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Force Ghosts Don't Have Livers

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan had been expecting any number of things once he died, chief among them a sense of peace and dignity, the feeling that all of his suffering was finally over. Maybe he would be reunited with his old Master once more. He knew from Qui-Gon’s teachings that he wouldn’t become one with the Force immediately, but it would be a while before he could fully manifest himself to the living. So Obi-Wan largely resigned to an afterlife of quiet meditation when Vader finally killed him.

He had not been expecting Padmé to greet him upon his death, her face scrunched up in anger.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” she shouted.

“It’s nice to see you too, Padmé,” Obi-Wan greeted pleasantly.

“You told Luke that Anakin killed himself! Why? Why would you do that?”

“From a certain point of view, Anakin did kill himself,” he said.

Padmé crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Obi-Wan froze. How could he explain that Luke needed to kill Vader to her without her trying to kill him again?

Fortunately for Obi-Wan, an interruption appeared, in the form of a drunk Jedi Master.

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon cried happily. “Welcome! Padmé, come quick, it’s the Death Star.”

Padmé’s scowl deepened. “Oh great. What’s Anakin done this time?”

“Here,” Qui-Gon passed her a bottle filled with what Obi-Wan was fairly sure was Nubian wine. “I think he’s flying around it and shooting down Rebel pilots.”

Padmé uttered a viciously foul curse and took a hearty swig from her bottle.

“I think Luke might be one of those pilots,” Obi-Wan said, feeling like he wanted to cry.

Qui-Gon wordlessly passed him another bottle that he must have pulled from thin air. Obi-Wan took a sip and then coughed forcefully, his throat burning and eyes watering.

“How do you have Wookiee Spit?” he asked incredulously.

Qui-Gon shrugged. “We’re dead. Who says I can’t have it? Capitalism doesn’t exist. Now come, we need to cheer on Luke.”

The area around them blurred, and suddenly they were watching groups of pilots try to blow up the Death Star while Vader shot them down.

“What the fuck, Anakin! What the fuck!” Padmé yelled, flinging her bottle at Vader. It passed right through him, but it looked very satisfying. Obi-Wan, already feeling more than a little tipsy from the Wookiee Spit, decided to do the same. His bottle didn’t fly through Vader’s face, unfortunately.

“What a waste of good alcohol,” Qui-Gon sobbed mournfully, his happy buzz gone. “Those poor kids.” He sank down into a worn-out couch that hadn’t been there the moment before, and was soon followed by both Obi-Wan and Padmé.

They watched the attack on the Death Star on the edge of their seats - literally for Padmé, who continued to shout at Vader - hoping that one of the Rebels would finally make the lucky shot.

Then it was Luke’s turn.

By then, Padmé’s shouted profanities had become slurred nonsense and Qui-Gon was outright sobbing. Obi-Wan fuzzily remembered his Master being a happy, handsy drunk, so this was very out of character for him. Obi-Wan himself was teetering on the edge of despair. Was he about to watch Vader destroy one of the galaxy’s last remaining hopes?

Why was Luke using his targeting computer to aim? Didn’t he know he could just use the Force?

Obi-Wan spat a string of Mando’a profanities when he realized he had not, in fact, informed Luke that the Force had a use for much more than swinging around a lightsaber.

“Use the Force, Luke!” he shouted desperately, before taking another swig of Wookiee Spit. He would have said more specific instructions, but his tongue felt really fuzzy all of a sudden.

Amazingly, Luke somehow managed to hear him. He disengaged his targeting computer, reached into the Force, and blew the Death Star into an unfathomable number of tiny pieces.

Food, drink, and a wild celebration followed, once people managed to calm down enough to actually put it all together. Obi-Wan, Padmé, and Qui-Gon consumed so much alcohol during the celebration afterwards that they blacked out.


Chapter Text

Obi-Wan had spent most of the past three years in a drunken haze. The blame for that rested on Padmé’s shoulders - or to be more accurate - on the shoulders of one of her handmaidens, Cordé, he believed. She had come up with a game where they took a shot every time Vader did something bad. The definition of bad was very vague and seemed to encompass just about everything Vader did. In the rare moments Obi-Wan managed to escape the binge drinking, he usually visited Ahsoka, who was making quite a name for herself among the dead Sith who lived on Malachor. He didn’t like to go there too often though. The ghosts of the Sith liked to make fun of him for letting the galaxy be conquered by their kind.

Also, Padmé liked to yell at him if he wasn’t nearby Luke and Leia. Being the only person capable of speaking to the living was really difficult.

Obi-Wan was currently watching Luke escape from a wampa while Padmé watched over Leia and Qui-Gon kept tabs on Vader. A sudden thought penetrated his drunken haze when he watched Luke summon his lightsaber to his hand with the Force: Luke desperately needed training. Leia too, probably.

“Luke,” Obi-Wan called out, taking great care to enunciate clearly. It wouldn’t do for the boy to realize he was drunk after all. “You will go. To the Dagobah. System. There you will. Learn from Yoda. The Jedi Master. Who instructed me.”

