
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8155289.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Gen, M/M, Other
  Fandom:
      Star_Wars_-_All_Media_Types, Star_Wars_Prequel_Trilogy, Star_Wars:_The
      Clone_Wars_(2008)_-_All_Media_Types, Star_Wars:_Rise_of_Empire_Era_-_All
      Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Obi-Wan_Kenobi/Anakin_Skywalker, Padmé_Amidala_&_Obi-Wan_Kenobi_&_Anakin
      Skywalker_&_Ahsoka_Tano, Padmé_Amidala/Anakin_Skywalker, Obi-Wan_Kenobi/
      Satine_Kryze
  Character:
      Anakin_Skywalker, Obi-Wan_Kenobi, Yoda, Satine_Kryze, Padmé_Amidala, Mace
      Windu, Dooku_|_Darth_Tyranus, Ahsoka_Tano, Kit_Fisto, Eeth_Koth, Miraj
      Scintel, Asajj_Ventress, Darth_Maul, Sheev_Palpatine_|_Darth_Sidious,
      Talzin_(Star_Wars), Mother_Talzin, Nightsister(s), Latts_Razzi, Qui-Gon
      Jinn, Plo_Koon, CC-2224_|_Cody, CT-7567_|_Rex, Shaak_Ti, Luminara_Unduli,
      Quinlan_Vos, Bant_Eerin, Zatt, Katooni_(Star_Wars), Gungi_(Star_Wars),
      Ganodi_(Star_Wars), Byph_(Star_Wars), Petro, Boil_(Star_Wars), Wooley_
      (Star_Wars), CT-27-5555_|_Fives_|_ARC-5555, CT-5385_|_Tup, Korkie_Kryze,
      Bo-Katan_Kryze, Depa_Billaba, CT-6116_|_Kix
  Additional Tags:
      Suicide, Murder, Whips, Blood, Mind_Control_Aftermath_&_Recovery, Mind
      Rape, Mind_Sex, Mind_Manipulation, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Gang_Rape, Rape
      Recovery, Rape_Aftermath, Rape_Fantasy, Kadavo, Broken_Friendships, Force
      Sex_(Star_Wars), Misuse_of_the_Force, Marked_underage_just_in_case_since
      kids_see_some_things, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological_Abuse, Mind
      Palace, PTSD, Brokenness, Comfort/Angst, Zygerria, Slavery, Torture,
      Psychological_Trauma, Psychological_Torture, Psychological_Horror,
      Voyeurism, Non-Consensual_Voyeurism, Accidental_Voyeurism, Mandalorian,
      Mando'a, Mando, Jedi_Culture_Respected, Attachment_does_not_equal_love_in
      this_fic
  Collections:
      Mace_Windu_Fandom_Safe_Space
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-09-28 Completed: 2016-11-11 Chapters: 25/25 Words: 96978
****** Or Die Beside Him ******
by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary
     This story picks up in the Kadavo/ Zygerrian/ Slaver arc of the Clone
     Wars. Obi-Wan's been captured, Rex, Ahsoka, and Anakin's cover is
     still in place. Rex as a citizen, Ahsoka as a slave, and Anakin as
     the Zygerrian Queen's new favorite. IF it turns out he's not in
     cahoots with the Jedi they just caught snooping around. And beat
     severely. And who wouldn't give them any information, despite the
     torture.
  This work was inspired by
      Forgivenss_(doesn't_come_easy_) by StoryFabricator, Forgiveness by
      Naughty_Padawan_(ThreeBea), The_Stars_are_on_Fire by cheesepotations
***** Chapter 1 *****
“Prove to me you are a slaver.”
Anakin accepted the whip from the Queen and headed down to the arena, ready to
to bust them out. Trying to figure out a plan...
First, he had to get to Obi-Wan and get rid of the shackles he wore. His Master
looked to be in pretty bad shape— he'd barely managed to walk when the guards
prodded him.
Anakin might have to help him run.
R2 was up in the balcony, with lightsabers, waiting for a signal.
A warning came through, strong and clear across Anakin's bond with Obi-Wan.
“Make it real, Anakin.”
Seriously? Obi-Wan thought Anakin would flog him?  “I can't beat you, Master.”
“Yes, you can. Remember how angry you were with me when I lied about my death?”
“Master — ” Anakin tried to warn him.
“Remember how I used to irritate you as a Padawan? How you resented me? How you
wished Qui-Gon had lived instead of me? How you just knew  I'd failed him in
that last battle?”
“You knew  about that?” Anakin demanded, mortified as his feet hit the first
hint of sand at the base of the wall.
“Think of all the times I didn't act on your suggestions, when I chose my own
ideas instead. I lied to you. I suppressed you. I didn't trust you. I held you
back. I was jealous of you. I failed Qui-Gon. I should have been the one who
died. I don't understand you. I called you dangerous.”
Anakin's hand was beginning to tremor. “Stop it. Stop. You're—”
“Making you angry. Yes.”
“You've always told me to control it — ”
“There's fifty thousand  people who need you to make a very convincing case
that you don't.  Either you suddenly discover acting skills you've never
possessed, or you need to remember what it feels like to be angry, and aim it
at me. Whether you're angry with me now or not, you need to remember how it did
feel, and use that. Convince them,  Anakin. Now pay attention. I would have
left you there. As Watto's possession.”
The frustration that had swirled in Anakin's soul vanished.
 His dear, ridiculous Master.  I will never hurt you. The Zygerrians can just
go to the nine Corellian hells.
There was a hesitation... and then Obi-Wan's shields tightened, locking Anakin
outside. Preventing him from seeing what his friend's emotional status was.
“What are you doing?” Anakin didn't like where this might be going.
“I slept with Padmé.”
Anakin's blood ran cold and he almost stopped dead in his tracks.
But his feet keep moving.
“You're just saying that to make me angry.”
His Master didn't respond.
“You are,  aren't you?” Anakin demanded, his pulse quickening.  “Tell me the
truth, Obi-Wan!”
“The truth? The truth is I fripped her, Anakin. She wanted something more
experienced. A bit less naive. Someone who knew how to please her in ways she
was accustomed to. The way she deserves.”
Anakin couldn't believe the calloused tone of Obi-Wan's thoughts.  “You're
lying!” Panic clawed at his throat.
“Anakin, it's almost adorable, how confident you are. How you think you're
impressive in bed. You're a child. She wanted a man. Oh, she loves you. She
felt so guilty about betraying you. But she let me do it again. And again. And
again. I give her something you never could. Something she needs.  Every second
she's a moaning, wet mess in my arms she's comparing you to me.”
“Stop. Stop, ” Anakin's mind begged. The dragon that lived in the furnace of
his soul was waking up. It couldn't take much—
“And you are always lacking.”
Fury flooded Anakin's eyes, and his grip adjusted against the whip.
“Swing that whip, or die beside him!” Queen Miraj demanded.
Anakin didn't hear her.
All he could hear was the roaring in his ears of the thing that slept in his
soul and was asleep no longer.
He reached the top of the stage with a graceful bound and activated the cruel
length of tearing, burning cord.
The monster was loose.
 
* * *
 
Obi-Wan built his shields ever tighter, ever closer.
The instant Anakin figured out he'd been manipulated, their cover would be
lost.
The Zygerrians had overpowered Obi-Wan.
It might take them longer with Anakin, but they would succeed.
 And then where would the fifty  thousand Togruta be?
They couldn't defend themselves. They were as lamblike as a people could get.
 They had to be rescued  before they were split up and disappeared amongst
individual buyers, out of reach of saving.
 They didn't have  time.
It killed him to wound Anakin this way. To shred the boy's self-esteem.
But he was incapable of acting. Obi-Wan could sense the Queen's suspicion.
It would take an act of unspeakable savagery to ease her doubts.
An act Anakin was fully capable of.
But would never have allowed himself to commit—
As long as he had control over himself.
The fact remained, Obi-Wan had seen the look in Anakin's eyes. Not recently,
but plenty in his Padawanship. The desire to harm Obi-Wan in a vicious, searing
way.
All of the pieces were there. The capacity. The old desire.
All Obi-Wan had needed to do was push the right domino.
 Obi-Wan could sense Ahsoka's horror. She couldn't hear their words, but she
sensed the sudden blackness of Anakin's heart. Obi-Wan could feel her frantic
tugs at Anakin's Force signature, begging him to  hear her—
He was too far gone.
Far too gone.
The first blow knocked Obi-Wan from kneeling upright to his weight resting
heavily on his bound hands.
The second tore through the last shreds of his tunic, revealing his criss-
crossed wounds from the earlier beatings to the spectators.
They cheered in approval.
Blow after blow after blow after blow—
 The full strength of his Padawan's arm, his knowledge of whips, of how to
destroy  put to use...
Obi-Wan's blood spilled, his ribs and spine glinted white in the cruel
sunlight. He collapsed against the stage and the delight of the crowds pulsed
deafening in his ears. Ahsoka's horrified begging in the Force almost drowned
out by their bloodlust.
Obi-Wan screamed in pain and writhed against the harsh stone, tightening his
shields, ever tightening his shields.
Anakin couldn't know. Couldn't know.
He had to finish this out. If he found out now, he would come to himself. Feel
the blood that was sprayed across his face, drenching his hands. Realize what
he'd done.
 There would be  no hiding that from the Queen, or anyone else in this Force-
accursed place.
 No. He could only find out  later.
Darkness closed in around Obi-Wan, beckoning, promising release.
Before he accepted its sweet invitation, he sent a pulse of knowledge to
Ahsoka.
“It was all a lie. Fifty thousand people, Ahsoka. Your  people, Ahsoka. Keep
Anakin on course. Keep him on course. Everything I told him was a lie.”
And with a gurgle, Obi-Wan succumbed to his wounds.
 
* * *
 
“Hey. Hey.Didn't you hear her Majesty? That's enough. If you keep it up, we
won't get to play with him any more.”
Anakin shoved the grasping hands aside, his rage a thing too alive, too strong
to be reined in all at once.
He blinked, realized his face was wet.
He reached up with a sleeve to wipe away the sweat, only to discover his sleeve
was splattered with red.
He tasted the liquid near his mouth.
Not sweat.
Blood.
The betrayer lay at his feet, unconscious.
See how Padmé likes you now.
 The figure kept shifting. Obi-Wan to Rush Clovis to whatever that kid  Paulo
might have looked like. With his dark, curly hair and  dreamy eyes.
He found himself being led away.
The mission.
The mission.
He'd allowed himself to become distracted.
Obi-Wan would have to be punished later. He couldn't deal with that right now.
He had to save Ahsoka's people.
Ahsoka. Who'd watched him flog his Master, and railed at him for doing so.
She doesn't understand. She can't.
She wasn't in love.
Obi-Wan had a hell of a lot more coming to him, and he deserved every ounce of
it.
The image was burned into his brain. Obi-Wan, thrust deeply inside Padmé,
driving her to orgasm, a smug, self-satisfied look on his face.
I trusted  you, and you betrayed me.
He didn't find himself blaming Padmé.
He'd been afraid, so often, that he wasn't experienced enough for her. That the
age gap was detrimental to her happiness.
No. It wasn't her fault.
 It was  Obi-Wan's.  And  Clovis's. And that kid  Paulo's and any and  every
being's fault who had  ever laid eyes on his wife.
And especially Obi-Wan's.
His anger was still awake when he discovered he'd been led to the Queen's
bedchamber.
Ahsoka was nowhere in sight, he and the Queen were alone, and as she licked
Obi-Wan's blood from his fevered cheek, it turned him on. A fierce rush of heat
deep in his belly.
Padmé hadn't been faithful to him.
Why should he not run this mission the full length?
So he seized Miraj's hip and dragged her against him. She moaned in pleasure
and continued sucking Obi-Wan's blood from his skin, savoring the taste. “You
made that Jedi scream,” she purred. “Maybe he'll die.”
A shiver ran down his spine.
 Oh... that would feel  good.  The betrayer, dying alone in some wretched cell.
Never able to touch his Padmé again.
He couldn't steal Padmé from Anakin if he was dead. Couldn't poison her against
her husband.
Anakin crushed his mouth against Miraj's, claiming Obi-Wan's blood from her
lips and tongue.
 That belonged to  him.  It was owed him.
It tasted good.
 
* * *
 
Ahsoka kept pounding on her Master's mental shields until the strangest
sensation leaked through.
 And then she pulled back into her own mind and slammed her  own shields up in
horror.
 He was  fripping the Queen of the slavers.
 And  enjoying it. Fiercely.
 The thought of her Master having sex was just plain  awful. Who the  hell
wanted to think about their parent doing that?
And...
How could he? He'd nearly killed Obi-Wan. Ahsoka had been trying to monitor her
grand-Master's Force signature, and he seemed to be hovering between life and
death.
Leaning towards death.
 They needed to get  out of here, and  rescue him and Anakin was  fripping the
Queen of Zygerria.
Ahsoka had tried to free herself, multiple times, to no avail.
So now she sat in her suspended cage and glared out into the night.
“  Don't you dare die,”     she sent fiercely to Obi-Wan.
“And you  should be ashamed of herself,” she mentally screamed at Anakin.
And he really. Just didn't. Give.
A.
Kark.
 
* * *
 
Obi-Wan awoke to agony.
And someone—
Oh, no. Please no.
Fear and revulsion flooded his system, made him kick at the man pulling down
his leggings.
Punishing electricity arced through his body, and by the time he could put two
thoughts together again, both leggings and smallclothes were at his ankles,
effectively locking his feet together.
He frantically fought, searched the Force for Anakin, for Ahsoka—
Ahsoka couldn't help. But now, sensing his desperation, she was flailing
against her own captivity.
And being beaten into submission.
As for Anakin?
The Chosen One dropped his shields and dimly Obi-Wan felt Ahsoka recoil in
horror.
Anakin wouldn't be helping him.
Obi-Wan struggled to replace his shields, but it was too late. Anakin held them
underfoot.
His best friend had for many years now been the physically stronger of the two.
And for even more years... actually... ever since he was nine years old...
Anakin had possessed a vast strength in the Force that dwarfed Obi-Wan's.
Obi-Wan had voluntarily lowered his shields to him.
And Anakin held him underwater.
“What's so wonderful about your body, Master?” came the taunting words,
delivered straight into the depths of Obi-Wan's soul.
Obi-Wan, weakened, so weakened and every few moments assailed by electricity to
negate any attempts to use the Force to defend himself, was gang-raped.
Anakin, fripping the Queen of Zygerria for all she was worth, fed off Obi-Wan's
agony and humiliation, placed it over the Queen. Painted Obi-Wan's body over
her own, taking the sensations he felt through their bond and rutting into
them, overwhelmed with vicious pleasure.
The Zygerrians raped Obi-Wan's body.
Anakin raped his mind.
Somewhere, Ahsoka sat curled in on herself, shuddering, trying desperately to
block the Force storm out. Trying to hide herself from Anakin's cruel,
shameless broadcasting, and Obi-Wan's broken soul, being forced into view by
the man he loved most in the universe.
Every Force-sensitive in the system had to have the images raging through their
minds.
Obi-Wan felt shivers of recognition from the far reaches of the Force, and the
last living part of his soul died.
It wasn't just this system.
It was everywhere.
His friends... his family... were witnessing this.
No.
Feeling it.
 As though  they were the ones pounding mercilessly into him.
Anakin fed intense pleasure straight into their bodies and minds, connected to
images of Obi-Wan's abuse.
Obi-Wan had fought for life up until that moment.
Now he just prayed for merciful darkness.
He didn't really care if it was unconsciousness or death.
 
* * *

Yes.
Yes.
The betrayer, broken beneath him, his spirit reeling with the sheer scale of
the humiliation.
Who's laughing now?
 Oh,  Force, he's so tight, so fripping tight, filled with blood and come—
Anakin heard the Queen's moan, mingling with Obi-Wan's ragged cries.
Yes. Take  it, Master.
Take more. Take it all.
And like  it.
Anakin sent his own pleasure straight into Obi-Wan's unprotected mind. Watched
in amusement as Obi-Wan's body responded, unbearably aroused. Laughed as the
Zygerrians noticed and took their cruelties to the next level.
Sneered at Obi-Wan's mortification.
As Obi-Wan's soul struggled, the efforts ever more feeble, against his
shattering grip.
Yes. You're enjoying this.
Anakin cried out in pleasure, felt the cry echoed by Obi-Wan.
 Felt the Zygerrians' mockery.  Heard it— “You want  this, Jedi. Take it. Take
it.”
Obi-Wan, passed off from one to the next without a break, without mercy—
Anakin fell beside the Queen, exhausted to the bone.
Obi-Wan sensed an end to Anakin's violence, the shards of his spirit trying to
pull back.
With a callous hand, Anakin refused to let them go.
Miraj almost more unconscious than asleep beside him, Anakin lay still and
watched his Master's suffering, shivering in pleasure, spent though he might
be.
He watched through the night, refusing to allow Obi-Wan to hide in his own
mind. Denying him even that fortress.
And casually ripping his soul to shreds.
 He had time to  think now. To calculate.
“Is this how you served Qui-Gon?” Anakin asked, his words flung to the Force
and loud, so loud.
He felt Obi-Wan's horror and revulsion.
Anakin dug through Obi-Wan's memories as his former friend struggled to hide
them. Struggled to protect them.
Anakin flung him aside. Bruised his mind. Made his soul bleed. Anakin tore
through the memories, dragging whatever caught his fancy to the surface to show
the universe.
Obi-Wan was being raped with many eyes watching.
It was only right to violate his mind in the same way.
He found a broken little boy who had followed Qui-Gon Jinn to the ends of the
universe and back... but their love, intense though it may have been, hadn't
been a physical or romantic one. It had been that of a father and son.
Annoyed, Anakin dragged Obi-Wan through the memories of Qui-Gon's death, again
and again and again and again, refusing to let Obi-Wan leave, refusing to let
him retreat.
Obi-Wan forgot the audience. His distress, physical and mental, was far too
great.
“Anakin, stop. Please  stop.  Please— !”
Yes.
The universe heard him begging.
Anakin let him go, savoring Obi-Wan's instinctive relief, and then started in
on the memories of Satine, tarnishing them all with a callous hand.
Obi-Wan's panic was obvious.
Anakin assumed that meant there was something particularly vile hidden in there
somewhere, something that would mortify the goody-goody Jedi in a way nothing
else could.
But...
It...
Didn't...
Exist.
What the hell?
 Obi-Wan had  never touched Satine? Not even a chaste kiss?
 His most sacred and most visited memories were of...  talking ? Sitting
together in silence? Him sleeping like a child while she kept watch over him?
Seriously?
These were worthless.
Anakin scattered the memories in disarray, leaving them empty and open and
jumbled. And with his fingerprints all over them, his scent permeating them.
This was becoming boring. Obi-Wan wasn't fighting him over it anymore, just
looking on in dull anguish.
He could keep digging until he found Obi-Wan's sexlife, but he didn't want to
go anywhere near memories of Padmé. He avoided any hint of her like the plague.
Something more interesting, then.
Ah.
How about that trip to the Sith planet Obi-Wan had refused to discuss in any
detail? What was it called?
Zigoola...
Again the fear. “Anakin, please—”
“'Anakin, please,'” his former apprentice mocked back.
 He dug into Zigoola. Obi-Wan's unending nightmare of torture,  Die Jedi die.
The dark side crawling through his blood, shredding his sanity—
Obi-Wan started fighting again.
“Die, Jedi, die,” Anakin whispered in Obi-Wan's soul, holding him down. Forcing
him to see. Forcing him to feel. To go back there.
Obi-Wan's mind thrashed feebly against Anakin's brutal strength as his best
friend forced him to relive disaster after disaster. Loss after loss.
Humiliation upon humiliation.
Obi-Wan had nothing but one single option.
Current horror, or past horror.
All of it on a pedestal before every Force-sensitive being alive, Jedi or
civilian. Friend and enemy and stranger.
 His mind, so prepared, so trained, so  ready to be a haven against the torture
he occasionally encountered, was now a place almost worse than staying in the
present, in the now with his abusers.
The Force wept.
 
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Sidious canceled his last meeting for the evening, locked the door, leaned back
in his chair and let his eyes fall shut. A smile curved his lips as he savored
the show his future apprentice had prepared for him.
For the universe.
This would break the bond between Anakin and Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan.
The only thing keeping Anakin from the darkness within.
Yes.
After this, Obi-Wan would want to have nothing to do with Anakin Skywalker.
The anchor, the conscience would be gone.
And the Jedi would look at their Chosen One with horror.
Anakin would be all his.
Sooner than expected.
Sidious gloried in the magnificence of it all.
Anakin's unchecked cruelty. Spontaneous, genuine, poisonous.
What shall I call you, my Apprentice? Something to commemorate this night, I
think. Rape, violate, betray; all are such... over-exuberant words. In time you
will find your rage aimed a bit more efficiently. Subtly.
You will destroy minds, yes... but with less personal involvement. A more
callous touch. Just as devastating, but while cloaking yourself in mystery. An
invasion.
Invade. Yes...
Lord Vader.
 
* * *
 
Dooku sat up in bed, startled by the Force's turbulence, and a bit stunned by
the images rushing through his brain. He put as many of his shields up as he
could, but he couldn't completely block the Chosen One's storm.
Dooku had always thought Anakin didn't have what it took to be a Sith. He was
too needy. Too emotional. Too fickle. Too married to life's pleasures—
Dooku winced, feeling his own hard erection. Very unthoughtful of young
Skywalker.
Lord Tyranus had always thought Obi-Wan would be a better choice. Anakin would
go dark, certainly. It was inevitable. But he wasn't self-disciplined enough to
last long. He'd make a mistake, and his reign would be over in the blink of an
eye.
Obi-Wan was the more calculating of the two. If ever pressure could be put to
him to turn him, he would make a far better Sith than Anakin could ever hope to
be. He had the patience. He had the control. He had deception in a way Anakin
could only drool over.
If anythingcould drive Obi-Wan Kenobi into the comforting arms of the dark
side, thisshould do it.
He had nowhere to turn, and life was going to be stripped from him centimeter
by agonizing centimeter if he didn't resort to drastic measures.
 Without anger, without fury, without the promise of retribution, how could he
survive ?
And yet Dooku couldn't find hate. Obi-Wan didn't hate Anakin. He didn't hate
his abusers.
Cornered, beaten, made the plaything of a million beings, Obi-Wan was refusing
to let go of his light.
Everything was being taken from him.
All refuge. His body. His dignity. His friendships. His mind. His anonymity.
His memories. His “son.” His sanity would go soon. Life would follow.
He contested every centimeter. It was painful to watch, simply because it was
so futile.Each was torn from his bloodied fingers.
 But when it came to his  light ?
 When the Zygerrians and Anakin reached for  that , Obi-Wan abandoned all other
fronts of battle. He let them take all the ground they could manage, and
wrapped himself around his light and would  not let go.
No matter how much they battered him.
It wasn't a battle. He didn't fight back.
 He simply hunched against the assault and  took it, holding on with everything
he was worth. They tried to tear him from it, tear it from him—
But this was where Obi-Wan Kenobi made his final stand.
 He would  not let go of that light, he would  not hate, he would  not take
refuge in anger, he would  not, not.
Not.
The glint in his eye said he would  die first.
And he probably would.
The torture intensified, came from every angle imaginable.
Obi-Wan's stubborn tenacity held on.
Refusing, refusing—
His voice couldn't be heardover the sounds of his violation—
But he—
Would—
Not —
Let—
Them—
Win —
With a growl, Dooku fell back against his bed.
Maybe his Master was right.
He grimaced.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was a lost cause.
He'd probably be dead by morning anyhow.
Apparently they were stuck with Anakin.
Feeling his hard erection against his night pants, Dooku scowled.
 Why couldn't he have sent the images  without the sensations as well?
Just another reason to hate Skywalker.
 
* * *
 
The Temple jolted, every Jedi at home snapping to alert at once.
And then the adults and older Padawans rushed to form a protective barrier
between the little ones and the Chosen One.
Damage had already been done by the time silence cushioned them in a bubble,
keeping them from the vile onslaught.
Fortunately, for the littlest ones, they had no idea how to interpret the
images, sounds, words, and sensations tearing through the Force. They just knew
Obi-Wan was sad and in pain. And Anakin was angry.
The older ones weren't quite so lucky.
Row after row of Jedi built shields in the Force, physically placing themselves
between the children and Skywalker. It took every ounce of concentration, and
it didn't keep themselves from seeing what was taking place. Thankfully, from a
more detachedplace, giving them a bit of a cushion against the sensations, but
still...
They saw and heard it all.
Needless to say, Mace Windu was furious.
Yoda, grieved to the core.
Everyone else, varying levels of stunned and outraged.
 While most of the Jedi were struggling to protect the younger generations,
Mace  hadn't been putting effort into blocking anything. Instead, he and
several other Masters honed in on the signal, trying to pinpoint just  where
this was taking place.
 
* * *
 
Mother Talzin, deep in an incantation, wavered. Nightsisters all around
shivered and moaned, eyes glinting with pleasure.
Well.
This was an interesting gift from the Universe.
Unexpected, certainly.
But there was a certain sense of poetic justice to watching her clan find
release in experiencing Obi-Wan Kenobi's brutalization and Anakin Skywalker's
own ecstasy.
Obi-Wan had cut her son in half. Deprived him of his future, his confidence,
and so many years of his life.
Yes.
A very pleasant gift from the Universe.
The sisters were certainly using it to the fullest extent.
 They would have to continue the ceremony later. This was too good to  not
enjoy it while it lasted.
And in memory, for a good many years afterwards.
Given their particular skill set with magicks...
 It might not have to  just be a memory, either.
Mother Talzin smiled.
The Universe was a wondrous thing.
 
* * *
 
“Brother—”
“Yes, I sense it, Savage.”
Understatement of the century.
 Maul was crabby.  Very crabby.
Anakin Skywalker, in his first attempt at revenge against Obi-Wan Kenobi, had
already surpassed everything Maul had ever done to him. If Kenobi had the
choice between them, he'd be running for Maul without reservation.
 That was  not acceptable.
That pathetic whelp of a Skywalker didn't have the right to cast Maul's
depredations on Obi-Wan's life into shadow. No fragging right.
Especially not in the  first attempt.
Maul sat and stewed.
 
* * *

Far away in a cantina, Ventress sucked in a breath in astonishment.
Sweet dark side.
 What the  hell ?
She dropped credits on the table and bolted for the safety of her ship,
thankful Latts Razzi had already left and couldn't pester her with questions.
 For the love of  frip !
She hid herself away in her ship, locking the hatch and ending up in her bunk.
 The sensations roiling through her body were so  intense —
 They also made only  some sense given her own biological structure, but—
 A whole bunch of men were having sex with Obi-Wan. And so was Anakin. Only
not. Only he was having sex with a woman? Since when had Obi-Wan been covered
in  fur ? No, that was the woman?
Ventress tried to make sense of it, but gave up.
 Anakin wanted to destroy his other half. That much was clear, but  ka-ark, did
it have to feel  this good ?
Ventress bit her lip.
Obi-Wan had been kind to her. Had extended trust when she'd given him every
reason to not. She'd invested effort and risk in saving him from Maul awhile
back and she knew if she ever needed help... bizarre as it seemed...
He'd be one she could ask.
 He would have been the one to ask even  before she'd saved his skin.
He would help.
And she could trust him to not take advantage of her.
She shivered, pressing deep against the mattress, trying to ignore the raging
hunger between her legs.
She was a bounty hunter now.
She had a code.
She wasn't sure how her new-found ethics might apply to this situation, but—
She grit her teeth and moaned.
I'm not going to take advantage of him. If the situations were reversed, he
wouldn't take advantage of me.
 That thought sat her up. He'd be trying to  rescue her. Despite all the
horrible things she'd ever done to him, he'd be trying to  save her. Would
throw himself in harm's way to do so.
Kark, Kenobi.
Damned Jedi.
She stretched out to the Force again, but she couldn't locate him.
She couldn't rescue him even if she wanted to.
She couldn't tell if she was relieved or disappointed.
 
* * *
 
Qui-Gon Jinn had tried urging Anakin. He'd tried twisting the Force all around
him.
The Chosen One hadn't listened.
 Qui-Gon was screaming at him now, but Anakin couldn't hear.  Wouldn't.
So Qui-Gon gave up, and instead went to his Padawan.
 Obi-Wan would  always be his Padawan.
He tried to reach Obi-Wan's mind, tried to touch his soul, bring comfort—
But Anakin's strength kept him away. He couldn't force his way past.
Every scream torn from Obi-Wan's lips twisted his heart.
Obi-Wan's pleading with Anakin wasn't just in his mind.
 It was  aloud.
His abusers didn't know what to think of it, so they mocked and laughed.
It burned Qui-Gon's soul.
He was the reason these two had been together.
Obi-Wan had refused to hold on to a child he didn't want. He knew how
devastating that could be to the child. He also refused to break his promise to
Qui-Gon, so opened his heart to accept Anakin into it. Had chosen to learn to
love him.
Even though he'd heard warning whispers from the Force, had felt danger and
disaster ahead...
He'd opened himself up, made himself vulnerable.
He'd sacrificed so much of himself for the boy.
 And  this was how he was repaid.
The thing of it was...
Anakin would never have succeeded with his current atrocity if Obi-Wan didn't
love him so much. If Obi-Wan hadn't formed that bond of intense care. If Obi-
Wan had rejected him despite Qui-Gon's request, or had blocked him out of his
heart and trained him a cold, distant manner, he would have been protected from
Anakin's mind.
 Between Qui-Gon's hopes and Obi-Wan's conscience and compassion for a lost,
grieving child,  this had been made possible.
Qui-Gon watched.
And his soul screamed.
 
* * *
 
Padmé had retired early, worn out from negotiations that had started in the wee
hours of the morning.
Terrible images floated through her dreams, a nightmare like she'd never
experienced before.
She awoke in horror, not just because of the sheer evil of what her love was
doing to his former Master, but because of the pleasure she felt whispering
through her.
What kind of perversion was that?
She tried drinking a ferocious cup of caf and settled in to study a new Senate
bill—
Whispers of images. New images. New words.
This wasn't a dream.
 She rushed to the Temple, demanding admittance, demanding  answers.
 At first no one paid much attention. They were too focused on something else,
too drawn and gaunt—
And then she yelled she was having visions. Or something.
 And that caught  everybody's attention.
It had taken three minutes for one of the Jedi to sense she had life growing
inside her.
 Force-sensitive life.  Very Force-sensitive.
 The child... no...  children  were receiving these images and channeling them
to her.
Padmé was torn between confused disbelief— she couldn't be pregnant, she'd been
careful— and horror.
 If they were  receiving these images, they were  being sent from somewhere,
and they  couldn't be real, they  couldn't — Anakin would never  do something
like—
The Jedi weren't paying much attention to her protests. They herded her into
the protective circle that had settled in to hold against the siege, and
instantly the vague pictures in her mind vanished.
She tried to find solace in plying Yoda with demands and questions, but all he
gave her were quiet assurances that a strong force of Jedi were setting out to
find answers and bring help.
 
* * *
 
The sun kissed Ahsoka's cage.
Morning at last.
Flying reptiles perched above her, trying to reach inside to tear her flesh.
 The space between the bars was just a  little too small. If she stayed
exactly  in the center and didn't move a centimeter in any direction.
That was probably an intentional design feature.
It would have denied her sleep had she dared let go of herself that far.
She hadn't.
Not for a single moment through the long night.
She'd been unable to keep her Master from running Obi-Wan's nightmare through
her mind, but she'd been able to mute it somewhat with her shields.
If she'd fallen asleep...
She wouldn't have been able to keep up her shields.
So she sat, shivering in the cold of the early morning.
Her master slept.
 Thank the  Force.
He slept like a contented baby.
And she hated him for it.
Hated him.
Yesterday, even after he'd flogged Obi-Wan, she would have said it would be
impossible for her to hate Anakin Skywalker.
She did now.
Just as she knew Obi-Wan didn't.
Force and hell.
Every Force-sensitive from here to Tatooine knew Obi-Wan didn't.
Ahsoka could barely sense the older Jedi now.
He'd been left on the floor of his cell. Naked. Broken.
The door had been left open, and no guards stood there.
But he wouldn't be leaving.
And Ahsoka was unable to go to him.
And Anakin, who retained autonomy...
She felt grateful that Rex, Force-deaf as a post, had been unable to see Anakin
like that.
It meant he might still be able to respect his General when they got back to
the war effort.
Ahsoka?
She would never respect Anakin Skywalker ever again.
She was also no longer his Padawan.
That she promised herself.
She had no doubt Yoda had been witness to last night's horror.
 She would have no argument from  him.
She didn't know what would be done about her former Master.
 She didn't know what would be done  for Obi-Wan.
If he lived.
She almost hoped he didn't.
How could one recover from so sound a betrayal?
I won't be, and it wasn't aimed for me.
She feared that if he lived, the rest of Obi-Wan's life was going to be hell.
She wasn't surprised when she felt a familiar presence in the Force and looked
up to find Plo Koon.
 
