Disclaimer: This is a fanfic of the products of LucasArts. It is therefore non-profit and nothing belongs to me except the plot and how I've portrayed it. This applies to all chapters.

Filial Piety

Chapter One

Anakin had described the aridness of Tatooine in great detail, clarifying with no uncertain terms his sheer distaste for the planet. The last time Obi-Wan had been here, he had remained on the ship as he watched Qui-Gon, R2D2, Queen Amidala, and Jar Jar trek off into the desert landscape. Four had gone, five came back, with the latter a child that would make Obi-Wan's entire world like a blooming star, and shred it just as brilliantly. It was almost like a fairytale, too good to be true, that from the edges of the galaxy where nothing grew, Obi-Wan should find something, someone, that would mean more to him than anything he knew. The last parting gift from Qui-Gon.

He never viewed Tatooine as the ball of dust Anakin always thought it was, and now, in his dry, worn hut surrounded by the stretches of sand the boy had so despised, Obi-Wan still could not hate the place. It was lonely and barren and quiet, like death, and if his fate could be depicted by a landscape, this would be it. In a way it was almost therapeutic, coming to the world where Anakin had been innocent and young, untarnished by the Dark Side, or the stress and fears of war. He could almost believe he was starting over, that he had not made all the mistakes he had made, that this time, it will be different.

The twin suns were rising, though the chill of the desert lingered, and Obi-Wan watched the sands lighten with the sky. He had spent the night outside, staring into the darkness, because every time he tried to sleep, he saw fire under his eyelids and smelled the stench of sulfur and volcanic ash. Anakin's cry of loathing echoed in his mind, the declaration of hatred an almost animalistic shriek. The air was cold in his nostrils and he shuddered under his cloak, grasping for the Force that gave him no comfort. He hurt, deep in his core, the pain so profound that it only refilled itself when he tried to release it as a Jedi should. His head hurt, his heart, his throat, from restraining the sobs that seemed to push at his vocal cords, his eyes from holding back tears, his bones from a lifetime of failure.

One week, since he arrived. One week since giving Luke to the Lars family. One week since he established a small shelter for himself and stood, for the first time, in the poor, worn room, so different from the scant yet pristine furnishings at the Temple. How strangely time passes, one when is grieving. It seemed like an eternity since he first set foot on this planet, and yet time seemed to have stood still. Perhaps this was what was meant when life loses all meaning. He found himself envying Padmé, for being able to release her responsibilities and her burdens and depart for the afterlife. He even found himself envying the dead Jedi, who would never know the shambles the Order had been reduced to, and the cause…the cause…

The twin suns shimmered as they rose, dispelling the night's cold rapidly. With a weary sigh, Obi-Wan drew himself tight and stood. He went inside to the cool of his hut, still cold from the night, half thinking he should prepare some breakfast for himself, or go through some katas, even meditation, but morning rituals had lost all meaning for him. He had no appetite at all, and no will left to be a good Jedi. Surely he could afford to be lax about his discipline. What was there to defend, around here? Vader would never look for Luke in this place. He could sit quietly and only eat when he was in danger of true malnourishment, but as it was, Luke was in no immediate danger, and the child was too young to get into much trouble. Obi-Wan was not needed, for now.

A flicker of blue caught his eyes for a moment. Obi-Wan stared, feeling lost and confused, though he was unafraid. Ever since he came to this hut, the vision of Anakin kept showing up at odd moments. The young man looked as if he had never been burnt, his eyes as crystal blue as it was before he turned, dressed in the robes of the Jedi he had slaughtered. There was always an aura of light blue surrounding the youth, something that baffled Obi-Wan, but it was a reminder that the illusion was just that and nothing more. This Anakin never remained long, nor did he ever speak, but he watched Obi-Wan intently, as if studying him. Obi-Wan had not slept in more than a week, so it was easy to explain why he kept thinking he saw Anakin in his home.

Sooner or later, Obi-Wan thought, I am going to hear voices.

As if on cue, the vision spoke.

"You do need to eat, you know."

Of all the things he anticipated the hallucination to say, this rebuke, given in a voice so like Anakin's, caught him off guard. He sounded so real.