Then, pleased with his work, Obi-Wan hid himself from view again. Luke called for him a few times, but the boy had already heard all he had to say. What more did he want?

Obi-Wan pondered this question with almost all of his concentration, what little of it remained after almost three years of doing nothing but drinking. He did note that Luke seemed to have mastered the Force-hibernation technique already, which was honestly more than he had expected. Maybe Luke would survive an encounter with Vader after all.

“Good news!” Qui-Gon shouted as he appeared next to Obi-Wan. “Solo is coming to rescue Luke!”

Obi-Wan jumped and then staggered once he hit the ground again, grabbing onto his old Master for support. “Why’s Luke needa rescue? He’s gotta good Force-hiberna-hibrana-herbernation going.”

Qui-Gon wrapped his arm around Obi-Wan’s waist. “That’s hypothermia.”

The blood drained from Obi-Wan’s face. “Padmé’s gonna kill me.”

Fortunately, Padmé was too busy worrying about the upcoming Imperial attack to do more than glare at Obi-Wan. She didn’t even want to hear the vague plans he had for sending Leia to Malachor to study under Ahsoka.

The battle was horrific. Both Luke and Leia had clearly inherited their parents’ tendencies to put the needs of other before their own safety and ability to survive despite the odds being against them. Many shots were downed by the trio of Force ghosts.

Later, with Luke safely on his way to Dagobah and Leia trapped in an asteroid field, the Force urged them to observe Vader’s report to the Emperor.

Obi-Wan felt like he might be sick as he watched Vader bow down and ask “What is thy bidding, my Master?”

Padmé, on the other hand, snorted. “Anakin always gets formal when he’s annoyed with people,” she explained.

“There is a great disturbance in the Force,” the Emperor said.

“I’ll show you a disturbance in the Force,” Qui-Gon muttered darkly.

“I have felt it,” Vader acknowledged.

“No shit,” Padmé said, taking a shot.

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, gesturing to her shot glass clumsily.

“He’s talking to Palpatine.”

“Fair enough.”

The Emperor had meanwhile gone on to announce that Luke was their new enemy.

“How is that possible?” Vader asked in response to hearing that Luke was his son, despite the fact that he already knew.

Padmé, who had been in the middle of taking another shot, choked. “You were there, Anakin!” she sputtered.

Qui-Gon started laughing helplessly. He leaned into Obi-Wan, tipping over with the force of his laughter, no pun intended. Obi-Wan almost missed what they said next because of it, but he did catch Vader gloating about how he couldn’t help Luke anymore.

“And whose fault is that?” he exclaimed indignantly. “You know what, I’m gonna help and go Luke now. No wait, words, ugh.”

Obi-Wan left, intent on tracking down Luke and making sure he was alright, when he realized that he had forgotten something of vital importance. Yoda didn’t know Luke was coming.

As soon as he appeared on Dagobah, Obi-Wan purged the alcohol from his system; he needed to be sober for this upcoming conversation.

“What’re we doing here?” Padmé asked, appearing beside him.

“I need to speak to Yoda. What are you doing here?” Obi-Wan responded.

“Following you. Although now it looks like I’m going to yell at the little troll.”

“Why are we yelling at Yoda?” Qui-Gon asked, appearing on the other side of Obi-Wan.

“He told Anakin that he should celebrate my death,” Padmé said bluntly, immediately taking a swallow from the bottle in her hand. “So I might have a few issues to hash out with him.”

“What?” Obi-Wan gasped. “That’s horrible. Wait, how do you know that?”

“Qui-Gon told me,” Padmé said.

Obi-Wan turned to glare at his Master. Qui-Gon studiously looked at the branches of the swamp, not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t have time for this. I need to talk to Yoda,” Obi-Wan exclaimed.

“Time to speak with me now, you have?” Yoda popped up out of the swamp, staring at Obi-Wan critically. “Important, this conversation must be, if sober, you are.”

Obi-Wan blinked in shock. What was it with people appearing out of nowhere in this bloody swamp? “Um, yes. You remember Luke?”

“Hardly forget young Skywalker, I could. Abandoned him to his fate, you have?” Yoda asked, his eyebrows climbing up his wrinkled forehead.

“I have not,” Obi-Wan exclaimed indignantly. “However, he does need a new teacher.”

“Teach him, I will not!” Yoda declared, turning and hobbling back into the swamp. “Too old for another Padawan, I am. Send the boy to Malachor, you should.”

“Too late,” Obi-Wan smirked. “He’s already on his way here.”

Yoda turned to glare at him.

“And while we’re on the topic of Skywalkers, Padmé wishes to speak with you.”

“See her, I cannot. Listen to her, I will not,” Yoda insisted, disappearing into the swamp.

“Sorry, Padmé,” Obi-Wan sighed.

Padmé grinned evilly. “I know where he lives now. He cannot escape me forever!”

She cackled, and then disappeared.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan sighed, watching Luke’s x-wing descend into the trees. This was not going to be fun. He turned to Qui-Gon. “Do you still have any Wookiee Spit left?”

“Turning to the strong stuff already, Padawan?” Qui-Gon asked as he handed over a bottle.