* * *
 
When Yoda had told Mace to go, he'd gone.
 With a  lot of backup.
Adi Gallia, Eeth Koth, Luminara Unduli, Kit Fisto, Shaak Ti, Agen Kolar, Saesee
Tiin, Stass Allie just to name a few.
And most brought their ships and clone forces with them. They weren't going to
repeat the mistake of Geonosis.
The Zygerrian empire was back, according to the images they'd been forced to
witness, Anakin Skywalker seemed to have gone mad, and Obi-Wan was being
systematically destroyed.
Mace had even grabbed the 212th, telling them Obi-Wan was in trouble.
Cody and his men were the first out the gate.
Windu had notbrought the 501st.
He wasn't entirely sure where their loyalty would fall if it came to a struggle
to bring Skywalker in.
Plo Koon was able to lead a division to find Ahsoka, following the bond they
shared.
She in turn took them to the arena and into the warren of chambers beneath the
viewing stands in search of Obi-Wan.
Mace took others and went for Skywalker.
 The rest set about utterly  destroying the reborn Zygerrian Slave Empire.
Battle raged in the skies, in orbit, and all over the capital city, like some
horrifying apocalypse. Fires raged. People died. Screams filled the air.
The Jedi hadn't taken such aggressive and decisive action in millenia.
 The Zygerrian Empire was  not going to rise again.
They sanitized it to its foundation, just to be sure.
The Zygerrians weren't expecting the assault...
And the forces brought to bear against them were just too much.
If only the Separatist war was as simple as this side-track.
 
* * *
 
Ahsoka recognized the partially-open cell door. No guards stood watch.
So that hadn't been a hallucination on Obi-Wan's part.
They really hadbeen that smugand confident he was going nowhere.
“He's here!” Ahsoka called, frantically keying the door the rest of the way
into the wall.
Cody, almost stepping on her heels, swore as the door revealed his General.
Naked. Lying on his stomach.
Dried blood everywhere.
The stench of come permeating the air. Dried lines of it across Obi-Wan's face,
through his hair, through the wounds of his back, staining the bones of his
ribs and spine.
And those weren't the most the obvious signs of Obi-Wan's taking.
Obi-Wan's eyes, aimed for the door, were half-open, but he didn't seem to see
his rescuers. Ahsoka felt his silent suffering, his soul quivering in the
shattered remains of his mind, afraid to move, afraid to flinch a finger, lest
it remind Anakin he still existed.
That the job wasn't finished.
The 212th's medic and Jedi healers filled the cell, and Ahsoka and Cody stepped
back into the hall to give them working room.
“Who did this to him?” Cody asked, his voice a low menace.
Ahsoka tried to find an answer for that. Obi-Wan's broken spirit no Zygerrian
could everhave achieved. Not through slavery, not through torture, not through
rape. He had a resilience that astounded the strongest of the Jedi Masters, and
as long as his mind was his own, he could retreat to it. Withstand the worst
storms.
He'd even overcome attempts enemies had made to destroy his mind. Again and
again.
Only a loved one could succeed where his greatest enemies had failed.
 Cody roughly grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. Shocked, Ahsoka stared
up into his face. “ Who did this to him? ”
“General Skywalker.”
Ahsoka's head snapped around and found Rex, dressed in his Zygerrian disguise,
helmet off, face twisted. “Who told you that?” Ahsoka demanded.
 He just  looked at her.
Ahsoka found herself unable to protest.
Rex was right. It didn't matter...
Because she couldn't deny the accusation.
 Cody's fingers in her shoulder were digging deeper, deeper,  deeper —
She twisted out of his reach, and he didn't even seem to notice. He stared at
his brother, his face an unreadable mask.
“What did you say?” Cody finally asked.
A scream tore from the other room as the healers moved Obi-Wan onto a
stretcher.
Rex's face twisted as he looked at Ahsoka. “I kept waiting for General
Skywalker's signal. He told me to wait. He gave me orders. I followed them.”
Ahsoka could read his anguish. He'd been patient. He'd trusted in his General.
 “I should have been looking for General Kenobi. I should have found him
sooner. I should have known something was wrong— instead I was locating the
Kiros people, and  this happened—”
“Did you find them?” Ahsoka interrupted.
Rex gave a reluctant nod. “They're in the Kadavo system in giant slave-
conditioning facilities.”
Ahsoka turned to Adi Gallia, who stood guard near. “Did you hear that?”
Adi gave her a nod and sprang away, barking orders into her comm.
“We found the missing colonists,” Ahsoka sent to Obi-Wan, hoping he would hear
her.  “We're going to get them out. The fifty thousand people you wanted to
save — we're saving them. Right now, Master. We're saving them right now.”
He didn't respond.
In the Force, he still felt like a cold emptiness.
 Cody was still struggling with Rex's earlier words. “Are you  sure it was
General Skywalker—”
Rex's reply was a simple, steady gaze, shot through with a horrified sickness
that just about gutted Ahsoka.
And then the crowd attending Obi-Wan came sweeping out between Cody and Rex,
surrounding a stretcher.
 Cody's gaze dropped to his General's face, taking in the panic in the glassy,
fixed eyes, the agony, the  humiliation —
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Rex, I swear—”
But Rex only shook his head, turned, and followed the medics.
“I'm sorry, kid,” he said grimly as Ahsoka forced her feet to move. “I don't
see how you planned to keep this quiet after what happened last night.”
Ahsoka didn't either.
 She wasn't even sure she  should.
She didn't know how Rex had found out.
But at this moment she was far more worried about Obi-Wan than Rex's
intelligence sources.
 “How  could Skywalker?” Cody asked, voice numb. “They're  brothers .”
 “I missed it,” Rex returned, voice just as dull. “After Krell, I  swore I'd
never again let my men be sacrificed like that for a Jedi gone bad. Somehow I
missed it, and General Kenobi paid the price.”
 Cody gripped his shoulder tightly. “It's not  your fault.”
 “We're supposed to protect them, Cody. He was under  my watch .”
Ahsoka's miserable attention was yanked away from the grieving clones by a
tumult in the Force that sent fear through her soul.
She followed it to its source, splitting away from Cody and Rex, who were too
focused on Obi-Wan to notice her leaving.
She found Anakin alone, cornered by Fisto, Windu, Koth, and Tiin. He had his
lightsaber out, a snarl on his face.
 “What are you  doing ?” Ahsoka screamed at him. “ Obi-Wan was lying !”
“Now isn't a good time, Ahsoka,” he growled.
 “What Obi-Wan said to you in the arena.  He lied. So you would carry out the
mission! I was  trying to tell you  all night, but you weren't  listening to
me, and I'm not strong enough to trample  your shields!”
It took a moment.
And then Anakin's eyes widened. His face went slack, his lightsaber dropped
from nerveless fingers. His gaze found Ahsoka's, a terrible doubt in his eyes.
Hints of blood still spotted his face and neck.
Obi-Wan's blood. Dried black.
 Tears blinded Ahsoka for a moment. “How could you  do that to him?” she
choked. “He—  loved you—”
The last hint of defiance melted away from Anakin.
He sank to his knees, raised his hands. Made no move to resist as shock-binders
were secured to his wrists.
His gaze searched his Padawan's face; desperate, almost panicked. “Ahsoka?” His
voice sounded so young. So vulnerable. “What have I done?”
The Jedi led him out of the room. He craned his neck to look back at her.
“Ahsoka? Ahsoka!”
She bit her lip and followed, tears slipping down her face.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Some of you bright eyes noticed that in this story Ventress is a
     bounty hunter and the Nightsister clan is still alive.
     Or are they?
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
They split the Team up for transport.
And when Ahsoka had to choose which to follow, she went with Obi-Wan.
 Eeth Koth took charge of the ship, the 212 th  ran it, and the healers
transferred Obi-Wan to its medical facilities.
Ahsoka didn't know who had Anakin.
Probably Mace and his men.
Ahsoka paced in the waiting area.
Fisto, Plo, Rex, and Cody stood with her, none of them particularly interested
in sitting.
 212 th  clones ducked their heads in the door, a silent fury in their Force
signatures and a fearful eagerness on their faces, desperate for good news.
They all walked away disappointed.
 From the turbulence in the ship and the sheer  rage, Ahsoka could tell they
knew.
 They knew their General hadn't  just been tortured again.
 That was normal. It angered them, but it couldn't provoke  this.
And the wary glances that were thrown Rex's way proved they knew who was
responsible.
Of course, all ten thousand Jedi knew it, and every other Force-sensitive being
in the galaxy. There were thousands more who didn'tbelong to the Order.
Reporters. Gamblers. Pilots. Politicians. So what was one battalion more, in
perspective?
 Discussion of what had happened last night, if it wasn't already everywhere,
would be soon.  In-depth discussions. With information coming straight from
people who had experienced it as though  they were the ones fripping Obi-Wan
Kenobi.
This wasn't something Obi-Wan would ever be able to escape.
Ever.
Ahsoka's steps quickened.
 Oh, Force. Oh,  Force.
She could feel pulses of pain coming from her grand-Master. It was the only
thing interrupting the emptiness.
Obi-Wan hadn't been able to hide in his mind.
So he hadn't.
He'd shut down.
Waited for it to all be over.
And in that turned-off, disconnected and blank state...
He didn't know he was free yet.
He doesn't even know he's safe.
 That was  it. She headed for the door, only to be warned away by Luminara as
soon as she caught sight of Ahsoka.
They were working.
Obi-Wan wasn't ready for visitors yet. The fewer the crowds around him until he
was stabilized, the better.
Ahsoka retreated, and felt her soul die just a little bit more.
 
* * *
 
The Temple opened to receive its wounded son home. Sisters and brothers of all
ages waited for his return, trying to come up with ways to make it less
difficult for him.
He was unaware of them all, their thoughtfulness unseen.
Bant was there, beside him, tending his wounds and refusing to leave his side
for longer than a few hours at a time for sleep.
 It had been centuries since an atrocity like this had been received. And
never, in all the history of the Order, had something this terrible been so
vast.  Something so widely known. Yes. There were Jedi who had been betrayed
and abused.
No.
 The whole galaxy had  not been involved.
 Somehow...  somehow a holo had been found.
A clip of part of Obi-Wan's abusing.
His voice could be heard clearly, begging Anakin for mercy. To stop. The broken
look in his eyes, the loud pleasure of the men who fripped him...
Padmé, Bail, and Palpatine had done their best to hunt down where it had come
from, and to deny every copy from the holonet.
But that was impossible.
It had gone viral and underground.
It was everywhere.
Everyone had seen it.
The only people who hadn't were those who respected Obi-Wan and were unwilling
to do something so unkind to him...
And his brothers and sisters.
Who'd already seen it all in their minds.
Bail had pestered the healers every few hours until they promised to let him
know as soon as there were any changes. Padmé had insisted on carrying on her
work. She'd been driven by the need to confront Anakin, all up until the point
when they'd arrived.
Obi-Wan's broken body on the stretcher. Covered with a thin blanket for
modesty's sake.
But nothing could hide the destruction that had been wrought on him.
And his eyes....
And then had come Ahsoka. A teenager turned into an adult overnight. There was
an anger, a betrayal in her face...
The other Jedi, their postures protective and wary. Cody, accompanying his
General in, looking haggard and almost frantic with worry.
And then had come the bound prisoner.
There was something in Anakin's eyes that terrified her.
Sensing her presence, he'd looked up at her.
Eyes hollow.
They seemed to be portals, allowing one to see into the darkness of his soul.
Padmé had left the Temple within minutes, and hadn't been back since.
 There was no  way she was going to talk to her husband.
Not any time soon.
She threw herself into work, because it was the only way she could keep herself
from curling up in a ball and giving up.
 What had her husband become, and  when had it happened?
What was she supposed to do about the twin lives she carried? Whose father was
a...
Was a...
Padmé buried herself deeper in work.
 
* * *
 
Ahsoka sat in a chair at the entry to the Halls of Healing.
It was difficult.
This wasn't the first time she'd sat here, waiting for a report on Obi-Wan's
condition.
That time, he'd been in a massive wreck caused by a terrorist's bomb.
And also, that time, Anakin had been sitting in the chair beside her.
She'd been so young back then. So in awe of her Master.
So confident he could never do anythingwrong. And even if he did, it wouldn't
be verywrong, and would definitelyhave been an accident.
She'd also had every faith in Anakin's love for Obi-Wan.
With the weight of all that had come before, and all that was now and might be
ahead, Ahsoka was convinced she would not be sleeping, no matter how exhausted
her body might be.
She was wrong.
For the second time, she fell asleep in that chair.
But this time, she didn't have her Master's shoulder to lean against.
And when she was awakened by footsteps...
She was the one the healer was moving towards.
“Padawan Tano.”
“How is he?” she asked, standing. She couldn't bear to be in contact with that
chair anymore.
 “Very close to death. His injuries were life-threatening  before —”
“I know,” Ahsoka interrupted, not wanting to hear the words aloud. “Is he going
to make it?”
 The healer sighed. “He's not  trying to.”
Ahsoka winced. “He wants to die.”
 She was surprised when the chocolate-skinned zabrak shook his head. “No. I'm a
Mind Healer, Padawan Tano, and I've never seen a mind this... fragile. Most
people, when they are in a catatonic state and staring blankly at a wall, have
hidden themselves away in a non-physical place in their mind. Oftentimes a
place they feel is safe. A childhood memory. A favorite vacation spot.
Sometimes it's more nightmarish. Either way, the mind is  active, it just isn't
interacting with the outside world.
 “Master Kenobi hasn't gone someplace else. He's not thinking. At  all.  He's
cut off all input coming in from  outside his mind  and from inside his mind.”
“Is that  possible ?” Ahsoka asked, trying to comprehend what he was saying.
 “In order to survive, he has frozen himself in time and disconnected from
everything, even his own thoughts. He has no idea time has passed. He doesn't
know he's safe and among friends. He's still locked in that place of
nothingness. He's not wishing death, because he's not wishing  anything.  He's
simply  existing. ”
“How do we reach him? We have to wake him up, or he's not going to make it,”
Ahsoka pointed out, fear chilling her to the bone marrow. “His body needs him
to be actively interested in healing!”
The Mind Healer gave her a grim nod. “We've tried various things, but nothing
is reaching him. Perhaps someone close to him could help. We'll try with you
first, but I'd like a list of his friends. We can't afford to assume anything.
It's all-new territory, here.”
Ahsoka nodded. That was only reasonable. “Senator Organa. Senator Amidala. Me.
An—” She bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood.
The Mind Healer winced a little too.
That's right. He doesn't just know.  He felt that betrayal like it was his own.
Everyone was suffering.
A memory. Mandalore. The way the Duchess had taken such an interest in Anakin
and Ahsoka... because they were connected to Obi-Wan.
And beyond that...
The memories Anakin had taken and flung across the stars. Because of those,
Ahsoka knew just how intensely Obi-Wan loved Satine Kryze.
“The Duchess of Mandalore.” Ahsoka could see, in the Healer's eyes, that he'd
already included her on his chart.
After all, he'd seen the memories too.
 The list was small. How could a man so sweet-natured have so few friends?
And then she thought about the mourning the Temple had fallen into, and
realized he had ten  thousand of them.
We're family. It's different.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
An agitated Force-signature, and then a flurry of black dreadlocks, black
leather, and ferocious dark eyes presented itself.
“Where is he?” Quinlan Vos demanded.
The Mind Healer held up his hands in a soothing manner.
 “Don't you  dare keep me away. I got here as soon as I could. Qui-Gon Jinn was
kind to me. He helped me when no one else could. I swore I would always
protect Obi-Wan, it was all I could do to repay my debt after Qui-Gon died—”
 Ahsoka stared at him in astonishment. Was  that why Quinlan always kept
showing up, even though he and Obi-Wan couldn't stand each other's company?
“I should have been there. If I'd been there—”
 “He's in a very dangerous place right now,” the Healer interrupted. “If you
want to try to reach him, you are  very welcome, but only if you are  calm. If
he senses turbulence and grief and anger, he's going to  hide deeper inside
himself.  If that happens, we  lose him. Do you understand?”
Quinlan wilted. Scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can't— I can't do that just
yet. The calm thing.”
“You're welcome to wait here until you're safe to be with him. Then you can
visit and see if you can draw him back to the surface.”
Vos gave him a harsh nod, turned, and dropped himself into one of the chairs on
the opposite side of the waiting area, lowering his head into his hands. Thick
dreads fell in front of his face, concealing it.
But nothing could hide the pain, the fury, the guilt he felt.
Ahsoka felt a kinship with him that she'd never experienced before.
 Those three emotions were mirrored in her  own soul.
If I'd only been  there.
She kept finding herself saying those words over and over as well, even though
she'd been in the same city.
I was helpless to help him.
It was a terrible feeling.
“I will contact the Senators and Duchess.” The Healer hesitated, glanced at
Vos, then lowered his voice. “Is it... possible... that Obi-Wan is the father
of Senator Amidala's twins?”
 Ahsoka stared up at him in shock. “ What twins ?”
“She came to the Temple while... it was happening. She was seeing glimpses of
it. We realized she was pregnant, and the babies were sending her the images
and... sensations.”
Oh, hell.
They were powerful, if they were doing that.
It made the likelihood of them being Rush Clovis' kids rather slim.
Kark, Anakin.
What was Padmé going to do? Her children had been fathered by a...
Monster. You can say it, Ahsoka. You don't have to feel guilty about it. You
didn't make him one. He made himself  one.
“No. I happen to know that Obi-Wan and Senator Amidala do not have  that kind
of friendship.”
The Healer nodded. “I don't know if that means she's more likely or less likely
to be able to reach him. We'll try anyway.”
Ahsoka was surprised by the hint of glumness she heard in his voice.
He was hoping we could find someone with a very strong connection to him.
They were ignoring the bantha in the room.
 The  Team.
Skywalker and Kenobi.
Halves of a whole.
If anyone could save the other from something like this...
It was their other half.
“If we tried to use Anakin?” Ahsoka whispered.
The Healer flinched. “Obi-Wan is a breath away from death. If Skywalker
succeeded in breaching this final defense...”
 Ahsoka could see it in the Healer's eyes. He thought Obi-Wan would find his
next retreat in death. “Could he do that?” she worried. “Could he decide where
he is isn't safe enough, and just... take one step back?  Die , with just the
desire?”
 “I hadn't thought what he's  already accomplished was possible. I have no
doubt he could run for death if he felt it was his only other place to hide.”
Ahsoka felt her shoulders and lekku drooping.
 “I don't know of anyone who has a stronger connection to Obi-Wan. I  certainly
don't.”
 “Who knows? Maybe he  will  hear you,” the Healer offered, trying to sound
optimistic and failing.
“Ahsoka.”
She turned, saw Kit Fisto in the doorway.
“Anakin is asking for you.”
A glare spread across her face, hardened her eyes. If she opened her mouth to
speak, something vicious was going to come out. So she kept her teeth tightly
clamped shut.
“He's sounding pretty pitiful,” Fisto added. There was no sarcasm in his voice.
 Ahsoka had enough for both of them. “Pitiful, is he? Yes. I should  absolutely
have pity for him because  he is the victim here. He's always the victim. He's
never responsible for  anything. It's always someone else's fault. I'm sure
this is  Obi-Wan's fault and Anakin was misused. Definitely. We just need to
let him talk enough, and the truth will come to light. We'll realize it's all
Obi-Wan's fault. It always has been, always will be. Obi-Wan wasn't enough.
Obi-Wan didn't train him right. Obi-Wan didn't love him enough. Obi-Wan wasn't
good enough. Obi-Wan didn't communicate well enough. Obi-Wan—”
“ Ahsoka. ” Master Fisto sounded grieved, his eyes sorrowful.
 “Well?” she demanded, raising her voice. “Isn't that what we've all heard? If
not from Anakin, from  others who disapprove of my Master and his?”
 Quinlan raised his head, and Ahsoka could see it in his eyes. He knew what she
was talking about. “She's right,” he offered. “No-one can agree on just  what
it is that Kenobi lacks, but they  all agree it's  his fault. Too strict, not
strict enough. Too loving, not loving enough. Should have been more of a
father, less of a brother. Skywalker didn't need a father, but a friend and
brother. Kenobi didn't see the warning signs, or was overly critical and
hounding Skywalker for  everything. Should have been more like Qui-Gon.
Shouldn't have tried to be like Qui-Gon, because  that's where he failed; he
should have been himself. Or the worst one of all: It should have been Qui-Gon
who raised Anakin. Obi-Wan is at fault because he's  alive. It's sick.”
 “It's also not how  we see either of them,” Fisto said quietly. “There's a
small handful of people who speak out like you just said. They're very loud and
repetitive. But there's about twenty of them, and that's it, in the entire
Order.  We're  not out here taking him apart while he's lying at death's door,
and criticizing them behind their backs for their unfair words isn't going to
help Obi-Wan.”
“Neither is going to talk to the chief of them. Why should I waste my time
talking to him when I could be trying to save Obi-Wan's life?” Ahsoka
challenged.
For a long moment Fisto didn't say anything. When he spoke, the words were slow
and thoughtful. “I cannot tell you what you should do with his request, Ahsoka.
I can only imagine what it would have been like if it was my Master, instead of
yours. All I can offer you is that hate is what got us here, and hate will not
bring healing.”
I don't want Anakin to heal.
 “Maybe Skywalker deserves to suffer,” Vos muttered. “He's treated Kenobi like
kark for years, and Obi-Wan's accepted it because he's his own greatest critic.
He doesn't think he's worthy of anything better. Why do you think he dislikes
me so much? I keep telling him to stand up for himself. To believe in himself.”
Vos huffed out a sigh. “Maybe a bit too aggressively. But Skywalker has
handicapped him all these years. Held him back from realizing his own worth and
potential. Bet you when he wakes up, he's going to say the reason Anakin's gone
the way he has is because of Obi-Wan's own arrogance in thinking he could teach
him. In thinking he had the  right to. Because no-one shy of Yoda should have
had that privilege.”
The Healer sighed. “Yoda was never an option. Anyone who is old enough to
remember that time knows that.”
Fisto was ignoring them, and still watching Ahsoka.
 She felt rudderless. The man she'd trusted with  everything  had turned out to
be a monster. How could Anakin be so vile?
Master Plo would want me to go.
So she gave Fisto a small nod and followed him from the Halls.
She could sense his gentle approval, see the pride in his eyes.
And...
He left her alone at the hall leading to Anakin's cell.
Temple Guards stood watch, faces unreadable through beautiful masks.
She took a long moment to try to steady her nerves, then walked past them to
the door.
It opened to her touch.
She stepped in, and the door slid shut behind her.
Only then did she find the courage to look up.
Anakin sat on the bunk, head in his hands, still dressed in his Zygerrian
disguise.
Or was it a disguise?
In the Force, you looked like one of them.
The slaver scum he'd so vehemently despised.
How could Anakin have always been one step away from becoming what he hated
most?
And...
 Was that one reason  for that hatred?
Because somewhere, deep down...
He'd known he could easily get there himself?
He looked up, and Ahsoka was stunned by how haggard he looked. Gaunt.
“How is he?” he asked, tears slurring his voice.
Ahsoka stared at him for a long moment, trying to come up with an answer to
that. “You should know better than anyone.”
Somehow, the dead eyes looking up at her died just a little more.
 “He's... alive... I can sense him—”
“You leave him  alone, ” Ahsoka snarled, an unintentional response, but
unavoidable. Her breathing thickened as she resisted the urge to  fight .
“He feels distant. Missing, somehow. He doesn't know I'm here.” Anakin's voice
was full of miserable confusion.
 Ahsoka took what was supposed to be a calming breath. It  may have had the
opposite effect. “He's hiding from you, and if we can't convince him to come
back, he's going to die.”
Anakin's face crumpled and his shoulders hunched forward. He stared at his
hands in horror.
“You're... you're sure he lied?”
 Ahsoka pointed an accusing finger at him. “I don't know  what he said to you,
but what he told me,  right before he passed out from the  flogging you
inflicted on him, was that the mission came first. You had to prove your
loyalty to the Queen, he'd given you permission and goaded you so you could
manage to  act. 'Fifty thousand people.  Your people, Ahsoka,' is what he told
me. He told me  twice that whatever it was he'd told you, he'd  lied. He told
me to keep you  focused on the mission because all those people might go
through what  he was going to go through if we didn't. It was  reckless, but it
was  selfless. Like everything else he does.”
“Did— did they get rescued?”
 “Yes.  No thanks to you ! And can I just say it? We lost a lot of  good clones
out there because you couldn't stay focused!”
Anakin blanched. “Five-oh-first?”
 “So, what? It's okay for men to die as long as they're not important to  you
?”
“That's not what —”
“Really,Anakin? Because the instantObi-Wan was no longer important to you, you—
you—” Tears flooded her eyes.
No. She was  not going to let them fall.
 She wanted him to look away so she could regain her composure without him
witnessing how  difficult it was going to be. He just kept staring up at her.
“Can you think of any friends who might be able to pull him back to the
surface?” Ahsoka finally mumbled.
“Dex?”
I didn't think of Dex. “How long has he known Obi-Wan?”
“Since Obi-Wan was a teenager, I think.”
Ahsoka doubted that was strong enough.
“Jar Jar?”
 Ahsoka blinked in surprise. That...  might work . After all, Jar Jar was
inextricably tied to Obi-Wan's memories of Qui-Gon. And while both Rex and
Anakin at times struggled with being kind to the Gungan, Obi-Wan had a soft
spot for him that just could  not be shaken.
Besides.
How much more non-threatening could you get?
“Bant.” Anakin's eyes darkened. “I know she helped him get through a lot of bad
things in the past.”
 Ahsoka stiffened. “Yeah. We  all  do, now.”
 And  finally his gaze dropped to stare at the floor. “Senator Organa and the
Duchess—”
“Yeah, I already got those two.”
Anakin hesitated for a long moment, and then offered, “Senator Ami—”
 “Oh, you mean the woman you  impregnated. ”
 Anakin's head snapped up, his eyes wide. “ What? ”
 “You didn't know? Huh. With all that raw power forcing its way into all
corners of the galaxy you  didn't notice? I guess you were pretty preoccupied.
Yeah. She came to the Temple, seeing  visions. ”
Anakin's already-pale face lost all hint of color. Terror flooded his eyes.
 “Yeah. She  saw what you did, Anakin. Saw it, heard it,  felt it.  Turns out,
your  kids were getting an earful from Daddy, and thought Mommy needed to
know.”
“Who knows?” he whispered.
 Ahsoka stared at him in horror. “I just told you that you inflicted  that on
your  children and you want to know if you're  in trouble ?”
“I—”
 “No. Don't bother.” Ahsoka turned on her heel and stalked to the door. “You
know, I always thought you were the farthest thing from an actor. You couldn't
manage a covert operation to save your  life. I was wrong. All these years
you've been masquerading as a decent human being.”
 “ Ahsoka, ” he sounded anguished.
She ignored his plea, left him, and didn't look back.
 
* * *
 
Masquerading as a decent human being.
Screams of Sand children in his ears. Baby wails.
 The wounded, the sick, the defenseless, those who had nothing at  all to do
with what had happened to his Mother—
Anakin struck his head with his metal hand, desperate to drown out the screams.
Ahsoka was right. She had every right to hate him. Despise him.
Look at what he'd done to Obi-Wan.
He lied.
And now he might die.
And I'm a father.
And did she use a plural ? Twins?
 And Padmé knew.  Knew what he'd done.
He fell back onto the bunk and wished for a universe in which none of this had
happened.
But memory was too strong. It wouldn't leave him alone.
It wasn't just the Tuskens.
Rush Clovis.
“Stay away from me.” He could hear Padmé's voice. Full of anger. Horror.
Revulsion.
Fear.
“I'm so sorry, Padmé. I don't know what came over me.”
“You could have killed him, Anakin.”
“I know I went too far. It's just— it's just something inside me snapped.”
“I don't know who's in there sometimes. I just know that I'm not happy anymore.
I don't feel safe.”
“Padmé—”
“I think it's best if we don't see each other anymore.”
He shivered at the memory.
In spite of her resolve, she'd taken him back. She'd been in shock and grief,
dealing with guilt over the fact Dooku had used her finger to pull a trigger
and murder a defenseless man, and horrified that Clovis had thrown his life
away to save hers.
Anakin had been there to comfort her, and she'd accepted.
And continued to accept after the shock had worn off.
 She'd taken him back and pretended he  hadn't almost killed Rush in her home
with his bare fists.
 Just like she pretended he  hadn't massacred an entire village of innocents in
order to punish the few guilty.
A more recent memory.
The look on her face as he'd been led to his cell...
She won't be able to pretend anymore.
He was going to lose her. Not to death, not to another lover...
 But because of who  he was.
He'd driven her away.
 He'd  had her, and he'd driven her away.
 Obi-Wan's scream echoed through his mind. His desperate efforts to escape.
“Please, Anakin, no— please stop!”
Anakin grit his teeth.
 If only he could  forget ...
No. I don't deserve to forget. I should have to remember. I should have to—
Obi-Wan, returning to his tormentors because the reality of what  they were
doing to him was more tolerable than what his own Padawan was doing to his
mind.
I'm a monster.
Obi-Wan's agony, his horror replayed for Anakin, this time without the skewed
lens of his fury.
Eyelids squeezed as tightly shut as possible, Anakin Skywalker's body shook
with sobs as tears took charge.
He didn't think he could take the anguish and guilt.
He forced himself to.
 To  look. To  see what he'd done to Padmé. To Ahsoka.
To Obi-Wan.
The people he loved most in the universe.
Anakin Skywalker wept.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     I pushed the final Rush Clovis arc from Clone Wars season 6 back in
     time. I can't remember where I heard it, but I'm pretty sure I heard
     that at one point, those episodes had been meant to fall earlier in
     the Clone Wars timeline... and then production had been pushed back
     for a few reasons. So technically, they could be out of in-universe
     order, like Clone Wars movie/Cat and Mouse. And Rookies/Clone Cadets.
     And Ambush/Supply Lines. After all, Obi-Wan seems to refer to Satine
     in the present tense. “You've met Satine.” So it's possible those
     scripts were supposed to hit before Season 5... and there we go,
     close enough for me to fudge it.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Many different Jedi had tried reaching Obi-Wan. With their voices, with gentle
pressure against his hand, and with their minds. Ahsoka. Quinlan. Fisto.
Luminara. Yoda. Mace. Bant.
So many, many others.
Adi, who'd been friends with Qui-Gon.
 Bail hadn't realized just  how loved Obi-Wan was. It was so easy to get caught
up in the fact that Jedi were less exuberant with their words and gestures than
the rest of the galaxy.
 He had to keep in mind that  because of it, each gesture had to convey  more.
One had to be paying attention. You couldn't just drift through a conversation.
A quiet word of encouragement often carried more heart behind it than the
exuberant embraces of a non-Jedi.
Blink-and-you-miss-it moments of pure emotion.
Captain Rex had stayed with Obi-Wan for several minutes, then left looking
shaken. Bail couldn't imagine how he must feel. To have an authority figure so
completely lose the heroic mask it had been wearing to unleash such betrayal
Instead of joining the other clones in the waiting area, Rex had fled at a
brisk, businesslike walk.
Jar Jar had tried his best, and seeing his crestfallen despair had been
difficult. Many people couldn't see past his mental handicapability and to his
heart. They were so busy being irritated by and mocking him because his brain
didn't work quite as fast as theirs that they missed just how generous and kind
the Gungan was.
 He  loved. And somehow, he managed to not become bitter despite other people's
cruel and unevolved taunts.
Every once in a while Bail thought maybe the galaxy had grown up enough to move
past people hating other people for disabilities, but every time he turned
around someone was suggesting that Jar Jar would be better out of sight, where
everyone could forget about him and his “stupidity” and his “clumsiness.”
 It never ceased to amaze Bail how Jar Jar forgave the cruelty. How  free his
heart was. How kind he was to those who misused him. How willing to befriend
them, even though they thought his friendship worthless.
He's a better being than the vast majority who can walk gracefully and
calculate higher math in their heads.
Obi-Wan had been one of the few to see him for who he was inside.
Jar Jar loved him fiercely in return.
And there was nothing the Gungan could do for his friend.
As Dex lumbered out of the waiting area for his attempt at rescuing Obi-Wan,
Bail made his way over to where Jar Jar drooped.
“I'm sure he'd be grateful you tried,” Bail assured him.
 “Hesa made sure I'd be gettin' shooting training, after de accidente with
Padmé,” Jar Jar mourned. “Nobody was a-wantin' to be trainin' mesa, but he mada
sure. Mesa noah been a hurtin anybeing with a blaster since. Theysa wantin' to
be keepin' mesa  away  from blasters.  Hesa helpin' my be  safe. ”
Bail gave him an understanding nod.
 “And people been a-watchin' dat  awful holo. A lot. Mesa been sayin' theysa
shouldn't.  Dat Obi wouldn't do it to  themsa. And because mesa stupid, theysa
don't listen.”
 “You're not stupid,” Bail objected. “And they  should have listened to you
because you're right. You're absolutely right.”
 “Is hesa gonna die?” Jar Jar searched Bail's eyes,  needing the truth.
Bail gave him a sad smile. “I hope he won't.”
“Hesa been through bad things before, and been okeyday. But dissin worse dan
all of it before, isn't it.”
And people called him slow.
Bail sighed. “Yes. A lot worse.”
“Mesa gonna contact my friend, Queenie Julia. Askin' her to meditate with hersa
people, for Obi to get better.”
 “I'm sure he'd appreciate that very much.” Bail had no idea who the Gungan was
talking about, but whoever it might be, the effort certainly couldn't  hurt.
Jar Jar bobbed his head and hurried out the door, nearly tripping over his own
feet in the process. He recovered, only to crash into Padmé as she entered.
“Sorry! Mesa sorry! Mesa on a mission to save Obi!”
Padmé recovered, watched him go, and then glanced around the waiting area
uncertainly.
Cody was up and out of his seat in an instant, offering it to the civvie, but
she waved him back into it and came to stand with Bail.
“Anything yet?” she asked, looking jumpy.
Bail wondered if it had anything to do with being in the same building as the
arrested Anakin Skywalker.
Why couldn't she have fallen in love with a  different Jedi? Why did she have
to go and pick  that one? It had been endless fear and heartache for her.
“Not yet.”
 Dex came back down the hall, shoulders hunched and tears in his eyes. The
massive Besalisk paused in the middle of the room, coughed, and choked, “
Somebody get that boy back up on his feet. Please.”
And then he stomped out.
Bail felt his throat close.
“Is it okay if I cut in line—?” Padmé moved towards the entrance.
Bail nodded.
 She needed to get out of here as  soon as possible. It was written all over
her.
She didn't stay long.
Moments later she was rushing out, without a glance at any of them, tears
streaming down her face.
Bail turned to the small group of clones, the only beings left except for
himself.
He found several pairs of bright eyes looking back at him.
“You can go, Senator. We're going to stay with him until they kick us out.”
A small smile tugged at Bail's lips.
 How he wished he could convince the Senate to  see these men as the
individuals they were.
 But that might be even more difficult than convincing the general population
to respect Jar Jar for what he  could do, instead of despising him for what he
couldn't.
Slavery and discrimination.
 For the love of the Force, why hadn't the Republic moved  past those by now?
How many years was it going to  take ?
Bail walked down the pale green hallway, the soft carpet underfoot silencing
his steps. The lighting was gentle, here, and the walls painted with vague
floral patterns in soft colors that complemented instead of contrasting with
one another.
The door to Obi-Wan's room stood open.
Bail had already heard the basics, back at the beginning of his wait to see the
injured Jedi.
 No loud noises. No sudden moves. No angry or turbulent emotions, try to keep
as calm and soothing and  safe as possible.
The healers hadn't dared to put their patient in a bacta tank, given how dimly
his life's flame flickered.
A system of braces and slings held him somewhat upright and on his stomach,
leaving his back without pressure against it.
 When Bail first reached the door, his heart jumped into his throat. Obi-Wan
was  awake . He was looking Bail in the eye—
No, he realized as he stepped into the room. Obi-Wan was staring blankly in the
general direction of the door.
 “Hey,” Bail offered, feeling lame and grateful no one else was present. “Now
would be a good time to wake up. I could go back out there, feel very proud I
was able to reach you when the others couldn't.” He searched for  any hint of
humor in that still face.
Nothing.
Even on Zigoola, Obi-Wan had managed pain-fueled smirks.
This was worse than Zigoola.
 For a long time Bail had assumed that trumping Zigoola would be impossible.
And then news about  this had come in.
He knew better now.
“So... you have everybody worried. Even Breha. She keeps calling, asking for
updates.”
Still nothing.
“I know you despise politicians, but apparently they take a shine to you.
Padmé. The Duchess. Me. Breha.”
No indication of being heard.
 “You know... last time you couldn't focus, you had me stab a lightsaber
through your leg. I'm kind of glad you aren't telling me to try  that again.”
The silence only hung heavier.
Bail blinked against stinging eyes. No wonder Padmé had fled.
This was terrible.
 Obi-Wan had survived  so much horror in his life. It had started in his
childhood, and carried on up to this present day. Each nightmare he went
through he came out of with three things. A memory, a difficulty that for the
rest of his life he'd have to compensate for, and a better understanding of
just how much his mind and body could take.
 After Zigoola and Lanteeb, Bail had begun to wonder if there was  anything
that could destroy this Jedi's resilience.
Apparently Skywalker had wondered the same thing.
Anakin.
 He'd heard  so much about the boy in those long, terrible days on Zigoola.
Much had been Obi-Wan's fevered murmurs when trapped in visions.
 Just  how much that boy meant to him. Just how willing Obi-Wan was to suffer
and die for him.
Bail couldn't breathe.
He had to get out of here.
Voice, touch, the Force.
That's what the Healers had suggested.
He'd tried his voice, he couldn't manipulate the Force, so he had only one
option left.
He gently patted the bloodless hand.
“Come back,” he whispered. “Please.”
And then he was out the door.
 
