Takes place in an AU in which Padme doesn't die, Anakin doesn't turn to the dark side, and they raise their twins happily together with the occasional help of "Uncle" Obi-Wan. Obi Wan Kenobi shifted on the plush settee as Padme gently lifted his right foot, propping it up on two plump cushions. "Is that better, Obi Wan?" She stood up and brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. "I'm so sorry!" He shook his head. "This must be the...what?" Obi Wan began counting on his fingers. "...7th time you've apologized? It wasn't your fault. I should have been looking where I was going, especially on the stairs." Smiling gently, he relaxed against the arm of the settee. "Yeah, Padme. It's all him." Anakin plopped down on the loveseat across from his master, grinning. "Good old Clumsy Wan." Obi Wan sat up, frowning. "I really wish you wouldn't do that." He turned to Padme, sighing. "For some reason, your husband seems to derive undue pleasure from mangling my name." Padme's eyes twinkled. She glanced back and forth between her husband and his master. "My, my. How do you two manage to ride in the same ship for hours on end without throttling him?" "Jedi discipline." Obi Wan's ankle twitched, causing a twinge of pain. "Some days, that's all I have," he muttered, leaning forward to rub his swollen ankle. "A bit of ice would be most appreciated, if you have any." "I'll get it." In a flash, Padme was headed to the kitchen. "You just take it easy," she called over her shoulder. Obi Wan watched until she exited the room, then leaned back against the settee again, eyes closed. "Ahhh." "You sure it's not broken?" Anakin whispered, gesturing towards the injured limb. "Yes, quite sure." "I think we have some-" "I don't need any medication." "Because you really ought to have someone-" Obi Wan opened one eye. "I'm not planning on suing you, Anakin." He wiggled the toes on his right foot. "See? Just a sprain." "Good to know, but that's not why I asked." "Ah. Yes." He studied his padawan's concerned face. "You're wondering how long I'll be out of commission, aren't you?" "The thought had crossed my mind." Anakin shrugged. "I don't know what would be worse; being grounded, or having to put up with your temporary replacement." "You? What about what they'd have to put up with?" Seeing Anakin's frown, Obi Wan laughed. "I've - we've - battled enemy hordes while suffering from worse injuries than this - and won. Remember that time on Freseupe?" Anakin gave a knowing grin. "When you stepped on that land mine..." "And then off, remember? The looks on their faces..." Obi Wan's tsk morphed into a yawn. "This is nothing compared to that. A few days of studying in the archives, and I'll be right as rain and raring to go. Never fear." As he dangled his hand over the edge of the settee, his fingers idly brushed a piece of paper. "Hmm. I was wondering what happened to this." He picked it up and passed it to Anakin. "One of Leia's crayon drawings. She gave it to me just after you went downstairs. I was in the process of trying to figure out what it was when I took my little tumble." Anakin examined the page closely, smiling. "She's quite the budding artist, isn't she." He held up the drawing, moving it forward and back. "Looks like a...man." He passed it back to Obi Wan. "I think it's you, Master." "Me?" Obi Wan turned the paper around in his hands, zeroing in on the figure in the center of the drawing. "Are you sure?" "Can't you see the resemblance?" Anakin stroked his chin. "Pshaw! Just because he has a beard..." "And is a Jedi." Anakin pointed to a long blue stick-like object the man was holding. "How many bearded Human male Jedis does Leia know personally?" "I suppose." Obi Wan looked back at the drawing. The robed man was floating above a sloped surface, one hand clutching the lightsaber, the other raised in the air. His mouth was open in an o. "Wait a second. if that's me...those look like stairs." He dropped the page. "Anakin, she drew me falling down the stairs. Do you realize what this means?" "That she thinks you're a Clumsy Wan, too?" "No." Obi Wan shook his head. "Except for the lightsaber, that's exactly what just happened to me." He paused. "In the Jedi annals, there are records of some individuals gifted with the ability to prophesy." Anakin studied the drawing. "So...you think Leia may be a prophetess." He laughed. "Just because she drew a picture of some Jedi falling down the stairs." "Some Jedi? Only a moment ago, you were certain it was a portrait of me!" "Yeah, well... now that I really look at it close up..." Anakin squinted his eyes. "...it could be anybody with a beard. Or even a dirty chin," he added. Obi Wan's brow furrowed. "Well, you certainly changed your tune." "Look, kids imagine all kinds of crazy stuff." Anakin set the portrait on his lap and clasped his hands behind his head. "When I was a kid, I once drew a picture of a winged sandman driving a pod racer into the jaws of a roaring dragon." Obi Wan snorted. "And did that actually happen shortly thereafter?" "No." "Exactly." He turned onto his side until he was facing Anakin. "If there's even a chance that the Force is using through your daughter's artistic skills to warn us of danger ahead, don't you think it's worth our scrutiny?" Anakin sighed. "I guess." Childish