“It’ll get me drunk fast enough that this whole situation will seem amusing, and we can laugh about whatever revenge Padmé is cooking up with her handmaidens,” Obi-Wan pointed out before chugging half the bottle, only coughing a little at the burn.


The two drunk and deceased Jedi watched as Luke struggled to get out of the swamp.

“That damned droid would survive being thrown into the sun,” Obi-Wan commented when Artoo came out of the swamp intact.

And then Yoda showed up.

“Force, he’s gone completely insane,” Qui-Gon said.

“Oh, no, this is all an act,” Obi-Wan reassured. “He used to pull something similar whenever bureaucrats tried to get ahold of him back at the Temple.”

“It’s very convincing,” was all Qui-Gon had to say.

“Yes, well, if you had taken a seat on the Council, then you’d know these things.”

Qui-Gon glared at him.

Yoda momentarily paused his harmless batty hermit act to glare at Obi-Wan also.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked. “It’s true.”

“Give away my secrets, you should not,” Yoda muttered under his breath.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon watched in ever growing amusement as Yoda continued to act like a crazy old lunatic whilst leading Luke back to his hut. They could sense the old troll’s growing frustration at Luke’s impatience too, which was very funny.

“I cannot teach him. The boy has no patience,” Yoda said, finally breaking his act.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Not everyone had 900 years to live. “He will learn patience.”

“Much anger in him. Like his father,” Yoda pointed out.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon stifled chuckles. If Yoda though Luke was full of anger, than woe betide him if he ever met Leia.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat before speaking again. “Was I any different when you taught me?”

“He is not ready,” Yoda grumbled. When Luke protested, Yoda admonished him “You are reckless.”

“So was I if you remember,” Obi-Wan responded, enjoying himself immensely. Beside him, Qui-Gon was choking on laughter.

“He is too old,” Yoda warned. Obi-Wan was done listening to Yoda’s protests, though, so he disappeared.

“He thought Anakin was too old,” Qui-Gon muttered, still chuckling. “And he turned out fine before he fell.”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. “You never had to actually live with him. The constant sass, sweet Force.”

Padmé appeared, looking exhausted and also very drunk.

“Anakin’s hunting Leia, who’s with Han right now, and they have no hyperdrive,” she said, leaning into Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Twenty credits says that Anakin finds out Leia is related to him first,” Qui-Gon declared loudly.

“Do you have a gambling problem?” Obi-Wan asked, squinting at Qui-Gon.

“He did win Anakin by gambling on pod racing,” Padmé pointed out, barely stifling a grin.

“I do not have a gambling problem,” Qui-Gon protested, pouting. It looked quite ridiculous, in Obi-Wan’s opinion.

“My money’s on Luke,” Obi-Wan said, surprising even himself.

Padmé stole his bottle of Wookiee Spit and drank the rest of it before glaring at them. “Betting on my family, for shame. Also, 20 credits on Leia.”


Watching Luke train was very amusing. Watching Leia argue with her smuggler friend was also amusing. However, Obi-Wan had come up with a great idea, and it was the best idea he’d ever had.

“Vaaderr,” he yelled after the hulking menace that used to be his best friend. “Oh, Vaaaadeeeerrrr!

Obi-Wan was haunting Vader. It wasn’t revenge, because that wasn’t the Jedi way. No, this was justice.

Vader’s shoulders stiffened, but that was the only sign that he might have heard the ghost.

“I’m not mad that you killed me,” Obi-Wan mentioned casually. “After all, in the afterlife there’s all the alcohol you can drink. Besides, I think I had a heart attack in the middle of our duel. So really, you didn’t kill me at all. My body gave out before you could. Ha!”

“What’re you up to now?” Padmé asked, appearing beside him.

“Oh, I’m just haunting the man who killed your husband,” Obi-Wan said.

Padmé scowled. “Just cause he has a new name doesn’t mean he isn’t Anakin.”

“Did you hear that, Vader?” Obi-Wan hollered obnoxiously. He may have been more drunk than usual, but he needed the alcohol to even be around Vader. “Padmé still thinks your name is Anakin.”

“Stop it,” Padmé said, swatting his arm. “Just because he’s a horrible human being right now doesn’t mean there isn’t good in him, and he doesn’t deserve your teasing.”

Vader pointedly ignored him, and began stalking down a hallway.

“He very nearly killed me, I think that gives me a bit of leeway,” Obi-Wan said as he followed Vader.

They continued to bicker over whether or not Obi-Wan was allowed to tease Vader as the man in question left the hallway and entered a room containing only a hyperbaric chamber.

“Enough Kenobi!” Vader yelled once the door had closed behind him. “You are nothing more than an illusion, a hallucination caused by the strange manner of your death. You seek to keep me from turning my son to the Dark side and taking over the galaxy.”

Obi-Wan and Padmé froze for a moment, startled by Vader’s outburst, and then burst into laughter. They slowly collapsed to the floor, wheezing from the strength of their giggles and chuckles.

“Oh Force, oh Force,” Obi-Wan gasped, leaning into Padmé. “You should- you should get Qui-Gon,” he broke off, overcome by laughter. “He’d want to be here, I think.”