* * *
 
Yoda had contacted Satine before the Mind Healer in charge of watching over
Obi-Wan. She'd been on a ship and en route for Coruscant when the zabrak
informed her of his condition.
Yoda had always been so considerate.
Satine sought out and watched the recording.
 According to what Yoda had told her, every Force sensitive in the galaxy had
seen what had happened to Obi-Wan. The enemies who'd abused him had  lived it.
The only thing Obi-Wan had lacked in that room of horror had been a friend.
So she forced herself to see it. To let herself hurt, to let her heart bleed.
 To  know.
She refused to let the recording have power over her. She would not allow it to
become a leverage point.
 If Obi-Wan woke up... no...  when Obi-Wan woke up, she needed to know that no
lowlife could try to pressure him into anything by threatening to show the
Duchess of Mandalore the recording if he didn't comply.
It was one of the very few things she could do to protect him in this
situation.
Oh, Obi...
Ships could move only so fast through hyperspace.
By the time she reached the Halls of Healing's waiting area, it was empty.
This wasn't the first time she'd come here to check in on a dangerously wounded
Obi-Wan.
But it had never been this bad.
 Down the hall she could hear strong voices,  clone voices, singing Vode An.
“Go on in,” one of the Healers encouraged her. “The clones are pretty much
camped out here. Waiting for them to leave isn't going to get you anywhere.”
Satine gave him a nod and worked her way down the hall.
She found five 212thers around the edges of Obi-Wan's room.
They came to attention and fell silent as she stepped in the door.
“Ma'am,” Cody greeted her.
“You were singing for him?” she asked, studying their faces.
“That's right. The General likes it when the boys sing Vode An,” Cody
explained. “Gets a faraway look in his eyes like he's remembering something.
Something good. We thought maybe if he could remember whatever that really good
thing is, maybe he could find his way back out.”
Tears flooded Satine's eyes and her breathing hitched.
 “It's  me ,” she choked.
Five sets of eyes looked back at her, blank.
“I sang that to him, long, long ago.” She blinked the tears away from her eyes
so she could see. “You don't look surprised.”
Five sets of eyes shifted, looking at one another.
“We... it made sense, Ma'am,” one of them spoke up. “The song is Mando'a.
You're Mandalorian, and the General's in love with you. Didn't seem hard to put
the pieces together.”
Satine arched an eyebrow. “And this is common knowledge in the army?”
Again the uncomfortable shifting.
“In the two-twelfth and five-oh-first... the other battalions don't know. We
don't talk about our Generals outside the immediate family.”
Immediate family.
Two entire battalions of men knew about Obi-Wan's love for her.
I'm sure he's very  pleased with that. The thought was amusing. Obi-Wan had
mentioned to her that “unfortunate words” had been said in the hearing of a few
clones, but that he hoped they hadn't noticed and he was  sure they wouldn't
repeat it.
 So much for  that .
 The fact they  knew made their initial salute as she entered the room make
sense and gain significance.
They were recognizing her importance to their General.
“Do you want us to leave?” Cody asked.
Did she?
These boys had been denied childhood, denied parents, denied choice, denied
just about everything except for violence, death, and their Jedi.
Jedi weren't just commanding officers to them.
 They were  everything.
She could see the love and fear in their eyes.
He's their buir.
And there was a warmth towards her she hadn't expected from them.
It made total sense in retrospect.
 If they saw  him as their father, it put  her in the position of mother.
If she was worthy of it.  If she accepted them.  If she, as a civvie and a non-
clone, didn't wig out at the unconventional way they saw the world.
Thing of it was, she was Mandalorian. Even in her chosen pacifism, she had
never let go of one of the fundamental tenants of Mando culture.
Family was what you made it.
 The clones' worldview made  complete sense to her.
It felt more normal than the rest of non-Mandalorian humanity she'd run across
in the galaxy.
For years, she'd accepted Obi-Wan's family as hers. The Jedi. More especially
Anakin and Ahsoka.
It didn't take much to expand her heart to include his men too.
 Another Mando trait. Clans could be vast. A Mandalorian heart didn't  run out
of room. It didn't have a limited number of places, needing to purge the old
out in order to make room for the new. She could take a battalion of clones
into her heart without any of the others in her sphere of care suffering for
it.
Who did these men have, outside of one another and Obi-Wan?
“You may stay.”
She could practically taste their relief. They settled against the walls,
careful to make themselves as unobtrusive as possible.
Satine stepped up to the slings and stared into the empty eyes of the jetii she
loved.
So beautiful.
So broken.
She pressed her fingers to his face, hoping the familiar gesture could echo
through the abandoned mind to find the hiding child inside.
“I know you're in there,” she murmured. “You are not the first to lock yourself
away.”
 Granted, no one was able to find an instance where someone had done it so
thoroughly, but that was her Obi-Wan.
If he did something, he did it the whole way.
 “You think you're safe in there, darling. But now it's safe out  here. Come
back to me. Udesi. Just gently take a step towards my voice. Udesi, dear jetii.
I'm here. I'm right here.”
Did depths of the eyes look a little desperate?
“Don't panic,” she soothed. “You know I've helped many a wounded warrior. Trust
me. Trust my voice. Don't make any sudden moves. Just gentle steps. Udesi,
Mando'ad. Slow and steady. Can you feel my hand? Listen for it. You'll find it.
Just follow my voice.”
She didn't look away from the glassy eyes as she spoke to the clones. “Sing
again.”
Five strong, beautiful voices rose in the anthem of the Grand Army of the
Republic.
Satine joined in.
But she didn't use the modified lyrics that had been given to the Kaminoans.
 She used the  originals.  The fierce declarations of loyalty to Mandalore, to
its ideals, its people, its blood.
She hadn't sung it in years. It had a vicious bloodthirst that sickened her
now...
 But Obi-Wan remembered  these words.
And his ad'ike were right.
A memory so cherished, so comforting, so familiar...
“Bal kote, darasuum kote, jorso'ran kando a tome, sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad,
vode an.”
 In Basic it would have said: And glory, eternal glory, we shall bear its
weight  together . Not alone. A blade forged in the fires of death, brothers
all.
 The word for  glory was the word for  strength made plural.  Kot to  kote.
 Strength, eternal strength, its weight was  always to be born as a unit.
 “You and me,” she whispered as the clones kept singing. “You and these
precious souls you're mentoring. All of us. Together. You're almost there. Just
a little further. Don't give up. I know sleep sounds  so good. I know,
Mando'ad. Keep walking. Just a little further.  Tome, my jetii. Together.
Always together.”
The clones' voices fell silent, and Satine simply said, “Again.”
They obeyed.
Satine sang, she murmured words of encouragement. She sang. She spoke. She
sang.
 After four rounds she allowed the clones to rest, and continued on alone,
singing other songs of her people that the clones  didn't know. Some in
Mando'a, some in Basic. All of them familiar to Obi-Wan.
She'd sung them over him as he struggled to heal from horrific wounds that year
he and Qui-Gon had care of her.
He'd been in so much pain. The path had been so rough.
 “We made it through that, Ob'ika.  Tome.  Always together.”
 One of the clones gasped. “Did you see  that ?”
“His fingers twitched!”
Satine didn't glance away from those empty eyes.
Yes.
There was just a hint of fire somewhere deep within that hadn't been there
before.
 “ That's it,” she encouraged, breaking into a feral smile. “ That's my atin
jetii. Stubborn as they come. You would have made a magnificent Mandalorian.
You're almost there. Just a few steps more. Keep following my voice.”
She sang.
The clones cheered as fingers twitched again, then made a fist.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Mando'a Guide:
     [Soothing Vocabulary 101]
     Buir (Pronounced /boo-ear/) = Parent
     Jetii (Pronounced /JAY-tee/) = Jedi
     Udesi (Pronounced /oo-DAY-see/) = Easy/Take it easy
     Mando'ad (Pronounced /man-doh-ahd/) = Child of Mandalore. A
     Mandalorian.
     K'uur (Pronounced /koor/) = Hush/shhh
     Ad'ike (Pronounced /ah-DEE-kay/) = Little one/son/daughter/guys [when
     used informally on adults]
     Tome (Pronounced /TOH-may/) = Together
     Ob'ika (Pronounced /ohb-EE-kah/) = Obi-Wan's name, turned into an
     endearment by using the prefix 'ika. Literally: “Little Obi-Wan.” For
     your name, take a syllable of it and add 'ika.
     Atin (Pronounced /ah-TEEN/) = Stubborn, tenacious, capable of
     endurance
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Obi-Wan didn't dare move. Didn't dare breathe. Didn't dare think.
He held perfectly still, curled in a ball.
The horrible inside had left him for now. Gone away.
It could always come back, if the heavy hand, resting on Obi-Wan's mind, felt
even the hint of a twitch.
 The horrible outside  wasn't gone.
There was nowhere to go.
 He would just have to  outlast them.
Garen had once joked that was his superpower.
 He'd escaped a forced mind-wipe as a child by  outlasting the men trying to
inflict it on him. Holding on until they went away.
He'd managed to outlast his exile in Agricorps.
The firebeetles that had torn the flesh from his bones, he'd outlasted them
too.
The anguish of trying to survive Qui-Gon's death. The various wounds he'd
received over the years. Crashes, battles, assassination attempts.
Zigoola, Lanteeb, weeks being tortured by Ventress.
Being tortured by Maul.
Being tortured by Dooku.
By Hondo.
He hunkered down and held on the longest. The enemies grew bored, ended up
distracted, or just plain no longer had the means to hold him.
But as long as he was the one still breathing, he won.
Outlast.
 He'd always hidden in his mind. Except for Zigoola and the mind-wipe.  Those
times he'd hidden in his physical body.
This time...
He couldn't hide in either.
So he stood very, very still.
 Light wrapped around his fingers, gripped tight in his fists. Holding on to it
so tight it  hurt.
It's all he had left.
Whispers and shadows slunk near him, tempting him to think. To consider what or
who they might be.
No.
No thinking.
He focused on absolutely nothing.
It was an abyss he could easily fall into.
And then in an instant he felt...
Different.
He couldn't think about it, couldn't wonder why or what had changed.
But a bond that had formed very long ago was pulsing with warmth and
reassurance.
The whispers changed.
They weren't Basic.
They had a lilting flavor that tasted of a burning sun, fierce stars and
campfire-cooked venison.
 Bitter cold, horrifying pain, and a being so beautiful,  so strong, so
determined ...
None of these things could he think.
 He couldn't put words to them. Wasn't sure where they belonged, or even who
they belonged  to. Himself, or someone else's mind.
But there was something his body and mind recognized, even in their turned-off
mode.
 Something so much a part of him that it didn't  require thought to recognize
it.
His mind was relaxing.
 Not safe. It wasn't safe. Had to outlast, had to hold  still —
Whispers of skirts, so much blue... a knife with a hilt of bone...
Bone from a beloved strill who had died long ago...
Whispers of revulsion, whispers of trying to accept a culture radically
different from his own...
Whispers of golden hair and blue eyes that could snap with fury one instant and
compassion the next. Laughter as sweet as songbirds and harsh as carrion fowl,
depending on her mood.
 Pain,  pain , fear and failure, and  pain  and his mind so,  so torn—
He remembered.
That terrible wounding he'd received. It was then. She stroked his forehead,
sang to him through the shudders, through the moans.
Whispered Mando'a in his ears.
 Safety in the pain. A place of  safety.
 She would  never push him farther than his conscience drew the line. She would
never demand he sell his soul for her. Someone who held him when he was most
vulnerable, and who shielded him from every harm. Someone who knew him better
than he knew himself. Someone who had loved Qui-Gon too. Someone who remembered
him, someone who understood the struggle between warrior and peacemaker. A
woman whose heart burned like a dying star but had learned to control her fury.
Safe.
Safe.
Safe.
He couldn't think, but he recognized the scent of her clothes. Her hair. He
recognized, a thousand kilometers away, her fingers, tracing a familiar
pattern. He recognized the whispers.
She was here.
And she wanted him to move.
No.
No.
 It wasn't safe, it wasn't right, it was a  trap —
But it couldn't be.
Because this woman prized honesty more than she prized him. She valued what was
right more than she valued him.
Her conscience was even stronger than his.
She would never lead him astray. Not in the tiniest of ways.
If she beckoned for him to move away, to start thinking again—
 It was because it she felt it was the  right thing to do.
Dread flooded him.
What would he find?
But her soothing warmth surrounded his soul.
“Safe, Mando'ad.”
No one would call him a child of Mandalore but  her.  It was a ridiculous
description. Almost as ridiculous as warrior-heart. But she called him that
too. Even though he wasn't a warrior.
They were words tied to her heart. Instinctive terms of love and acceptance.
They expressed something in her heart that no other words could touch. When she
used them on him, they drew his soul close to hers.
It was worth overlooking the inaccuracy.
He took a hesitant step into his mind, expecting the horrible inside to strike
him.
Panic seized Obi-Wan's throat.
He couldn't take any more, he couldn't—
He turned to hunker down in his chosen spot again. Not now. He should give it
more time.
Just in case.
It wasn't worth the risk.
“Jetii...”
 The horrible outside had called him  Jedi , the word dripped in blood and
filth.
 But she wasn't using that word.
“Jetii.”
Only good things belonged to that word. Sunsets that stole your breath.
Venommites. Scars and hardship and giddy laughter because after all of  that
they'd survived.
It belonged to a nation that had been redesigned, a plant that had been
reclaimed. Against all odds, a planet of violence had a capital city made of
glass. Of art. Of beauty.
Obi-Wan took another step.
Sheer force of will.
 Not his, but  hers.
He knew what her will could accomplish.
It had drawn him back from death more than once.
“Follow me.”
Where? Are you taking me back there? I can't go back there, you don't know how
terrible —
The panic was throttling him again.
“Udesi,” her voice soothed.  “Easy, warrior-heart.”
 No.  No . He couldn't allow himself to give in. The horrible inside was just
waiting for him to move. It wanted to lull him into thinking mercy had arrived,
only to run him down again. Continuous despair was difficult. The horrible
inside knew that despair, then hope, then renewed despair was even  worse.
No. He wouldn't let it happen. He couldn't survive that. Not again.
I'm not a warrior. I'm a peacekeeper.
And you are not a warrior. You are a peacemaker.
His resistance seemed to make no impression on the voice.
“Tome, dear jetii. Together, always together.”
That was true. No matter where he went in this galaxy, he could feel her pride.
Could feel her love. Could feel her companionship.
 She was  there with him.
Always together.
He couldn't find her fingers. They should brushing across his forehead or
pressed against his cheek.
 He wanted to find them. Follow her voice and  find them—
He took a tiny step.
No. No.
No.
 There was something  horrible out there.  And  something horrible in  here. If
he moved too much, it was going to awaken and find him.
 He should just freeze and curl up again. Not head back to where he'd been, and
certainly not follow the loved voice.
No. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
“Trust me, warrior-heart.”
I can't  face it. Something... something horrible ... inside... outside...
“You're almost there. Take one more step. One more step for me.”
No.
Not even for her.
 He would  die for her. He would suffer untold torture for her, for her people—
A step towards the horribles. Could he take a step towards the horribles for
her?
He couldn't breathe. Couldn't see. Couldn't sense anything.
The horrible inside could be right behind him, ready to pounce; he'd never know
it—
He spun around, then again, then again.
There was nothing to hide against.
The horrible thing in here... it had Ana— it had aface.
 Could it have stolen  her voice? It used to have...  his voice. Could it have
changed? A new cruelty? Trick him into trust, only to shatter him again?
He folded in on himself, quivering in terror.
No more. No more, he pleaded to the nothingness.  Please. Qui-Gon. Take me to
where you are. Out of reach of this.
Please, Qui-Gon...
Mercy.
He'd never begged for mercy in his life.
Of anyone or anything.
Ever.
 But he'd begged Ana— the horrible inside. He'd begged  it.
It laughed at him. It hurt him more.
Obi-Wan Kenobi didn't beg.
 But he  had.
 It... broke him, knowing that.  Feeling it.
 He'd given in. He'd begged for mercy. Said the word  please.
He'd....
No dignity left.
The tiny hint of respect he'd felt for himself was dead.
So much dead—
Everywhere he looked, it was familiar but dead. His mind was a crumbling
mansion, the lights flickering or out, and haunted by the horrible.
It lurked somewhere.
Playing with him.
Enjoying his dread.
No, no, no —
“Obi'ka.”
Little Obi-Wan.
He wanted to be little again. To be a child, wrapped safe in a Finder's arms.
Guarded from every harm.
“You know this is my territory, my love. You're not the first mind who's locked
itself away. And you're not the first I've coaxed out.”
His fear deepened.
She was going to win.
 Sweet Force, she was going to  win. He could hear it in her voice. She was
going to drag him into the attention of the horrible inside, and the horrible
outside would catch him—
“Tome. We bear it tome, jetii.”
If she could have saved him, wouldn't she have already? The horrible inside and
the horrible outside would never have found him to begin with.
 But she was so  confident —
 Maybe she  could help—
You're succumbing.
You're thinking again.
Shut down now  before it  returns.
He saw a vague swish of dark brown robes down a hallway.
Yes.
It was here.
It was here to complete what it had started.
There was only one thing left it hadn't taken yet. Hadn't defiled and torn away
from him.
His light.
 Taking his  life would be a mercy, so he would be forced to keep  that.
No.
The horrible inside was after his light.
He caught a glimpse of it.
Curly, light brown hair.
A scar over the eye.
 Eyes of burning, molten gold that  should have been blue—
Obi-Wan thrashed away, cowering, trying to protect himself, trying to hide his
light, trying to—
A precipice.
It hadn't been there before.
Qui-Gon's through there.
He knew it to his core.
He couldn't see the horrible inside anymore. The memory had flitted away, down
the corridors.
It was behind him.
 It was  always behind you.
He'd lived through enough horror holos to know that.
Only they hadn't been holos.
They'd been unscripted.
And the blood shed hadn't been fake.
Safety lay somewhere in those dark, comforting depths. He stared into it. A
single step, and he could leave this place of horror.
He could be free.
 He was so tired, so tired of the fear and the pain and the humiliation— he'd
begged.  He'd... he'd wept... as he begged...
Mind and body had been taken by storm.
Maybe it was time to abandon ship.
What sense did it make to go down with it in flames? To feel it breaking apart,
the last seams giving way, a game to see which destroyed you first— the vacuum
of space with one seam too many exploding open or the fire that rages through
the areas that still retain oxygen.
The horrible outside or the horrible inside.
Escape.
He would have to leave his light behind.
If he kept it, the shadows wouldn't envelop him. They wouldn't hide him. The
chasm wouldn't take him to Qui-Gon.
He considered.
The horrible inside would take the light away from him. It would pounce, hold
him down, rip his fingers away from it one at a time, breaking them as it went.
At least if he let go of it now it would be his own idea.
The laughter. Ana— the horrible inside's cruel laughter, slinking all around
him.
He loosened his grip on his light.
It looked battered anyway. Like it might be dying.
Music.
A beautiful, fierce melody sung with a gentle voice like a lullaby.
 It  was a lullaby.
All about slaughtering nightmares. All about viciously tearing them to pieces
and feeding their entrails to your pet strill.
Mandalorian children being told just what to do with their fears. A soothing,
calming song.
Her voice.
This song.
He knew this song.
It had soothed him through hours of waking nightmares.
What had they done with the nightmare? Was it one of the two horribles?
No... no... that was a horrible of the past.
 If it was past and  wasn't here now, it meant they  must have killed it.
Fed it to her strill.
But her strill was dead. She had one of its bones as the handle of her knife.
Ghastly tradition, saving a body part of a loved one. As uncivilized as it got.
Quite revolting.
Gentle laughter.
“Follow my voice, Mando'ad. This is my  territory.”
Horror and hell and revenge and bloodshed and torture?
Yes, actually.
 Those  were her stomping grounds.
She knows her way around.
When he looked back, the precipice was missing.
Where had she put it? He needed it back—
He took a couple of steps, and she hummed in pleasure. “That's it.”
Where did you put it? The path to Qui-Gon? The escape route?
“This way. Follow my voice.”
For several moments he did, his fingers tightening around his light again. It
might be sick. It might be dying. It might be bruised and beaten but it was
his, and it was the  only thing that  was  his as he walked through the halls
of his own mind and knew they  didn't belong to him anymore. Covered in filth,
the walls leaning crazily, floorboards creaking and groaning beneath the weight
of his passage.
Once beautiful sculptures lay in ruins, the shards cutting his feet.
 This place... this place was  terrible.
He'd always taken care of his mind. Tended it with as much care and effort as
he used with his body. He could barely recognize this place. How could it be so
ruined  and fragile at the same time?
 The rooms were all confused. This wasn't the way he'd built it. The horrible
inside hadn't just destroyed the furnishings, it had...  moved ... things Obi-
Wan hadn't thought  could move.
He... wasn't entirely sure of the way out.
 And he suspected not all of the movement was  over.
That room for example.
He'd walked by it twice already, but not the rooms surrounding it. Those were
different each time.
 Was he walking in circles, and only that one room remained steady, or was he
traveling great distances, and the room...  following  him?
Fear again. Ghosting shadows across his light. He held the glowing strands even
closer as he tried to follow the voice.
Her voice.
 The voice that  knew these sorts of cruel mazes. Knew what to do.
The farther he walked, the more parts of his mind activated, every lamp that
switched on revealing just how deep the wreckage reached.
Began defining what he'd been hiding from. Giving shape to the footprints of
both horribles.
Revealed places he'd prized... that now lay shattered and defiled.
Grief stole over him, making it hard to move.
 He could see places where things were  missing, but he didn't know  what.
Memories lay about, filth contaminating them, scrambled and buried.
 Could he retrieve them all? Could he salvage them? Could he ever visit them...
without seeing the fingerprints of the horrible inside blocking out  her face,
or the horrible inside's voice drowning out Qui-Gon's?
“Is this how you served him?”
  Obi-Wan turned away, shaking, needing to   escape   that voice—
  A crack in the floor. Emptiness beneath.   He sensed that some of his
beautiful, precious memories had slipped away through it.
Had been lost to him forever.
He didn't know which.
The knowledge filled him with panic and anguish.
 He would  never know which.
How many? Wasn't it bad enough the horrible inside had left his memories
dripping with its stench? That they were forever twisted and scarred?
 Why had it needed to  lose some too?
He trembled. He clutched his light and trembled.
He'd moved around in here too much. His mind, coming out of its frozen state,
wasn't something he could control. It turned on him.
It wasn't the mind he'd known. It wasn't his refuge. It was something else.
It was hunting him.
 The more his mind awakened, the more clearly he  thought —
Zygerrians.
 The horrible outside.  Zygerrian slavers —
Again the panic, again he couldn't breathe—
“Come back to me.”
He shook.
No. No he couldn't.
I'm sorry. I never wanted to leave you like this. I thought you'd be with me to
the end.
“They are gone. The horrible outside is gone.”
Maybe so, but he couldn't risk it.
Who drove it away?
“Your family.”
I don't have a family.
“Semantics,” she laughed.
She'd always said that. She'd said they had a granddaughter. She'd been so
proud of how their granddaughter had saved her, had uncovered Almec as a
traitor—
Obi-Wan took a few more steps.
Then a few more.
The horrible inside hadn't gotten him yet.
 And  she said the horrible outside was gone.
 If he made a break for it, maybe he could hide from the horrible inside...
outside.  He'd done it before.
He didn't have his riverstone anymore. He'd given it to the horrible inside.
But pain. He'd used pain on Zigoola. That had kept him from slipping back
inside his mind. Kept him from thinking.
Is there pain out there?
“Plenty, my darling.”
Enough to work?
“Yes.”
And... you? Are you there?
“I am always here.”
I mean... when I come out there , will you be there?
“Yes.”
Get ready. I'm going to make a run for it.
He tried. He lunged for his body.
He fell short.
He still had mind to recover. To turn on. The lights were all out—
Memories flashed by, unspeakable, bringing the horrible inside into clear
horrifying focus—
 Bleeding, dying, he stumbled for the outside.  Satine!
“Obi-Wan,”  a familiar voice chided. A voice that made him want to vomit from
sheer terror and pain.
  No.   No.   The horrible inside couldn't take him. Couldn't take him. No
more.
Her   voice,  “My atin jetii.”
 Stubborn Jedi.
Stubborn.
He was backed against a wall, staring at the horrible inside.
I. Will. Not. Go. With. You.
Kill the nightmare.
No. He couldn't kill this nightmare.
This nightmare... he loved.
  But he could   run.
And he did.
“That's it. Almost there. A few steps more.”
  It reached out to grab him. It caught him by the neck. It was going to drag
him through memories, force him to  —
Kill the nightmare.
And something else he'd learned from Satine.
If you needed to hurt something...
Try the eyes.
  He lashed out, slashing his fingers deep into the eyes of the horrible, and
he kicked away from it, reaching for the surface.   Satine — !
 He could see her eyes. He could   see   them.
He couldn't move.
  He couldn't  —
“Udesi, Mando'ad.”
 How could he be   easy   when   it   was hunting him, was right behind  —
He gasped for air, and found himself bound.
  Panic again. Pure and complete. He reached into the Force to rip himself free
—
“K'uur, k'uur, my jetii. Be still, warrior-heart. Udesi, Ob'ika.”
  She was   here.   She was   here.
  He was   outside.
He focused on her eyes. Only her eyes.
  He could   not   be dragged back inside. Could   not —
“Don't let me go back in there,” he gasped.
  Her fingers against his face. Sweet Force, the warmth of those fingers,
covered in callouses  —
  “Of course,” she whispered back, tone fierce, eyes commanding. “You may   not
go back. I will not allow it.”
She was stronger than he was.
Always had been.
  He surrendered to it, to   her —
And that's when he felt the fire in his back.
She'd promised there would be pain.
All memories of both horribles vanished in the excruciating burn of it.
Thank the Force.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Mando'a Guide:
     [Soothing Vocabulary 101]
     Jetii (Pronounced /JAY-tee/) = Jedi
     Udesi (Pronounced /oo-DAY-see/) = Easy/Take it easy
     Mando'ad (Pronounced /man-doh-ahd/) = Child of Mandalore. A
     Mandalorian.
     K'uur (Pronounced /koor/) = Hush/shhh
     Tome (Pronounced /TOH-may/) = Together
     Ob'ika (Pronounced /ohb-EE-kah/) = Obi-Wan's name, turned into an
     endearment by using the prefix 'ika. Literally: “Little Obi-Wan.”
     Atin (Pronounced /ah-TEEN/) = Stubborn, tenacious, capable of
     endurance
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Anakin bolted upright, quivering as he stood staring at the door.
Obi-Wan was awake.
  And in...   excruciating   pain.
Anakin retracted his probing, remembering Ahsoka's statements.
  Obi-Wan had been hiding from   him.
Have to stay away, have to stay out of sight.
It would be difficult. He was used to casually invading his Master's space in
the Force.
But if it kept him from retreating again, it had to be done.
Thank goodness the pain had kept Obi-Wan from noticing Anakin's automatic
contact.
I guess I'll finally be learning that control everyone says I need.
 
* * *
 
Satine heard the relieved murmurs of the clones behind her turn to horrified
yelps as Obi-Wan's face contorted and his body arched in pain. He groaned, eyes
rolling shut.
The healers were back, shoving clones out the door, and came for Satine too.
She held up her hand. “You want me here.”
They glanced at her uncertainly, but didn't try to force her to leave.
 
