No matter his decades of experience at shedding his feelings, Obi-wan was anxious. He hid it well. He knew he did. The assurance of yet more decades of experience told him that.

But he was anxious to see Him face-to-face again.

He strode calmly yet quietly down the empty auxiliary hall of the Death Star, making his way back up toward the hangar where the Millennium Falcon waited, trapped.

After all these years, the thought of meeting his former apprentice again was enough to unsettle his carefully cultivated control. It wasn't enough to sway him from his course, but it was enough to shake his calm. Thankfully, it didn't affect his alertness, nor did it distract him. He couldn't let it. He had a practiced ease at dealing with distracting thoughts.

But facing Vader?

It was going to be hard. It was an eventuality he had been preparing himself to face for years. It was his destiny to face Darth Vader again. He'd known that the instant he'd learned of Vader's survival.

He also knew it was the last thing he would do.

That was another eventuality he had similarly known of for a very long time. He'd known the day he left Neva at Padmé's apartment that he would die at Vader's hand. It had been a firm, inarguable feeling. No one had been more surprised than Obi-wan when he'd been the one to emerge from the fiery waste of Mustafar the victor. It had shaken him to think that the Force had been wrong. He'd known that his death would come at Vader's hand. Yet he'd survived.

But then he'd heard that Vader had survived as well.

It was then that he'd known the Force hadn't misled him; he'd just misunderstood.

Now he was about to face his former apprentice again, and this time he knew undoubtedly that it would be the last time. He'd known the time was approaching the instant he'd felt Vader's dark presence aboard the battlestation. He knew this impending confrontation would be the last thing he did in this life. Part of him deflated at the thought, but another part knew only relief. Obi-wan was tired. But he also regretted that he hadn't had more time with Luke, more time to train and prepare the boy as he should.

Obi-wan paused, waiting for the patrolling Stormtroopers to pass the hall where he stood shrouded in shadow, nearly invisible as he pulled on the Force to brush absent gazes aside. Once they had marched past him, he was on the move again. He was nearly back to the ship. Even though the Force told him he'd never set foot on the old freighter again, his pulse beat a little faster in the instinctive recognition that safety was close at hand. His mind knew better.

He unhooked his lightsaber from his belt, the old weapon familiar against his palm. As he turned another corner, he flicked his hood over his head. It was then that he frowned; something was happening. It took him a moment to realize from the alarms and comm announcements the battlestation had been put on alert. As another handful of Stormtroopers rushed past the nook Obi-wan had ducked into, the old Jedi realized why. The Imperials knew there were intruders in their battlestation. He nearly sighed with exasperation...like father, like son, apparently. He should have anticipated that Luke and the smuggler wouldn't stay in the control room. The troopers passed by and disappeared down another hallway and Obi-wan was on the move again.

Luke would be all right, though. Of that, Obi-wan was confident. The boy was so strong in the Force that there was little doubt his destiny would find him. And Obi-wan was tentatively certain he would still be able to help his apprentice's son from the next plane of the Force.

At the very least, Obi-wan had been long prepared for the possibility that he would die before completing Luke's training. So long as Luke ultimately made it back to Obi-wan's hovel, which the Force assured Obi-wan of, he would find everything he needed to continue training, including the way to Yoda. Obi-wan knew Master Yoda was still out there, hidden away on Dagobah. He would have known if Yoda had become one with the Force. No, he was still alive. The Force would guide Luke to the old Master even if Obi-wan were unable to do it himself.

But even the knowledge that Luke would eventually become the Jedi he was born to be didn't entirely settle Obi-wan's sense of regret.

No. Some regrets would never be satisfied.

It hurt to think that his destiny of falling before Vader meant that Obi-wan wasn't destined to find justice for the things that Vader had done, or for the deep wounds Vader had left on him. Wounds that still hurt, that called out, soft and tantalizing in the most secret corner of his mind, for vengeance.

It was taking more effort than it should to keep from dwelling on thoughts of vengeance, of justice. That was not what this was about. This was about balance, destiny. It was what had to happen. But part of him wanted it to be about justice.

Justice for Neva; his love, his heart. She deserved justice. Obi-wan had nearly succumbed to the temptation of the Dark Side after Mustafar. He hated to admit just how close he'd been; how tortured by grief and pain, remorse and anger; how tempted by the idea of revenge, of vengeance. She'd kept him from that, helped him to heal. He hadn't been quite so tempted after losing her simply because the thought of her grief and disappointment were he to turn held him back. The memory of her gentle, understanding smile and calm reason had soothed the ache in his soul, no matter how much pain those same memories caused; the balm outweighed the sting. There were times he could almost, almost, feel she was near. He didn't know if it was a sensation he had imagined or not, but was enough. It felt real enough to him.