Padmé nodded, tears of laughter streaming from her eyes, before she disappeared, tipping Obi-Wan onto the ground. They reappeared a moment later, Padmé leaning onto Qui-Gon, who looked at both of them in bemusement.

“What is going on, Padawan?” he asked.

Obi-Wan flopped his arm in Vader’s direction. “He thinks I’m a hallucination, and that Luke will turn to the Dark side.”

Qui-Gon facepalmed.

Before Obi-Wan could taunt Vader any further, or even recover from his laughing fit, an officer entered the room. He wasn’t sure what rank they were exactly; all of the Imperial outfits looked ridiculous, so Obi-Wan hadn’t bothered to learn.

“Lord Vader, we have arrived at Bespin,” the officer said.

“Don’t say it!” Qui-Gon exclaimed, pointing at Obi-Wan.

“I wasn’t going to say-” Obi-Wan began.

“Do. Not.”

“Say what?” Padmé asked.

“That I have a bad feeling about this,” Obi-Wan burst out.

Qui-Gon and Padmé groaned.

Chapter Text

Padmé and Qui-Gon had made Obi-Wan go check up on Luke after Leia and her smuggler arrived at Bespin.

Obi-Wan was a little surprised that Luke had received a Force vision this early in his training, but then the Force worked in mysterious ways. Or something. Obi-Wan had a strong suspicion that the Force just wanted to see Luke confront Vader. It was vicious like that.

Still, Obi-Wan felt that he had to at least try to keep Luke from going, so, after taking a hefty drink from his ever-present bottle, he let himself become visible to Luke and Yoda.

“You don’t know that. Even Yoda cannot see their fate.” Obi-Wan said, taking great pleasure in pointing out one of Yoda’s failings. The old troll couldn’t hit him now.

“But I can help them. I can feel the Force,” Luke protested, as if simply feeling the Force was enough to beat Vader. Obi-Wan didn’t even try to puzzle out Luke’s thought process.

“But you cannot control it. This is a dangerous time for you, when you will be tempted by the dark side of the force.” Please Force, let one Skywalker listen to his advice for once, please just one.

“Yes, yes. To Obi-Wan you listen. The cave. Remember your failure at the cave!” Yoda exclaimed.

Obi-Wan barely resisted the urge to ask what had happened at the cave. Of course, then the Force saw fit to show him what had happened, which was unpleasant. Still, Obi-Wan didn’t think the conversation was quite serious enough to warrant purging the alcohol from his system this time. Luke probably wouldn’t abandon his training on the off chance his friends needed help.

Kriff. Yes, yes he would. There was not enough alcohol in the galaxy for dealing with Skywalkers.

How to convince him to not go chasing after Leia and her smuggler? Oh yes, “It is you and your abilities the Emperor wants. That is why your friends are made to suffer.”

There. Hopefully that would convince Luke to not go running straight into Vader’s waiting arms.

“And that is why I have to go,” Luke said.

No. No, that was not part of the plan. “Luke, I don't want to lose you to the Emperor the way I lost Vader.”

“You won't,” Luke said.

Obi-Wan hadn’t planned on losing Anakin either, yet here they were.

“Stopped they must be. On this, all depends. Only a fully trained Jedi Knight with the Force as his ally will conquer Vader and his Emperor. If you end your training now, if you choose the quick and easy path, as Vader did, you will become an agent of evil,” Yoda predicted.

“Patience,” Obi-Wan chided both Luke and Yoda. Honestly. One week Yoda says he can’t train him, now he says that he has to finish Luke’s training, which could take years. Which was it?

It occurred to Obi-Wan that it would be better for him to have this conversation sober, but before he could finish the thought Luke spoke again.

“And sacrifice Han and Leia?”

“If you honor what they fight for, yes!” Yoda exclaimed. It was the most animated Obi-Wan had seen Yoda ever. Even during the war, when he had been flipping around and decapitating droids he had just been so calm. It was very disconcerting.

Obi-Wan felt a sudden settling in the Force, a certainty that if Luke was to find out about who Vader used to be, then Obi-Wan could not be there for him.

“If you choose to face Vader, you will do it alone. I cannot interfere,” Obi-Wan said. He didn’t want Luke going in there and expecting to have an ally on his side who couldn’t be there.

“I understand,” Luke said as he went to his X-wing. “Artoo, fire up the converters.”

The droid whistled a reply.

Obi-Wan felt that it was worth the effort to tell Luke one last thing. “Luke, don't give in to hate - that leads to the dark side.”

Perfect. There was no way Luke could possibly misinterpret that.

Luke nodded and climbed into his ship while Obi-Wan and Yoda watched.

“Strong is Vader. Mind what you have learned. Save you, it can,” Yoda said.

Luke climbed into the cockpit. “I will. And I'll return. I promise.”

The cockpit closed and the engines started up.

“Told you, I did. Reckless is he. Now matters are worse,” Yoda sighed dramatically.

Obi-Wan resisted first the urge to splutter angrily and then the urge to glare at the dramatic little troll. He was acting like Luke had fallen to the Dark side already!