* * *
 
Ahsoka ran for the Halls of Healing, heart nearly exploding.
  He was   alive.
  She tapped her comm as she ran. “Padmé, he's awake.” Without waiting for an
answer she tapped it again. “Senator Organa, he's   back.  ” Again.
“Representative Binks? He's   awake.  ” Even as she tapped it she heard a
victorious ululating. A pure beam of selfless glory in the Force.
“Rex. He's awake.”
Dex.
She was about to comm Cody when she nearly collided with him and four other
clones.
They were beaming, but horror flickered in their eyes too.
“How is he?” she demanded.
“In pain,” was the grim response.
A hoarse cry tore down the hall.
The clones winced. Ahsoka, feeling it in the Force, grit her teeth. “Who woke
him up?” she asked.
  “The Duchess of Mandalore. It makes sense, with them being in love and all,”
Cody explained. “You should have heard her. He's laying there, no sign of life,
but she seemed to know   just   what to do and say. And when he moved his
fingers, she didn't seem surprised at all. She knew he was coming back to her.
She gave her orders, and he   followed  . We just had to find his commanding
officer.”
Ahsoka stared at him. “How did you know that?”
Five clone faces lost all hint of glee and went very still.
  “Sir?” Cody asked, suddenly the reserved soldier she   thought   she'd known.
“Apologies, Commander. General Skywalker said some things on a mission. Sir.”
  “Who   does   know?” she managed to ask.
“The men of the two-twelfth and five-oh-first. Other than us, only those the
Generals have chosen to confide in. Sir.”
Well, that was... wow.
And every Force-sensitive in the galaxy knew now. The memories Anakin had so
carelessly tossed about revealed that in stunning color. A vibrant, intense,
non-sexual romance.
Obi-Wan's abuse was all over the holonet.
Soon they were going to focus on his lovelife instead. Everyone and their
brother would be discussing Obi-Wan's relationship with Satine. Criticizing.
Speculating. Leering.
Ahsoka cringed. Obi-Wan was such a private man.
So different from Anakin. If he hadn't been afraid of getting into trouble, he
would have been gleeful to shout his love for Padmé from the skyscrapers.
Obi-Wan was a different individual.
“Are we in trouble, Sir?”
Ahsoka blinked back to the present. “No. At ease, troopers. It's fine.” She
left the 212thers behind, and hurried to the room.
  “  No,  ” she heard Obi-Wan protesting. “You will   not   put me under—”
  “But you're strong enough for the bacta tank now. Sleep for a few hours with
a light healing trance, and those wounds will heal   so   much quicker   and
you won't have to feel the pain of it in the meantime. Win-win.”
“ No. ” There was a frayed desperation in his tone. “I will  not go back in
there—”
 “But you're refusing to take the pain medication.” Oh. The healers were
upset.
“I won't be able to keep from slipping back into my mind if you drug me!”
They weren't the only ones upset.
A familiar voice, gentle and soothing, broke in. “It's your decision, Master
Kenobi. No one will force you into something else.”
The Duchess of Mandalore.
You'd really better tell her before someone else does. That thousands of beings
in the galaxy saw your most precious moments together. That they're likely to
be twisted, filled with details that never happened because the truth isn't
steamy enough, and then spread through every planet in the Republic.
Yeah. She really should mention that before the Duchess found out some other
way.
Ahsoka turned into the room.
Obi-Wan, cheeks flushed in desperate alarm, looked over and saw her.
All color fled from his skin, leaving him looking dead. His breathing
harshened, his forehead wrinkled, eyebrows drawing together in distress.
He knows I saw it all.
She sent him as much of a smile as she could muster up.
Satine turned to the healers. “Could you give us a moment?” she asked quietly.
The other Jedi filed out of the room, and Obi-Wan sent the Duchess a look of
panic.
“Easy,” she murmured. “Easy. Ahsoka is not her father any more than I am mine,
or Anakin is you.”
Every muscle in Obi-Wan's body tensed at the mention of his Padawan's name.
 “It's not  that —” he tried to steady his breathing but it didn't work— “ I
put her under his authority. He wouldn't have taken a Padawan if I hadn't—” He
ran out of words, his eyes begging for the thought to be understood anyway.
Satine turned keen blue eyes to Ahsoka. “Well?” she prompted.
Ahsoka wasn't sure what the Duchess wanted from her.
“Has there been good?” Satine asked, her tone gentle.
“All of it. Until yesterday,” Ahsoka whispered.
 “There. See?” Satine turned back to Obi-Wan. “My father was a monster, but I
loved him, and he loved me. He gave me things I still use to this day. Darling.
Don't push Ahsoka away. Please don't. She is hurting too. And no. That is not
your fault.”
“What am I supposed to do now?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice tiny. So pitiful.
“Everyone looks at me, and they— they  remember how it felt— they look at me
with pity or disgust but I just want it to go  away.  I don't want their pity.
I want them to forget.”
Satine took his face in her hand. “I know,” she murmured. “I know, warrior-
heart.”
Ahsoka slunk for the door.
“No.” Satine wasn't looking at her, but had somehow heard her silent footfalls.
“Don't leave yet.”
Ahsoka froze. She wasn't at all sure it was a good idea to stay, but somehow
Satine's voice had her feet frozen in place. Now the clones' interpretation
made sense.
 This woman certainly  was the ranking officer in the room, and her orders were
to be  obeyed.
“Obi, Every one of your friends and the people who care about you know. Period.
Most of them felt it. If you try to avoid people who know, you will be left
with no one standing beside you. You will be alone. What you need is not
secrecy. Anonymity is not possible given the circumstances. What you need is
your vode. Your family. The people who will stand beside you no matter what.
And if you need them to wipe the pity off their faces, you're going to need to
tellthem.”
 “ Satine —”
He sounded so broken that Ahsoka was inwardly begging the Duchess to stop too.
“I know you, Ob'ika,” she said quietly, refusing to let him look away from her
eyes. “I know how you run.”
His defiance melted.
 “If you don't want to get stuck  inside again, you are going to  have to let
your vode help. Those are your two options, Ob'ika. You can run, be alone, but
eventually you will find yourself facing a blank wall and you will  not be able
to keep yourself from being sucked back in. And there will be no one knowing
they need to pull you out.”
He was shaking in terror.
 “Let your vode help,” Satine whispered. “Tome.  Always tome.”
“Satine, it's terrible,” he pleaded.
 “Is  inside better?”
 The look in his eyes clearly said that was  not the case.
His mind was the most horrifying location in existence.
“What do you need from Ahsoka right now?” Satine coached.
“Can— can she look at you while we talk?” he asked, hesitantly.
“Yes. If that's what you need right now, she can look at me while she talks to
you.” Satine circled her fingers in the air, effectively snagging Ahsoka's
gaze, and drawing her fingers to her face. Ahsoka's eyes instinctively tracked
the motion.
 Where in blazes had she learned  that trick?
 Maybe it was an old Mando thing. Ahsoka could only imagine that the original
set had been as cozy with PTSD and various mental conditions resulting from
trauma as it was possible for a culture to  get.
And... that they probably handled those in ways psychologists would have
aneurysms over. The mind healers might throw Satine out.
But Obi-Wan was breathing steadily now, and in the Force Ahsoka could sense his
panic bleeding away.
 And even a spark of determination. To  move.
 That certainly had  not been there before.
Satine was motivating him towards life.
 Maybe the mind healers  shouldn't kick her out.
“What is it you need from her?” Satine asked again.
“The colonists,” Obi-Wan murmured.
Ahsoka's gaze reflexively tried to seek him out—
Satine's fingers redirected it back to her face.
Right.
“We found them. They're back home and safe, with a light cruiser left in orbit.
No troops are stationed on Kiros' surface, so they will not have to feel an
occupation. Senator Organa was able to secure some counselors and therapists to
spend a few months out there, teaching Kiros' own mind-caretakers how to help
their people in the wake of this.”
Something sparked deep inside Obi-Wan. Ahsoka felt the warmth of its tiny glow.
“They're safe?”
“They're safe. The few who had wounds are being taken care of.”
In the Force, she sensed the tears as they slipped silently down Obi-Wan's
face. She heard a sniff.
Felt his shame when he realized she did.
 Apparently Satine could see it.
 “Udesi, Mando'ad,” she soothed. “Tears are the soul's blood. We are not
ashamed of blood from a wound. It washes the dirt and infectants away from the
injury. Your mind has been wounded. When it is jostled, it will bleed. Only
individuals who are not warriors would consider tears to be degrading or
demeaning, because they do not  know . You have no need to fight the tears, and
you have no need to be ashamed of them.”
“Soul's blood? My mind is bleeding? Where do you come up with this stuff?” Obi-
Wan tried to chuckle. It half-way worked.
“Do I need to tell you in Mando'a? Will that make it clearer?”
“I— I need something else. Before she leaves.”
“Yes?” Satine asked.
“The... empire.” He couldn't seem to get anything more out, but Ahsoka didn't
really think he needed to. This time, she managed to keep looking at Satine
without needing redirection.
 “It has been dismantled with extreme prejudice. Its leaders are apprehended
and awaiting trial, and the slave holding and reconditioning facilities have
been destroyed. Both arena and catacombs are completely unusable. Actually, the
clones kind of went bonkers. Those places don't  exist anymore. There's nothing
but a massive crater.”
More tears.
But this time, a tentative reach towards dignity.
Ahsoka saw the approving smile Satine sent him.
 The Padawan marveled at the strange glinting the Duchess possessed in the
Force. She'd never noticed it before. As Satine guided Obi-Wan through the hell
of life, helping him the way she would have if he'd been a Mandalorian, her
Force signature twisted and pulsed with a mesmerizing metallic sheen. Like...
liquid durasteel. No.  Soft durasteel? Hard and vicious...  and compassionate
and nurturing? Warrior  and  pacifist? How could she be so full of so many
contradictions and yet feel so  balanced —
“Watch it,” Obi-Wan growled.
Ahsoka jumped.
Satine tsked. “Obi, this only works if it doesn't become possession.”
“I'm in pain. I haven't had control over anything in what feels like years.
Everything has been taken from me. I'm not very tolerant of other people
feeling up your Force signature right now. She can find her own politician.”
Ahsoka blushed and tried not to think about that crush she'd had on Lux
Bonterri and how ridiculous she may have appeared while in the throes of it.
She was over it now.
She was pretty sure.
But the subject was still a bit sore.
Especially on the dignity point.
“Never fear, Master Kenobi. I would never dream of poaching.” Ahsoka was
careful to nottry to figure out the confusing Force-signature. Apparently that
was Obi-Wan's privilege alone.Understandable. If shehad someone with one like
that, she'd probably be a bit edgy about it too. Force knew she'd had
difficulties with Lux and Steela kissing. And minds were far more intimate.
Satine laughed. “Alright. If you'll let the clones know I'm going to be setting
up a watch system through the night on your way out, that would be helpful.”
“I don't need to be babysat,” Obi-Wan grumbled.
 “As of now, they, and a certain Jedi Master report to  me .”
Ahsoka arched an eyeridge.
 How were the clones going to view  that? Taking orders from a civvie... and
not  just a civvie... a  pacifist civvie?
“I'll do that,” she offered, slipping out of the room. “See you later, Master
Kenobi.”
She heard a murmured response of some sort, but didn't go back to ask for him
to repeat it. Instead, she discovered the clones were still hovering in the
waiting room, trying to look inconspicuous.
And failing completely, of course.
“The Duchess wants you to report to her. She's going to set up watches through
the night.”
Ahsoka was surprised by the happy gleams that sparkled into the clones' eyes.
“Doesn't it bother you?” she asked, baffled. “She's... a civilian. A
politician.”
“She's no civvie,” one chuckled. “I'd trust her with my back any day.”
“You do realize she's a pacifist,” Ahsoka choked. “She'd never guard your
back.”
The clones exchanged secretive glances.
 “It's a good front. I don't know why she does it. But she  is a warrior. And
she was fighting in there. You should have seen her.”
They seemed quite taken with the Duchess. Ahsoka couldn't help but wonder if
they might bring down upon themselves the wrath of a jealous Obi-Wan if they
weren't careful.
 Obi-Wan had never been possessive. About  anything.
 Ahsoka had sensed Satine's surprise, which meant it hadn't existed towards
her either.
But everything was taken away from him. By his best friend. In the most
horrible way possible. Even his memories aren't his anymore. Not his mind, not
his body, not his past. Anakin even stole his present,  when Obi-Wan was forced
to suspend all interaction.
No wonder he had lashed out at Ahsoka when her behavior had simulated the
possibility of taking something else.
The question was, would he be able to recover enough to the point where he
could hold with the easy and open hand he used to...
Or had that been stolen from him?
The thought hurt. Terribly.
 It had been one of the most beautiful things about Master Kenobi. That quiet
comfort with living in the now, knowing anything could leave the next moment,
and instead of resenting the future loss, reveling in the present  presence. It
was something Anakin had  never had.
She wasn't even sure he'd ever wanted it.
And look where your closefisted greed got you.
 
* * *

 “Satine, I  can't sleep. If I sleep—”
“Warrior-heart, if you wait to sleep until you can't hold your eyes open
anymore, you will go  deeper inside for  longer .”
 The fear in his eyes was difficult, so difficult to see.  I know, I know,
love.
“You don't know what it's like in there.”
Satine smoothed the hair back from his forehead. “You're right. I've never been
inside your head.”
“Then why would you—”
 “Because I'm a strategist, Ob'ika,” she murmured. “You don't let the enemy
manipulate the future through the present. We act in the  now to take the
initiative, so that instead of  reacting, we are  acting. We do not let them
regain that initiative. You will have to risk returning to your mind for sleep
at some point. That being the case, we're going to manipulate the odds so they
work  for us.”
“You want to run towards the cannon's mouth instead of waiting to be cornered,”
he sighed.
She smiled. “I always have. But we're not just going to take matters into our
own hands, we're also going to make this run towards the cannon's mouth as
useful as possible. We'll have them put you in a healing trance and in the
bacta tank.”
His eyes darkened, the panic threatening. “I won't be able to wake up— it'll
take too long for you to get to me—”
 “Ob'ika. You have an option. You can sleep with no trance, no bacta. You are
likely to wake multiple times in the night, only to have to go back  in again.
Wouldn't you rather those gates close on you  once, with the knowledge that
when they  open, you will not have to go back in again?”
 Obi-Wan's voice dropped to an almost-mute whisper. “I would rather run until I
couldn't anymore, and  still crawl away before I go back inside my mind.”
“I know, I know,” Satine murmured. “But running from nightmares only gives them
more power.”
“I can't kill this one, Satine.” He watched her with mournful eyes. “It's him.
”
She didn't give him this one. He was going to have to face this, either now,
when she could help him, or in his mind tonight, when no-one could. “Who?”
Again, the panicky look in his eyes.
“ Him ,” he pleaded.
“Who?”
“A—” He shuddered.
“Breathe,” Satine soothed. “Take your time.”
“Our son,” he finally whispered.
 He couldn't say his name. Couldn't say the sacred word  Padawan.
 He  had been able to manage using  her word. One unfamiliar to his lips.
She combed his hair with her fingers, giving him another quiet smile. “Do you
trust me?”
“Always.”
Satine gave him a gentle nod. “And did I help you find your way out of your
mind?”
“You didn't help.You didit.”
“Do you trust my skills in battle and in strategy?”
“Yes.”
 “Do you believe this  is my element?”
“PTSD? Your people practically invented it.”
The smile was less sad now, and more amused. “Do you believe I will take care
of you?”
His eyes answered that one. He didn't need to use words.
“Then let me run this campaign for now,” she whispered. “Let me lead this one.”
“Alright.” A thought crossed his mind. Satine watched it flare to life in his
eyes. He began to tremble again. “Everyone— the whole galaxy— saw us. They
know.” Tears filled his eyes. “I tried to protect our memories, I tried to hide
them, but he— tookthem, Satine, he— shreddedthem—”
Tears of her own stung Satine's eyes. “I know, Mando'ad,” she somehow managed
around the rock in her throat.
Obi-Wan treasured moments. Where another being might collect physical items,
Obi-Wan collected memories. He kept them in perfect condition, sparkling, ready
to be tasted when he needed their comforting touch.
 They were  his. He was a Jedi. He owned the clothes on his back, a lightsaber
and his mind. However he wanted to furnish it. Some Jedi clothed theirs with
knowledge, or experiences.
He went for moments.
He'd admitted to her that memories of her were among his most prized moments.
They'd helped him survive countless disasters.
 They were his alone, something he shared with  her and no-one else.
Set apart. Unspeakably priceless.
Effervescent in the light that reigned supreme in his soul.
 And now they weren't  his anymore. They were public domain.  Everyone had
them. And they had Anakin's bloody handprints and mockery all over them.
 If it had been Satine alone who was affected by the desecration, she wouldn't
have cared very much. She and Obi-Wan had done nothing wrong, hadn't broken his
code or her own in spite of both codes being  very different, and they were
both better individuals because of the other. Stronger. More true to self.
No.
Let them know. Let them say what they would. Let them mock, let them
misunderstand, let them criticize.
 It's not like it would be the  first time any of those things happened.
 She was a  pacifist Mandalorian, for Force's sake.
If she couldn't live her life under a microscope of vicious disapproval, she'd
have given up two decades ago.
But it wasn't just Satine who was affected.
 And Obi-Wan saw the world very differently when it came to  moments.
The desecration gutted him to the quick.
So she mourned with him. Silently, knowing her Force-signature gave him all the
words he needed.
I hear you, Obi-Wan. I know.
Satine felt the quiet step behind her through the carpet. “You may enter,” she
called softly.
Five clones spilled into the room.
“How'd she do that?” one demanded in a whisper. “We weren't visible, and we
didn't make a sound.”
Obi-Wan managed a rueful smile. “She's Mandalorian. Most of the time she
pretends notto notice things.”
 Satine turned to her new soldiers. “I have assignments for you. General Kenobi
is not going to be left alone a single moment through the night. There will
always be someone awake, watching over him.”
They were only too eager to hear her plan and demonstrate themselves to be the
best soldiers to ever draw breath.
 Satine knew  good soldiering.
Her people had perfected it to a fine art.
These were warriors of a beautiful caliber.
She chose not to tell them at that time, but she made careful note to do so in
the future.
Yes.
These men would certainly hold their own against her kinsmen.
And they loved their General with a fierce loyalty.
 And there were plenty  of them.
These five would be here tonight.
But for every succeeding night? There would be a wealth of volunteers. Satine
would have subjects as long as she wanted them and as long as Obi-Wan would
submit to her rule.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Mando'a Guide:
      
     Udesi (Pronounced /oo-DAY-see/) = Easy/Take it easy
     Mando'ad (Pronounced /man-doh-ahd/) = Child of Mandalore. A
     Mandalorian.
     Tome (Pronounced /TOH-may/) = Together
     Ob'ika (Pronounced /ohb-EE-kah/) = Obi-Wan's name, turned into an
     endearment by using the prefix 'ika. Literally: “Little Obi-Wan.”
***** Chapter 7 *****
 
Obi-Wan's gaze clung to Satine's as he didn't fight the hypo that would lessen
the chances of his dreaming. He was still watching her as the healers gently
lowered him into a healing trance.
His eyes obscured, and then the lids fell closed and his head sagged forward.
Surrender. To her will, to her protection.
Sleep well, love.
The healers removed the bandages from his back and transferred him to a new
harness. Within minutes, he was lowered into the bacta tank, the healing liquid
closing over his head, his breath frosting the mask that fed him oxygen.
Satine circled the tank, watching for any sign of trouble.
Nothing fit the bill.
A little of the worry easing, she scanned his body while still circling.
 She'd been told this behavior pattern was unsettling, reminding people of
Karkarodons readying to dive in and shred their prey into fishbait.
Or maybe a pack of anoobas, ready to do something similar but on land instead
of underwater.
Satine didn't think the clones would mind, and the healers were filing out of
the room.
The wounded Jedi certainly wasn't going to mind.
He never felt safer than under her scrutiny.
A smile pulled at her lip.
 Stupid, stupid  Jetii.
If I paid even the slightest attention to my clan and ancestors, I would have
slaughtered you by now. You've given me so many, many  opportunities.
In fact... if I woke you up and killed you now, with you seeing the betrayal in
my eyes, I would be taken back. My years of wandering would be forgiven, I'd be
returned to the fold, my family would love me again. My people would adore me.
Celebrate me. Follow me to victory and glory. We would take the universe by
storm; and once again Mandalore could be the feared mercenary people we once
were.
That we always have been.
The smile on her face was cold. She felt the ice in her eyes.
Because as beautiful as that mental picture might look, as much as she craved
her lost clan and felt the freezing burn of their rejection every second of
every day....
The picture also looked ugly.
She'd turned her back on the life of a predator, and managed to convince the
majority of her people to do the same.
She was never going back.
 And only half of her  wanted to.
 The half she kept diligently, carefully,  absolutely in check.
 But that half was why she had to hold to her pacifism. She couldn't just
encourage  moderation with her people. The taste of blood inflamed them like a
drug. Throw a little in the water, and a frenzy took over.
Moderate Mandalorians weren't possible. Not this generation.
Now Korkie and Sabine... maybe Satine's nephew and niece could take up arms
without losing themselves. They had been born under her reign of possibilities.
Maybe Sabine would find balance, in spite of her mother's hatred.
How Satine wished she and Bo could find reconciliation.
She missed her sister.
Satine stepped back from her pacing.
The clones stood out of her way, silent and watching.
Satine sighed.
Obi-Wan's body looked gaunt.
 And that  wasn't just from what had happened on Zygerria.
“He's been overworking himself,” she spoke up without looking at the clones.
“He hasn't fully recovered from the injuries he keeps receiving, but he's been
concealing his condition.”
Oversimplification.
He hadn't recovered from Geonosis, Jabiim, Florrum, the speeder crash, Zigoola,
the exploding window incident on Bothawui, Lanteeb, his torture by Maul and
Savage—
That was just the beginning of the list.
Each blow that had been dealt was followed by another. Then another. And
another.
Satine kept track of each one.
Someone had to.
She watched his ribs dig into his skin every time he drew in a breath.
“We didn't realize it was this bad,” Cody murmured. “He usually insists on
tending to his own wounds. He rarely lets us get close enough to know how he's
coping.”
“Anakin should have known. If he was paying attention.” Satine shook her head.
“But since he's said nothing to you, he must have been distracted. Focusing on
other things than Obi-Wan's health.”
“Two days ago I would have taken offense,” Cody admitted, sounding lost. “He
just about panics when General Kenobi is wounded.”
The silence hung heavy, full of implications.
The foremost of which was Skywalker's love.
Apparently not as unconditional as it might have appeared. Instead, it had been
ready to strike at the first sign of what it considered to be betrayal.
Very Mandalorian of him.
Her people didn't believe in forgiveness. They also didn't believe in
unconditional love.
 They were  extremely behavior-oriented.
Anakin demanded very specific behaviors from people he claimed to love... or he
started viewing them as enemies.
Obi-Wan had been the opposite.
Even after everything Ventress had done to him, he stood as her friend. Obi-Wan
had been the one to call off the manhunt that had been pursuing her. Had taken
a risk, had given his word that she was no longer a threat. Insisted her career
as a bounty hunter should be respected and left alone. He'd stood alone against
the current in order to win her a second chance, and put his reputation on the
line to do so.
 She hadn't asked him to. She probably didn't even know. It's simply who he
was.
Anakin was poised to view once friends as enemies.
Obi-Wan was poised to accept his cruelest enemies as friends.
Anakin was ready to resent, hold grudges, seek revenge.
Obi-Wan ready to forgive.
He'd gone to Dathomir. Seen a glimpse into his greatest enemy's past.
 It had been difficult for Satine to hear him talk about it. To hear the
compassion, the  grief in his voice for what had been done to Maul as a child.
She wasn't ready to forgive the monster who had killed Qui-Gon and kept doing
his best to harm Obi-Wan ever since.
 But Obi-Wan  wanted to find reconciliation, even as he understood it might not
be possible. That he might have to take him down in order to protect the
innocent.
 That was who Obi-Wan  was.
His reality had been more complicated than Anakin's absolute friend-or-foe.
 He'd been able to recognize the difference between a person and what a person
did.  Loving someone... yet taking a stand against what they had chosen to do.
Would he be able to do that still?
 None of the betrayals he'd faced had  ever come close to this one.
Cody took first watch.
Clones stretched out on the floor, falling asleep almost as soon as they shut
their eyes and willed it.
As Satine followed suit, she couldn't help her fond smile.
Yes.
These were excellent soldiers.
The carpet was soft. A luxury compared to many of the surfaces Satine had slept
on in her younger years.
She lay curled around the base of the bacta tank. It was an instinctive
position, putting her body between the one she protected and potential danger.
She closed her eyes.
Regulating her breathing, consciously relaxing her muscles, setting her mind
into the gentle stillness needed for physical shut-down...
Within moments she was gone.
 
* * *
 
Cody paced.
He knew his footsteps weren't going to disturb his brothers, and Obi-Wan's
commanding officer seemed to be of similar caliber.
Strange.
 That was  not how she'd appeared when they'd escorted her to Coruscant some
time back. All fancy dresses and shoes and crowns...
 He  had heard rumors that when she and Obi-Wan fought back-to-back against the
miniature assassin droids, not a single one of her shots missed.
 And that each bolt took out  several droids at once.
Also, that she had fit well with Obi-Wan's fighting style. She knew how to keep
his back covered, knew how to ensure he was always covering her own.
That she'd had a cold confidence in her eyes that had shocked those who'd seen
it.
A switch had flipped.
One moment she'd seemed startled and trying to escape the droids, the next,
she'd become the aggressor.
Cody had assumed the rumors were all out of proportion. Efforts of his brothers
to try to respect the woman who held their General's heart.
Now he knew his brothers hadn't been imagining things.
This woman was a maze of contradictions.
 Something very,  very dangerous wrapped in the guise of helpless royalty.
She had so many of the gestures correct. Recoiling in fear from a threat.
Perfect manners. The ability to dress-down an opponent with scathing words
instead of physical blows. She moved like a duchess. She spoke like a duchess.
When the occasion prompted, she projected horror or distress that fitted a
duchess.
 And... there was something  wrong in her eyes half the time.
Everything else was perfect. Down to the painted fingernails, occasional cry of
disgust, the hauteur.
Cody hadn't given it a moment's doubt.
 Until he'd seen the  other side of her.
No...
 The  inside.
 She lay on the hard floor, sleeping just as soundly, just as ready to jolt to
alert-mode as his brothers. As she'd given them orders—  orders , not
suggestions, mind you— there'd been a familiar set to her shoulders.
She didn't need a weapon.
 Her body  was  a weapon. And as she spoke to them, warrior to warriors,
preparing the defense of a wounded one of their own, she'd lost track of the
person she put on each morning before she faced the universe.
It confused him, a little.
 Why would Obi-Wan trust a deceiver? He  clearly knew both Satines. The one
disapproved of him for following his conscience, and the  other was a cold-
blooded predator.
 Someone  Obi-Wan would disapprove of.
Somehow, the two combined had proved to be an attractant to his General.
 Of course, maybe it  wasn't strange. All Cody knew of love was what he'd
witnessed.
A grand total of Generals Kenobi and Skywalker.
And he'd had suspicions that Skywalker's relationship with the Senator of Naboo
wasn't necessarily healthy for either of their minds.
Cody watched his General's breathing. The overworked body.
He doesn't take care of himself.
 And he hated letting anyone else do it  for him.
That's going to change. We're not letting him get away with this any longer.
 
* * *
 
The Healers had chosen their poisons well. Obi-Wan didn't realize he'd been
asleep until he opened his eyes to find Satine staring into them.
Not a bad way to wake up.
 Not bad at  all.
He tested his surroundings, discovered the healers must have already left. So
had the clones.
 And thank the  Force they hadn't woken him up before releasing him from the
tank. He was back in his sling, new dressings on his back...
And from what he could sense in the Force...
 It was  much better than the prior evening. Wounds taking massive steps
towards healing.
And here he was, alone with the love of his life.
 He hadn't been forced to spend a single moment  inside, and he was wide awake.
Free for another day.
He felt... a bit giddy over it.
 Giddy in a  Kenobi sort of way. It meant an abundance of no-teeth smiles and a
lightness in his soul.
 Which the horrible inside had always insisted wasn't giddy at  all, and was
certainly undeserving of the term.
No. He wasn't going to think about him. He didn't exist here, in this place.
“Good morning,” Satine murmured.
He smiled at her. “You're still here.”
“Of course I am.”
“I'm fine.”
Her expression didn't change. She simply watched his gaze.
A crack formed in the positivity.
 No. Yesterday had been  horrible. He didn't want to live there again, he
wouldn't  survive if they dragged him back. He needed to move  on.  Look
forward.  Refuse to look behind, definitely,  definitely act like nothing was
amiss.
Leave it in the past. He'd survived Qui-Gon's death that way. Jabiim, Zigoola,
Lanteeb, all the other terrible times.
Just keep moving.
“Breakfast or more nutrient hypos?” Satine asked.
 Relief . She was going to go along with this. She wasn't going to knock over
his pretty little castle of lies.
 He was injured, he was recovering, he was going to have breakfast with the
woman he loved. Let amusement and mirth ensue. “ Real food.”
“What interests you?”
He pretended to care, to think, and then gave her his decision. When she asked
if he preferred she call for someone else to get it so she wouldn't leave him
alone, he gave her a confident smile and assured her he was doing so much
better. If she wanted to take a break to stretch her legs and escape the
confines of the healing room, he'd be just fine until she got back.
It was true for about seventy seconds.
And then the silence turned cruel.
Deafening, in its quiet.
 The slings weren't designed to restrain him. To keep him vulnerable. They were
here to  help him—
But he wasn't free. He was trapped by them.
And it was quiet. Too quiet.
He could hear himself think.
No. No.  Focus. Satine is here. Make the most of it. It's so rare to be able to
spend time with her on the same planet. Don't miss out on it because of not
paying attention. New moments. Restart your collection. New ones, ones the
horrible inside has never seen, never will  see —
Oh, that had been a mistake.
Obi-Wan grit his teeth and trembled.
He shouldn't have thought of the horrible inside. Not even in a pep talk.
He couldn't move.
 
* * *
 
Satine watched from the security feed a room over.
Obi-Wan struggled to hold himself together.
Was failing.
Her heart ached for him.
A different set of clones stood around her, anxious and silent. Waiting for
orders.
She hadn't been fooled by Obi-Wan's protestations, and hadn't wanted to move
too far away while still giving him the space he wanted to attempt. One of the
clones was on the breakfast run.
Satine considered. She could return immediately, admit she hadn't believed he
was as on top of things as he had claimed, cut short his suffering...
Or she could wait until Boil returned with food.
She felt the clones' gazes on her as she weighed the options.
Ahsoka poked her head in the door. “What's happening?”
Ah. Excellent.
“You tell me,” Satine directed.
 Ahsoka's forehead wrinkled. “Shivers are running through the Force. It's...
excruciating. His shields aren't— his shields are really broken. He's scared,
he's in pain, he  knows we can feel it and he's feeling humiliated, but the
tighter he draws the shields, the more... pathetic...”
“Tattered shreds,” Satine murmured. “A shadow of what they once were.”
 A shadow of what  he once was.
“What should I do?” Ahsoka asked.
“Go to him.”
Ahsoka looked a bit panicked. “What do I say?”
“You need to find out what he needs in this moment. Take heart. You are better
equipped to discover that than I am.”
Ahsoka clearly disbelieved that, but she went to him.
 
* * *
 
Ahsoka met Obi-Wan's shivering gaze, then glanced away.
Force, what was she doing here?
“Hi,” she whispered.
Great. Just great.
Let's make this worse,  Ahsoka, she chided herself.
“I can't shield,” he whispered back, agony in his voice. “I can't—”
Satine had directed her to find out what he needed.
He needs shields.
She doubted his mind was strong enough to start rebuilding them. That would
take time. A lot of it... a lot of effort... and a lot of pain.
 He needed shields  now.
Ahsoka considered the bond that ran between them.
It was closer to a Master-Padawan link than not. She'd even overheard Obi-Wan
use the term “our Padawan” to Anakin once or twice.
That sort of bond allowed a Master to protect an Apprentice.
Could it go the other way?
“Would you let me use my shields?” Ahsoka asked.
In the Force, a single cry of helplessness pierced her soul and then died. Obi-
Wan's horror at his inability to fend for himself after a lifetime of
independence, followed by defeat. A listless surrender...
Since he couldn't win, why keep struggling?
Ahsoka recognized it. Saw again in her mind Obi-Wan watching as Anakin robbed
him of his moments, tainting them, breaking them.
Ahsoka closed her eyes against acidic tears.
“You may.”
Ahsoka hardly recognized Obi-Wan's voice. It was so numb. So lost.
So childlike.
And then he froze, his eyes widening in horror.
The shriek in the Force nearly brought Ahsoka to her knees.
 