laughter sounded in the hallway. He straightened up on the loveseat and glanced over his shoulder. "You may get to scrutinize a lot sooner than you think. Here they come." The twins ran eagerly into the sitting room ahead of Padme, who lagged behind, watching her offspring with a mixture of pride and amusement. Luke carried a mug filled to the brim with lemonade, his lips pressed tight in concentration. Some of the drink sloshed over the sides and onto his chubby hands as he approached the others. Leia clutched a small lined cloth pouch filled with ice cubes in one hand, papers tucked under her other arm. She smiled at her daddy and uncle, revealing a missing tooth. "Hello there," Obi Wan greeted them. "I got the ice." In a flash, Leia scooted over to the other end of the settee and set the ice pouch down on his ankle. "Okay?" she asked Obi Wan, patting his hand gently. "Better now. You're a fine nurse, Leia." Obi Wan took her hand and squeezed it. He wiggled his toes again. "Ooh, that's cold." He shivered, making her giggle. Padme smiled at her daughter's reaction, even as she reached a hand out towards Luke. "Put the cup down on the table, Luke. Carefully." Luke lowered the mug to the serving table, then took a twisted drinking straw from his pocket and dropped it into the beverage with a plop. "Lemowade," he explained. "My favorite." Obi Wan lifted the mug from the table and sipped from the straw. "Ah. Delicious." He blew into the straw, causing the liquid to bubble up. "Mama says we're not s'posed to do that," Luke warned him. "It's wude." "Bad table manners," Leia agreed, shaking her head from side to side. "And she's right," Obi Wan said. "My apologies, Mama." He looked away from her gaze, as if ashamed of his bad behavior, and set the mug back on the table. "I forgive you." Padme leaned on one hand, her elbow resting on the top of the loveseat. "Aren't you even going to send him to time out?" Anakin teased. Padme reached down and swatted his arm. "Ow." He rubbed the sore spot. "Where's my lemonade?" "Get it yourself." Padme leaned down and kissed his forehead. "You have two working legs, don't you?" Before he could respond, a chime sounded. She straightened and turned in the direction of the doorway, listening for the communication alert. A second chime. "That's probably for me. I've been expecting a transmission from the Senate's famine relief committee since yesterday." "The delegation dispatched to Aschaeor?" At Padme's nod, Anakin sat up and made room for Luke, who was crawling up onto the seat next to him, a toy jetcraft in one hand. "Go ahead and answer it. We'll make sure the twins don't break the house." The boy held the plane by the tail and made it soar through the air, making soft whooshing sounds. Padme looked to the children, Anakin, and finally Obi Wan, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything. He gave her a thumbs up. "We're fine. Now, shoo." Relieved, she exited the room once more, her shoes clapping against the tiled hallway. A contented Leia plopped down with a thump onto the carpet next to the settee and deposited her papers on the table next to the lemonade mug, sorting them into two piles. Reaching for a little green jar full of crayons, she spilled them out on the table top. After a moment, she chose a black crayon and began to scribble on one of the unused pages. Peering around Luke's toy as he moved the boy onto onto his lap, Anakin angled his head towards the finished pictures and mouthed, "Look." His eyes roved upwards as Luke brought the plane down for a landing on top of his head with a low whistle. Obi Wan stretched out his hand and Force-floated the papers until they were hovering over his abdomen, then released them to flutter down from the air. He lifted the top page off the pile and brought it closer for inspection. After a few seconds, he turned the picture around until it was facing Anakin. The same robed, bearded man was now swinging his lightsaber violently at an obscure shape, his brows lowered in a frown. Red spots colored his cheeks. "Well? Still think it's not me?" "If you really want to know, ask her." Anakin tipped his head forward until the plane rolled off his head and into Luke's cupped hands. "Time for another mission, Blue Three!" he announced. Luke soared the jetcraft in circles around his father's head. "Leia," Obi Wan began, tapping her on the shoulder. The little girl stopped scribbling and looked up at him. "Is this supposed to be a picture of me?" he asked, pointing to the man. Leia, head still cocked backwards, nodded, a serious expression on her face. She returned to her work, exchanging her brown crayon for a blue one. "It's very good." Obi Wan clucked. "Goodness, the expression on my face. I look so angry. In fac-" He let the drawing drift to the floor, face blanching. "What?" Anakin lifted Luke and stood up, setting the boy on the loveseat. Luke jumped down and ran towards the other end of the room, making the plane soar past a tall cabinet. As he zoomed past Leia, she dropped her crayons and chased him with the empty jar, making laser sounds as she continued her pursuit. "Anger leads to..." Obi Wan leaned over and reached for the page, gripping it tightly in one hand, and shook it. "Why is she drawing me turning to the dark