“That boy is our last hope,” Obi-Wan reminded Yoda.

Yoda looked up dramatically. “No, there is another.”

Right, right, how could he have forgotten Leia? The alcohol, Obi-Wan decided, it was definitely the alcohol.


When Obi-Wan arrived on Bespin with the news that Luke was on his way, he saw that Vader was about to carbon-freeze Leia’s smuggler. Padmé was bristling with anger, and both she and Qui-Gon were heavily intoxicated.

Qui-Gon started sobbing on Obi-Wan’s shoulder when Leia told her smuggler that she loved him.

“What happened while I was gone?” Obi-Wan asked Padmé, not really wanting to hear the answer but knowing he needed to face it like a Jedi, although definitely not a sober one.

“Anakin, in all his wisdom, decided to torture Han in order to lure Luke here so he can turn him to the Dark side,” Padmé explained angrily.

Obi-Wan snorted, pushed Qui-Gon off of him, and took a shot. “Right, because Luke will definitely want to side with someone who tortured his friend. That’s smart.”

All three of them solemnly and sloppily took another shot when Leia’s smuggler emerged, frozen in a slab, helpless to do anything but watch.

There were many shots downed when Luke showed up and dueled Vader, especially when he cut off his son’s hand and then asked him to help rule the galaxy, somehow expecting that tactic to work.

Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his face, angry and exasperated. “Luke doesn’t want the galaxy, Vader; he just wants his friends to be safe.”

The Force ghosts were shocked into a horrified silence when Luke chose death over the Dark side.

“No!” Padmé shouted. “Fuck this noninterference shit, I’m helping Luke!”

She made a huge sweeping gesture, and a wind sprang up, sucking Luke down a side tunnel. Padmé sagged into Qui-Gon with relief when Luke clung to a weather vane, which was a very unsafe place, but better than his previous situation.

“I don’t think there’s enough alcohol in the world to make me feel better about this,” Qui-Gon said after Leia and Lando rescued Luke and escaped.

“Not even close,” Obi-Wan sighed.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan was not speaking to Qui-Gon and Padmé.

“It’s okay, Obi-Wan,” Padmé said, crouching down next to him and patting him on the head. “I’m sure you’ll figure out how to change back into an adult soon.”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the both of them. Qui-Gon was too busy laughing to say anything.

Padmé sighed heavily. “Honestly, you two. We’re supposed to be watching over Leia to make sure nothing bad happens to her while she’s here.”

Obi-Wan switched his glower to a random criminal, watching Leia hand Chewbacca over to Jabba in the disguise of a bounty hunter.

“How did you even manage to turn yourself into a toddler anyways?” Qui-Gon asked.

“I have no idea,” Obi-Wan reluctantly admitted. “It just happened.”

“I think we shouldn’t let you have any alcohol while you’re a child,” Padmé said.

Obi-Wan stared up at her in horror.

“That’s actually a good idea,” Qui-Gon said, stroking his beard. “Who knows what it would do to you in this state.”

“Both of you do remember that we’re all dead, right? Alcohol isn’t going to have any effect on me because my physical body was absorbed by the Force, and taking it away from me is just cruel!” Obi-Wan exclaimed.

“Better safe than sorry,” Padmé said in a singsong tone.

Obi-Wan growled as Qui-Gon started petting him.

“Look at you, you’re so tiny,” Qui-Gon said. “I really want to cuddle you right now.”

Before Qui-Gon could pounce, Obi-Wan poofed away to where Luke was, hiding his presence inside Luke’s. No one would be able to find him here.

Luke was meditating when Obi-Wan arrived, likely looking for wisdom from the Force before he confronted Jabba. Well, he was in luck because Obi-Wan had plenty of advice for him.

“Never drink alcohol whilst using the Force, Luke,” Obi-Wan cautioned. “Strange things will happen, like accidentally turning yourself into a toddler. Then your friends will laugh at you, or even worse: attempt to cuddle you. Cuddles lead to the dark side, Luke, especially drunken cuddles.” Obi-Wan had kind of lost track of where his advice was going, much less whether or not it was true, but he persisted. “Cuddles lead to attachment, and attachment is a Bad Thing. I was too attached to Anakin, and then Darth Vader killed him. I couldn’t kill Vader though, oh no, too much attachment. I’m sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan sobbed.

He may have been drinking before he transformed, and the amount of alcohol in his blood hadn’t changed with him. Obi-Wan had certainly been more inebriated in the past, but not in a very long time.

Luke opened his eyes and glanced around the room, startling Obi-Wan.

“Hello?” he called. “Ben? Is that you?”

Obi-Wan yelped and was so surprised that Luke had been able to leave his meditative trance without him even noticing that he poofed away to Dagobah.

Unfortunately, Yoda was also on Dagobah, and, unlike Luke, he could see Obi-Wan.

“Drinking too much again, you have been, young Kenobi,” Yoda pointed out with a gleeful chuckle when he saw Obi-Wan.

“What? No, absolutely not. And I am an adult, thank you very much,” Obi-Wan pouted, wiping at his eyes.