"You've lost weight," The illusion went on to say.

Obi-Wan turned away and sat down near the window. Perhaps if he ignored the hallucination, it will go away.

"I'm not a hallucination."

The Jedi Master merely pulled his cloak around him. He really should take it off, but having it on made him feel safer, somehow, as if it were shielding him from reality.

He heard a sigh, and then the vision sat down across from him. For a moment they stared at each other.

Fine, if this figment of his imagination will not go away, Obi-Wan might as well indulge it.

"I was going to be a farmer."

Anakin did not react. Then again, this was hardly news to Obi-Wan, so it would probably not be surprising to something his own mind conjured up.

"I was nearing my thirteenth birthday. Four weeks left, before they send me to Bandomeer. I was promising, at first, good at the lightsaber, but no one wanted me, until Qui-Gon came. Even then, he didn't want me—he said I was too angry, and it was better not to train me." He rubbed his face with his hands. "I didn't believe him. I was so determined to be a Jedi…but I guess everyone back then saw what I didn't see. They knew I wouldn't be a good Jedi and I would be better off at Agri-Corps. I guess they just didn't realize how exactly I would fail them."

Anakin folded his arms. "Awarding you a Council seat is a strange way of saying you're not a good Jedi, Master."

Obi-Wan blinked. He had not expected this response, and had no rebuttal for it.

"I told you," Anakin said with that familiar frustrated tone, "I'm not a hallucination. I can't help you if you're going to doubt everything I do, and by the Force, I know I deserve it, but can't you just make it easier like you always do?" He quirked his lips slightly in a slight smirk, eyes glinting in humor.

The sight sent a pang deep into his heart, and Obi-Wan abruptly stood, turning away from Anakin's glowing form. He was so tired and the new agony made him dizzy and sick.

"Well, patience was never one of my virtues," He heard Anakin grumble. "But Obi-Wan, I'm on a time limit here. The sooner you let me help you, the less time we'd have to waste going back and forth like this."

He reached to the Force for some guidance, but though it flooded him with the light as it always had, he gained no clarity, and Anakin remained standing in the same room.

Anakin is gone. Anakin is gone. He was killed by Vader and now he's gone.

"Master?" Anakin hovered near, but a telling hint that he was not real showed in the way he deftly avoided touching Obi-Wan, when the real Anakin would have laid a hand on his arm at this point. "You should go lie down."

All things aside, this was not a bad suggestion, and Obi-Wan went without thanking the vision. True, he should be up now; it was morning after all, but there was nothing else for him to do, and he felt truly ill. Anakin's glowiing form did not go away, but he did not speak, and Obi-Wan did not acknowledge him further.

ooo

Anakin stopped talking to him for a while, though he kept appearing, while Obi-Wan finally mustered the energy to cook what meager rations he had, when Obi-Wan tried in vain to meditate, and when Obi-Wan sat outside watching the desert creatures dance across the sands in the shadows of the night when he could not sleep. After a week, the blue-ish, almost holographic image spoke again, and Obi-Wan could not summon the will to continue ignoring him.

"You should visit my son," Said the ghost of the Jedi Knight long gone, "Just because my stepbrother said no, doesn't mean you have to listen to him."

It was just like Anakin, really.

"You always did what you wanted," Obi-Wan sighed, "I indulged you too much. Maybe that was where I went wrong."

"What are you talking about?"

"Not all of us are willing to ignore other people's wishes for our own," He found himself snapping, and raised a hand to cover his face. "I guess I didn't teach you that well enough. I suppose as long as you were happy, I didn't really care. Didn't think you would turn into a mass murderer." What was he even doing? "Why am I talking to you?"

"Because you had something to say?" Anakin folded his hands in front of him. He looked incredulous. "You blame yourself for all of this?"

That question did not warrant a response. His hallucination ought to know perfectly well, since Obi-Wan had created it himself.