He wanted justice for Athara; his daughter, the child he had never dreamed he could have. The one he'd never even been able to hold. Distantly he'd known that Vader was capable of killing children. He'd wept upon realizing who precisely had killed the younglings in the Temple. Force, look at what Vader had done to Padmé and his own children.

But that Vader would kill his child, his miracle? It had made his blood run cold and painfully thick in his veins and his heart stutter in his chest as though it was jerking through its own death throes. He could barely even stand to think his daughter's name, for when he did, images of her as he imagined she would have been would flicker before his mind's eye, torturing him with memories that had never had a chance to be made.

They were distant aches now, but that didn't dim their power over him, only the intensity of their sting. Ah, there it was; he could see the ship now. One final corridor and a blast-door bulkhead was all that stood between him and the ship with the misleading appearance.

The Force began to hum around him.

As he stepped into that last corridor, he found himself face-to-face with a towering figure standing purposefully between Obi-wan and the Falcon. In his black-gloved hand, a ruby-bladed lightsabre glowed, already lit and waiting for him just as its master was. Obi-wan managed to restrain his sigh of resignation. So it was time. His mind whirred; he just needed to delay now, to give Luke and his companions a chance to escape.

As the mechanized, rasping breathing echoed in the hallway, Vader began striding forward. His eyes, though hidden behind their imposing mask, were undoubtedly fixed on Obi-wan. Obi-wan couldn't help the absent thought that wondered what his apprentice's face looked like now. He'd barely been able to look at the burns when they'd been new. Would he have the strength to look on his pupil's face now, knowing all that he knew?

Unbidden, Neva's face, her hazel eyes wide with alarm, flashed before Obi-wan's eyes, and before he could restrain himself, his own lightsaber was lit, a blue-white glow mingling with red on the gleaming durasteel walls. Shifting, his body instinctively adopted a loose form of its combat-ready stance, one foot just before the other, balanced and ready should Vader decide to strike. It was so familiar a motion he barely even noticed himself making it.

"I've been waiting for you, Obi-wan. We meet again, at last." Vader stopped in front of Obi-wan, raising his lightsaber in a mirror pose. Obi-wan would never have recognized his former apprentice's voice. A shard of regret ran through him. Yes, it had been Anakin's choice to give into the Dark Side, as Neva had so often reminded him in those dark days following Mustafar, but Obi-wan still could not help the feelings of guilt. He knew he'd failed in his mission to teach and guide Anakin as he should have. If he hadn't, Anakin would have been able to resist the Dark Side.

Vader sounded so confident, but there was a great deal of turmoil in him; rage, frustration, impatience. But then—there; Obi-wan sensed it—woven through the anger was also guilt and regret. It puzzled Obi-wan. In a flash, it was gone, lost to the all-encompassing hate that consumed the former Jedi. There was certainly no trace of any guilt in Vader's voice. "The circle is now complete. When I left you, I was but the learner; now I am the master." Obi-wan inhaled deeply.

"Only a master of evil, Darth," he said and he swung his lightsaber. It was a cursory move, one easily deflected by Vader, but then, Vader's answering blow was just as minimally meant. Obi-wan may not have been as young as he once was, his body slowing with age and hardship, but he could sense that this fight was not going to push him anywhere near his physical limits. It wasn't a battle of lightsabers, no matter that the weapons were lit and crashing between them. Obi-wan could practically feel Vader's will pressing against his own as their lightsabers met over and over again, looking to overwhelm him with the sheer strength of the Dark Side at his command. Obi-wan couldn't help but recoil, the potency of the Dark Side revolting to the Light in him. He could feel Vader's pleasure at his reaction, and the Dark Lord pressed forward. Obi-wan was easily able to hold him at bay, dancing out of reach of the red blade, ducking past the Dark Lord, but Vader gloated nonetheless.

"Your powers are weak, old man." Obi-wan was nearly tempted to smile at Vader's attempt to goad him. There was so much his former apprentice was blind to.

"You can't win, Darth. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine." He could feel Vader's temper flare, unsettled by Obi-wan's calm and assured confidence. His lightsaber flashed out, connecting with Vader's and darting away, keeping the Dark Lord on his guard, trading a few more light blows before stepping just out of reach, his considering regard locked on his former apprentice. The steadiness of his gaze troubled Vader. Obi-wan could practically feel him sneering beneath the mask.

"You should not have come back," the Dark Lord said, his hidden gaze just as calculating. He stepped forward, his red blade lunging out. Obi-wan was able to counter it easily. His earlier feeling about the ultimate intensity of their encounter was proving to be right so far. One moment he was on the defensive, and a heartbeat later he was the attacker and Vader was defending. He nearly smiled again; Vader couldn't seem to figure out Obi-wan's purpose here. He was testing his former Master and Obi-wan was mystifying him.