* * *
 
Anakin, Force signature curled in around himself to try to keep it from
attracting Obi-Wan's attention, shivered.
Obi-Wan had no control over his own presence.
Wounded, writhing.
Unprotected.
Visible to everyone.
The whole Temple felt his attempts to keep his emotions and pain to himself.
Anakin cringed at how futile they were.
Obi-Wan trying to cover himself with rags that fell apart in his hands.
Anakin tried to block it out. Tightened his own shields, drew farther inward.
Obi-Wan wouldn't want him seeing this, so Anakin tried to not see.
Blood seeped through, pooling around Anakin's feet, staining his hands.
Their link was too close. Too strong.
Anakin tried to make himself as small and nonthreatening as possible but it
wasn't enough. Obi-Wan couldn't shield himself, had no control, so it was only
a matter of time before—
Obi-Wan, ready to surrender to Ahsoka, stumbled against him.
The Force keened with the reaction.
 The fear, the horror, the  pain —
Obi-Wan, struggling to pull away, to escape, begging Anakin to forget— to let
him survive— to have mercy, just this time, he  promised he wouldn't disturb
him again— sorry, so sorry—
Trying to hide behind shields Anakin had destroyed, trying to arrange them so
the ragged edges could overlap to provide as much cover as possible—
Which was none.
Cowering—
Throat bared in submission. To prove he was no threat to the Chosen One, wasn't
challenging him, challenging him was the farthest thing from his intention—
To broken, far too broken, to give more than a bleak tremor of self-loathing to
the knowledge his brothers and sisters heard and saw it all.
 Anakin couldn't breathe.  No. No, Obi-Wan, please —
But the sound of his voice shattered the last of his Master's composure.
Anakin watched in horror as Obi-Wan imploded.
Shields blew out, fear and dread turned to terror— a beacon of agony through
the gentle stillness of the Temple.
 Anakin's throat  hurt.  Felt like he'd been screaming for hours, only to
swallow a live coal and have it get stuck on the way down.
His eyes stung, but he had no more tears to soothe the dry burn.
He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, barely able to breathe. Obi-Wan's
panic clawed at his soul like bloody fingers. Mangled fingers. Glistening,
broken bones and lost fingernails.
Anakin shuddered, trying to drive the image away, afraid Obi-Wan would see what
his imagination had conjured—
 Oh, he  saw it.
Anakin cried out in anguish at the way Obi-Wan's heart stuttered as he looked
at his hands, didn't see that kind of damage, and assumed it was what Anakin
planned next for him.
His whimper of despair shattered Anakin's soul.
A strong, young presence stepped between them. White flares in the Force
sheltered Obi-Wan like a bird's wings.
Like fire.
 Not the same sort that burned in Anakin's core, a dark threat and the color of
innocent blood, but a white flame. One that didn't harm, but  protected.
Something clean. It sang of truth. Hope. Loyalty.
His Padawan.
His Padawan no longer.
She'd turned her back on him, physically and in the Force. He'd tried to be
respectful of it, hadn't forced his presence on her.
But he couldn't look away from her now.
Obi-Wan was forever in his soul. Almost as necessary there as his own spirit.
She'd placed herself between them.
 That meant she would feel his observation, even though he was  trying to stay
away. She would feel what Obi-Wan would have felt before the protecting
presence had intervened.
Anakin felt the shudders through the Temple subsiding, the wails of terrified
children, the soothing murmurs of their caretakers.
The worry, the grief—
The rejection of Anakin Skywalker.
Complete, total.
They didn't hate him. They wouldn't hate him.
But they pulled away, left him alone in a bubble of emptiness, left his grief
untouched, but worse—
Unbelieved.
They thought he was lying to them.
Again.
He had always rejected them, had always refused to see them as family. He'd
looked down on their relationships, scorned the way they communicated love.
Considered their culture worthless.
Maybe the Council wasn't the villain, all those years ago. The question
whispered through Anakin's tortured mind and refused to leave.  You assumed
they were wrong about you. That the danger, the possible disaster they said
surrounded you was something their own prejudices made up. That they had a
personal vendetta against you. That they lived to humiliate you and see you
fail.
Maybe...
That hadn't been the case.
Yoda sensed pain in the future, if I was trained.
He was right.
It was only Mace who'd managed to look askance at him all these years. The rest
of the Council, once the decision had been made to allow him into the family,
had accepted him. Yoda had watched over him with the same care and
thoughtfulness that he showed to other children.
 Yaddle had  died  for Anakin.
But they hadn't given him an easier standard to live up to. They'd treated him
like they treated every other young Jedi.
Although Obi-Wan had tried to tell him that, Anakin had refused to see it. Felt
they singled him out for disapproval.
 Eventually Obi-Wan had given up trying to show him that was the highest form
of  acceptance.  Anakin said he didn't want them treating him differently.
 They  weren't .
In return, he hated them.
And now, after everything he'd done to Obi-Wan?
Many of the Jedi on the Council had watched Obi-Wan grow up. They remembered
the child he'd been.
So many of them had a soft spot for him.
 Anakin had proved their initial hesitance so,  so wise.
And Obi-Wan, who had taken a chance, who had risked everything—
Lost it all.
They had chosen to risk accepting Anakin, and it was Obi-Wan who paid the
price.
 How could the other Jedi  not hate him?
It didn't make sense to Anakin. They should be crying out for his blood, they
should be—
His body shook as he made the connection.
 It was because they were  Jedi .
He'd been so busy calling them hypocrites...
 It never occurred to him that they might  say what they  said because that's
how they actually saw the universe.
 They weren't spouting meaningless platitudes. It's how they  felt.
They weren't lying.
They were sharing their souls.
There was something fundamentally different between himself and the rest of
them.
It lit up the Force like a warning sign.
The Council had seen hints of it long ago.
They'd chosen compassion. They'd chosen to give him a chance. They'd chosen
vulnerability in order to not harm the little life who requested sanctuary.
Now, there was no doubt to be found. The camouflage was gone.
Even though he currently meant them no harm, the Force twisted around him in a
blood red glow.
It wasn't light.
It wasn't beautiful.
It reeked of death and cruelty.
It made his presence in the Temple seem a blemish.
A rotting wound.
Anakin thanked the Force Padmé couldn't see it.
And then loathed himself all the more that he could think of himself, in such a
moment.
 
***** Chapter 8 *****
 
 
 
 
 
 
Obi-Wan considered the shields Ahsoka had placed around his mind.
Her shields.
So different in texture and tone to his own.
It shut out the clamor from the outside, and shut in his horrifying,
humiliating wasteland.
No one could see it now, except for himself and—
His heart crumpled just a little bit more.A
Ahsoka.
Ahsoka saw it all. It was inside her shields.
Why couldn't death just take him?
“No, Master,” Ahsoka murmured.
 She was a  child. She—
“Am I really?”
Obi-Wan looked to the shields guarding him. The strength of those wings.
From here, her Force signature was very easy to inspect.
“Forget you know who I am, forget my age, and just look.”
He obeyed.
 He found a person who  knew who she was. One who had weathered storms, and who
knew she was going to weather this one. Wisdom and grace, compassion and
ferocity.
This was no youngling.
It was hard to even say she was a Padawan.
She's close, very close to knighthood.
Obi-Wan had been almost a decade older than her before he'd been ready to step
out on his own.
Ahsoka could easily reach knighthood by seventeen.
How did that happen?
When had it happened?
“Stop trying to shelter me. Stop hating yourself for not being able to shelter
me. It's my turn. You watched over me in the past. Let me watch over you.”
Adulthood had very little to do with years lived.
 It had everything to do with the person  within.
So Obi-Wan surrendered to her. He let go of his quivering, rotting shields and
let them lie around his feet. Let Ahsoka take the weight of protecting him.
 Let her take the weight of protecting  herself from what was left of and in
his mind .
He sensed her shiver as the last of the obscuring haze cleared away and left
his soul completely visible.
Her pity.
 He  hated it. He  hated —
 His light. His  light. Where had it gone? He pulled into his mind in a panic,
searching, searching—
He had taken it. No.  No , he couldn't lose that  too —
“Take a breath, Master. It will come back if you hold still and breathe. Calm.
Remember what you taught me.”
It's gone.  He stole  it —
“No one can take it away from you. Calm, Master. It will find you .”
Obi-Wan shivered in pain, in fear.
Felt a hand on his shoulder.
Pulled out of his mind enough to see Ahsoka's steady eyes. “In... out. Breathe.
In... out...”
Obi-Wan did his best, around the fist that was crushing his heart.
“Relax. I've got you. You're safe.”
As stillness returned and fear drained away, one slow drop at a time, he felt
it.
His light.
He latched on to it, burning relief searing his lungs.
 Thank the  Force.
And someone else.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
 She gave him a nod. “You don't have to be alone in this. We're here for you.
We're here  with you.”
 Tome.
“What?”
He felt himself blush. Considered just how misplaced that embarrassment was,
considering all that had happened.
Admitting he knew Satine's language was nothing compared to what Ahsoka had
already seen.
 “It means  together, in Mando'a. It's a plural. Often suggests more than two.”
 
* * *
 
In the observation room, Satine smiled.
Boil stuck his head around the door. “What happened?”
“How do you know something happened?” one of his brothers demanded.
 “You're messing with me, right?” Boil handed the tray to Satine. “We're in a
miniature city populated by  Jedi. When you're walking down the street and
suddenly everyone around you cringes like they've been stabbed and tears start
falling, but they keep on with their tasks and try to act like nothing's wrong,
it means there's nothing they can do to  fix whatever's wrong. And come on,
it's  Jedi we're talking about. They can fix almost anything. So it had to be
the General.” What had started out as fiery belligerence turned mournful at the
end.
As Satine passed him on her way out, she gripped his shoulder. “Well observed,
soldier. He'll need that kind of observation in the days to come. Interpreting
tiny tells others might miss.”
He gave her a bleak smile. “He doesn't let us help him much.”
“We'll have to see what can be done about that.”
 
* * *
 
“She's good,” Wooley murmured as soon as the Duchess was out of earshot.
 “We'd better hope she's better than  good .” Boil moved closer so he could
watch the livefeed from the sickroom. “ Good would get him to  live and
occasionally leave this building without a panic attack incapacitating him.
Good doesn't bring him back to  us. ”
“He wouldn't leave us,” Wooley protested.
Boil scowled at him. “He would if he felt he wasn't fit enough for combat. If
he thought that we'd be put in danger because we'd be overextended by
protecting him instead of protecting ourselves. If he thought his brain wasn't
working well enough to pit it against the Seppies', and so lose battles and
more of us. You know he'd put us first, and stay the hell away and never come
back.”
Wooley's face had gone rigid, and his gaze snapped back to his General.
Cold settled over all five.
 “We can't let that happen,” Wooley muttered. “He  has to come back.”
 Boil shrugged, a gesture of helplessness and hopelessness. “We weren't there
when he needed us. And if the Jedi can't fix what's wrong, how could  we ?”
 “We're  important to him,” Wooley protested.
Boil couldn't meet his worried gaze. “Skywalker was important to him too.”
 
* * *
 
“Good morning Ahsoka,” Satine greeted with a smile. “We were just about to have
breakfast. Care to join us?”
Ahsoka glanced to Obi-Wan, felt the threads of his fear at the thought of
losing her shields.
“I think I will. Will you take the chair, Duchess?”
“No. It's been a long time since I've had the opportunity to feed Obi-Wan; I'm
going to stand.”
 Obi-Wan scowled. “I can do it myself—”
“Did I say anything about your ability or lack thereof? This is about  me,
darling.”
Ahsoka could feel his knowledge that it was a lie.
Could also feel his fierce independence soothed by Satine's words and manner.
Satine handed a plate of food to Ahsoka, then balanced the other on her left
hand.
“Tell us about the two-twelfth,” Satine prompted Ahsoka, waving a fork of food
below Obi-Wan's nose, and inserting it into his mouth when he opened it,
ignoring a reproachful glare from her love that could probably soften
durasteel.
The next forkful went in her own mouth.
 
* * *
 
Five clones watched, spellbound.
 Watching Satine feed Obi-Wan and herself at the same time had to be  the most
romantic thing they'd ever seen.
Ever.
Though certain brothers were going to argue for the singing from yesterday, or
the sleeping curled up at the base of his bacta tank.
Or ordering his men around in order to make sure he was protected.
 But  these brothers hadn't been there for  that.
“It's like it came out of a holodrama,” Wooley breathed. And then he chuckled.
“Look at Commander Tano! Looks like she's gonna slip a gasket.”
 
* * *
 
 Ahsoka blinked, trying not to stare and having a difficult time with how...
open ... Satine was being with her affection for Obi-Wan.
“Is the two-twelfth on furlough?” Satine asked, as though she hadn't noticed
Ahsoka's difficulty in making sense of all of this.
Given the internal grumbles and almost-smirks from Obi-Wan's mind, Ahsoka
didn't think that likely.
 She forced herself to pay attention more to what Satine was  saying than her
comfortable feeding of both Obi-Wan and herself, like this was nothing new—
Red spilled over Obi-Wan's face and he grimaced.
Sorry, Ahsoka apologized.
If she was going to have this much access to his soul, she needed to tame her
natural curiosity.
Immediately.
“The two-twelfth.” Ahsoka focused on her own plate as though eating might be
the most important duty she had ever performed. “They are on temporary leave,
and making the most of it.”
Satine gave her a nod. “And the five-oh-first?”
Obi-Wan froze, his teeth clenching.
Satine took note of the ignored mouthful she was offering, and simply kept her
hand there, waiting.
“Same,” Ahsoka somehow managed to murmur, around the rattling of Obi-Wan's
mind. “Rex wants to come see Obi-Wan, but I think he's afraid to.”
The quivering mind stilled in confusion, but its owner still didn't take the
bite Satine held out.
“Why?” Satine asked, tone gentle.
 Ahsoka was already regretting those last words. They hadn't been well-thought-
out. At  all.  “Because of... who he is.”
There. That was vague enough, right?
“And?” Satine prompted.
Kark. “Who he's... connected to.”
Obi-Wan didn't move. Didn't speak. His mind had gone very, very still.
Ahsoka would have no idea what was going on in there if she didn't dig a
little.
 And there was  no way she was doing that to him.
But her Captain was suffering, and wasn't listening to anything she had to say.
 Maybe the Charmer of Clones could get through to him. Satine had certainly
swept the 212 th  off its feet.
“He thinks it's his fault,” she spoke up, hoping Rex wouldn't kill her later.
“That he shouldn't have waited for the signal, should have known something had
gone wrong, should have been searching for Obi-Wan instead of the people of
Kiros.”
Ahsoka tried to steady her aching heart. “Should have realized his General had
gone... bad.”
She felt a hint of life from Obi-Wan.
That was worth pursuing. “You know how he felt after Krell. He's feeling like
he let you down.”
 Obi-Wan's frozen face softened into a frown. “Of anyone involved, he's the
least responsible.”
“He doesn't believe that, and it's why he's staying away,” Ahsoka explained.
“He tried waking you up, but that's been it. The two-twelfth is fighting over
who gets to come stay near you, and who has to remain behind. Rex just watches.
And hurts.”
“Hmm.” Satine waved the fork again, and Obi-Wan accepted it this time. “I think
we need to see the Captain. Make sure he understands we think he's being
unreasonable. What do you think, love?”
 Ahsoka felt a little spark of hope to notice that Obi-Wan  refused to talk
with his mouth full. Apparently he cared enough about life to hold to standards
of politeness.
When it was empty again, he sighed. “Will he come at a request, or do we need
to make it an order?”
 “I guess we'll find out.” Ahsoka poked at her food for a moment longer, then
couldn't keep silent. “Duchess, I need to speak to you. It's great what you're
doing for Obi-Wan, but people are going to  notice —”
 Satine sent her a smile. “Anyone who doesn't know about us is cut off from the
Force  and living under a rock. It's sweet of you to be concerned, but there is
no point in hiding.”
“What about the Council?” Ahsoka asked, a bit shocked.
Obi-Wan squirmed in discomfort, but Satine simply set the fork down on the
plate so she could comb his hair back off his forehead. “Master Yoda has known
since the beginning,” she said calmly.
 “ What ?” Ahsoka yelped.
Satine sent her an amused smile. “Easy, my dear. You are betraying your lack of
faith in him.”
 “I don't think you understand.” Ahsoka shook her head. “ Master Yoda. The
Council. ”
 “Who do you think invited me to his funeral during that deep-cover op?” Satine
shrugged. “Master Yoda also contacted me first over  this.  He explained what I
needed to know, and asked I come as soon as possible.”
“I don't believe it,” Ahsoka breathed.
 “We have nothing to be ashamed of.” How could Satine seem so comfortable? “We
haven't broken his code, or mine. Our love has never been one of attachment. As
long as he refuses to do what is harmful to others in order to spare himself
the pain of losing me, the Council has no reason to find fault. It's selfish
love they take their stand against. They encourage selfless love every day,
Ahsoka. Think about it. Selflessness. Placing others' needs before your own, no
matter how you feel about it. Compassion. Gentleness. Honesty. Forgiveness.
They do not use the  word 'love' because most people can't tell the difference
between the selfless and selfish varieties. Instead, they expect you to
recognize it by its shape, its texture, its smell. A Jogan blossom by any other
name.”
“I— but— I don't understand.”
“Right now, our love strengthens Obi-Wan as a Jedi instead of weakening him.
The day he wavers between doing what is right and saving my life? That is the
day it becomes something less than selfless. That is the day it harms us both,
and the people around us.”
“But Anakin—”
 Satine's expression saddened. “Anakin's love is selfish, Ahsoka. It is
intense, it is beautiful, it is self-centered.”
“But he's  kind, ” Ahsoka snapped. “And he puts his life on the line—” She shut
up as she remembered what he'd  done. Who it was she was defending.
 It was so  confusing.  How could he have been so...  wonderful one moment and
so  vicious the next?
Obi-Wan was very still again.
“Ahsoka, even if what Obi-Wan had said to Anakin in that arena was true, would
Padmé have wanted Anakin to do what he did?”
Ahsoka's eyes nearly fell out of her head. “You know about Padmé?”
“Padmé and I are confidants, Ahsoka. And anyone with enough pieces to the
puzzle now know too.”
 The only thing that could have made  that weirder is if Lux had made it a
three-person let's talk-about-our-Jedi fest.
Not a pleasant mental image.
“Is this what Padmé would have wanted?” Satine asked again.
 Ahsoka shook her head. “Of  course not.”
“So when Anakin took his revenge, who was it for? Padmé, or himself?”
 Ahsoka's blood ran cold. “I  know he loves her.”
 “Yes. He does. He loves the way she makes him feel when he knows she loves
him. He loves the way she looks at him. He would do anything to keep from
losing that... even if it harmed her. Even if it was something horrible,
something that sacrificed other people, something she  didn't want . So yes,
Ahsoka. He loves her. But tell me who he loves more.”
Ahsoka stared at her in horror.
 “He loves Obi-Wan too,” Satine murmured. “But when he thought two people he
loves might be finding happiness  without him, jeopardizing his own... he lost
sight of everything but himself.”
Obi-Wan's breathing strangled.
The panic was back.
Worse than ever.
“Satine, I can't— I can'tdo this— everyone keeps saying his name— I can't—”
Ahsoka found herself taking the second plate that was thrust her way, and
watched with both her eyes and the Force as Satine soothed the broken Jedi.
Walked him back from the terror, the grief, the agony of betrayal.
Ahsoka did her best to still her own mind, to give him something to reach for.
To hold on to.
It wasn't easy.
But it will be harder for him, so  much harder if he has to combat both his own
weight and  block out mine.
 It's why Anakin had never been very successful in comforting Obi-Wan. His own
anger and grief had taken a massive amount of effort to cancel out, leaving
Obi-Wan with fewer reserves to deal with his  own grief.
Ahsoka drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and found her calm center.
She had no idea what in hell she was going to do, but she was here. At home.
Surrounded by her fellow Jedi who wanted desperately to heal Obi-Wan and
everyone close to him.
 And in an even smaller circle, she was  here.  In the same room as her grand-
master. Not long ago she'd been denied access to his sickbed because it would
endanger his life further. She was  here , protecting his mind when he couldn't
do so himself, and he was  allowing her to, in spite of what she might see, and
how terrifying that was for a man so private in nature.
 She was  here.
Watching the love of his life care for him with the wisdom of her ancestors.
Ahsoka had never witnessed open love before. Not when a Jedi was involved.
Certainly not with Yoda's passive approval.
Privileges. All of them.
Beautiful.
Satine and Obi-Wan together were beautiful.
Ahsoka allowed her eyes to open again.
Felt her soul thrill as she felt Obi-Wan's desperate presence in the Force
seize her own, now calm, one. Watched in awe as he counted her heartbeat,
matched his breathing to hers, drew threads of her stability to still the
terror, the desperate need to bolt and never stop running.
Felt Satine's pride for her.
She's proud of me?
How strange was that?
 Just exactly  what stake did the Duchess of Mandalore  have in Ahsoka?
“Grandaughter.”
Ahsoka's eyes widened.  That's how she sees me?
“Yes.”
Did that mean Anakin was—
Obi-Wan's heart twisted.
“Son.”
Oh, Force.
That explained Satine's tone as she spoke of Anakin and his... cruelty.
Sorrowful. Gentle.
Anything but accusatory.
There'd been no venom, no hate, no resentment.
Just a sad relaying of facts as Satine saw them.
A sudden, horrifying thought struck her. Her gaze snapped to Satine's face.
“The clones. You didn't know the clones are still here, watching—”
Satine only smiled, pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan's bandaged hand. “I knew,” she
murmured.
Obi-Wan groaned. “Satine—”
It was a tone that sounded familiar.
Like perhaps he'd used the lament often.
“Who are they to learn about love from, if not from us, Ob'ika?” she asked.
“The Kaminoans? They have no parents, Obi. They only have you.”
“You've adopted them all, haven't you.” Obi-Wan raised clear gray eyes to her
face.
Her Force signature sparkled in return. “Am I Mandalorian?”
“Of course you did.” Obi-Wan let his eyelids fall shut over weary eyes.
The silence stretched for a long moment.
“What now, Satine? It's morning, but I wish it was night. I don't—” He let out
a shuddering sigh.
“You don't want to live through the day,” Satine murmured.
“No. I don't.”
Ahsoka could feel it. The weariness shot through his bones.
The hopelessness.
“Boil, I want to know how soon he can be freed from the slings,” Satine said
without changing the tone or volume of her voice.
Obi-Wan muffled a groan again. “You have no shame. No sense of privacy
whatsoever.”
“You've known that for eighteen years, dear jetii.”
 “You could at least  pretend. ”
“Amongst family? Why?”
 
* * *
 
Boil was almost relieved to leave his brothers behind to go seek out healers
for the information his General's commanding officer needed.
They were talking.
 A  lot.
Love, the General, the Duchess, the other General, Commander Tano—
Adoption.
 A  mother.
The fact the Duchess thought they should be able to expect to learn about love
from their General.
 They'd always thought that, of course. The fact his commanding officer  agreed
, well, that was news. Big news.
Boil dreaded returning to the cruiser, knowing that soon the entire two-twelfth
would be buzzing with it.
Waxer would have appreciated it.
And Waxer would have known better than to shove it down Boil's throat.
 And hells and  kark he missed Waxer.
His eyes burned and his throat closed.
Krell.
 Krell had been focused on himself, had  murdered so many brothers over that
campaign, but worst of all was that night when he'd sent brothers to kill
brothers.
 And thought it  amusing.
Somewhere in this Temple was another Jedi who had lost sight of everything but
himself... and done something terrible, thinking it amusing.
 This time, not to Boil's brothers, but to his  General.
The man he'd been made for. The man who saw him, valued him as a  person
instead of a possession, when he had every  right to consider him expendable.
And, yeah. According to his General's commanding officer...
His father.
The crimes against this man had been committed by his General's best friend.
His brother.
It wasn't something he was going to forgive. Not soon.
 Probably  never .
The two-twelfth could talk about love, and orders, and healing, and adoption.
Boil only had room in his heart for hate.
 If Skywalker was sentenced to death— and he  should be, Boil was convinced—
I want to be on the firing squad.
 
 
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Ahsoka headed for the Resolute once Obi-Wan had been surrendered to sleep for
the night.
He wouldn't notice the lack of shields, and she had a mission.
Satine had requested only four 212thers, so if the fifth brother of the 212th
was not to be disappointed in vain, Ahsoka needed to bring back Rex.
“Commander.” Jesse was the first to meet her.
Ahsoka couldn't manage to scrounge up a smile.
“Why weren't we allowed to help rescue General Kenobi and avenge him on those
Zygerrian dogs?”
Ahsoka just looked at him, not sure how to respond.
“If it went the other way, would they have trusted Cody?” Fives spoke up.
“That's the real question.”
Ahsoka shook her head. “Neither of those are the question. It was a battle that
was better for you to sit out, given the fights ahead.”
“With all due respect, Commander, that's banthakark and you know it.” Jesse
scowled. “It's General Kenobiwe're talking about.”
 “It's  General Skywalker we're talking about,” Ahsoka corrected.
Heavy silence fell over the men.
“Tactically, it made more sense to wait to bring you in until we knew what was
going on.”
“Wasn't much question of that,” Fives muttered. “Whole freaking universe knew
exactly what was going on.”
Ahsoka could sense his bitterness... and confusion.
And betrayal.
“How is morale?” she asked, voice soft.
Jesse's shoulders sagged. “Bad. Really, really bad.”
“Same here.” Ahsoka sighed. “I've got to find Rex. Do any of you know where he
is?”
Heads shook.
“Master Kenobi wants him.”
Expressions changed.
 “Does that mean we get to volunteer like the two-twelfth?” Jesse pursued.
“We'd been staying back because  technically he belongs to them more.”
Ahsoka shook her head. “If you want to help, by all means, help. The Duchess is
putting to work whoever she can get.”
“She's by his side?” Jesse asked. “Always?”
“So far. But Jesse... don't expect him to talk to you much.”
The clone looked pensive. “I'm not even sure I'm going to try. We're... we're
too tied to General Skywalker. I can't imagine he'd be glad to see us.”
Ahsoka gripped his shoulder in silent sympathy as she passed to try to go find
Rex.
Jesse's doubt was one shared by every friend and family member Obi-Wan Kenobi
had.
It was even shared by Obi-Wan himself.
Ahsoka wasn't sure how they were supposed to navigate this bleak, uncharted
territory, but she believed Satine when she said it was better to do it as a
group than as many lost individuals, attempting it on their own.
Everywhere she turned, clones approached her, varying levels of worry and anger
swirling around them in the Force. Desperate for news... for reassurance...
“If General Skywalker doesn't come back, are we going to be split up and sent
to different battalions?” one asked, voicing the fear so many of them were
unable to speak.
 “No. I  promise. ” Ahsoka had no idea how she was going to be able to  keep
that promise... but...
“And what about the two-twelfth?”
“I—”
She shouldn't be lying to these men. They deserved better.
 If both Skywalker and Kenobi never returned to the war effort, the battalions
would  have to be split up. There weren't any Jedi to take over.
 And while her gut urged her to combine the two and take command  herself , she
knew in her heart of hearts she wasn't ready for her trials. She might be
close, but she wasn't ready.
She still needed a Master.
 Combining  three battalions...
That wouldn't be fair to the men.
After over an hour of searching, she finally located her Captain.
She could sense his grim agitation behind the closed doors of a storage room.
She opened the door, allowing light to spill in.
A figure sat in the corner, mostly concealed by the shadows the hallway's light
couldn't dispel.
“Rex?” she asked, approaching cautiously.
She received no response.
Stepping around racks of weapons, her eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Scrubbing... Scrubbing... Scrubbing...
Rex didn't pause to look up at her.
His armor hadto be clean by now, it looked like he'd been at it for quite some
time, but he just kept one.
 She could sense it, in the Force. His desperate need to rid it of the  filth —
She crouched down beside him, reaching out a cautious hand, not entirely sure
he knew it was her. “Rex?”
“Good soldiers follow orders,” he muttered. “Good soldiers protecttheir Jedi. I
followed orders. I didn't protect my Jedi.” He scrubbed harder.
Ahsoka scanned his signature in the Force, realized he was running on severe
sleep deprivation. Very severe.
“I trusted him with everything— my life— my brother's lives— and he— I don't
know who— I missedit. I missed it.I didn't see—”
“Rex? I missed it too.”
The scrubbing stilled. Rex peered up at her.
Ahsoka was shocked by how haggard he looked.
“And he hurt you.”
Ahsoka felt tears threatening to fall and fought them. “That was— a side
effect.”
 “My brothers  trusted me to look after our three Jedi. They sent me  alone
with them. And I  failed. ”
“Did I fail?” she whispered.
 Dark eyes snapped to fury. “ No. ”
“Then you didn't either.”
 Rex seemed to melt in upon himself, looking so small. “We  exist to shield
Jedi,” he whispered. “The only reason we're  alive is to make sure bad things
happen to  us instead of our Jedi. It's why we're  made. It should have been
me in that room, but I failed. And my Jedi suffered for it.”
Ahsoka felt like she'd been thrown out an airlock, the wind sucked from her
lungs by sheer vacuum. It took a moment before she had enough air to speak
with. “No, Rex. No. Master Kenobi wouldn't want you to feel like that. He—”
 “He doesn't understand. Jedi don't understand. Jedi are too focused on trying
to give us real  lives.  Trying to have us  not be dependent on them. Jedi are
all there is. Everything. We only pretend that's not the case because you seem
to want it.”
“What? No, Rex, this war is going to endand after that all of you boys are
going to have a chance at whatever life you choose for yourselves—”
 “Do you really think, if given the  choice, any of us would  leave our Jedi?
You talk about the end of the war like it's a  good thing, but we're going to
be cast out on our own. Our Jedi will go back to working in pairs or alone. If
the war ended, we would want to still serve our Jedi. Fight  Jedi missions
instead of battles. You're going to send us away.”
“What's been done to you isn't  right, ” Ahsoka blurted. “You're practically
slaves. It's  wrong, Rex! We want your  freedom !”
 The Captain looked so lost, so  young.  Ahsoka had never seen him like this.
When he looked his age.
Four years younger than herself.
 “We don't want freedom,” Rex whispered. “We want our Jedi.”
Ahsoka thought of the anxiety, the turbulence pouring through the 212 th  and
501 st . Of the undercurrent of agony. Fury. Fear.
They feared for their Generals. Yes.
But they also feared they would be separated from them.
We're the closest thing they have to family.
Satine had said as much.
 Now Ahsoka  knew it to be true.
Satine was right.
About... a lot of things, Ahsoka was finding. She wasn't sure about some, but
others were becoming clear as a summer day on Naboo.
“Listen. Master Obi-Wan's commanding officer wants you to report in for duty.”
His forehead wrinkled in confusion and concern. “Who? General Yoda?”
“What? No. Duchess Satine. You've— not been spending any time with your
brothers, have you.”
“No.”
“That's what they're calling her. She woke Master Kenobi up, and she's been in
charge since.”
He looked mournful. “Is she going to take him away from us?”
“I don't think so. She told me to have you report in to Master Kenobi's
sickroom.”
He collected his pile of armor plates and started cinching them to his body.
Gathering his helmet under his arm, he gave Ahsoka a nod. “I'm ready.”
“Good man.” Ahsoka led him out of the storeroom and down the hall.
As light fell across him, she had to fight the urge to stare.
On much of his armor, only faint streaks of blue remained.
The rest had been scrubbed down to a scored white.
 
* * *
 
Rex knew Obi-Wan was in love with the Duchess of Mandalore, of course.
That memorable flight to Couruscant had made that clear.
It scared him.
Skywalker would never be allowed near the troops again. He would be court-
martialed... probably executed...
At least, if he was a clone, that would be a reasonable outcome...
General Kenobi was the 501st's only hope of staying together.
 If he would take over Ahsoka's training... combine 501 st  and 212 th  just
long enough for Ahsoka to be knighted and become a general in her own right,
who could then take charge of the 501 st ...
But General Kenobi's love was here.
And apparently she was his commanding officer. His brothers would know it when
they saw it.
He'd been entrusted with General Kenobi's life and well-being.
After what had happened...
How could the Duchess possibly consider letting the clones have care of him
again?
She'd probably insist he never return to the military. Maybe even insist he
return to Mandalore with her.
Rex tried to hide his despair as he walked through the halls of the Jedi
Temple.
But he knew the Jedi around him could sense it.
Ahsoka left him at the halls of healing, needing to go find rest herself. She
looked about ready to fall asleep standing up.
 A head leaned out of General Kenobi's room, saw Rex standing uncertainly in
the waiting area. It disappeared again, and a moment later  she came out.
He almost didn't recognize her.
 She wasn't  walking the same.
Instead of the mincing sweep he remembered, with the slight sway to the hips
that specified she was, without doubt, a woman—
Her gait was that of a soldier. If she'd been clothed in clone armor and
helmet, it would have been difficult to tell her apart from his brothers. Her
shoulders had a familiar angle and her head a familiar set.
Instinctively, he came to attention.
 There was also something  more here.
 She wasn't just a  soldier.
She was elite.
And not just elite...
But a huntress.
He could see it in her eyes, in her step, and yes, in her clothing. A loose
tunic and pants that would allow her freedom of motion as she destroyed.
He wasn't used to warriors like this cloaking themselves in harmlessness.
Only predators did that.
 Not only was she a warrior,  and General Kenobi's commanding officer...
 She was a deceiver. A very,  very good one.
She scared him.
 Who  was this person?
She'd been hiding as a civvie, and he'd bought it.
 Now the warrior was loose. Coming for  him.
And he'd failed to protect the man she loved.
He stood his ground, trying to hide the fear from his eyes.
“Captain,” she said, her voice quiet, and still with the Mandalorian accent
that reminded him so much of General Kenobi's. “General Kenobi is asleep, and I
have a system of watches set up through the night. You will take first watch.”
“Sir. Yes, sir.”
She didn't fit into the GAR hierarchy.
She was separate.
Somehow had authority over General Kenobi anyway.
That was scary in and of itself. The reg manuals hadn't explained this.
A Mandalorian.
No.
 A  Mando, with authority over a Jedi.
 His General was a monster, his commander barely more than a little kid, his
other General broken, and the individual who stepped forward to take charge
wasn't a Jedi at  all, but the Jedi's worst enemy. One who'd seemed harmless,
but whose true colors were bleeding through.
Rex almost wondered if he should sound the alarm.
There was a sleeper agent in the heart of the Jedi Temple...
With direct access to its most vulnerable son.
 He was  asleep. Helpless.
And those keen, calculating eyes watched him.
Instead, Rex followed her back to the room.
 He received nods of recognition and reluctant acceptance from the four
212thers present, who proceeded to curl up on the floor and fall asleep.
Apparently, the 212 th  was thawing a little bit towards the 501 st .
There, in the bacta tank, hung General Kenobi.
Rex forgot about the raptor sitting in the center of the songbirds' nest.
 Jedi were  powerful.
General Kenobi looked anything but.
Silent movement had him shying away from the Mando.
She ignored his distrust and approached the tank. For a long moment she looked
up into the pale face, and then she curled up at the base of the tank and fell
asleep.
He recognized the posture and everything it signified.
If anyone came to hurt the General...
Rex didn't think they'd be walking away.
It didn't matter that she seemed to be unarmed or deeply asleep.
Neither of those things mattered at all.
He retreated to the doorway.
There was a chair, and he had no doubt he would be allowed to sit in it.
But he wasn't here to be comfortable.
This was his vigil.
He'd failed to protect this man once.
 He was  not going to make that mistake again.
Before seeing Satine, he'd assumed this to be safe, friendly territory.
 But the Jedi had allowed  her to walk in.
Clearly the Temple wasn't as secure as he'd thought.
Given the signals she'd been giving off, he didn't think she'd hurt his
General.
But if an enemy like this had simply walked in, and someone like Skywalker—
Yes.
Skywalker was somewhere in this Temple too.
Rex stood by the door and watched, every sense extended to its fullest.
A whisper of sound, a shadow—
Rex stepped into the hall, ready to fight, ready to—
And found a grim-looking General Vos.
Rex relaxed. “He's asleep at the moment.”
“Yeah. I can see that. Duchess is still here too.”
But... the Jedi didn't move.
“Do you want me to comm you when he wakes up?” Rex asked, not sure what he was
supposed to do, but there was a helpless pain in Vos' eyes that he recognized
all too well from himself and his brothers.
“No... no, he wouldn't want to see me.” Vos huffed out a quiet laugh. “And I'd
just end up saying something stupid. Make everything worse.”
Rex could understand thatfear.
“Do you mind if I hang around? Keep an eye on everything? I hate being
useless.”
“Go ahead.”
“Thanks.” Vos slipped back into the shadows to prowl the hallway.
Rex stepped back into the room to find one of Satine's eyes open.
It unnerved him, but he sent her an assuring nod.
All clear.
The lid closed over the watchful blue once more.
Ho-ly kark.
 When his brothers had speculated about Obi-Wan's relationship with the
Duchess, they'd never guessed  any of  this.
It made him wonder if they were losing their edge.
 