"I tried. Too hard." Obi-Wan sighed. "Went about it all wrong. It was either that, or not enough…tried too hard to be selected as a padawan," He was cleaning the table of sand, wiping the grains off to the floor. Perhaps there was no harm in murmuring this information out loud. There was no one to hear it but himself, and perhaps if he said this out loud, the dead weight in his heart will lift, even a little, and he could concentrate on young Luke Skywalker. "Tried too hard, was deemed 'too angry'." Flashes of memory assaulted him, his sheer desperation at the match, Bruck Chun's shocked face when Obi-Wan's lightsaber lined against his neck. Won the battle, lost the war, so they say. Qui-Gon had looked at him with dark eyes, and Obi-Wan watched as he walked away, hope turning to ash in his mouth. "Tried too hard to do the right thing," Qui-Gon's furious expression when Obi-Wan declared his intentions to stay with the Young, Cerasi's still, battered body, and the eternal knowledge that Obi-Wan had failed her, "And then, there's not trying hard enough; he was willing to throw me away for you, did you know that?" Ready for the trials…not hours before, Qui-Gon had said he still had much to learn and all of the sudden he was ready for the trials, conveniently timed so that the young desert boy could take his place. "Didn't try hard enough to cross the Force barriers in time…" Winning a meaningless battle against the Sith, too little, too late, as Qui-Gon lay dying in his arms.

"Small wonder I failed you too," He finished, not looking at the vision.

Live in the moment, Qui-Gon always told him. It was difficult to, however, when the past kept pressing, and the present was so bleak and empty. No missions, no war, for the war was already lost, and miles upon miles of endless desert and the harsh sky above.

"Master," Anakin's voice startled him out of another one of his reveries, and Obi-Wan, in a moment of weakness, looked up at his old padawan's eyes. They looked very real, glistening and blue, and had the blue light not shone around him like an aura, the Jedi Master would have believed his student was really there in the flesh.

"Master, I want you to indulge me for now. Will you do that?"

He sounded so determined, like whenever he was trying to convince Obi-Wan to allow him to perform some reckless enterprise.

Indulge a hallucination. Though seriously, what else was Obi-Wan to do?

"I want you to go to Mos Eisley," Anakin pressed, "Tomorrow afternoon. Will you do that?"

"Sure." Why not? He could go refamiliarize himself with the site. He had a feeling it would be important to know the area.

"I want you to buy enough supplies to last you for two weeks, without stepping a foot outside your house. Can you do that?"

Obi-Wan froze. What an odd thing to say from a hallucination. His eyelids ached and felt heavy and he rubbed them, tired.

"Why?" He murmured, wondering if he was going insane. He felt like his mind was in a fog. His entire body hurt.

"Well, the immediate reason is because there's a sandstorm coming up that will absolutely bury your cute little hut. The long term reason is because I actually want you to believe what I say in the future, instead of constantly brushing me off as a figment of your imagination. You're usually a lot quicker on the uptake than this, Master, but I'll let you go on this one because, all things considered," Anakin then laughed a little, though it sounded very morose, "I'm not sure I'd be willing to believe it either, put myself out like that. But I'm here for you, even if I'm not."

None of this was making any sense, but as Obi-Wan turned away to collect himself, Anakin took that opportunity to disappear. When the master glanced back, his padawan was gone, and it was just him in the house and miles and miles of empty desert.

ooo

Mos Eisley was like the lower levels of Coruscant, its visitors a slimy, villainous bunch eager to pickpocket and trick their way into wealth. Obi-Wan brushed off the numerous attempts without much motivation. He was hardly aware of their attacks, though he focused on the layout of the town. There was a cantina, which could be useful for overhearing news from smugglers and travelers. Perhaps sometime in the future, he will go there for a drink and listen to how the rebellion was faring. He noted the people, minding their own business and yet wary of the world around them. Come noon, people will withdraw to the shelter of the shade, but for now the suns were shining brightly, and the air was hot and dry. Clicks and garbles echoed as folks bartered for vital yet scarce resources, and the Force thrummed with the activity. For all the hostile barren wastes this planet was made of, the deserts were hardly lifeless.

He bought two weeks of supplies, not because he actually believed the hallucination foretold the coming storm, but because he did not feel like coming here too often. Unlike before, there was no Temple to return to after a hard day of dealing with scum and criminals. There was only the solitude of his exile.