Out in the hangar, Obi-wan caught a glimpse of the Stormtroopers guarding the ship beginning to make their way toward their dueling commander, intrigued by the clashing lightsabers. His eye still cautiously fixed on Vader and his lightsaber parrying and thrusting nearly of its own accord, Obi-wan allowed himself to reach out through the Force, worried for Luke. Yes, there was Luke, Han, Chewbacca...they were waiting just outside the hangar, likely trying to figure out how to reach the Falcon. Well, the Stormtroopers were distracted now. They should have little trouble—and then Obi-wan's senses brushed against a fourth member of the little party...a girl. Obi-wan nearly smiled again. So that's what they'd been doing. They'd found her.

The instant Leia's image had materialized as the messenger in Artoo's recording, Obi-wan had felt the Force humming with a sense of destiny. He'd recognized her almost instantly, and not just because of the way the Force whispered who she was to him; She looked a great deal like Padmé, even sounded like her. Now that he felt her standing next to Luke, Obi-wan couldn't help but marvel at the will of the Force. Of all the people in the Galaxy to meet by apparent chance...

They were moving, the little group making their dash for the ship. Obi-wan had to concentrate on not hazarding a look toward the Skywalker twins and their companions. He couldn't risk Vader taking notice of them now. He had to bury his joy that Padmé's children were together again lest Vader pick up on it.

It was nearly time.

And then he felt Luke pause, his attention caught by the clashing lightsabers just as the Stormtroopers' had been. It was then that Obi-wan did chance a look, his blade locked against Vader's. He could feel his former apprentice's bewilderment at Obi-wan's suddenly divided attention. Obi-wan met Luke's wide-eyed gaze, suddenly worried for the boy's reaction. He knew what had to be done, but he also knew that it was going to hurt Luke, and the boy had already lost so much in his short life. And he didn't know the extent of it yet. But the Force curled and wove around him, reassuring him that this was the right course. The boy would be all right; he was strong, stronger than he knew just yet. Obi-wan inhaled deeply, before turning his gaze back to Vader.

It was time.

He couldn't help the faint, knowing smile that curled his lips as he looked up at his former apprentice. He could feel Vader's bewilderment thickening, especially when Obi-wan pulled up his lightsaber, deliberately thumbing the activation switch.

The blue blade winked out, falling silent.

He knew Vader would do it. He wouldn't be able to resist. So even as Obi-wan raised his lightsaber to disengage the blue blade, he handed himself over to the Force.

It happened as though each breath lasted a lifetime. Obi-wan inhaled deeply one last time, for a brief moment wishing he were inhaling the fragrant scents of their garden instead of the dead, metallic staleness of the Death Star's recycled air. As Vader's ruby blade cut its impossibly slow arc toward him, Obi-wan could already feel the Force surrounding him as he called, surging forth to wrap him in its immensity. He could feel it saturating his flesh, his cells. Around him, he could swear he could feel his physical form beginning to dissolve. His smile deepened; the blade would never reach him.

He looked up to Vader, but a jolt of movement over his former apprentice's shoulder caught his attention even as his own body began fading into the Force.

That's when he saw her.

Even though he'd never seen her before, he knew her. He'd know her anywhere. The Force hummed with contentment even as it enfolded him, knowing that Obi-wan had realized who she was.

She had her mother's features and his eyes.

Athara.

She was alive.

It was force of will alone that brought a measure of consciousness back to Obi-wan. As the blade had reached to spot where his body had been an instant before, his form had ceased to be, becoming one with the Force just as Qui-gon had assured him it would upon his death. Obi-wan's master had cautioned him though, warning him that it would take time to find himself again once he was a part of the Force.

But seeing those blue-grey eyes—so like his—staring out from a face so like his beloved Neva's, while simultaneously hearing her and Luke together crying out in pain as Vader's blade swung toward him, had given him the strength of purpose to regain himself within moments of the Force absorbing his spirit into its greater whole.

Luke needed to run. The instant he had cried out, the Stormtroopers had realized the intruders they'd been guarding the ship against were on the verge of getting away and a desperate exchange of blasterfire had ensued. Within moments the blastdoor had been engaged with a well-aimed blasterbolt, trapping Vader behind it, but Luke was on the verge of losing himself to the desire to somehow avenge what had just happened to Obi-wan. He could not let that happen. Luke needed to get on that ship. No matter that his strength was diminished in his new existence, Obi-wan drew what he could to brush up against Luke's mind, urging him to run, suddenly fearful it wouldn't be enough, that Luke wouldn't hear him.