“Fool me, you would,” Yoda laughed.

Obi-Wan glared at him as he cleared out the alcohol from his incorporeal body.

“Enough fun and games. Doubting young Skywalker’s promise to return, I am.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Don’t worry, Yoda. Luke will be back any day now.”

Yoda glared. “Said that last month, you did. A liar, he has made you.”

“I’m not lying; his plan to rescue his smuggling friend is just taking a bit longer than he thought it would. One would think you of all people would know the value of patience,” Obi-Wan chided.

“Soon become one with the Force, I will, and yet more to learn, Skywalker has,” Yoda revealed.

“Oh dear, how unfortunate,” Obi-Wan said. “Still, I think it may be time to reveal the truth about Leia when he returns here, since you don’t have much time left.”

Yoda narrowed his eyes. “Know about your bet, I do, and help you, I will not.”

Obi-Wan spluttered. “That is- How could you- I would never.

Yoda swiped his gimer stick through Obi-Wan’s body. “A horrible liar, you are.”

Before Obi-Wan could respond to Yoda’s heinous accusations, Qui-Gon appeared.

“Obi-Wan, come quickly! Everything is going wrong, and your the only one who can actually appear to the living,” Qui-Gon yelled.

“What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan asked.

“It’s Leia-” Qui-Gon began before he was interrupted by Padmé.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, get your ass back to Jabba’s Palace right now!”

Obi-Wan gulped and poofed away, not daring to disobey Padmé when she used that tone of voice.

Chapter Text

Fortunately, Obi-Wan somehow returned to his correct age when they arrived at Jabba’s palace. Unfortunately, he got there too late to do any good.

Leia had already been captured by Jabba’s forces.

Padmé used several vividly imaginative and anatomically impossible curses that Obi-Wan had never heard before and then tried to rip Jabba’s heart out with her bare hands. It didn’t work, as she no longer had physical hands, but it was nonetheless extremely terrifying.

Several of Jabba’s goons shivered and clutched their blasters for comfort, feeling the echoes of Padmé’s rage even though they weren’t Force sensitive.

They all kept watch over Leia as she was chained up, even though they couldn’t do anything to help. Obi-Wan could still make people feel uneasy whenever they went near her, as the most tangible of the ghosts.

It was only as dawn approached that Padmé broke her furious silence.

“We need backup,” she said.

“Who?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Shmi Skywalker,” Padmé said before she poofed away.

Obi-Wan frowned. “Anakin’s mother is a ghost?”

Qui-Gon grinned. “Yes. She’s been making Palpatine’s life miserable as best as she’s been able to ever since he became Emperor. He hasn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in years, and technology tends to fail if he uses it more than once, among other things.”

“Why hasn’t she stopped by before?”

Qui-Gon winced. “She isn’t the happiest with what you did to Anakin on Mustafar, leaving him to burn.”

“That would be an understatement,” a short, dark-haired woman said, appearing from nowhere followed by Padmé.

“Lady Skywalker,” Qui-Gon said as he bowed to her.

Shmi ignored him to glare at Obi-Wan. “Now, I hear my granddaughter has been enslaved by Jabba, in part because of Kenobi’s incompetence.”

Obi-Wan cringed.

“What is being done to free her?” Shmi asked.

“Luke will be here soon to free Han. He’ll no doubt get Leia out too,” Padmé said.

“Then our job will be to distract the Hutt so that he makes stupid decisions without angering him enough to take it out on Leia. Tell me, do any of you play musical instruments?” Shmi asked, reaching into her robe and pulling out a trumpet.

Within a minute, all of them had instruments in hand and ready to play. Qui-Gon had a squeaky, out-of-tune saxophone, Padmé had a shrill piccolo, and Obi-Wan had a gong. Shmi used a subtle manipulation of the Force to ensure that Jabba heard their cacophony when they began to play.

Being dead, it was impossible for them to get tired or out of breath. Therefore, they played for hours, through the arrival and dismissal of Threepio and Artoo, although they toned it down a little when Luke showed up. They stopped altogether when Jabba dropped him into the rancor pit.

“We were too loud,” Padmé said, glaring at Jabba.

Shmi was grinning. “I doubt a rancor will slow my grandson down for long.”

Her words proved to be true as Luke defeated the rancor with relative ease. However, then Jabba announced that Luke and Han would be dropped in a sarlacc pit.

To everyone’s shock, Shmi burst into laughter, clutching at her gut and practically wheezing.

“What’s so funny?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Sarlaccs eat the dead and dying that wander into their mouths, and it takes them a thousand years to digest just one meal. The teeth and the tentacles are to scare off predators. A healthy person can easily escape one, even if it is hungry,” Shmi explained.

“Then why would Jabba use it as a punishment?” Padmé asked.

Shmi smirked. “Well, no one’s ever told him that it’s easy to escape. It’s become one of his favorite methods of disposing of slaves; he even disables the transmitter before dropping them in so that he doesn’t have to find another sarlacc if the bomb went off. You just wait a few hours and then climb out to freedom.”