* * *
 
Anakin lay curled up on the hard sleeping shelf that stuck out from the wall of
his cell.
The moment Ahsoka had extricated herself from between the Team, Anakin had
recognized Obi-Wan's practically-unconscious Force-signature. Deep in a healing
trance. And drugs.
Probably bacta too.
This deep under, he wouldn't be in danger of being aware of Anakin's presence,
or remembering it when he was awakened later.
And no. He wouldn't be waking up on his own.
For the first moment since that horrible misunderstanding earlier, Anakin drew
in a deep breath.
He couldn't hurt Obi-Wan right now.
His Master was safe.
 And Ahsoka was safe too, the distance she  wanted between Anakin and herself
back in place.
He'd been able to sense how traumatic it was for her to sense him so close
while she shielded Obi-Wan.
For the night...
All was still.
Heavy shadows lay across the room, and the Temple guards at the end of the hall
were the closest living beings to him.
Thick, sound-proof walls and door separated him from them.
It was strange to be alone. It didn't happen often.
As a child, his mother had always been present. Then, as Obi-Wan's
apprentice...
Obi-Wan had always been close by.
Then the war had come, and a Padawan of his own—
There were always clones and Ahsoka, or Padmé.
This feeling of solitude was foreign.
And very... very...
He shivered.
Instinctively, he reached out for Obi-Wan's Force signature. Quietly. Gently.
No-one seemed to notice.
He studied it mournfully, seeing the jagged edges his rage had left behind. He
trailed his fingers across them, wishing he knew how to put the pieces back
together.
 His Master had been so beautiful, so powerful, so self-controlled and  kind.
So forgiving. So wise.
And for so many years I refused to see it.
The wreckage was recognizable, but just barely.
Anakin muffled a sob.
He loathed himself. Hated the way his own signature whispered crimson and
death.
Even in the destruction and loss, Obi-Wan's signature pulsed with a quiet,
enduring light. It was warm against the cold emptiness of Anakin's heart.
Anakin sifted through the shields that lay in broken disarray.
He'd wrecked them.
He knew what they used to look like. How they used to sweep around Obi-Wan,
keeping his thoughts his own.
It had frustrated Anakin at times, to not know what his Master thought. To be
unable to read it from his face, since Obi-Wan had such fine control over his
expressions.
Now he just wanted Obi-Wan to have that back.
Yes. Maybe Obi-Wan being a mystery had ruffled Anakin's feathers.
But he wasn't that way to annoyhis Padawan. It's just who he was.Part of what
made him Obi-Wan.
Anakin caressed one of the broken plates, tried to see where the piece that had
been punched through it may have fallen.
He found something that looked similar in tone and shape.
The two fit together, but fell apart the moment he let go.
Lifeless.
I'm good at fixing things. I just have to look at it differently.
But he was afraid.
 He was good at fixing things that weren't  alive. He found kinship with dead
metals, lifeless machinery.  That he understood.  That he could salvage. Could
make better by trying.
 He'd never been good with  living things, whether they be animals...
Or people.
I always break people.
For two hours he struggled to find a way to restore Obi-Wan's defenses. He lost
track of the time as he gave everything he had to the attempt.
But when he stepped back...
The precariously-balanced house of cards he'd built looked like a skeleton,
made from the bones of mismatched creatures.
Grief stole over him.
I can't fix it.
And he couldn't even apologize, since it hurt Obi-Wan too much to hear him.
He gazed down at the heart that had protected him for so many years.
 He  needed Obi-Wan. The thought of life continuing on  without him, and
estranged from Padmé was a future he wasn't sure he could face.
There were many people Anakin could live without.
The entire galaxy could go, as long as he had Padmé and Obi-Wan.
He stopped trying to help.
And instead...
He curled up against Obi-Wan's sleeping mind. Pressing himself up against the
raw edge where shields should have formed a comforting wall.
Simply listened to the rhythms that were his Master.
He became a little child again, sleeping against his father's chest.
He adored this man.
I lost track of that somehow. How did I lose track of it?
Half his soul would die should Obi-Wan ever fall in battle.
He snuggled there, pretending Obi-Wan held him in return, like he used to, when
Anakin was a scared, lonely kid.
Sorry...
I'm so sorry.
He let his soul rest, and pretended Obi-Wan had forgiven him.
 
* * *
 
Rex was exhausted when his watch was up and the 212ther took his place.
He lay on the floor and tried to relax.
Found to his shock that it was possible.
Actively taking a step towards helping Obi-Wan, even if it was a tiny, mostly
meaningless step, eased a little of the tightness in his heart and the
throbbing in the back of his brain.
 
* * *
 
Satine smiled to herself as Rex's breathing deepened and the muscles of his
face relaxed.
When he'd arrived a few hours earlier, he'd been wound so tight that if
something snapped it was going to punch a hole through the wall.
She considered what tomorrow would bring.
Obi-Wan would put his foot down and insiston being freed from this room. He
wouldwalk out of here—
 She was fairly certain he hadn't thought it through to the point of figuring
out where he was going to  go, but his aversion to hospitals could only be
soothed for so long.
 That meant  she needed to figure out where to take him.
And who she wanted to come along.
Also?
It was time for him to start working on rebuilding his shields.
After Zigoola he found solace in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.
It wasn't too long a walk from the halls of healing, and the bubble of life and
renewal the plants provided should act as a cushion of calm as Obi-Wan tried to
mend his defenses.
She made a note to comm Yoda before Obi-Wan awoke to ask him to warn Jedi away
from the room. She doubted her charge was ready to have anyone other than
Ahsoka nearby as he worked on something so delicate...
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Thank you to wolfishpennings for the awesome idea of Rex scrubbing
     his armor to paintlessness!
     Also: I know, I know. In canon, Rex would never behave like this, let
     alone talk like this. He's too tough, too much of a soldier. However,
     what's the point of having a fanfic with clones if we don't get to
     make them just a little bit more vulnerable? They're twelve years
     old, after all, with no family and the Kaminoans really screwed with
     their brains and that's BEFORE you count the chips. So I'm going to
     have my needy, orphan child clones. End of story.
***** Chapter 10 *****
 
“Asked to see me you did, Duchess?”
“Yes, Master Yoda. It's been a week. What is to be done with Master Skywalker?”
Yoda heaved a sigh, bone-deep sorrow looking up at Satine through ancient eyes.
“Decided, that has not been. Demanding we hand him over, some in the Senate
are.”
“It's none of their business.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
“Do they even comprehend what transpired?”
“No.”
Satine considered the problem. “If any Republic citizens or clones had been
injured, they would have every right to intervene, and the injured party would
deserve it as well. But because this was a Jedi committing a crime against
another Jedi, you can hold your ground for Order determination in this matter.”
“Very perceptive you are, Duchess. See, I do, how tamed Mandalore you have.”
Now it was Satine's eyes that shadowed. “Not tamed enough.” She could feel
Yoda's studying gaze, not just see it.
“Infuriated, your people are, by what has been brought to light.”
“Yes, Master. It was one thing for them to listen to me when they perceived me
to be Mandalorian to the core and dedicated to Mandalore. To them. Their faith
in me is shaken.”
“Speak optimistically to me, you need not.”
Satine sank to the round cushion-like chair opposite Yoda, crossing her legs
and resting her hands on her knees.
Just another of her tiny gestures to respect Jedi culture as a legitimate way
of life. Yoda appreciated them, more than she knew.
She lowered her mask of calm confidence, allowing him to see the dread within.
 “If it had been  anyone else. The member of a clan who'd long been considered
an enemy.  Any nationality spanning the Republic, CIS, or wild space... if he'd
even been  Sith , my people would have let it pass.”
 Satine drew in an unsteady breath. “But he's a Jedi. And that is enough to
wake the slumbering hatred. I managed to keep the Clone War distant enough its
drums didn't stir their blood. It was theory. Words. I was so careful to ensure
they felt they had no stake in it. They'd come to ignore the Jedi. To forget
the old hatred. I brought Ahsoka into the schools, and there were no riots. But
this—  this they cannot let pass. An affront. A betrayal. A humiliation. I love
a Jedi. I may as well have spit in their eyes and called them  hutuunla. ”
She didn't have to explain to Yoda the significance.
 He  knew the word  coward was the greatest insult one could offer a
Mandalorian.
Nothing came even remotely close.
“Heard, you have, from members of your government?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “My sister is calling for my blood, and the common folk
are responding. You know my people. You've known them for centuries. Their
pride.”
“Believe in your dream, they did not.” Yoda's ears drooped. “Bend the knee to
you, they did. Not to your ideals.”
 Tears blurred her eyes. “I hoped that with time and gentle reason they would
come to  see.  But things are deteriorating so fast. Bo is telling them that
this has all been a plot to keep them enslaved to the Jedi. To de-fang them.
That the galaxy laughs at them. No longer fears them. She's been doing that for
years. The problem is their  own hearts now tell them the same things.”
“Grieved, Obi-Wan would be, if your world collapsed once more.”
“He has bled and suffered and sacrificed for them,” Satine whispered. “And he
supported the sacrifices I made towards the same end. It's always been balanced
on the edge of a knife. But to see it teeter—”
“Your voice, enough to hold them, no longer is.”
Satine swallowed hard. “It's only a matter of time.”
The thought clenched around her heart like a Sith's merciless grip. She bowed
her head, and silent tears slipped down her nose.
 Beautiful,  beautiful Mandalore.
About to plunge headlong into the brutality and hatred of the past. The blood.
The suffering. The screams of the innocent.
Five-year-olds, taught by their parents how to kill.
Eight-year-olds, hardened killers.
Fifteen-year-olds, ancient before their time. Cruel. Merciless.
Laughing at the screams as they burned their enemies alive.
Family slaughtering family, simply because once, thousands of years ago, a
member of the one clan wronged the other.
Endless cycles of aggression and revenge, then revenge and aggression—
 Death,  death , death.
 “I thought we could  change, ” she whispered.
“Long ago, words of wisdom Qui-Gon gave you.”
“You can't save people who don't want to be saved.”
 It's why she'd  convinced them. She'd taken them by storm, by force of
personality, by authority, she'd appealed to their love of their children,
their passion for family.
She'd taken the foundations of Mando philosophy and turned them, agonizing over
them until she could make a case that backed her up.
She'd used their very momentum to divert them into a new path.
She'd spoken to them in Mando'a—
And led them to peace.
They'd been mesmerized.
She'd soothed their fury, calmed their pride.
 Whispered visions of a glorious future, where Mandalorians led in  everything.
Not just in the caliber of their warriors.
 And, almost through the sheer force of her belief that they  could , they'd
followed her.
They'd allowed her to draw them towards something better.
There hadn't been a moment's rest ever since.
 Qui-Gon had been so instrumental in that year of struggle, when she was trying
to find hope. Trying to discover if a brighter future was even  possible.
He'd given her the courage to stand for something better.
To believe her people could become the best they could be.
And somehow that belief had spilled through her words and challenged her
people.
And Mandalorians could never turn down a challenge.
 They also had very...  very short attention spans.
 She'd held them for  eighteen years.
And  she'd managed to hold off a salivating Republic. Force, had the Chancellor
wanted to get his hands on the warriors that slumbered in the hearts of every
citizen who walked the streets of Sundari. Unarmed. War the farthest thing from
their minds.
 She'd held her ground and  kept him out ; kept the bubble secure—
But Anakin had attacked from a front she couldn't defend against.
Agony pounded through her heart.
The tears burned deeper.
 A gentle thud announced Yoda had left his seat, and a moment later a warm hand
pressed against her knee. “Failed them, you have not. Given them every chance,
you have. Their choice, it has always been. Their choice it still is. Same as
Obi-Wan— failed Skywalker, he did  not. ”
 “I should have tried to educate them  faster .” Satine shivered. “I should
have—”
 “ No !” The three fingers squeezed tighter. “Perfect,  no-one is. Give their
best, all  anyone can do. Control others, we cannot. Control  themselves, they
do. To help, we strive. To accept or deny our help,  their choice is. Theirs
alone. ”
Satine raised her eyes to meet his. “Is there hope, Master? Can I save my
people, or is it too late?”
“Their choice that will be,” he said gravely. “As it was eighteen years ago.”
“The ministers in my government are begging me to return.” Satine searched his
eyes. “But I cannot leave Obi-Wan.”
Yoda tilted his head to the side.
 “You think I should ask him.” Satine sighed. “You're right, of course. He
deserves to know the stakes. But I'm afraid he will tell me to leave, when he
isn't  ready for me to go.”
“Alone, is he?”
Satine considered.
 She could practically  feel the love Obi-Wan's fellow Jedi had for him.
Walking through these halls, seeing the welcoming, hopeful glances thrown her
way, hearing the heartache in their voices as they asked after him—
 As long as the Order remained, Obi-Wan would never  truly be alone.
The wizened sage standing beside her now.
He'd watched over Obi-Wan's cradle. Had been there as Obi-Wan took his first
steps.
Had whispered of the Force to a wide-eyed baby.
Had introduced him to lightsaber wielding.
Had nudged Qui-Gon Jinn into accepting Obi-Wan as his apprentice.
Had welcomed him back after Obi-Wan's trial on Melida/Daan.
Had been there for him, beside him, every step of the way.
 Had warned, warned so  closely against the agony Anakin would one day inflict
on Obi-Wan.
 Had known, had fought, had  struggled to protect Obi-Wan from it—
But as he told her now.
Choices were made.
All you could do was give your best.
 Even if, against  all probability, the Order turned its back on Obi-Wan, Yoda
would watch over him.
The Jedi. Yoda.
And it's not just all of them.
There was Ahsoka. Devoted. Compassionate.
Who for the last several days had been helping Obi-Wan rebuild the shattered
remains of his shields into something strong once again. Who had displayed
infinite patience as his fingers fumbled, as it all came crashing down and they
had to start anew.
Her patience had paid off.
He was shielding himself once more.
It had brought a spark of dignity back to his eyes.
He still couldn't look anyone in the eye, but he didn't quiver with humiliation
every time a Jedi stepped into the room anymore.
And it wasn't just the Force sensitives who loved him.
There were two battalions of clones who felt it to be the highest privilege to
be allowed to care for him.
Dex sent Obi-Wan's favorite dishes up to the Temple, unasked, simply because he
cared. Jar Jar had sent flowers.
Bail had a fervent need to protect him in a way that made Satine rest just a
bit easier simply knowing he lived on Coruscant and wouldn't take Obi-Wan's
bantha-kark answers for granted.
The Senator was just as stubborn as the Jedi.
And one of the few people who could badger him into a medcenter.
Obi-Wan was thousands of people away from being alone.
Do I trust them to take care of him, or do I believe I  am the only one who
can?
And wasn't that the weakness she winced over every time she saw it surface in
their son?
He refused to trust the people he loved.
 Only  he could do the job right. Only  he could keep them safe.
They didn't know what was best for them. They couldn't be trusted to make their
own decisions.
“Thank you, Master,” she murmured, patting the wrinkled hand. “There are
moments when I long for Master Jinn's advice.”
“Feel the same, we all do.” Yoda stepped out of her way as she stood up.
Satine straightened her clothes and drew in a deep breath.
This was going to be difficult.
A hell of a lot scarier than charging alone into a room full of hostile
clansmen.
If Obi-Wan told her he could handle her absence...
It was going to be gut-wrenchingly hard to leave.
At the door she paused, looked back at Yoda. “I would very much like to be
present for Anakin's trial.”
Yoda considered for a long moment.
“Open to outsiders, such a proceeding usually is not.”
“Am I an outsider?”
“Alert you, I will, when know the time we do. Welcome in the Temple you will
be. Beyond that, promise I cannot. Wait outside the judgment hall, you might be
forced to.”
She gave him a low bow. “I recognize the courtesies you extend to me that you
are not required to, Master. Thank you. May the Force be with you.”
 
* * *
 
 And as Yoda watched her leave, step firm, shoulders braced, ready to do that
which she desired  least , he whispered, “And with  you, may the Force be,
child of peace and war.”
 He'd lived a long,  long time.
Trust between Jedi and Mandalorian was something unspeakably precious.
 And even  more rare.
He'd never been able to trust a Mandalorian before Satine had appealed to him
for help, eighteen years ago. Asking for a teacher. Wanting someone whose main
focus was peace to help her discover how to bring it to her people.
Qui-Gon Jinn had been the perfect fit.
Yoda's willingness to give Satine a chance all those years ago had only proven
wise again and again.
He would trust her with the lives of the Jedi he safeguarded.
He certainly trusted her with Obi-Wan's soul.
He sighed.
He had allowed himself to entertain hopes that one day her people would make
her dream their own.
That Jedi and Mandalorian could find rest. Trust.
Friendship.
It hurt, to see it so close to unraveling.
It hurt worse to see Satine's belief in the possibility of that dream wavering.
Believe, Mando'ad, he thought.  Fight always.
Worth fighting for, it is.
 
* * *
“It's... a test. The present is difficult, but we can still find our way.”
Obi-Wan's gaze didn't ease.
Satine had been seeing through him the last few days.
Now it was his turn.
“There is heaviness around your heart.” His gaze unfocused. “Despair.”
“Obi—”
“You must go back to them. They need you.” He searched her eyes. “You know they
won't listen to you if you are at a distance from them. They need you present,
attention fully focused on them. They need to hear your voice, see your face.”
He was right.
“You need me too,” she murmured.
He shook his head. “I am not alone. You've seen to that. I will miss you, of
course. I always miss you. But your people only have you.”
It was true.
So many members of her government had proved corrupt at best,working for Death
Watch or the Sith at worst.
She wasn't sure who she could trust.
Many people could point to family.
But it was Satine's own family who were leading the charge to kill her.
And Korkie...
Korkie was on-planet, with no friendly family members nearby.
I'm all he has.
She needed to return.
But it broke her heart to leave.
“You know that undercurrent of remorse you speak of?” she whispered. “I'm
feeling it right now.”
Dimly, Satine was aware of the fact that the Room of a Thousand Fountains was
deserted. Ahsoka and the clones had slipped away.
That had probably been Ahsoka's idea.
“And if you stayed, you would still have an undercurrent of remorse— that you
weren't there for your people when they needed you. Only then you would also
feel guilt, would you not? It's not a question of which path will leave you
without remorse. It rarely is, for us.”
“When did you become so wise?” Satine took his hand and pressed a fervent kiss
to the back of it. “Will you be alright?”
 He quirked an eyebrow at her, an expression so familiar and so  missed.  “I
doubt I would be  allowed to be anything else, given the number and identity of
my prison wardens.”
Satine sent him an arch frown. “Wardens. Must you always consider healing to be
incarceration?”
“Always.”
She allowed her fingers to curve against his cheek. His eyelids fell shut and
he leaned into the caress.
“The Force will be with us both,” she whispered. “I will return when I can.”
 
* * *
 
Obi-Wan remained in the garden when she left.
 It had been impossible to feel safe  anywhere post Zygerria.
 But for Obi-Wan, this room was less terrible than other places. It had been
steeped in safety. It whispered through the leaves in the trees, murmured in
the waterfalls.
Every disaster he had ever faced in his life he'd recovered from, and a large
part of the healing process had always taken place here.
This room practically represented his ability to survive.
To find peace.
To re-find happiness.
It's why he'd spent countless hours here with Ahsoka once he'd been freed from
the sling. They'd rebuilt his shields.
And now, when alone, he didn't have to sense Anakin.
 Oh, he knew he was  there .
But the presence was muted. Distant.
Locked out.
The shields were good for something else.
 They kept Obi-Wan locked  in.
Ahsoka couldn't just glance his way to discover his inner state anymore.
 She had to accept his  words.  His facial expressions. Whatever he chose to
allow her to see in the Force.
It gave him a measure of control over what happened to him, a thing he'd
desperately craved.
And...
To be perfectly honest...
 With Satine gone, he could gain even  more control over his immediate destiny.
She knew all his tricks. She knew how to read him.
And she was able to out-maneuver him.
As far as the rest of the Jedi and the clones?
They would have no idea what hit them.
And Yoda, the only one who might be able to rival Satine in that capacity, was
torn in too many directions. He had too many disasters to attend to.
So while his attention would be focused completely on Obi-Wan when turned in
that direction, it would only rest there every once in a while.
Plenty of time.
First things first.
 Obi-Wan Kenobi was  not going back to the Halls of Healing. He could stand, he
could walk.
 That meant he would  not live there a moment more.
 He knew that in order to keep from drawing too much scrutiny he would have to
submit to  some sort of medical assistance, at least in name, so he allowed the
clone medics to take over.
 But  only at scheduled hours. And he wasn't always in attendance at those
hours.
 It wasn't easy to face the walls of his room, but at least it was  his.  And
Anakin's was two halls and a turbolift away, so he didn't have to walk past or
see it.
He avoided it like the plague.
Second order of business?
Lose the pills.
 He hated them. They made his connection to the Force fuzzy. And while that
connection was a source of severe pain and disgust, Obi-Wan hated even  more
the feeling of helplessness that the fuzziness caused.
And even worse was how deeply he slept when he took the medication that kept
him from dreaming.
That was too close to unconsciousness.
Anyone could do anything...
And he wouldn't know. Wouldn't be able to defend himself.
Unacceptable.
 With shields, he could now go about fighting it  all.
He ditched the pain meds. The sleep meds.
The anxiety meds.
 The jittery pain that resulted was difficult to take, but was better,  so much
better than the numbness. He'd always hated numbness.  Always —
With his shields in place, he could keep his fellow Jedi from figuring out that
the plants and sewage-recycling systems were probably sleeping the best they
ever had, felt no hint of worry, and no sign of pain.
Too many eyes were focused on him. He hated the scrutiny.
 He wanted it  gone.
Wanted to be himself again.
He started ducking away from his babysitters. Hiding. Lurking.
 It was a miserable way to live, but it was  so much better to being a
vegetable.
 To be held to account for his every waking moment, to have someone nearby at
all times, to be told he needed to take his medication and submit to the medics
and  now they wanted to send him to a Mind-Healer  for counseling—
It felt like slavery.
Others, demanding his cooperation.
He'd had Quite. Enough. Of. That.
On Zygerria.
He hadn't been this recalcitrant since before his Padawanship to Qui-Gon Jinn.
 
* * *
 
Ahsoka was at her wits' end.
 Obi-Wan seemed to be doing well.  Very well. But his resistance towards
medical help was becoming a bit frustrating.
 Before Zygerria, he'd had an almost religious aversion for it, and  now ?
 He  disappeared when the clone medics arrived.
 It could take hours to find him and drag him out of hiding, and he'd grumble
the whole way back.  When they found him. Sometimes they didn't.
 She  knew the trauma he'd suffered would have to express itself. But she
dreaded the first-scheduled Mind-Healer appointment.
And every succeeding one.
Not for the first time, Ahsoka wished for Anakin.
He'd been able to corral Obi-Wan back when no-one else could.
Ahsoka felt out of her depth.
Completely.
 
* * *
 
The nightmares were horrible.
But with his shields so impenetrable, no-one knew.
Every evening he thought nights were the hardest.
Until he woke up in the morning and realized he had to face another day.
Then he knew days were definitely the worst.
 Each day it became a bit more difficult to keep the eagle eyes watching him
believing he  wasn't feeling the heart-stopping fear and guilt— yes,  guilt —
But he was Obi-Wan Kenobi.
He'd lived with horror all his life, and learned how to hide it.
But at the same time... as the days progressed... he became more accustomed to
the deception. Understanding just a bit better which buttons to push with which
watchers.
If he pretended all was well, they would immediately suspect him.
So he allowed himself to appear vulnerable. Struggling.
But he lessened that a little every day. Not much, but a little.
Enough to look like he was firmly on the path they all wanted him to tread.
 They suffered with his recalcitrance and didn't call Satine, because, after
all, he  was getting better. They could  see it.  Feel it.
He assured Ahsoka he was working on clearing out the wreckage in his mind. He
even spent hours in meditation, making sure she could catch him doing so.
 But he didn't try to find healing. Instead, he created a brand-new room, and
sealed off the rest of the house. Left it to rot, to fester, to fall  off, do
whatever the  hell it wanted, because he would  not step foot in there except
when he was absolutely forced to in his dreams.
He worried about the Mind-Healer, though.
They were trained to see past the carefully-spun webs.
 His might be  better than most webs, but he was afraid it wouldn't hold
against the invasive prying that would take place.
At that point...
 The cage was going to tighten. The walls would close in around him, and he
would be trapped. Forced to re-enter the drug-educed fog that fripped with his
emotions, making him feel calm when he  wasn't calm, the  emptiness that made
him utterly vulnerable every night, and the pain meds that made keeping his
shields strong enough to keep up the facade difficult.
Could he manage, with the Mind-Healer?
 Not appear  too healed...
But hide the brokenness a little more each day?
 
* * *
 
Rex had been concerned that watching over the General wouldn't demand all his
skills and attention.
 He'd been really,  really mistaken.
 Half the time, the 212 th  and 501 st  had  no idea where the General might
be. And the Jedi didn't either.
It frazzled nerves, drove them to perfect their spycraft, and to wonder if
there was something more they should be doing for him.
 Almost all of them were convinced they needed to kidnap him and head back out
to the battlefront where he could take out this nervous energy on the enemy.
Make  them try to keep track of him. Force knows the war would probably end
fairly quickly at that rate. The Separatists would quit just to get away from
him.
 The Mind-Healers, both Jedi  and clone disagreed.
He wasn't ready to be thrown into that kind of disaster this soon.
They insisted it would only help him to retreat farther away from people.
Rex hoped that the counseling would help.
 He and his brothers had a grim determination to make sure Obi-Wan did  not
duck  those appointments.
 
* * *
 
And Qui-Gon, watching from the Force, wished for the first time since death
that he was alive.
No-one else saw what his Padawan was doing to himself.
And no-one but Satine could cut through the fog of misdirection he had wrapped
around himself and coax him out of it.
No-one except Qui-Gon.
From the outside, everyone perceived Obi-Wan Kenobi as an obedient, submissive
Jedi.
 Qui-Gon knew from experience that was  not the case.
 He submitted when he  chose to.
 And the only people he had  ever done anything else with were Yoda, Qui-Gon,
and Satine.
Yoda was too distracted.
Satine was elsewhere.
And Qui-Gon Jinn was dead.
 
 
 
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“Is Master Windu back yet?” Jocasta Nu asked.
Kit Fisto shook his head, his lekku swaying. “No. He reported in two hours ago
to say it might take longer than expected.”
Jocasta gave him a weary nod of understanding.
“You should sit down,” Kit encouraged, drawing out a chair for her. “You look
exhausted.”
“Don't deflect like that,” Jocasta chided. “I knowyou feel the lack of sleep
just as much as the rest of us.”
He sat across from her.
She was right.
He glanced around at the archives, taking note of just how unusual everything
looked.
 Data cubes, holocrons, data crystals, datapads, even ancient scrolls and tomes
that had pages that had to be turned by hand lay  everywhere. Many of the
shelves looked bare. The long work tables with computer terminals were just as
covered as the floors.
Masters, knights, Padawans—
The search for knowledge had hijacked everyone.
Jocasta had started the investigation even before the Force-storm Skywalker had
inflicted on Kenobi had been brought to an end. Tears streaming down her face,
she'd sought out text after report after letter.
Once the rest of the Temple had been able to breathe, the stream of volunteers
to assist became massive.
 They had to find  something to explain what ailed Skywalker...
And how to fix it.
And...
If they couldn't find a way to heal him...
Some way to defend against any further attacks.
The Council had dug into areas the rest of the volunteers couldn't go, but the
manuscripts were vague at best.
Kit was aware that Skywalker raged in his cell that he was being unfairly held,
but they were so far from an answer at this point.
Mace had taken off to Tython to follow a lead. Other members of the Council had
headed other places.
Yoda even sought out what the ancient writings had called Korriban,a planet the
modern galaxy knew as Moriband.
The birth-place of the Sith.
The Mind-Healers were collaborating together and reaching out to colleagues
outside the Jedi Order, trying to determine how they should work with Skywalker
on a purely mental path while their brothers and sisters tried to find out how
to help his twisted Force.
Dooku, knowing they were distracted, pushed harder on many of the war fronts.
The Jedi still on the battlefields had to struggle so much harder to achieve
even a fraction of what they'd accomplished before.
Kit rubbed at his aching forehead.
A hologram of clues they'd collected hung in the center of the library, and as
a Padawan here or a Knight there found something knew, they sent it to join the
picture gradually taking shape.
It wasn't a pretty picture.
So many records had been destroyed when the Sith and Mandalorians came through
millenia earlier.
And it didn't all look coincidental.
Kit had the feeling that when the Sith took the Temple, someone may have
intentionally tried to deprive the Order of all knowledge about whatever it was
that now afflicted Skywalker.
And the leads were currently thousands of years dead.
“If anyone can find something, it will be Mace,” Jocasta soothed, patting Kit's
hand. “You remember what he was like as a youngling.”
Kit had to smile at that.
Most people didn't bother to get to know the man well enough to see past the
apparently-grumpy exterior.
But Kit had.
 Windu might be frustrated and feel helpless and responsible for the disaster
that had struck, but he would do his  damnedest to find a cure for Skywalker.
He didn't like the young knight.
But Skywalker was a Jedi.
 And Mace was sworn to guard  all of his brothers and sisters, whether he
liked them or not.
 And, really, Kit's friend had done a remarkable job of  not saying, “I told
you so” every five minutes. Which he could have done. And been completely
justified in doing.
Windu had always been intense. Far more so than his fellow younglings.
And as determined as Skywalker.
Certainly less fickle. Skywalker could love one day, hate the next, then love
the following—
Mace had a steadiness that would chip a mountain away one painful punch at a
time if that's what it took to achieve a goal. He would not be swayed,
distracted, or stopped.
And now that intensity was aimed at redeeming Skywalker.
“I fear our window of opportunity is closing.” Kit heaved a sigh. “I hate to
ask any of the people here to work any harder—”
Jocasta gave him an understanding nod. “They're not sleeping enough. Many
aren't eating enough. They're too focused. Too desperate to find something.”
Kit rose.
He couldn't talkabout it any longer.
 He needed to  search, before he was called away to help Tiplee and Tiplar, who
were close to the breaking point .
It was hard to even think of leaving to help with the war when the battle
against time here was so heavy.
 
* * *
 
“Force curseit, Obi-Wan!” Quinlan growled. “You've got to go.”
Obi-Wan scowled back, unintimidated by Quinlan's height. “That's rich, coming
from you. It's no secret that you wouldn't if it was yourturn.”
 “Don't you  dare give me that! I swore to Qui-Gon I'd look after you!”
 Obi-Wan stared up at him in disbelief. “You  what ?”
“You heard me,” he snarled. He'd never planned on admitting that to the
infuriating little Jedi before him, but  there it was.  “Your Mind-Healer
appointment is today, and you  are going .”
Obi-Wan's face took on the stubborn look Quinlan knew so well.
Force, how can he be more infuriating than I  am?
“I don't want you to look after me. And you'dfeel it an insult if anyone told
youthey'd promised to look after you; and you'd definitely refuse to visit a
Mind-Healer.”
 Quinlan's anger was almost something living. Obi-Wan was being  intentionally
dense. He  had to be. He was  smarter than this.
“ Fine , maybe I  wouldn't go to a Mind-Healer for any old thing. But this
isn't  any old thing.  You've been  raped for Force's sake—”
Mistake.
Quinlan found himself completely locked out of the conversation.
Obi-Wan's expression changed from annoyed and insulted to clear. Calm.
He took a step closer, and it was all Quinlan could do to not back away.
“Don't you everthrow that in my face,” Obi-Wan murmured in his ear, freezing
Vos' blood with the sheer venom that lurked beneath the surface, and then
brushed past him and walked away without a backwards glance.
Quinlan stared after him in shock.
What the hellhad that been?
He's not alright. He's very far away from alright.
He wasn't taking care of his mind. He was toying with it.
It was going to come back to bite them all.
 Quinlan might not be a model for dealing with stuffed issues, but even  he
could see this was going to be bad.
 But if Obi-Wan would  not be budged—
 Then he would  not. Be. Budged.
It's the only reason he'd survived what had been done to him.
 Quinlan was just afraid that the thing Obi-Wan was holding on to  now wasn't
his light.
And while Quinlan was all kinds of careless with his own light, the thought of
Obi-Wan throwing his own, beautiful light away... after resisting every effort
to steal it from him...
 It  hurt Quinlan.
Made him sick.
But just as no-one could convince him to let go of it...
No-one would be able to convince him to protect it.
We're in trouble. We're in big, big  trouble.
He went straight for Master Yoda.
If they waited to intervene until this blew up...
Quinlan wasn't sure that they'd be able to put the pieces back together.
Obi-Wan might be lost.
Not to death...
But to apathy. He might pull away from his friends, turn on them, and walk off
into the night without a moral compass and with a massive chip on his shoulder.
Even if he didn't fall into darkness...
He'd be likely to live the rest of his life hounded by bitterness.
The quiet, resilient joy that resurfaced through the oceans of sorrow he
endured might finally die.
Quinlan didn't posses such a priceless gift.
Perhaps that made him all the more eager to protect it in someone else.
 