But he did, and he ran. Within moments the ship was lifting off, and Luke was well away from Vader.

It was then that Obi-wan could turn his whole attention to where it wanted to be.

His daughter.

She was alive.

There were no words to describe the emotions welling within him in that moment or their power. It completely overwhelmed his concern for Luke or the strangeness of existing as pure, conscious energy without the constraints of a body. In an instant he was at her side where she had fallen to her knees beside his now empty robes. As she did, Vader had turned and was now watching her carefully, waiting in silence as she struggled to process what had happened. Obi-wan knew that look. It was a look he remembered giving his own apprentice, one he remembered receiving from Qui-gon. And as if that look hadn't been enough to reveal what his daughter was to Vader, the Darkness he felt swirling around and through her did.

Yet even the horror of realizing what his daughter's presence at Vader's side meant was overwhelmed by his shock and his growing elation. He reached out, brushing against her consciousness, wishing desperately that he could actually touch her, to prove to himself that she was truly there beside him and not an apparition envisaged and conjured from his most secret and precious dreams. Relief and joy were too small of words.

She was alive.

In this moment, little else truly mattered.

The shock and bewilderment on her face was almost painful to behold, but Obi-wan could barely register it, caught up in memorizing every detail of her face—Force, she looked like her mother; he wondered if she had Neva's smile—how she moved...the sound of her voice.

"Who was he?" She had picked up his lightsaber, the old weapon clutched tightly in her slim hands as she stood, her eyes turning to stare up at Vader. There was no fear or trepidation in that look, only distress at the way her own emotions were suddenly in turmoil. And Vader looked down at her, his own feelings locked away from her. But somehow Obi-wan knew anyway; he was in pain. Vader wanted to tell her, but couldn't bring himself to do it, desperately afraid that the truth would drive her from him. It was bewildering to realize, but it soothed a sudden ragged wound that had opened in his heart.

Vader cared for her.

It was a realization that shocked him more than he could have imagined. Vader cared for her, no, he loved her. He loved her as though she were his own child and he was fiercely determined to protect her because of it. Still completely bewildered and afraid in that confusion, Athara stared at Vader, her expression pleading for explanation before her jaw clenched at the realization her Master wasn't about to give her the explanation she craved. She spun on her heel, stalking away, Obi-wan's lightsaber still clenched in her fist, her Force-signature distressed and hurt. A spike of pain went through Vader as she did, shocking Obi-wan further. The instant she was out of sight, Vader's shoulders slumped, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a weight. For a moment Obi-wan grieved for his pupil. But then his attention was drawn back to Athara and before he could decide to follow her he was, trailing her as she wound expertly through the maze of corridors. Her confusion and pain hurt him, and he longed to reach out, to soothe her as he had always imagined he would back when he had dreamed of the life he and Neva would have with their child.

It was then that he felt another presence reaching out to him. As Athara settled unseeing and unthinking to sit on her bed, lost to her thoughts, Obi-wan felt the presence of his Master joining him in his vigil over his daughter.

Why did you not tell me he spared her, Obi-wan said to Qui-gon without words. He could feel a sensation that reminded him of a heavy sigh.

I think you already know why, Qui-gon answered, his tone full of sympathy and regret. And Obi-wan did. He knew he would have been unable to rest until he had his daughter back, and everything would have been lost when he failed. He just wanted to hear Qui-gon say it. She was safer with him, without knowing, just as Luke was safer with you. Had he been capable Obi-wan might have sighed...or he might have wept. Looking down on his daughter, feeling her heartbreak over a death she had no idea the personal significance of, magnified his feelings of guilt.

I should have gone with to Naboo, he said, his remorse evident. Qui-gon's presence brushed up against his, the equivalent of a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Perhaps, he said placatingly, but there is no knowing now how events might have changed and there is no changing them now, so there is nothing to be gained in dwelling. What is important is that she is safe as she can be, Luke is safe and Leia is safe. That is what matters.

I wish—he had no way to put what he wished into words, able to only convey feelings; that he wished to know her, to be known to her. But Qui-gon understood anyway. The sense of sympathy and remorse from the older Jedi deepened.

I know, he said sadly, but she is not ready. And Obi-wan knew the truth of his mentor's words, and grief washed through him. He had to stay away from her. He needed to protect her. He could feel the Force calling him to watch over Luke. Qui-gon's presence brushed reassuringly against his again.

I will watch over her, just as I have since the day she was born, just as you asked me to, he said sincerely. Obi-wan felt something in him ease, though it didn't disappear. Someday, a quiet, hopeful part of him whispered as he reluctantly pulled himself away.

Someday she would know him.

After all, that hopeful, overjoyed part of him whispered, she was alive.

That was all that mattered.

She was alive.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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