral.

Despite Organa's and Master Yoda's insistence that it is not safe for him – for any of them – to linger on Naboo any longer than necessary, he will not leave just yet. His personal code of honor demands it, to pay tribute to this young woman who risked everything for the love of his Padawan.

Foolish, stubborn children. Both of them.

Her deep brown eyes widen in fear and recognition. Even she knows that she is no longer safe in her own home. That the Senator's death was not right.

He wonders how much she knew.

How much any of them knew.

In hushed tones he draws her further into the shadows, once the funeral cortège has passed.

He promises her safety, such as it is.

He will return, in two months' time.

Can she settle her affairs by then?

Give her one, she says. Two is too many.

He turns to go, to slip invisibly into the streets and back to the spaceport, to where the others await him. Then he feels her elegant hand on his arm, pulling him into an embrace. He allows her this, this one moment of grief and release, before he tries to remove himself once more. She holds firm, taking his face between her hands; as she presses her forehead against his, he hears her whisper, "Thank you," before she, too, drifts off into the night.

When he sneaks back to Naboo, one month later as promised, Theed is in chaos.

The new queen, dead.

Fugitive Jedi, dead.

The city overrun with troops.

The new queen a puppet to Palpatine.

Where is she? Is she safe? Is she alive?

He skulks around the city, trying every place he can think of.

A memory comes to him, unbidden, of the first war here. That seminal battle that started the galaxy on this path of destruction, when he thinks about it. The Sacred Place. That Gungan haven in the forest that sheltered the Naboo's tiny resistance.

Think. Take care of everything here, then find her.

He books their passage, departing in two days' time. He hopes it will be enough. He hopes he is not too late.

And there she is. Bedraggled and wet, hiding out in a makeshift shelter a few clicks into the trees.

She's terrified, believed he wasn't coming. She'd only just settled her affairs when the troops came. To all who knew her, she'd resigned and left already. Roo'na, her own sister, doesn't know where she has gone.

They stay the night in her shelter; he uses the Force to keep them warm, but her fearful shivering only stops when he takes her in his arms.

They take their time, as the refugee ship meanders along the Outer Rim picking up and dropping off those who need a place to hide.

Always looking over their shoulders.

She cuts her hair; he dyes his beard. Between them they take a decade off their age.

Before she left Naboo, Sabé found some old clothing of her parents' and tattered them up as best she could; in them, they look passably disheveled.

At one of the last ports in the...Empire...they exchange the currency for hard trinkets, so they have something to barter with when they reach their destination.

Neither knows how long it will take once they arrive on Tatooine, how long her stay will be before Senator Organa sends word that Alderaan is safe for her. She will be protected with the senator and his queen, and her skills will be of use to them.

For most of the journey, she passes off an air of calm about their situation. Yet at each port they hear word of Palpatine's minions exerting violent control over every world, and her mask begins to crack. In the moments when she breaks he lets her see his own fear, and it's all he can do to comfort her.

They will make it, he insists. Just a few more days.

At last, they are back on Tatooine.

As they disembark and the wave of intensely hot air blows their hair back, they share a look of remembrance, of an earlier, more innocent time. How young they were then, back when this all began.

He breathes out a sigh of relief, that they've made it. For now at least, they are safe, on this hideous, lawless world.

She turns to him with a grin that sets his mind spinning, and she hands him a supply list. "See if 'The Negotiator' can still handle a few purchases, eh?" she teases. With her handling the food and cooking half of the list, they should be set for a few months at least.

Now for the bartering. She tells him not to be above a mindtrick or two, and he can hear Qui-Gon's voice in his head chuckling softly.

A transport, check. A used but functional speeder will get them there.

Multitools, blankets, a basic communicator, and a vaporator for water, check.

A home, check. A dilapidated hovel, in the middle of the Jundland Wastes but close enough to where he needs to be, will suffice. Later, Sabé will assure him that together they will make it their own. Simple but comfortable. A good place to hide in plain sight.

He even manages to procure a map. Anchorhead and Bestine are close enough to their new home to ensure that they will not need to return to the city, hopefully, until it's time to send Sabé on her way.

In those late nights, when there is little else to do but look at the stars, the bond that formed over ten years ago begins to re-emerge, back when she was a pretend queen and he an impatient padawan.

She's the same as she was then: wry, witty, full of life. She radiates warmth and compassion.

He finds himself the same, as well: timid and tongue-tied in her presence. He's uncharacteristically flustered when she smiles, like the schoolboy he never was.

Yet he's as drawn to her as ever, and when the burden of their secrets and their grief – over all they have lost – overcomes them, he finds comfort in her arms and she in his.

Physical comfort is nothing new for him, but this is different. This is more.

Sabé makes him feel. She is here, real, and alive. And though she does not say it, she loves him. She shows it in every look, every touch, every comforting word. In so many ways, she is what he could not desire before.

In moments alone, he shudders in fear. Is this what love – real, alive, romantic love – feels like? Is this what Anakin had wanted – what he had twisted in his sick mind?

And do the old rules still apply? There's no one left but him. He is no longer what he once was.

So when they fall together in passion, they are neither Jedi nor Handmaiden, but man and woman communicating on the basest of levels, living and breathing for only the present and for each other.