* * *
 
Obi-Wan retreated to a secluded nook of the Room of a Thousand Fountains.
Ahsoka caught sight of him and trotted after.
 He groaned inside, but figured if he could just  make it to the special spot,
he could figure out a way to convince her to reschedule the appointment.
But as he turned the corner, he found himself face-to-face with a small band of
clones, who'd already been searching for him.
 In  his spot.
He grit his teeth, spun around, and found Ahsoka.
“Master, please,” Ahsoka pleaded. “What's the worst that could happen?”
 “I have no interest in sitting on a couch and  talking about my  feelings.
No-one has  asked me whether this is something  I think I need.”
“Just give it ten minutes, Master. You can always leave if you don't like it—”
 “Do you think it would be my  first time with a Mind-Healer, Padawan?” he
growled, still unable to  look at her.
 “Have you ever been to  this one?”
“That's irrelevant.”
“Maybe she's different from the others—”
“There is no such thing.”
“With all due respect, General,” Rex spoke up, “you could probably convince a
lot of us to harass you less if you would meet with her regularly. We wouldn't
feel the need to pester you about your meds that way. Going would be a good way
to get us off your back.”
Obi-Wan groaned. “Must it be one or the other? Why can't you all trust me to
take care of myself?”
“Maybe because Satine didn't?” Ahsoka offered.
 “ Satine. Always meddling—” his holodisc chimed. A familiar pattern to him.
Very familiar.
“Speak of the Sith,” he muttered, but answered it anyway.
There was a promise to keep.
 If at all possible, each was supposed to answer the other, because this
frequency was  only used if they needed to speak to one another.
Little blue figures sprang to life above his palm.
Figures?
It took a moment for Obi-Wan's brain to recognize who the others were.
 
* * *
 
Anakin watched Obi-Wan's tightly-built shields in sorrow.
They never relaxed, now.
Not even in sleep.
Layered so thick it was impossible to guess what was passing beyond them.
He edged up closer to inspect their surface, the—
Agony  split through the shields, striking Anakin right between the eyes.
The force of it sent him reeling backwards.
 He hastily threw up his own shields, trying to block out the horrifying  grief
as a cry of anguish escaped Anakin's lips —
What the  hell had happened?
He found himself kneeling beside his sleep-shelf, clutching it as he sobbed.
Force  have mercy—
 
* * *
 
Yoda felt the thunderclap in the Force.
It came from Obi-Wan.
For a long moment the old one couldn't breathe, Obi-Wan's pain seizing him with
its excruciating grasp—
And then all was silent as Obi-Wan's shields recovered from the overload and
closed over the wound.
All still.
Except for the Temple reeling from the blow.
 
* * *
 
The volunteers in the archives froze, looking to one another in desperation.
 But what else could they do, besides fight as hard as they could to find or
invent a solution?
 
* * *
 
Cody watched Obi-Wan drop the holodisc to the grass and walk away.
He seemed decades older. His footsteps uncertain. Shoulders stooped.
With a whimper, Ahsoka darted after him.
Cody couldn't move.
Wooley dropped beside the fallen disc, and tapped at it.
The message, coming in live, had been automatically recorded.
And in a moment, Wooley had it playing again.
Why ?
 Cody found his gaze drawn down to it, even though he  didn't want to see it
again.
 “It has to be a trick,” Wooley mumbled desperately, searching the holo for
signs of fabrication. “It's not  real .”
Boil's face was blank, but there was a fury in his eyes so deep, so dark Cody
half-expected it to burst into a black hole and suck the trees out of the room
and into an abyss of frigid nothingness.
A harsh crack had Cody spinning around to see Fives beating his armored fist
against the trunk of the closest tree, yelling in rage, cursing at the top of
his lungs.
Rex tried to quiet him with terrified glances Obi-Wan's direction.
But the General didn't seem to care.
And the damn holo started its third time through.
Wooley whimpered.
Boil seethed.
Fives beat an innocent tree.
Rex pleaded with Fives.
Obi-Wan sank to his knees, staring at nothing.
Ahsoka knelt beside him, holding his hand, leaning against his shoulder,
crying.
And Cody...
 Cody wasn't sure  what he was doing.
 
* * *
 
“Senator Organa?”
 “What can I do for you, Padawan Tano?” Bail took a closer look at the blood-
shot eyes. “ What's wrong? ”
“It's Obi-Wan. He— he can't be in the Temple right now. There's too many
memories— and— can he stay with you? Just for a little while?”
Bail's eyes widened. “Certainly. Has he suddenly gotten worse? I thought he was
doing well—”
Ahsoka sniffed, blinking hard.
 “It's fine, Padawan. You don't have to tell me,” Bail assured her, though he
desperately needed to know.  Something had obviously happened.
“There's a holo that explains everything,” she whispered. “But I'm not sure— I
think— it may be better if you haven't seen it when he shows up. I'll bring it
with me. Can— Padmé—”
“I'll have her meet us there.”
“Thank you.”
The hologram of the Padawan disappeared.
 Bail collected the few documents that he  could not leave until tomorrow, and
rushed home.
It didn't take long to set up the guest room. On a hunch, he prepared the
second one as well, just in case.
Both couches could easily be slept on if need be.
You're overreacting, he told himself.
Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as his gut said it was.
But he didn't believe that for a minute.
Padmé arrived first, all worry and confusion, clearly sleep-deprived. Her eyes
looked almost as red as the Padawan's had been.
“I don't know what's wrong. I just know Ahsoka asked us to be here.”
“Is it Anakin? It's got to be Anakin.” Padmé sank to the couch, all color
drained from her face.
“We don't know that,” Bail soothed.
She raised grief-struck eyes to his. “How can I face him?”
“Obi-Wan?”
“After everything that's happened—”
Bail didn't have time to give her more than a sympathetic grimace before he was
called back by the doorchime.
The door opened to reveal Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.
Obi-Wan didn't make eye-contact. He just stared straight ahead, a numb look on
his face, wrapped closely in a cloak with the hood drawn up.
The lines around his eyes were tight, and there was a furrow in his brow that
Bail knew well. Pain. Deep and insistent.
“Come on in.”
Obi-Wan obeyed, walking in the door and then pausing.
Ahsoka gently gripped his arm and steered him towards a couch. A light touch
prompted him to sit.
Bail watched from the doorway in stunned silence.
Ahsoka threw an expectant glance at Padmé and then rushed back, dragging Bail
into the hallway and shutting the door.
She drew a holodisc from her belt and clicked it to play.
 
* * *
 
It took several moments before Padmé managed to gather the strength to look
over at Obi-Wan.
And then she couldn't look away.
He stared off into the distance, apparently unaware of her presence, or
possibly simply uncaring.
His eyes looked dead.
And suddenly Padmé forgot all about herself and moved to sit beside him. “Obi-
Wan?”
He didn't look at her.
 She reached out a hand but hesitated. It could be dangerous to life and limb
to startle a Jedi, but he looked to be in so much  pain —
She lightly touched the back of his hand.
His breathing hitched, his eyes widened in horror, and his head turned, those
broken eyes meeting hers.
And then he was sobbing. A silent, shattered wail. Curling in on himself, he
rocked in agony.
Horrified, Padmé gathered him to her, resting his head against her shoulder and
holding him tight. Tears of her own soaked his hair.
Two broken people.
Crying in the dark.
 
* * *
 
Ahsoka tried to shut out the sights and sounds as she held the holodisc, but it
was futile.
“ Master  Kenobi. So glad you decided to answer. Would have been a shame to
have to show you this after  it happened.”
Obi-Wan's quiet,  “What do you want?”
There was just the slightest hint of a quiver in his voice. That was all that
betrayed his agony of fear.
 It still stunned Ahsoka. The  control it had required when Satine knelt there,
battered and bruised, bound, clothes torn, surrounded by old-style Mandos. Not
Death Watch.
 The  old armor.
Armor that had been gathering dust in the backs of closets for eighteen years.
These were citizens who'd seemed normal in that time.
The once-slumbering dragon slept no longer.
“We want to make it clear that this aruetii  no longer speaks for Mandalore.
Mandalore remembers.  Mandalore lives.  Mandalore has turned her over to face
punishment for her betrayal, and we're standing here to tell you , and the rest
of your Order, that we will not  be made a laughingstock any longer.  This is a
statement to the galaxy  that we're done  rolling over and playing servant to
the Jetiise. Mandalore is back. ”
“I can see that,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Your point is made.”
“We're done having you and this Jedi  lover laughing at us.”
“Does it look like I'm laughing?”
“Consider this the last warning we're going to give you, Jedi. You've shabar us
long enough. Don't shabrudur us again. Fear us. We're back in the business of
hunting Jedi, and doing anything we damn well please.”
“I remember,” Obi-Wan assured them.  “I also remember Mandalore's reputation
when it comes to monetary savvy. An enemy is worth more to you alive than dead.
Your weapons are outdated. What better way to fund Mandalore's return to glory
than the sale of the one who betrayed you? You have us where you want us. Is it
time for us to bleed credits?”
Ahsoka had been able to sense Obi-Wan's grim knowledge at the time. She hadn't
understood it then.
Now she did.
He'd known his words, phrased though they were to encourage the Mando psyche to
listen, would fall on deaf ears.
But Ahsoka and the clones had waited with bated breath.
 Satine had watched her love, a calm knowledge in  her eyes as well.
 She  also knew how this was going to turn out.
And she was willing her Jetii strength.
“You and that zabrak Sith both seem to think credits would be enough for this
one, and he  would pay more.  He seems to want to have something to hold over
you. We're letting him think we'll go for it. It will be amusing to see his
face when he realizes what's happened. You're both  crazy if you think we'd
give up our chance at revenge for coin. ”
Ahsoka heard her own voice pitch in.
Thought she sounded naive and young.
 The words hadn't felt that way at the time.  “You would make yourselves the
number-one enemy of the Jedi Order, you would draw down upon yourselves the
full—”
She could see it, the momentary disbelief in their faces, swift followed by
interrupting her.  “Have you been listening to anything  we just said? That's
the point.  We're declaring war against your Order by killing your ally and
this Jedi's lover.”
Ahsoka felt again the helpless fury that had suffused her.
Heard again Satine's quiet, controlled voice.
“It's alright, Obi. I'm ready.”
Someone struck her across the mouth.  “Ready? Oh, come on.  You don't look like
much of a duchess now !”
They were wrong.
 On her knees, beaten, and facing death, Satine looked more powerful than she
ever had. She hadn't winced against the pain of the blow, and the dignity that
wrapped around her like a cloak could almost be  felt. There was no sign of
fear in her face, and in her eyes there was only love and compassion.
She didn't resent death.
But she was sorry it was going to hurt Obi-Wan.
 And she wanted him to survive it. She was  commanding him to, without using a
word.
 Her countrymen missed it.  “She's scared,  Kenobi. Scared and in pain  and
you're  the reason we know about her. You weren't careful enough. You should
have hid that knowledge better. Should have protected it instead of handing it
over the way you did. You rolled over and submitted, and because of it, we're
going to take her away from you. Forever. And Mandalore rises again. You were
weak, Jetii, and guess what? We know. It's too late. Chew on that , Jetii who
thought he could make Mandalore his bitch.”
Obi-Wan stood, so very still.
And then a lightsaber hissed to life.
No...
 The blade was black. Sucking light, sucking  life from the atmosphere around
it.
 Obi-Wan had known that blade.  Every Jedi did.
Many of their kind had been murdered by it.
It had been stolen from the heart of the Temple in the time of the Old Republic
when Sith and Mandalorians had broken through, massacring everyone they found
inside, down to the tiniest infants.
Mandalorians had been killing Jedi with it ever since.
 This time, Ahsoka saw something she  hadn't in that first time around.
Satine heard the distinctive whine.
And her face lit up.
Ahsoka's stomach knotted and she wasn't sure she wouldn't throw up on Bail's
doorstep.
The hints of warrior that bled through Satine's chosen life sparkled in her
face.
 She was  pleased that the blade that had slaughtered Jedi would take her life.
She felt that to be reasonable.
Honor enough.
Content to let her blood mingle with theirs.
And then the blow struck.
Satine's severed head hit the duracreet with a sick thud.
Beside Ahsoka, Bail cringed and let loose a pained syllable of protest.
“It gets worse,” she whispered.
She could hear the yells of anger that had come from herself and the clones,
could hear the curses.
Remembered how Obi-Wan had stood tall. Stared into Satine's eyes up to the last
moment.
Hadn't flinched. Hadn't protested.
Hadn't let even his eyes express his devastation.
No.
That shattered through the Force alone, robbing the satisfaction of seeing it
from the Mandalorians.
 But they were  determined to rip a reaction from him.
Jeers, spitting on the corpse, stomping on her body, pouring blasterfire into
it—
“Shabla pacifist! Coward, coward ! Jedi lover!”
Bail was shivering beside Ahsoka.
And then the game started.
The ballgame.
Using Satine's head.
Tears streamed down Ahsoka's cheeks as she bit her lip.
How had Obi-Wan stood there so still? So outwardly calm?
 Mocking laughter filled the air and one of the Mandalorians stepped closer to
the holodisc to make sure she could be  heard over the vocal enjoyment of her
fellow Mandos kicking Satine's head across the ground.
“Kenobi. Tell Skywalker next time you see him that sniffing out traitors is a
lucrative business. We have a heavy case of credits with his name on it, any
time he wants to send for it. Can't wait to do business with him again.”
And then the holo ended.
The Mandalorians had cut short the call.
Bail swore. Long. Quietly.
When Ahsoka looked up at him, she saw tears in his eyes.
 “The Temple was hard enough when it was just memories of Anakin,” Ahsoka
whispered. “But now, with Satine? He went to see the Mind-Healer. He wouldn't
let me convince him otherwise. And then he just...  sat there while she tried
to get him to talk. She gave up, told me to take him back to his room, but he
tried to leave the Temple and point-blank refused to stay. He hasn't said a
word. He hasn't cried, he hasn't raged, he hasn't done  anything other than
that single scream in the Force. I'm afraid for him—”
“It's good you came to me.” Bail ran a shaking hand over his mouth and beard.
“Hells. I don't know what to do for him. Satine was the best thing that's ever
happened to him.”
“He might not be the only one who that's true of,” Ahsoka whispered, thinking
of the clones. “She—”
What could be said?
She was unlike anyone Ahsoka had ever met?
That she'd changed Ahsoka's perspectives in a lot of ways, and challenged her
to be the best version of herself possible?
What Ahsoka finally said was, “Someone has to tell Padmé. They were friends.”
“I'll do that. I don't think— if Padmé insists on seeing that recording, then
fine. But I'm not going to volunteer its existence.”
Ahsoka gave him a nod. “I don't want to leave him, but there's two battalions
of clones who— knew she'd adopted them. They saw her as a possible mom. They—”
Bail's eyes filled with compassion. “Go help them, Ahsoka.”
She gave him a grateful nod and raced away.
 And somehow,  somehow, Bail reentered his apartment.
 
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Mando'a Guide:
     Aruetii (Pronounced /ah-roo-AY-tee/) = Traitor
     Jetiise (Pronounced /JAY-tee-see/) = Jedi (plural)
     Shabar (Pronounced /shuh-BAR/) = The most rude variant of “screwed”
     possible in Mando'a. Yep. The F-bomb. You're welcome.
     Shabrudur (Pronounced /shah-broo-DUUR/) = The most rude variant of
     “screw with” possible in Mando'a. Only used in the most extreme of
     circumstances. (They have plenty other rude words for everyday use.)
     This is a threat of the deepest caliber. A vicious warning. As in
     “Don't shabrudur me.”
     Jetii (Pronounced /JAY-tee/) = Jedi (singular)
     Shabla (Pronounced /Sh-ah-blah/) = F-ing. “la” is practically “ing”
     in Mando'a, and I'm sure you recognize the root word from the two
     examples above. Bet you can now determine how you'd say F*** without
     me telling you. Yep. Just get rid of the “ing.”
***** Chapter 12 *****
 
“Whathappened?” Anakin wailed against the door, pounding on it with his metal
fist. “You knowwhat he isto me! How can you just stand there and not tell me?”
 The cell might be sound-proofed, but he  knew the two Temple guards could hear
him. He was certainly yelling loud enough to get past the insulation.
And he was hammering at them with the Force as well.
 Something was terribly,  terribly wrong with Obi-Wan—
 He'd been at it for the last hour, demanding answers. Demanding somebody,
anybody talk to him—
The Temple guards moved farther up the dead-ended hallway, so they wouldn't
have to see Anakin's frantic gestures.
And then they settled in again in silence.
He leaned against the door, panting, furious and heartbroken.
He had pushed the Jedi away... and finally they'd turned away from him.
 He wished they would come in here and  beat him. Would yell at him. Would mock
him. Would do  anything other than watch him from a distance in quiet distrust
and grief.
He wanted them to go berserk on him.
 He  desperately needed for the Code to go back to being an impossible to-do
checklist instead of the description of a Jedi's relationship with the Force.
He hated the red haze that swirled around him in the Force.
And worse—
 He hated the pure light that spilled from  theirs.
He hadn't asked to be made this way; he'd  tried to be a good Jedi—
 It wasn't his  fault if he just wasn't  cut out to be one —
And Obi-Wan—
 Something was  horribly wrong—
 And they were treating Anakin like he didn't deserve to know  what.
 And he did. He  did deserve it. He  deserved an answer—
And then he slid along the door to the floor and stared at his sleep-shelf.
His self-righteous fury drained away from him.
Maybe they aren't trying to punish me. Maybe...
Maybe they are concerned that if I know what it is that's hurt Obi-Wan so
badly...
I'll use it against him.
The thought was a kick in the gut.
 Maybe they were ignoring him to  protect Obi-Wan.
Anakin's eyelids fell shut over burning eyes.
It had been too long.
Every day he waited to be hauled out of his cell, to face some sort of
tribunal.
Each night he fell asleep wondering what was taking them so long.
If they waited until Obi-Wan was mentally ready to testify against him...
 He could be here  months.
The thought sent a shiver of panic through his soul.
Months without seeing the sky. Without flying.
Confined. Caged, like a wild animal that might attack without warning.
 He had a  wife and  children —
 Or... he  had...
Could Padmé have terminated the pregnancy?
 What if she hadn't yet but  would ?
 Could he really  blame   her?
  And yet the thought made him want to claw through the walls with his
fingernails and beg her to   not.
He wanted—
He wanted—
What does what   you   want matter now?   he snarled to himself.   Why should
it matter to anyone, and what right do you have to make demands like that?
But he was always making them.
Always... always... always...
He sent a tiny pulse along his bond with Ahsoka.
Not an arrogant demand.
More of a whimpering plea.
He felt her stir against it, but she didn't yield.
And then the screen near the door crackled to life.
Anakin sprang to his feet and hovered over it.
  It appeared to be— a   conversation  —
It was time-stamped earlier today—
  He   knew   that bound woman, though she was hard to recognize without the
royal finery—
His heart leaped in his throat as he heard Obi-Wan's voice. Calm. Collected.
Controlled.
  He sounded like had   before   Zygerria.
Anakin's heart bounded in hope.
And then he realized what was happening.
He quivered in horror. He screamed. He raged.
The Force exploded outwards from his cell, and had anyone been in any of the
cells down his hallway they might have died, their organs exploding from the
force of it.
Fortunately, the Temple Guards had moved far enough away.
  Anakin clutched at the screen, and as the jab about   paying   him was made
he collapsed to his knees, weeping.
He nearly turned away, as they abused her lifeless body.
  But he just   knew   Obi-Wan hadn't.
So he forced himself to watch.
And then it was over, and the screen shifted, showing Ahsoka's tear-burned
face.
  “  Ahsoka  ,” Anakin choked. “Let me go to him. Please,   please  —”
  Ahsoka sighed. “She died   because   of you.   You   exposed their secret. Do
you really think it would   help   if he had to experience your presence   too
?”
  “But I'm so sorry,” Anakin wept. “I have to know he   knows   that— I have to
know he   forgives   me—”
“I don't know that he does.” Her voice choked and she fell silent to try to
regain control over it.
  He stared at her, aghast. “What do you   mean  ? He   always   forgives me—”
  She just stared at him in hopeless amazement. “Do you honestly think that
means you're   entitled   to be forgiven   now  ?”
  “  No  !” How could she continue to misunderstand   every single thing   he
said to her post-Zygerria? “I'm   not   the self-focused monster you think I
am! I mean, I   am  — but I'm not—”
He swore for quite a little while.
For some reason, Ahsoka didn't just leave him to do it by himself.
  He pulled himself together as best he could. “Yes. I'm a self-focused
monster. But if you and the Council think that means I   don't   love Obi-Wan,
then you're all crazy.”
“Yes. He deflects the Council's heat away from you and takes your failings onto
his shoulders. But just this once you're going to have to deal with the
consequences of your choices.”
  “  Damn   it, Ahsoka! I would   never hurt him again  !”
  “Unless it struck your fancy.” She watched him with sad, resigned eyes.
“Anakin, your greatest complaint is that nobody trusts you. But have you ever
proven yourself   trustworthy  ? And how many times have you proven you're
not  ?”
He thought of Padmé.
Sand People.
Rush Clovis.
Zygerria.
  “If you're compiling a list, be sure and add Mortis.” Ahsoka sighed. “The
Father removed your memories of that time... but you chose the dark side,
Anakin. You betrayed Obi-Wan into the hands of the Son. I have no idea why the
Son chose to   not   kill him, but you   left.   You   left him there  .”
  Anakin scowled. “I'm not the only one who went bad and tried to kill their
Master,   Snips.  ”
  And now   she   was angry.
  “You just don't   get   it, do you!” she yelled. “On the one hand you bow and
scrape and assure us you've learned your lesson and you're the worst of
offenders, and then you lash out with the   exact same   pride and self-
centeredness that got us   into   this mess! Why do you think no-one comes to
visit you? It's   pointless  !”
  “They can't withhold forgiveness forever and leave me begging!” he snarled.
“You do that to someone, you humiliate someone like that, you grind them into
the dirt like that, you scorn their repentance like that and it   will   turn
ugly! I'm   not   the exception!”
  She stared at him in disbelief. “It's not   been   forever, it's been less
than   two weeks  ! And for the record? Take a sniff in the Force.   Nobody
is refusing to forgive you, except for the clones, and   maybe    Master Vos!
Everyone else doesn't desire you     harm    . They certainly don't want
revenge     or to make you     pay.    ”
“But no-one has     said     so--”
“If your eyes see something, do you need to read it in braille too?”
   “They     haven't     forgiven me. I'm locked up, kept away from Obi-Wan--”
   “Forgiving you doesn't necessarily equal to     taking you back,     Anakin.
And forgiving doesn't necessarily mean letting you escape the consequences of
your actions.”
   “Then forgiveness is     meaningless,    ” he growled.
   “Would     you     let you near Obi-Wan? And if they let you out of this
cell, would you     not     stalk him?”
He opened his mouth to protest—
   “Don't think I     haven't     noticed the way you hover just outside his
shields, waiting for one to slip the tiniest inch. You managed to stay away
from him in the Force for all of     four days.     Do you really expect anyone
to believe you     wouldn't     do something similar physically?”
   “You misunderstand. He     needs     me. We're the     Team.     He
needs     me to get through this.”
   Ahsoka stood taller. “No, actually. He     doesn't.     What he needs is
space, and you're refusing to let him have it. You want to be the hero of this
story instead of the villain. You're convinced you can badger him into allowing
you to play that part.”
   “The Council is     toying     with me! It's     unjust     to keep a
prisoner waiting indefinitely like this. They must     charge     me, they
can't just keep     ignoring me    —”
   “You want them to rush this? You think they're     ignoring     you? They're
searching     history     and the Force to try to determine what to do with
you. They don't want to just retaliate with a knee-jerk reaction. They want to
see if you can be     helped    —”
   “It's     Obi-Wan     who needs help—”
   “Can you look me in the face and tell me you     haven't     lashed out in
vengeance before?”
Anakin went very still.
“I remember when you set out to hunt Rako Hardeen. It didn't seem brand-new
then.”
“I didn't know it was Obi-Wan.”
   “That's irrelevant. You     have     hunted and lashed out in hatred before.
I can see it in your eyes. Yeah— go ahead. Shore up your shields so I can't
see. Fine. It just confirms it. Each time it happened, did you promise it would
never happen again, like you've promised     this     time?”
Yes.
The memories zipped by, condemning him.
  “You need   help,   Anakin.” Ahsoka's voice turned pleading. “And yes. The
Council has   no   idea where to start. We've never seen a blood-red Force-
signature before. We've never seen someone so kind lash out so viciously
before. Anyone who loves you would   insist   on you getting help, whether you
want   it or not. People are getting   hurt  , Anakin. And that's putting it
mildly.  ”
How little did she know.
Children die.
That's   what happens.
Something else Ahsoka said rankled in his soul.
That bit about anyone who loves him insisting he get help.
You're wrong, Ahsoka. Love would be looking the other way and letting me figure
it out on my own.
 
* * *
 
Holding a weeping Jedi Master in her arms, Padmé was thinking about the same
thing.
  And coming to a very,   very   different conclusion.
I didn't want Anakin to resent me. I didn't want him to lose his love for me,
his trust in me. So I didn't go to his authority figures and tell them
something was wrong.
 Children had been slaughtered.
And she looked the other way.
She hadn't wanted to lose Anakin's love. Even then, before she'd decided to
allow their marriage to happen.
I was afraid of causing myself that pain.
 If they'd stepped in   then,   could all of this have been averted? Would Obi-
Wan have been stripped of everything he's ever held dear? Would Mandalore still
be peaceful?
Would I not have to be afraid of my own husband?
  True, maybe he wouldn't have   been   her husband.
But who did she love more? Herself, or Anakin?
  Anakin had   needed   his mental health taken care of. He wasn't going to ask
for help, and he'd begged   her   not to ask for it.
How   had it been loving towards him to agree to let his mind and heart fester?
By my silence, I failed him... and I failed myself.
And I failed our unborn children.
Obi-Wan was calming. Running out of the energy to flail against the pain any
longer, running out of the effort required to care enough to cry.
Returning to a dry, non-stop pain that underscored every moment of every waking
day.
She knew, because she lived with it now.
And then he went very still against her shoulder.
At first she thought he was realizing he'd broken his usual personal-space
bubble and was now aware enough of himself to be uncomfortable about it.
And then she saw his gaze.
Locked on her stomach.
He reached out hesitantly towards it, then yanked his fingers away before
touching her as if they'd been burned.
He pushed himself back up off the couch at an angle so strange she was almost
startled that he landed on his feet.
And then he was headed for the door.
  “Obi-Wan,   please,  ” Padmé pleaded. “I'm sorry?”
Bail intercepted his Jedi friend. “What is it?”
  “  His   Force-signature. It's   inside   her. It's— he's— she's—”
  “  Yes.   I'm pregnant.” Padmé threw up her hands. “And I'm about as scared
and confused and   hurting   as anybody else.”
  “They aren't   him  , you know,” Bail pointed out softly. “And just because
they're his doesn't make Padmé him, either. All three of them are innocent.”
Padmé felt sudden guilt. She wasn't entirely sure she was without blame for
Anakin's depredations.
She'd seen the warning signs.
She'd done nothing.
“No, Bail. I can't stay here.”
  “Is the Temple   really   going to be better?”
  Obi-Wan shuddered. “It's full of memories,   yes.   Of him— and— and
Satine.  ” His voice caught with a sob. “But it's my own turf. This— this isn't
safe. It's   not safe.   I don't know the exits and—”
“I can show you all the exits--”
Padmé broke in. “I'm going to leave; I won't be coming back until Obi-Wan is
comfortable with it. So, there's that.” She moved past them and paused in the
doorway. “I'm sorry, Obi-Wan,” she murmured. “I hope— I still see you as a
friend. If I can do anything, let me know.”
His gaze skittered away from hers. So unlike the confident, persistent Jedi
she'd known. Even different from the quiet, earnest Padawan from even longer
ago.
  “Did you see it?” he whispered. “Did you see—   this  — lurking inside him?”
  And   now   he met her gaze.
From the way he fidgeted and the look on his face it made her think it was
excruciating for him to do so.
Her own expression betrayed her.
“You saw it.” His voice was so dead. “And you didn't warn me.”
Tears blurred her vision. “Obi-Wan—”
  “He   hid   it from me— I never   saw   it, Padmé— I— he didn't   hide   it
from you—”
“Please forgive me,” she choked. “I thought I was   protecting   him.”
  Obi-Wan shuddered. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. So quiet. So
controlled. “My brother— my   son   needed help. A long time ago, evidently,
because   this   doesn't happen overnight. A friend of mine would have made
sure I knew. Made certain I was ensuring he would receive the help he needed. A
friend of   his   would have done the same.”
Bail reached out a cautioning hand, but Obi-Wan shrugged it aside.
“Do you claim to love him?”
Tears were running down her cheeks. “Yes,” she choked.
“You are well matched.” Obi-Wan turned and walked towards the window.
  Padmé longed to rush after him, to   convince   him she'd only had the   best
intentions—
  But she wasn't entirely sure she   believed   her intentions had been
anything other than self-focused—
So instead she covered her mouth with her hand and turned to go.
  Bail reached out and gripped her shoulder. He mouthed the words,   “I'm
sorry.”
She gave him a broken nod and rushed away.
Maybe he thought Obi-Wan had been unreasonable.
  But half of Padmé's pain came from the fact he   hadn't   raged at her. He'd
turned away from her, retracted his trust...
But he hadn't stayed to beat her over the head for her mistake.
Was it a mistake?
She didn't know.
She reached her apartment and found herself wrapped in Dormé's arms, the
handmaiden soothing her, comforting her—
Assuring her she'd done nothing wrong—
Padmé pulled away from her in disgust.
Padmé had said the same things to Anakin far too many times.
 
* * *
 
“I'm going home, Bail.”
The Senator gave a quiet nod. Obi-Wan had been standing at the window for ten
standard minutes without speaking. He clearly had considered the implications.
“Alright. I'll drive you.”
“No. I'm walking.”
“People... know your face—”
“Understatement of the century,” Obi-Wan muttered.
Bail could imagine the reception Obi-Wan would find should he be recognized. It
made him shiver. He didn't think his friend was ready for that. But Obi-Wan had
his stubborn, weary face on. The likelihood of budging him was low.
  Persuasion, now...   that   might be different.
So he phrased his words in a deferential cast.
“Do you want to deal with that right now, or go home in peace?”
He could see it in Obi-Wan's face.
Wasn't going to go for it.
The Jedi headed for the door.
“Bail. I want to go home. I want to walk. And I want to be alone.”
 “You could borrow my speeder, I don't have to come,” Bail offered,  knowing it
was hopeless but  having to try.
Obi-Wan didn't even dignify that with a response.
He showed himself out and closed the door.
Bail immediately commed Ahsoka with Obi-Wan's new plan and watched him from the
window for as long as possible.
“Should I shadow him?” he asked the Padawan.
 She heaved a sigh, much too old for her years. “No. He'd know, and he'd feel
the need to give you the slip. He might not arrive for  hours if he feels his
independence is questioned or threatened. If we're lucky, he'll come straight
home.”
“And if not?”
 “I...  may ... have thought of that before I handed him over to you. But it's
better if you don't know. He can't lose trust in you if you aren't actually
complicit.”
“As long as he's safe.” Bail ran a hand down his face. “The underworld might be
under the impression he's... fair game. Worth the effort. Do we know if he can
fight or if he'll freeze up?”
“We don't know yet.”
Bail sat heavily on the couch and longed for Breha's comforting presence.
And... he still hadn't managed to tell Padmé about Satine.
He dragged himself to his feet again, and headed for the door.
Better to do that in person, than over holo.
 
