Obi-Wan knelt in front of the grave before him. He touched the marker lightly, and found his eyes dry. He supposed, after torturing himself all these years, he had no more tears to shed.

He had held so much promise. He had been the Chosen One, he was supposed to have destroyed the Sith menace that was all too apparent now. But instead...

Obi-Wan clutched at his chest, the familiar ache reasserting itself.

If only he had been there! He knew he could have protected him. He should have paid attention to his feelings, to the obvious distress signals that he was feeling.

But there was so much death, so much pain around him anyway, that he couldn't place the feeling.

It was only when they had come back with Anakin's body that it had struck home exactly what he had been feeling.

Gone.

His Anakin was gone.

The boy he had trained. The man he had loved.

Padme had been destroyed by the news. He wasn't sure if she would gain all her mental capacities again.

She had been carrying children; twins. Their care had fallen to Obi-Wan, as he had been told by Padme, in her last moments of lucidity, that Anakin was their father.

He cherished the two children; they were his life, his purpose. He had resigned from being a Jedi Master, had disappeared into the Outer Rim with the two in tow. He had gone to Anakin's home planet, had asked for the help of his relatives in raising the children until they could walk and speak, then he had taken them and disappeared. He had covered his tracks so thoroughly that not even the best Jedi could track him down.

He had watched in horror as the Sith rose, had cloaked his and the twin's presence even more than he already had been doing; they were the last hope. They were his last hope. He felt Luke and Leia approaching. This was the first time he had allowed them to come out of the ship he had brought them in. They stood in front of the grave with him, Leia observing with her all-too-wise eyes, Luke's filled with a confused sadness.

"Who was this, Uncle?"

Obi-Wan smiled tightly. "A dear friend."

They were not ready to be told who Anakin had been to him, who he was to them. The Force told him so.

The twins were nine; he was beginning their training. He had brought them here, because this place was full of fallen Jedi. He wanted them to be acquainted with Death early; it would hold no fear for them later if he did so.

"How long have you been coming here?"

"Every year since his death."

Luke approached more fully, and tried to make out the name on the marker.

"You'll be able to see who it is when you are trained more in the ways of the Force. The names on these markers are invisible to all but Jedi...or Sith," Obi-Wan added, a woeful note in his voice.

"This person...really must have meant a lot to you if you visit every year and hold such sadness in your heart."

Obi-Wan looked at Leia and ruffled her hair lightly. "You are perceptive."

He looked slowly back to the marker, read the words over and over in his mind, read the inscription that he had carved, replacing the cold, factual one that had been put there.

Anakin Skywalker.

Beloved of Padme Amidala and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

May his Soul rest in the Force.

Obi-Wan kissed his fingers, then touched the marker before standing. He swallowed hard, and was proud his voice came out steady.

"This is enough. It is not good for a Jedi to dwell on the past; you are the future, and I will make sure you will be able to make it a good one."

Obi-Wan placed a one hand on one of the twin's shoulders, and gave them an attempt at a reassuring smile.

"Come. We have much to do."

Obi-Wan guided the two back to their ship, and let them settle themselves. He turned and looked at the marker one last time before hauling himself up into the ship. He had become a better pilot since their days together; he had had to. Still, whenever he climbed in a ship, whenever he heard the thrum of mechanics, his thoughts drifted to the feel of cool metal against his skin, to his endless hours of tinkering with pieces of junk, somehow making them work...

He turned on the ship and guided it into the atmosphere, checking on the twins, making them fall into a light sleep.

It hurt. It hurt every single day. He wished, sometimes, that he could join Padme in madness, but with the fate of the universe resting on the two children behind him, he would deny himself that until they were strong enough to take care of themselves. Then, he might just make his home on the graveyard planet. Whether alive...or dead.