side?!" "Dark side? You?" Anakin snatched up the drawing and looked closer. "Maybe you're just concentrating really, really hard on what you're doing." He turned the page sideways. "Look at the eyes, Anakin. That's pure rage!" Obi Wan pushed himself up on the settee, sliding his legs to the side until he was sitting up. The ice pouch dropped onto the floor, forgotten. "Let's think this through; first, she draws me getting into an accident. And then I have an accident." "Because...you weren't paying attention to the stairs," Anakin put the page on the table. "You were looking at the drawing. We've been over this." "Next," Obi Wan continued, "she draws me furiously attacking something with my lightsaber!" He waved his hands in the air. "I'm practically foaming at the mouth!" "Or, maybe you're overexerting yourself in a training exercise. Remember that Jedi retreat we all went on two months ago, in the blazing heat of the Trinac desert." Anakin fanned his face with a hand. "It was, like, 99 degrees Zarious. Phew. Makes me sweat just thinking about it." He bent over and picked up the ice pouch, pressing it to his forehead. "I sent a few messages home. Leia probably just heard me describe the terrible weather, that's all." Glancing down at the table, he reached for the next drawing and handed it to Obi Wan. "See?" He dropped the ice pouch onto the table. "There you are, running away from the warm sunlight towards the cool, refreshing shade." "Yes. Away from the light, and into the darkness!" Obi Wan grabbed the next paper and stabbed it with a finger. "And look at this one. Why are my eyes glowing orange?!" "Because she used an orange crayon. Everything in that drawing is orange." Anakin crossed his arms over his chest. "A handful of innocent scribbles and suddenly your whole world explodes." He spread his hands in opposite directions. Anakin shook his head. "Don't you think you're overreacting?" "No, you're underreacting!" Obi Wan paced back and forth on the carpet, limping with every step. "Doesn't this concern you at all?" Across the room, the children continued to play, completely ignoring Obi Wan's angst. Leia was standing on an armchair, dive-bombing Luke's jetcraft with her crayon jar spaceship. Each time she approached his craft, he swooped away in a daring maneuver just before she could make contact. "Well, frankly, I'm more concerned that all her drawings are of you." Anakin stuffed his hands in the pockets of his robe. "I am her father. You'd think I'd merit at least one picture." He frowned as Obi Wan's limp grew more pronounced with each circuit of the rug. "Sit down, Master. You're supposed to be resting that ankle of yours." "Who cares about my ankle?" Obi Wan snapped. He held up the rest of the pages. "Look! Here I am, shooting lightning out of my fingers." He indicated long arcs of blue radiating from the man's hands. "Sure it's not you being electrocuted?" Anakin suggested. "Or maybe you've just got really long fingernails. That's kind of ew, but not dark." "Using a red lightsaber-" "Red crayon-" "-to cut off somebody's head-" "Or smash a pinata." "Flying in a spaceship to the dark side of a moon." "Like you've never done that before." "Bowing at the feet of a man who's wearing a dark, hooded robe?!" Anakin clicked his tongue. "Okay, that is weird." "Maybe I'm just helping him tie his shoelaces, hmm?" Obi Wan suggested sarcastically. A shrug. "Got me." Obi Wan dropped the drawings on the floor and slowly sank to the settee, his head in his hands. He stretched his leg out beneath the serving table."If this all means what I think it means..." He took a drink of his lemonade, ignoring the straw even as it poked a dent in his cheek. "I don't want to turn to the dark side," he moaned. "Soooo...don't, then. Nobody says you have to." Anakin put a hand on Obi Wan's shoulder. "But if you keep worrying about it, that's fear, master. Which leads to...other things." He met Obi Wan's gaze as the elder Jedi looked up at him. "In which case, it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy." Obi Wan peered at Anakin. "So, you were listening to my lectures after all, young padawan," he replied, a touch of amusement in his voice. "Hey, I couldn't sleep through all of them." Anakin winced as Obi Wan punched him in the arm. "Uh, uh, uh. Dark side." He leaned forward and stacked all of Leia's drawings, tapping them on the edge of the table to make the stack uniform. Setting the pictures down, he picked up a handful of crayons and began to line them up side by side. Obi Wan took another sip of his lemonade through the straw. "Just enough sugar. Not too sweet, not too sour." He glanced over at Anakin. With a pink crayon in one hand, the younger Jedi frowned at the top page on the pile. "What is it?" Obi Wan leaned forward, reaching for the ice pouch. "You." Anakin let the crayon fall from his hand onto the table and slid a picture across the surface to Obi Wan. "Blowing out a candle. In a dark room." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "What do you think it means, Master?" "Hmm." Settling the ice pouch once again on his ankle, Obi Wan studied the drawing thoughtfully. He tapped his lip with his index finger. After a few seconds, he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. "Maybe it's my birthday."