Obi-Wan had to marvel at the genius. He had lived on Tatooine for nineteen years and never realized that slaves had been using that method to escape. Of course, he’d never run across a sarlacc himself, and he’d always been able to get away from Jabba’s goons without even breaking a sweat, so he hadn’t ever needed to know.

Qui-Gon pulled out a bottle and, after taking a gulp of it, passed it to Obi-Wan while Shmi rolled her eyes at them.

Obi-Wan sniffed it and winced at the smell. “What is this?”

“Vodka from Lah’mu.”

Padmé raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard that compared to paint stripper. Why are you drinking it straight?”

“I grabbed it from Jabba’s before we left, but I didn’t have time to get anything else,” Qui-Gon answered.

Obi-Wan shuddered and handed the vodka back to Qui-Gon. Sure, he was dead and therefore the vodka couldn’t harm him, but he had to have some standards. “I’ll pass. I like my taste buds the way they are.”

“You loss,” Qui-Gon said. “Ten credits that one of Jabba’s goons falls into the sarlacc.”

Shmi snorted. “None of us are stupid enough to bet against a sure thing.”

Qui-Gon sighed, and they all turned back to watching the chaos unfold on Jabba’s barge.

“It’s pitiful, really. Jabba’s been in power for so long that his arrogance was his downfall. Use the Force, Leia,” Obi-Wan called out, hoping Leia could hear him as she wrapped her chains around Jabba’s throat.

Either she heard him or she was able to unconsciously use the Force to augment her own strength because it didn’t take long for her to kill him.

“That’s my girl,” Shmi said with a vicious grin. The shades of people - Twi’leks, Togrutas, Humans, and countless other species - began to take shape behind her. The ghosts of the slaves of Tatooine had risen.

Obi-Wan felt a chill run down his spine.

“I’d advise you all to leave now, although Padmé, dear, as family, you’re welcome back any time. Tatooine is about to get very hostile for outlanders,” Shmi said.

Seeing that Luke and Leia had their rescue well in hand, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Padmé poofed away to Dagobah.

Chapter Text

Yoda was not happy to see them.

“Not welcome, you are,” he grumbled. “Busy, I am.”

Padmé crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re picking mushrooms.”

Qui-Gon peered into Yoda’s basket. “Are those hallucinogenic mushrooms?”

“Judge me, you cannot,” Yoda said, snapping the lid of his basket shut and glaring at them. “Nothing to do here but wait to die, so found something interesting to do, I did.”

Obi-Wan didn’t know why Qui-Gon and Padmé seemed so surprised. After all, they had been imbibing all sorts of alcohol like it was going out of style ever since they’d died. If Yoda was truly using hallucinogenic mushrooms, then that was his choice.

“Don’t even think of adding those to your stew while Luke is here,” Padmé said.

“Returning, is he? About time, it is,” Yoda said.

“Luke should be here any day now for more training,” Obi-Wan said.

Yoda narrowed his eyes at Obi-Wan before turning and shuffling back into his hut. Qui-Gon rolled his eyes and muttered something about dramatic Jedi Masters as he pulled a bottle of some kind of glittery blue concoction from his robes. Both Obi-Wan and Padmé declined; they could all feel that Yoda was going to be joining them soon. They could break out the alcohol then.

The whine of an X-wing descending from atmosphere broke the heavy silence, the wind forcing them to dodge in order to keep the flying vines and swamp muck from passing through their bodies.

Padmé frowned. “How did Luke get here so fast if we only just left Tatooine?”

“The Force works in mysterious ways,” Qui-Gon said, wiping his mouth and smearing glitter in his beard

Padmé rolled her eyes, and Obi-Wan lifted a hand to stifle a laugh in the sleeve of his robe.

Qui-Gon glared at them but said nothing while they watched Luke enter Yoda’s hut.

“Should we follow him?” Padmé asked.

As if in answer, the door to Yoda’s hut slammed shut, a distinct feeling of ‘Keep Out’ radiating in the Force.

“I suppose that answers that question,” Obi-Wan said, his voice as dry as the desert they had just visited. “Yoda probably won’t die while he’s speaking with Luke, so we can wait until they’re done.”

Padmé smacked the back of his head. “What were you thinking, saying something like that?”

“Now you’ve done it,” Qui-Gon groaned. “Yoda will kick the bucket in the middle of his conversation with Luke, and we’ll be forced to explain everything to him.”

With great effort, Obi-Wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his friends’ dramatics. “Yoda is going to die soon, but that hardly means it’s going to happen right this second.”

That was, of course, the moment Yoda’s ghost appeared, a basket full of mushrooms clutched in his claws and a devious grin on his face.

“Your problem, young Skywalker is now. Enjoying my afterlife for the next century at least, I will be,” Yoda cackled before vanishing with a poof.

Luke meandered back to where his ship was sitting, grief at Yoda’s death broadcasting into the Force. Artoo spoke up for the first time since they’d landed, beeping something that sounded vaguely like a greeting. Luke ignored him and instead began to prepare his ship. Obi-Wan was surprised that Luke wasn’t trying to contact him for answers. Maybe Yoda hadn’t told him anything meaningful after all.