As the local vendor took stock of his purchase, Obi-Wan allowed himself to reminisce on all the Jedi who were lost. Bant, Mace, Ki-Adi-Mundi, the young crechlings, one moment there, the next moment, cut down like vermin. He snapped out of his reverie when the vendor called for him to pay, which he did with awkward movements. His limbs ached and his fingers refused to move. How his head pounded.

"Are you alright, sir?" Asked the vendor.

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan turned away.

ooo

The sandstorm picked up that night.

Obi-Wan listened to it roar outside, an unusual feeling in his chest. He was strong in the Unifying Force, but his premonitions were always visions and feelings. Never did he receive such a direct forecast as that. The lights flickered in his hut as sand scratched outside the walls.

Still, sandstorms were common on Tatooine. They usually last a few hours, at most a day. There were no trees, after all, to block the wind's passage or hold the ground together.

"You'll be nice and cozy here for about two weeks," Anakin's voice cut through the silence. "Why did you bring my son to the Lars family?"

Obi-Wan's head hurt. He ignored the phantom and picked up a broom to sweep the floor, for lack of anything better to do. A Jedi Master, reduced to housework. Qui-Gon would think this was funny, if he could get over the sheer horror of the Great Jedi Purge.

Anakin was relentless. "You could raise him yourself, you know. I would have wanted that. Sith, I do. Whatever part of me is left."

Obi-Wan went on sweeping.

"Luke would make good company. You need company when sandstorms last two weeks. I remember sandstorms with my mother. Getting stuck inside sucked; couldn't go out and play, but it also felt really good if Mom was there, knowing that it's all wretched outside but we were nice and safe inside, the two of us, and there was no work to do because there's no way anyone could send slaves out to work. I get to work on Threepio and Mom would be in the next room, sewing. Honestly, it would be better than waiting until Luke is pretty much twenty years old, at the last minute when Vader sends Imperials barging into the Lars home like last time. Even if it turned out alright, that was close."

Obi-Wan honestly had no idea what Anakin was talking about, but he did not care. Anakin went on talking, and it was funny how even as a hallucination, he still had no consideration for his old master's preferences. Always doing what he wanted, and though Obi-Wan knew this was hardly commendable, part of him that he loathed still did not mind this at all. If Anakin was happy, so was he, and that was how it always had been, Jedi attachment or not. He stopped sweeping to rest his forehead against the tip of the broom in order to recollect himself. There was a painful swelling in his chest, separate from his thoughts, that seemed to push outwards and upwards, to his throat and nose and eyes.

"And then you didn't even finish training him," Anakin went on, "You left that job to Yoda, who by the way, was far closer to the end of his days than you were. Even if your hair was as white as his. If anything I would have liked to cut Yoda in half instead…or try. I think he's a bit too short to be cut further in half, but I never liked Yoda, respect or not."

No, Anakin never liked Yoda. He never liked anyone in the Jedi Order, really. Obi-Wan had hoped that Anakin would like his master, at least, but in the end he had grouped Obi-Wan along with everyone else. He dropped the broom, leaving it there, and finally turned to face his hallucination again.

"I really don't need this right now," He found himself laughing bitterly at how ridiculous he was being, but it was either that or burst into tears, and he was not going to burst into tears, even if there was no one around to see. No weeping. It was the principle of the thing. "My world has ended, my life has ended, I'm staying in order to ensure that Luke and Leia fulfill what they must fulfill to save the galaxy, but I really don't need commentary while I'm trying really hard not to escape." Then it clicked. "The Force is punishing me. It all makes sense. You're my punishment."

"What?" Anakin looked truly horrified. "This is not fair. I am trying to help. Look, if you have Luke here, it would be annoying, perhaps—I mean, he's my son, and all kids are annoying, but Master, you don't have to become a hermit. Not like this. Look, I'm asking you to raise Luke, not just watch over him. He can help you as much as you help him. Helped me."

What kind of insanity was his mind spouting out now?

"I failed you," Obi-Wan said flatly, wondering how many times the Force or his brain would force him to utter these words out loud. "I failed you and I'd fail him."