It is a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. For the moment, he relishes it.

It's certainly not what they were expecting. When she tells him, it doesn't process. His brain turns to clay – thick and slow and opaque. When it hits him – a child – he just says "It's not possible."

She laughs, and assures him that it is.

Then, in a voice just barely above a whisper, he curses their recklessness, says they're no better than...he can't bring himself to name them now, and he isn't sure how to be happy about this news. He wants to trust the Force, his instincts, but how can he? When they have failed him so?

Sabé rejects his frustration and overcomes his shock with pragmatism, declaring the child a blessing in disguise. Their child is no accident, no error of fate. Their child will have a purpose, and will be loved.

It is a dangerous time, indeed, but because of that shouldn't they all take some measure of comfort and joy where they can?

The months pass.

Sabé contracts a midwife and her pregnancy progresses well. She is strong and healthy, as is the child within her.

He's never been around a childbearing woman before, so at first he's a little tentative with Sabé. What few pregnant women there were in the Temple were sequestered from the rest of life there. Something about not wanting to unduly influence the padawans. And, of course, once the children were born the mothers were taken back to their homeworlds, while the newborns became crechlings.

When he tells her this by way of apology for some perceived slight, Sabé just looks at him with raised eyebrows and he doesn't need her words to know exactly what she's thinking. She's said them before. Because that worked out so well.

She's bitter. He knows she's bitter. To her, the Jedi stole her best friend – her sister, in duty if not in blood. She does not understand the Jedi philosophy and never has. She never will. They've discussed it endlessly and he's well aware by now where she stands.

Yet what else can he do? He knows nothing else. And he must keep something of their traditions alive. He's the only one. There is nothing left. There is no one left.

In the quiet corner of his mind he can hear Qui-Gon's voice admonishing him: Perhaps she's right, Apprentice. Perhaps it's time to alter the rules.

She's so lovely. He may not understand these changes she's going through, but he does his best to keep her comfortable, keep her happy. There's a corner of his heart that wants her to be happy here. That may one day dare ask her to stay.

Those hopes end, however, on an errand trip to Anchorhead, where he hears from Senator Organa and sees young Luke for the first time in months.

The good senator reveals that all is prepared and ready whenever Sabé is. Their time is now short.

And in the arms of his guardian, his aunt, a one-year-old Luke Skywalker demonstrates more raw power than any crecheling he ever encountered.

His errant padawan's son has put Obi-Wan's child in danger.

Yet another thing Anakin would have to answer for at the gates of hell.

Parting is not what he wants. Not really. Yet he sees no other way. When he first broaches the subject with Sabé, leaving this life of theirs behind, it's a frank discussion. The pros. The cons. His duty. Her safety. Their child's safety, and that of the boy.

Talking turns to fighting, and though he knows she knows he's right, she argues until the end.

To her, their child deserves a family.

He can't think beyond the boy, however, and for the safety of them all. From birth the other child showed too much innate, untapped potential to have another sensitive infant nearby. The incident in Anchorhead simply proved it.

Isn't Alderaan too dangerous as well? she asks. The Princess is just like them.

No, he says. At birth, the girl's potential was muted, demonstrating a natural ability to block; it should be enough. If not, he will send Ferus to attend to the children, to train them in the most rudimentary of shielding techniques. Olin can train their child to hide herself if necessary, if he can remain to stay alive.

All he wants, he tells her, is for them to live. To be happy. That is not possible here. The Organas will keep them safe. The Senator never failed him before, and he was a loyal friend to Padmé, and the Jedi.

In the end, one day when this is over, the risk of being a family will be one he allows himself to take.

When the midwife places this tiny, red-faced, squawking being in his arms he's not sure what to do. She is so small, so fragile. The crechelings at the Temple were never this size.

Then her big baby grey eyes open and her crying stops, and he understands. To feel such love, without pretense or condition, swell in his own heart for Sabé and this tiny creature in his hands.

This is what Anakin longed for.

In his mind's eye he can see her grown, strong and beautiful with her mother's grace and his ironclad sense of honor, all honey hair and a grey-blue gaze. What will she do? What will she be? Never before has he felt such possibility, certainly not of his own making.

He looks over at Sabé, still breathing heavily after her effort but looking more beautiful than ever. Handing the babe to the midwife, he helps Sabé to sit upright.

As she reaches out her arms for their daughter, he presses a kiss to her cheek and together they simply sit: quiet, reflective, hopeful. Yes, he thinks. I understand now.

All duty. Ever duty.

They knew it would come to this, that their affair would end one day. They had discussed it and agreed. Perhaps in another time their lives could have been different, but they cannot live with those regrets.

They have a gift, a child, that will sustain them throughout this permanent separation. Their special kind of love will live on in her and when the day comes that they join the Force in eternity, they will be together again.

With a final vow, Sabé promises to keep him with her always. When it's safe, when the time is right, his daughter will be part of his life.

The child will always know where she came from, who her father was, and that he loved her.

It's imperfect, but Sabé's word is enough.

A long kiss goodbye, a soft touch to the tuft of honey-hued fuzz on Taryah's head, a final squeeze of her hand, a final kind word, he sends them on their way.

Neither looks back.