“You know,” Qui-Gon said. “I think I need to go… and help Yoda catch up on what’s been happening in the galaxy and not be here.”

Before either Obi-Wan or Padmé could protest, he was gone.

Obi-Wan was considering following Qui-Gon so that he could avoid a no doubt awkward conversation when Padmé shot him a glare and said “Don’t you dare.”

“But, Padmé,” he began.

“You’re the only one who can talk to him, Obi-Wan, so you don’t get to leave now. If you’d helped us on Tatooine, maybe it would have gone better.”

“I thought it turned out alright,” he said.

Padmé simply pointed at Luke, who sighed and said “I can't do it, Artoo. I can't go on alone.”

Kriff. Padmé was right, he was going to need to fix this, even if he had no idea how. The Jedi had never taught anything about grief counseling because everyone knew they would simply rejoin the Force one day. Maybe if he could just explain that to Luke then he’d feel better. “Yoda will always be with you,” Obi-Wan said, making his body visible so Luke didn’t mistake their conversation for a hallucination like he’d almost done on Hoth. Luke’s head whipped around to look at him. “Obi-Wan! Why didn't you tell me?” Luke yelled. Obi-Wan hoped Luke would be more specific about what it was he’d kept a secret from the boy. After all, there were a lot of them. “You told me Vader betrayed and murdered my father,” Luke continued.

Ah, that. “You father was seduced by the dark side of the Force,” Obi-Wan explained. “He ceased to be Anakin Skywalker and became Darth Vader. When that happened, the good man who was your father was destroyed. So what I have told you was true... from a certain point of view.” Luke snorted and looked away. “A certain point of view!”

“Complete nonsense,” Padmé agreed, rolling her eyes.

With great restraint, Obi-Wan didn’t react to what Padmé had said and continued to explain some of the Jedi philosophy to Luke. “Luke, you're going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.” Luke didn’t say anything, which Obi-Wan took to be a good sign. Members of the Skywalker family hardly ever hesitated to make their ire known. Therefore, Obi-Wan went on to explain how Anakin came to be a Jedi and emphasized how Anakin had been destroyed by Vader. It was unfortunate that Luke seemed to believe differently, even if the occasional comment from Padmé was in support of her son’s views.

It was even more unfortunate that Luke wouldn’t kill Vader in order to save the galaxy from the Empire. “I can't kill my own father,” Luke said. Obi-Wan sighed, wishing for a drink, “Then the Emperor has already won. You were our only hope.” “Yoda spoke of another.”

So Yoda had told him. That conniving troll, leaving all of the awkward explanations to him. “The other he spoke of is your twin sister,” Obi-Wan explained.

Luke frowned. “But I have no sister.” It took only a little explanation on Obi-Wan’s part before Luke jumped to the obvious conclusion. However, even after Luke learned about his relationship to Leia, it was impossible to convince him to kill Vader, and when Luke left Dagobah, Obi-Wan didn’t know what to do.

“Don’t worry so much, Obi-Wan,” Padmé said. “I have faith in my children, and you should too.”

“I wish that I could,” Obi-Wan said. Then, a thought occurred to him and he brightened. “So does this mean I won the bet?”

Chapter Text

After everything he’d done, all the people he’d hurt, Anakin knew he deserved to spend his afterlife in in the deepest depths of hell. The Jedi may have preached that everyone who died rejoined the Force, but, in his opinion, the Force would be better off if he wasn’t a part of it.

However, what he woke to after his respirator failed was not a pit of suffering and despair but Padmé peering down at him.

Anakin blinked, then rubbed at his eyes.

“He’s awake!” Padmé yelled.

He winced, anticipating pain in his ruined eardrums, but it never came.

“What’s going on?” he asked, sitting up and looking around.

Obi-Wan was standing just behind Padmé and smiling, something he thought he’d never witness again. Qui-Gon and Yoda were sitting next to one of the mini Wookiees that lived on this moon and passing around a basket of mushrooms, nevermind that the mini Wookiee was the only one of them actually alive. Further off, Anakin could see Leia, his amazing, strong, wonderful daughter who rightfully hated him, celebrating with Calrissian and his smuggler friend, and, separate from them, Luke was burning what little there was left of his body.

“Welcome to the afterlife,” Obi-Wan said, pulling him to his feet and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “And good job killing the Emperor. We thought for sure Luke or Leia were going to have to do it.”

Anakin blinked. He was very confused. Had killing the Emperor really been enough to redeem him in their eyes?

“I don’t understand. Why aren’t you mad at me?” he asked.

Padmé lifted up a wine bottle. “We’re dead now, which means no one ever gets liver failure.”

“I think Qui-Gon is eating hallucinogenic mushrooms and drinking whiskey at the same time,” Obi-Wan added.

Anakin winced. He had seen what happened to people who combined drugs and alcohol on Tatooine, and it was never pretty. “Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Padmé said. “Now, Obi-Wan, go get Yoda so that you three can say goodbye to Luke.

Despite the explanation, Anakin was still very confused, but if the afterlife was a party then he wasn’t going to complain.