"You didn't fail me," Anakin sulked, folding his arms, "If anything, I failed you. And judging from your life, it's like the Force planted you here specifically so that other people could fail you—or maybe the Force itself failed you. But you have to understand…what happened, it was all in the design. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it, and if anything, you made the best possible outcome…possible."

This was sounding like a lot of nonsense, and his head hurt so much he was feeling nauseous again. Or maybe he was so nauseous his head was hurting…he could no longer make sense of anything.

"Master, you should sit down."

"Don't call me that," Obi-Wan beseeched, his voice cracking as a lone sob broke through his defenses. Anakin's cry of hate still echoed in his mind, and it was a perverse reminder of a time when Obi-Wan thought Anakin cared for him. "I am not your master, and have not been for some time now."

"You will always be my master," Anakin returned, "Whatever Vader has to say. Sit down, Master. I can't help you," He lifted his hands, "Being incorporeal kind of hinders things like that."

Obi-Wan did sit down, and Anakin appeared to take a seat across from him. It was foolish to entertain the vision as much as he did, but perhaps solitude does have its necessities, and Obi-Wan felt so alone, so alone…

"Did any of it mean anything?" He asked the vision.

"Any of what?"

He blinked a little at this. He had asked the question in a meaningful tone. Why would the hallucination act like he did not know what Obi-Wan referred to?

"Our time together. You once said I was the closest thing you had to a father." It felt odd to echo the words Anakin once said. Obi-Wan had not acknowledged them as well as he should have at the time. Perhaps that was what turned Anakin against him? Did Obi-Wan's lack of reaction translate into a rejection? "Did you mean it?"

Anakin was thoughtfully quiet, something that alarmed Obi-Wan, because he was expecting the figment of his imagination to simply answer, "No, of course not," And this Anakin was behaving oddly. Like…an independent being whose reactions were unpredictable to Obi-Wan.

"I was twenty-two years old, Master," Anakin finally said. "And I thought you would threaten my life with Padmé. I've been doing a lot of observing, and you know what I've found? That all sons forget their parents when they're in love and feel their parents are threatening their partners. They all do and say hurtful things, but I guess as Jedi, with the Force, our fallouts tend to be more dramatic." He shifted a little, though his eyes remained on Obi-Wan. "That didn't mean I ever stopped thinking of you as a father, even when I was hating your guts. Though for a long time I hated what you did to me at Mustafar, but part of me loved you, all the same. If I really thought so little of you, I would not be scouting the galaxy for your whereabouts like this, in order to kill you personally."

Obi-Wan released a weeping laugh, turning his head away. The sandstorm continued to blow outside, the grains scratching against the hut.

"Master," Anakin insisted, "I wanted to kill you in a duel. That is…was…the most merciful thing I could have done. It would make you die nobly, and quick. Even as Vader, I had considered that."

Obi-Wan rested his head against his hand, shutting his eyes. "Why are you talking in past tense?" He asked. It was a strange quirk about this hallucination he could not put his finger on.

"I'm from the future."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked at Anakin. "What?"

The phantom looked sheepish. "Well, I'm a ghost from the future…because I died…right. I guess there really is no better way than the direct way, not if I don't want to take years helping you lead up to it. But I am a Force ghost, just like Qui-Gon Jinn, who was the one who taught us how to be Force ghosts, by the way."

"Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan blinked blearily, his voice rasping.

"You know the Shaman of Whills? Qui-Gon learned how to retain his conscience in the Force. He taught that to Yoda, or is teaching that to Yoda right now, and originally Yoda would show you how to communicate with him; you normally would need to learn how, meditation tricks and all that, but I'm the Chosen One and all…I broke the rules, you know me, in order to see my dear old master first."

"I have no idea what you're saying."

"Will you listen to me if I tell you the whole story?"

A great lump of sand smashed into the side of the hut outside. "I have nothing else to do."

"That's true." Anakin folded his hands. Then he uttered a Huttese curse, startling Obi-Wan.

"Sorry," Said the phantom, "I have to go. But I'll be back. You stay right here and know that I'll be back, alright Master?"

When Obi-Wan blinked, Anakin was gone.

Stay right here. The sandstorm still whirled outside. Honestly, where in the name of the Force would Obi-Wan go?