* * *
 
Ahsoka ended her call and returned her attention to the Mind-Healer.
 “While I have not had a chance to speak with Master Kenobi at any length, I
have read his previous files and spoken with the Minders that have worked with
him in the past.”
 “What can we do to help him?” Ahsoka urged. “He  scared me earlier. He's gone
deep inside his mind before  —  ”
 “I think he's unlikely to try that approach a second time. He has expressed
significant distress to various people over the thought of it, and while
earlier today he wasn't communicating, he  was responding to outside stimulus,
and moving under his own volition. He chose to come to see me, even after
fighting against it so hard. I will do my best to start drawing him out with
our next session, but in the meantime, I would suggest trying to draw him  into
something that can take his attention off his own pain and losses.”
“Distract him?”
 “No. Believe me, he's paying quite a bit of attention to what's happened. It's
why he's been struggling against seeing me. He's afraid I will make him face up
to how much he  hasn't recovered.”
“Then why did he come today?”
“I don't know, but I suspect it's because he's almost reached the end of his
tether.”
 “But he  won't hide inside his mind?”
“Correct. He needs some outlet for the built-up agitation. Find something
familiar he can throw himself into again.”
“Won't that encourage him to run?”
“It's better than staring at a wall and stagnating.”
Ahsoka gave her a nod. “What would you suggest?”
 “I don't want him sent out to the front lines. He's not ready for that. And at
this point, sending him to a secluded planet may do more harm than good. He's
poised to spiral. We want his focus to not narrow  further, but to widen. See
if the Council can coax him to return. That would be a good start. He needs to
feel  needed. He has a very strong sense of responsibility. For him, giving is
life.  We need to show him that despite all the harm he has suffered, he can
still bring help to  others.  It may return his sense of purpose, and
eventually, his sense of peace.”
 
* * *
 
Obi-Wan trudged along the walkway, feeling unspeakably weary.
 It took a  lot to keep his shields tight enough to keep Anakin  out.
It took even more to keep up the facade of healing.
 And he was just  so tired.
 And Satine was dead, and her dream  destroyed because of him.
She would have been glad to die if her world was saved.
I lost both for her.
“You weren't careful enough. You should have hid that knowledge better. Should
have protected it instead of handing it over the way you did. You rolled over
and submitted. You were weak, jetii.” The Mandos' cruel words pounded through
his head, a mantra that would not shut up.
 He'd been  trying towards healing for Satine.
She was the only reason he'd walked out of his head.
 And she was the only reason he'd  kept walking.
 He'd been so relieved she'd been at a distance and couldn't insist he  keep
walking... the facsimile of it was tiring, certainly, but better than  actually
treading that path  —
And now she was dead.
Because he'd failed.
 Not only was the point of  healing gone...
But the point of pretending had been slaughtered too.
He tried to drag himself out of his thoughts, and became aware of people's
notice.
Mothers pulled their children behind them and covered their eyes. Watched him
with disgust and loathing, like he might taint their offspring.
When it was older children, they stared after him with wide eyes and whispers.
The teenagers and twenty-somethings hid their curiosity even less well.
“Is that the—?”
“Gods. I think it is.”
 “Can't be. He's dead, right? Or he  should be, given what happened, right?
Can you survive that?”
“One way to find out. Excuse me, Mister Jedi?”
 Obi-Wan  tried to ignore her, but she tugged at his elbow.
A gesture he'd often used to catch Satine's attention.
His throat tightened—
“Are you Obi-Wan Kenobi? The Jedi from the holo?”
 How could she look and sound so...  entitled to ask something like that?
 He pulled away from her, unable to look  any of them in the eye and hurried
away.
 “ Oh, my Force  —   that  was him!” someone squealed.
 “ So turned on right now,” another moaned.
 “ Holos ! Get holos! The girls are  never going to believe this!”
Obi-Wan ducked his head and picked up his pace even more.
Adults stared at him with open disgust or pity.
He wasn't sure which burned him worse.
 But there were so  many young people  —
“He's cuter when he doesn't have snot running down his face.”
“I'd do him.”
 “ Gods. Are all Jedi so hot?”
Elderly people peered down their noses at him, prim and proper.
 Those he  knew would have asked him for help or directions two weeks ago eyed
him with distrust and disdain.
Someone threw a jogan at his head.
Another wolf-whistled.
 Still another called out, “Come on, admit it. You  liked every second of what
those Zygerrians did to you!”
Obi-Wan's spirit burned.
It wasn't a fire of resentment, or anger...
But of death.
His own.
 A sharp pain exploded up his shin as a thin wooden cane rapped it sharply. He
skittered away, looking back to find a hunched old woman. She glowered up at
him. “You should be  ashamed of yourself, young man!”
He turned to walk away from her, but the cane landed again, this time against
the side of his knee.
 It  hurt.
“Lookat me when I'm speaking to you, young man! That vile recording you made of
your sick and twisted— sickness— is all the young folk talk about! Think of the
exampleyou're setting for them!”
 He stared at her in open-mouthed shock. “You think  I'm the one who made that
recording?”
“It takes two to tango,” she dismissed.
 “More like  ten .” Fury blossomed in his eyes, a feral thing.
 Somehow  she was the one looking scandalized. She lashed out at him with her
cane again, but this time he was ready and stepped out of range. He spun on his
heels and strode away.
 “You will never escape the stigma of this!” she called, tone dire. “It will
follow you wherever you go. You can't walk among decent folk and expect us to
accept you!  We know what you really are !”
He ran.
He actually broke into a run to escape her shrill, condemning voice.
 
 
 
***** Chapter 13 *****
 
“We could really use your knowledge on this one.”
 Mace listened to Kit Fisto and tried to twist his face into a friendly
expression. It just wasn't  in him. He was good at what he did, but the
niceties were difficult to master.
Really difficult.
 In fact, he didn't know  why he'd been asked to join in.
His personal opinion was that with the three of them standing here, Obi-Wan
would feel like they were ganging up on him.
 Eeth and Kit were  far better equipped to try to encourage the broken Jedi.
 Mace was a man of  action.
The talk was difficult.
Especially since he was still angry with himself for not resisting Anakin's
induction into the Order more strenuously.
 Look where  that had gotten Obi-Wan.
 It was Mace's job to  protect the Jedi who were too kind, too compassionate to
defend themselves against threats. He was the hard-assed voice of reason so
that Yoda and the others could be the gentle angels of mercy.
The members of the Council with the only exception of Mundi preferred
gentleness to harsh words. They would rather nurture than suspect.
It didn't help that neither Tython nor Korriban had yielded results, and the
various Council members who'd set out for answers had returned home empty-
handed.
Obi-Wan wouldn't look any of the three who'd come to speak with him in the eye.
“You know the Sijarrans better than anyone else in the Order, andyou're the
only one who speaks their language. If you would attend the debrief it would be
a personal favor to me,” Eeth urged.
“I'm sorry.”
 It  hurt Mace to see Obi-Wan's fingers fidgeting. To see the slight rocking in
his shoulders. The closed, emotionless expression.
Just because he didn't know how to talk without a snarl didn't mean he didn't
care.
And this Jedi in particular...
 This one he cared about a  lot.
“You need to find someone to take my seat on the Council.”
Stunned silence fell across the three.
Mace had figured there was a fifty-fifty chance he'd agree to come back or say
he needed more time off.
 He  hadn't seen this coming.
I should have.
 “We don't want you  gone from the Council, Obi-Wan,” he said. “We  chose you
to join us because we value your insight and skill set. Neither of those things
has changed. We want you. It's unanimous.” The words felt strange to his
tongue, but true.
 Had Yoda seen this coming? Was  that why he'd insisted Mace tag along?
 Obi-Wan wavered for just a moment, and then his expression dulled. “I won't be
coming back, and you need a full Council. You can't afford to  not have one
right now. The Force will guide your choice.”
He turned away from them.
“Obi-Wan,” Kit spoke up, “is this decision about you, or are you worried for
us? Our reputation? The Order's?”
“It's not like the Jedi can afford any more criticism than we face already.”
Mace frowned. “We don't care about that.”
“Allow me to use the excuse to shelter my own failings.”
Obi-Wan's listless words were a kick in the gut for Mace.
In the end, they walked away...
And Obi-Wan stood still.
Force,Mace hatedSkywalker—
No.
No.
It took some time to reach a place of inner calm.
It had always been more difficult for him than for many others.
 And under  this testing...
He was the protector of the Jedi Order. He watched for threats others couldn't
see.
He saw shatterpoints.
Scoring through the Force that when struck would rain down destruction and
suffering.
Anakin Skywalker, so long ago, had been a thermal detonator, wanting to nestle
against the most sharply-defined shatterpoints of all.
And through the years, the scoring had spread and deepened, twining around Obi-
Wan's heart and sanity, reaching into the core of the Jedi Order itself—
And every year, Mace felt wound a little tighter as the explosion didn't rip
his family apart, but the damage it would cause when it finally blew expanded
ever greater.
 His brothers and sisters, so trusting, so  selfless, had opened their home and
hearts to Anakin Skywalker.
And now the dominoes were falling. Tap, tap, tap, tap—
Obi-Wan had been the first to go. His mind twisted and crippled the way a body
might be in a cruel speeder accident.
 Every instinct Mace possessed screamed at him to go down to Anakin's cell and
finish him. To try to burn a swath in the path of the raging fire so that
hopefully the spread would be halted.
To maybe save what was left of his family before it was too late.
Instead, he breathed.
And somehow, even though it took every ounce of strength he possessed, he let
go of his anger towards Skywalker.
It would come back. Probably multiple times through the day.
And each time he would let it go again.
Anakin had groused about how hard it was to be a Jedi.
The kid had no idea.
The kid also had no idea what it felt like to work hard for something, to sweat
and bleed and weep for something—
And finally reach the prize.
Being a Jedi was worth the struggle.
And the kid had no idea.
 
* * *
 
Obi-Wan rebuffed all attempts to draw him out of himself and into helping
others.
And he insisted on taking long walks in the evenings.
 Ahsoka  tried to give him space and still look after him, but she ached for
Satine's advice.
She had no doubt the Mind-Healer knew her business, but—
 Obi-Wan wasn't  listening to the Minder.
He didn't seem to be capable.
He sat with her. Answered some of the questions she put to him.
And stared off at nothing for the rest of them.
And then the Council brought Ahsoka in to discuss her situation.
Three weeks masterless.
 There were two elite battalions of clones without Generals and they  needed
her to complete her training.
 If for nothing else, to take charge of the 501 st .
It was with a heavy heart that she sought out Obi-Wan once again.
 
* * *
 
“Master Plo has offered to take me as his Padawan.”
Obi-Wan somehow managed a nod. He tried to find the right response, the
expected response, but couldn't come up with anything.
“I would prefer you.” She was watching his face. He could feel it.
It made him feel cornered. He tried very hard not to show it.
But he could feel himself starting to rock. It wasn't something he could stop.
The more days passed, the more pronounced the behavior grew.
He wasn't sure where it had come from.
He wasn't sure it would ever leave.
“I can't even look you in the eye,” he pointed out. “How could I help you find
yourconfidence?”
Ahsoka didn't respond.
And she didn't retract her statement.
 The trembling had started. He could feel it in his hand.  Hold it together.
“Every time you went out in public with me, there would be— you don't deserve
to face that ridicule. If you were with me, there would never be a moment's
peace again. If you're with Plo, you'll be able to have as close to normal a
padawanship as possible. Be able to enter a cantina and  not be the center of
that level of mockery.”
 “What if I don't want a normal padawanship? What if I want  you ?”
“You deserve better,” he whispered. “You have a strong bond with Plo. One that
predates ours.”
“Yes... but we had Anakin.”
Couldn't breathe.
Hot and cold.
The walls closing in.
 Cruel laughter,  Die, Jedi, die —
“Obi-Wan? Breathe.” A gentle hand on his shoulder.
Obi-Wan nearly jumped out of his skin jerking away from her. “I'm sorry; I'm
sorry—”
Ahsoka sat very still. He could sense just how guilty she felt.
 “You need to be able to talk about— him  —   with your Master. Work through
things. You need a Master who won't have a panic attack every time you say his
name.”
He could sense her desperation. Her hesitation... then the decision to use the
final weapon in her arsenal.
“Wouldn't... wouldn't Satine have wanted us to stay together?” she asked.
The fear drained away from Obi-Wan, leaving an empty gulf inside his heart. “I
have no doubt she would.”
The spark of hope Ahsoka felt at his words died as she continued to study him.
“Why are you— that means— doesn't it? The family stays together?”
The quaver in her voice gutted him.
 Yes.  Hell, yes, the 501 st , 212 th , Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan belonged together.
And no.
Obi-Wan couldn't do it.
He just—
Couldn't.
He tried to watch her walk away, but couldn't manage it.
He felt her grief and fear as she struggled to hide them.
The guilt he felt incapacitated him.
He was failing her. Failing the clones.
Failing Satine, who believed he could heal.
Failing his fellow Council members, who had looked sucker-punched when he
turned away from them.
 He had to get out of here .
He couldn't stay in the Temple.
He didn't want to see Bail. Or Dex.
 Or  anyone he knew.
 He  had to be alone.
There was a park with grass and trees and paths within sight of the Temple.
He wrapped his cloak around himself and made a beeline for it.
Thankfully no-one tried to stop him on his way out of the Temple.
And once outside... for the first three minutes of the walk, no-one recognized
him.
And then a smattering of derision hurled his way.
Fortunately, many people were simply too busy to take a second look at the
cloak-wrapped Jedi to discover his identity.
He wasn't sure how many of the jabs he could take this evening.
He found a deserted bench, lowered himself onto it, and wasn't at all surprised
he didn't feel better. At all.
 The compelling urge to get  away from people didn't lead him to  relief.
It just made the quiet louder.
Allowing his thoughts just that much moredominion.
And—
Memories.
Memories of what Anakin had done to him.
Memories of Satine's efforts on his behalf... their farewell... and her death.
Memories of Ahsoka's drooping shoulders and hopeless sense as she walked away
from his rejection of her and her clone brothers.
Memories of the mocking that had been thrown his way by the gleeful public.
What was the point?
He could sit here and suffer, or sit in his room in the Temple and suffer.
So why stay here?
He dragged himself to his feet and began the trek back.
“Master Jedi? We need help, please?”
Obi-Wan looked up to find a small pack of human teenagers, on the younger side
of fifteen.
He was about to ask what assistance they required when one of the boys grabbed
his crotch. Jerking hips, mock moans, catcalls and the words Jedi whore—
“How much for an hour?” one of the girls called, dissolving into cruel giggles.
She was young enough to be his grand-padawan.
Obi-Wan's face froze into a mask as he turned to walk away from them.
Just walk away, just walk away—
They tripped him.
Ankles caught, he fell hard, elbow and knees striking the stone of the pathway.
Gasps of delight and fear burst out, and then the pounding of running feet
filled his ears as the kids fled, their bravado expended, not entirely sure how
far they could push a Jedi before they'd be risking life and limb.
They needn't have worried.
Obi-Wan couldn't seem to find the will to stand up again.
He pushed himself back onto his knees, sitting on his heels.
This area of the park was deserted. Empty.
Like his soul.
 The dull ache was so much worse than the sharp pain. That pain of betrayal, of
loss, of fear, at least it had told him he was  alive.
This?
 The knowledge that he  could get up to return to the Temple... but that every
time he ran into people, there would be a response of some sort.
That he could enter the Temple and feel responses of a much kinder sort... but
still existent.
That the walk and the humiliation would just end in him facing the blank wall
of his room and going over the same thoughts he would churn through if he just
stayed here, on his knees.
On his knees.
Where he belonged.
Who was he fooling? The children who had mocked him had been right.
His time was over.
He'd been used, then cast aside when his Padawan and the Zygerrians grew
bored...
He would never be able to preside over a negotiation now.
No-one would take him seriously.
He would be detrimental to any peace-forging process. A distraction. An
embarrassment.
 And who in their right minds would feel safe with him as a protection detail,
when they all knew he hadn't been able to defend  himself ? How could he
protect  them ?
Young Force-sensitives would remember him as the wounded man who haunted their
dreams. Their parents would see him as half of a corrupting duo they had been
unable to exorcise from their children's heads.
The mocking multitudes had a point.
 He clearly hadn't fought the Zygerrians hard enough. He was a  Jedi. If he'd
wanted to, he could have escaped them. Could have saved himself. Could have
stopped it. Qui-Gon would be so ashamed, were he still alive.
He would loathe the boy who had only ever been barely good enough.
Obi-Wan could see himself so clearly in this moment.
Filthy... broken... pathetic...
Worthless.
He could keep taking step after step after step.
It didn't matter how many he took.
He would never find a different place than the one he knelt in now, in the
growing shadows on the unforgiving stone.
Life.
He unhooked his lightsaber from his belt and studied its familiar shape and
weight.
“This weapon is your life.”  Familiar words. Words he'd heard. Words he'd
spoken.
They'd always been true.
Not anymore.
 His life  then. Not now.
What he had now wasn't life.
He was a shadow, masquerading as the Jedi knight who used to inhabit this form.
That man had died on Zygerria, at his former Padawan's hand.
And I am left in his place.
He felt numb and heart-sore at the same time. Just so tired of it all.
Tired of dreading the day when he woke up, tired of dreading the night when it
fell.
Tired of dreading meeting strangers, tired of dreading facing his family.
Tired of dreading being alone.
He'd taken agony, of mind or body, and endured it.
It always ended. Gave way to something else.
But this endless sea of gray...
Unchanging waves to the horizon and beyond...
The cold of his soul...
 How was it possible to feel  nothing and feel pain at the same time?
He nuzzled the emitter of the lightsaber against his chest, over his heart.
A spark of interest. Just a slight quickening in his blood...
But not of fear.
Life.
Fascinating.
 After a moment he realized that it would be faster, more efficient, less
likely to fail,  better  if he sent the blade through his brain instead. If he
went this way.
Hearts, if tended fast enough, could be mended, after all.
The cold metal brushed the underside of his chin.
If he ignited the blade...
 Would he see the blue light, since it would shine  behind his eyes?
What a curious question.
 
* * *
 
Anakin, in the Temple, felt Obi-Wan's ever deepening gloom.
Felt his lack of interest in maintaining his shields.
No-one else would be liable to notice, but Anakin had been pushing at them
ceaselessly, and he felt them give.
Felt Obi-Wan's emotions seeping through.
He endured it in silence until he felt the shiver as Obi-Wan placed the saber
to his heart. The shiver of possible surrender.
Escape just a step away.
Anakin went berserk.
“Guards!” he screamed, but the sound-proof cell threw his voice back at him.
He lashed out at them in the Force, demanding attention, and they ignored him.
He had no bond with them.
He couldn't send words.
 And as for urgency? They'd  felt it from him before. Not that long ago.
It was expected.
He was the emotionally unstable prisoner.
He was probably trying to enact some trick for escaping purposes.
That or he was just throwing another of his fits.
“Don't you dare !” he cried out to Obi-Wan.
He could feel the cold against his chin. No. Obi-Wan's chin.
Knew what it meant.
“A few weeks ago you would have been pleased,” his Master's thoughts came
listlessly back.  “Isn't it exhausting to be so fickle? I'm just completing
what you started. It's been my job ever since you came into my life to clean up
the messes you leave behind. Is it ironic, or simply amusing that I'm  the
final mess to clear away?
Horror and terror warred for Anakin's soul.
The worst thing about Obi-Wan's words? The total lack of accusation or passive
aggression. There was no resentment whatsoever.
No regret.
His Master didn't have the strength to care enough for any of those things
anymore.
Anakin flung himself against the door—
Still the guards ignored him.
Stop, Obi-Wan! Stop! Please, no—
His Master wasn't listening.
He had only one option left. He reached out for Ahsoka. Screamed at her. He'd
respected her severance of their bond, but—
Obi-Wan—suicide— now!he warned.
Her own horror and terror struck at Anakin along the suddenly re-opened
channel.
Along with her rush to attempt to locate Obi-Wan, to reach him—
She was doing her best, but no, no, no.
It was too late.
It—
Obi-Wan wasn't paying any attention to his shields. He simply didn't care.
And he was going to press that button.
Anakin acted almost before he'd made his decision. He pushed his way through
Obi-Wan's shields, a feat made easy since he knew every step of the way, and
reached out for his Master's mind.
Apathy combusted.
Obi-Wan screamed and his mind went mad with fear.
 It burned Anakin's eyes, his nostrils, his throat. He couldn't  breathe —
“Master! I don't want to hurt you,” he sobbed, lowering his own shields as far
down as he was holding Obi-Wan's, trying to reveal his intentions. He wanted to
save him—
 But Obi-Wan was  not going to let himself be trampled again. He couldn't, he
wouldn't —
I can't let you die. Please,  Obi-Wan, think about this.
Obi-Wan's loose interest in death turned into a hard-edged desire.
No! Desperate, Anakin tried the only thing left to him.
He tried to force the issue. To take control of Obi-Wan's body enough to—
Obi-Wan fought like a tooka being held underwater. He struggled, knowing he was
no match for Anakin. So he didn't try to win the war.
 He went after one very small thing, and he went for it  fast, before Anakin
could react.
He clenched his fingers.
Anakin screamed and slammed his fist against the wall in agony as he felt the
ignition button depress.
Roaring pain seared through Anakin's brain— blue and blood—
And then Anakin, mind so deeply entwined with Obi-Wan's, was dragged into
darkness after him.
 
 
 
***** Chapter 14 *****
 
 
Anakin slowly drifted towards consciousness.
 Throughout the long years of fear of losing Obi-Wan, he'd been afraid of all
the wrong things. It was never someone  else who was going to take Obi-Wan
away.
He'd killed himself to escape Anakin.
Anakin's first in-drawn breath as he awoke was a sob. He reached out to the
Force, but Obi-Wan was gone. The familiar presence that had always been there,
like a hand on his shoulder, was missing. A hole torn in the tapestry of the
Force.
He screamed, beating his hand against the floor, then letting his head fall
against the wall.
Why hadn't he seen it coming sooner? Why hadn't he called Ahsoka sooner?
 Force,  Force —
Obi-Wan had been devastated by Qui-Gon's death.
 How would he have felt if Qui-Gon had committed suicide to  get away from Obi-
Wan?
“Anakin!”
Ahsoka.
 He didn't look up. “You didn't find him,” he choked. “He— turned it  on —”
“No! Anakin, he's alive. He's injured, unconscious, but alive.”
 Anakin's head snapped up. “No. Not possible. I can't feel him—”
“She sensed your connection to him, recognized it from last time, and was
afraid it would take him out even if she took the lightsaber away. So she used
her Force-concealment talisman to cut the mind-invasion you had going. She
knocked Obi-Wan's aim off, and while he has a nasty burn to the side of his
head that nearly took his ear off, he's  alive. He's  alive, Anakin.”
Now he was weeping with relief, his entire body shuddering with the force of
the anguish.
It took several moments before he could pull himself together enough to speak
again.
 
* * *
 
Ahsoka watched from the doorway, amazed at the level of anguish Anakin was
carrying.
And for the first time since Zygerria...
She almost...
Felt compassion.
And then she remembered what he'd done.
“You have to let me go to him,” he urged.
Ahsoka scowled at him. “You forfeited your right to stand beside him.”
 “But I  can't just stay here while he  suffers — he nearly  died because
you've kept us apart!”
Ahsoka's eyes widened. “Seriously?”
 
* * *
 
 Obi-Wan's first conscious thought  would have been frustration if he hadn't
been so numb at heart.
And... although he could feel the bandages, knew he must have been burned...
He didn't feel pain.
They'd dosed him.
 And... he felt  very unmotivated. Certainly not interested enough in expending
the effort it would take to try to kill himself again.
 So they must have dosed him  that way too.
And...
The Force felt distant and awkward to manipulate. Things were harder to sense.
A bit confusing.
Force, he hated meds.
In a dull, anguished, non-violent way.
 All he could feel was the subtle pulse of emptiness that their drugs couldn't
take away. Grief at too low a level to consider  painful ...
Yet behaving as though he'd had a low-level headache for a week straight.
Ready to drive him mad, if he only had the strength to go berserk.
 It was really,  really too bad he couldn't die just by lying here.
“You're lucky Ventress was in the area.”
Obi-Wan squinted up at a Healer hovering over him. “What?”
“Ventress. Saved your life and hauled you back here while you were
unconscious.”
 That couldn't be  right .
This had to be a hallucination or dream of some kind.
 If so, it was doing a kriff-poor job of it, since he felt basically the same
as he had when  awake. The sensations should at least be  different , if you
were going to go through something so pointless...
“Where she now?” Obi-Wan asked, half-expecting to be told she'd turned into a
Blurrg and shrunk to the size of a comlink.
“Locked up.”
Wait.
 This was  actually happening?
 Obi-Wan sat up, ignoring the throbbing in his head. “ What ? You locked her
up ?”
“Mmm-hmm.” The Healer murmured distractedly as she checked various readouts.
“It's not like we could have her running around Coruscant hurting people. So
when we came to pick you up, Drallig escorted her to a cell.”
 “On  whose orders ?”
“She's a former Sith acolyte. Were any orders needed? The Council's busy with
something else at the moment—”
 “She saved my life, brought me home, and you punished her for it. For the love
of  frip. ”
The Healer raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised at Obi-Wan's language.
He didn't really care.
Yes. His curse usage had turned a bit harder since Zygerria.
Not like my mouth could end up any more defiled than it already has been.
“Not acceptable,” he growled at the Healer and stalked from the room.
He didn't see the woman's tiny smile, or hear her tap a comlink. “Master Yoda?
I think it's working.”
 
* * *
 
 “Last I checked, they haven't appointed a new Council member yet. Until then,
I represent the Council.  Leave.  She saved my life, and  this is how you repay
her?”
Ventress sat on her sleep-shelf and felt amused.
 Obi-Wan sent the Temple Guards packing, sounding very close to his old self.
Perhaps a bit crankier, but definitely  alive.
She could sense his cold indignation in the Force, and when he arrived at her
door, she could see the durasteel in his eyes.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. Profuse apologies, a readiness to lead
her out of the Temple—
 “Good to see you looking grumpy.”
Obi-Wan frowned at her. “Why  aren't you?”
 “You spent a couple months as a prisoner in  my castle, figured I should take
a peek at the accommodations of yours to make sure you weren't one-upping me by
any chance. I needn't have worried. My castle's torture chambers are better.”
She shrugged.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why are you so calm?”
 “Why  aren't you, Mister perfect Jedi?” And  that was a question she genuinely
wanted answered.
He stared at her in blatant disbelief. “You just stopped me from killing
myself. Perfect Jedi my ass.”
 “ Maybe I carried you  home. ” That had certainly shocked herself, and every
Jedi who'd seen it happen. “ Maybe some of your fellow Jedi are worried about
you.  Maybe Yoda thought that if you had a cause to take up, an injustice only
you could right, maybe you'd remember who the frip you are.  Maybe I'm weirded
out by your trespassing into  my morally twisted territory, and want you the
hell  out of it and back on  your side of the border.  Maybe I thought Yoda's
plan had merit.  Maybe I walked into this cell of my own free will, forcing you
to come rescue me.”
 He narrowed his eyes and skepticism laced his voice. “You're trying to  help
me.”
 “I just saved your life. Force, what does it  take with you, Kenobi?”
His stare didn't ease. “You tell me. Why  did you stop me?”
“I already said. You losing your uptight Jedi-ness throws the universe upside-
down and messes with the natural order of things. I needed to put you back in
your place.”
 Oh, he  definitely looked suspicious now.
 It angered her. Did he think this  wasn't humiliating for her? To come here
and save  him ? For the Jedi to know she'd gone  out of her way to try to help
him reclaim his old self?
 “So it's  not  because Anakin's show was so enjoyable that you'd hate to
prevent the possibility of a repeat?” he growled.
 “Fripping Sith  hells , Kenobi! I  didn't get off on that. Don't you get it? I
saved you because it's what  you would have done for me. ”
There . She'd said it. And sounded like a fragging Jedi.
His eyes misted.
 Kark.  Kark.
 If he started  crying —
“If it was compassion you wanted to taste once, just to see how it felt, you
should have let me go through with it.”
And then she couldn't meet his gaze anymore, and her own darted away.
Force.
The weight of agony that hung around him like a tattered cloak...
Sith hells, had Skywalker done a number on him.
And of course, then that Mandalorian Duchess had been done in too. The
underworld was buzzing with that.
At this point, Kenobi had lost about as many people as she had herself.
And... he'd been betrayed just as cruelly.
Been made to feel worthless.
 He was well on his way to  becoming her, and for some reason, that... made her
angry.
He didn't deserve that.
 He might be maddeningly  pure and  light and  selfless —
But those were  annoyances.
Not crimes.
 And though she'd  kill you if you told anyone she thought so...
The universe had enough Ventress-like people.
 It  didn't have enough souls like his.
Obi-Wan waited, then turned to leave.
“Seriously? That's it?” she demanded, angry again.
He paused. “What do you wantfrom me?”
 “There's people out there who  need  you, idiot. And it's not like there's an
overabundance of  Jedi these days, so you can't just  check out. ”
“Is that right?”
 Her words hadn't reached him at  all. No spark of defiance, no annoyance,
nothing.
Well, she'd just have to try harder.
She'd never made him angry yet.
 That always went the  other  way, Ventress burning with rage and Obi-Wan
laughing at her lack of control.
Maybe today was the day.
She drew a deep breath and calmed herself.
Obi-Wan turned to stare at her. Oh, he'd sensed it.
Yeah. Watch this, Kenobi.
 “When it was all  happening, I went  looking for you. I was going to try to
save your ass. I didn't care how many might stand in my way, I was going to
come and  rescue you. And I came out here to Coruscant  simply to see how you
were doing. And what do I find? I find you trying to punch your brains out. I
was gonna put aside  my personal code in order to save some  self-righteous
Jedi. You have no right to trample on that.”
 His stare hardened, a flicker of something in his eyes that she couldn't quite
read. “You think I give a  kark what you have to say about it?”
 “I think you got knocked down. Beat. Trampled on. It happens to a  lot of
people. This galaxy is  big, Kenobi, and it  happens .”
His jaw was tensing.
She took that as a good sign.
“You know, Ky Narec spoke highly of Qui-Gon. Thought he was strong. I thought
he passed that trait on to you.”
 “Yes? Well, now he's  dead. ”
 “So's my  Mother. And my  clan. Yeah. That happened recently. Do you have to
pry a lightsaber out of  my head?”
 “ Ventress —”
 “Don't even think to start with that. My Mother was dead, and she looked at
me, and the last thing she told me was to go out and  live. To go out and
fripping live. I failed at being a Sith, at being a Witch, and now I'm a bounty
hunter, but I'm  living, Kenobi. You haven't even failed at being  one thing
and yet you're quitting!”
 “Don't you  dare say that to me,” he snarled back. “I failed at being a
Master.  Clearly. And the fact I tried to take my own life shows I failed at
being a  Jedi. ”
 “Again: I don't give a kark. I swear, Kenobi, if you go and  die on me I'm
going to  torment your ghost ass!”
 He arched an eyebrow at her. “I was under the impression haunting went the
other direction.”
 “You wouldn't be able to haunt  anybody with your head so far up your ass.
Force damn it, Kenobi, why aren't you out there bringing food to refugees? Why
aren't you pulling kids out of burning buildings? That's where you  belong .”
 “Do you have  any idea what happens when I step outside?”
“Maybe you could consider full armor and face-mask of some sort.”
“I—”
 Ventress took several steps forward into his personal space, making him tense
and his eyes go vicious with threat. “Why are you up here growling at me? You
should be down wherever Skywalker is, giving him the riot act on why you aren't
going to let  him limit  your life. That he's a pathetic, sniveling  child and
you're  done having him rule your existence and he will  not wreck your life!”
 “ I love him !” Obi-Wan thundered back.
 “That's a lie. If you  loved him you'd be trying to heal instead of—”
 “And what would a  Sith know about  either of those subjects—”
 “You're a fripping  coward, Kenobi—”
 “ Finally someone's paying attention—”
She punched him.
Right in the nose.
He reeled, hand flying to catch the blood—
And froze as he saw it on his fingers. When he looked back up at her, all
Ventress could see was terror.
In an instant, her lightsaber was out and crashing for his head.
Blue met yellow.
“See?” Ventress hissed, pushing against his guard, leaning her weight into it.
“You don't want to die. You're just afraid of living.”
“What's the difference?”
 “The difference is dying when you  don't want to  and  have a choice is
stupid.”
Force. She could see the depths of the agony in his eyes.
 She pulled back, keying the yellow blade back into the hilt. “Don't you get
it, Kenobi?” she asked more quietly. “If  you make it through this, in the
public eye as you are, then  every rape victim and mind-broken person is going
to  see you and think there's hope for  them.  You healing, you beating this,
who the  frip cares on your behalf? But you care about random, meaningless
people. Well, guess what? Before Zygerria, you were some unattainable,
ridiculous ideal. Who was going to take your example seriously? You were
probably  born perfect. But now? You're more like them. And there's a lot of
hopeless people looking at you right now, expecting you to crash and burn like
they expect  themselves to crash and burn. If you keep your Force-awful  light,
and you keep  doing what you  do , no matter  what the rest of the universe has
to say about it— if you go out there and refuse to be ashamed, refuse to let
them  beat you— you could give hope to those people who don't have it.”
Ventress clamped her mouth shut.
 Aw,  hell.
Please tell me I did not  just give Kenobi  an inspirational speech.
I really have reached rock bottom. He better keep his mouth shut, or my rep is
going to completely  die.
Obi-Wan was staring at the wall, a lost expression on his face.
And then he walked away without a word.
 “Kenobi?”
Ventress followed him out and realized he was  not leading her to the exit. He
was heading off on his own.
“I'll just show myself out, then?”
He didn't seem to hear her.
Ventress shook her head. Force above.
 As she made her way back to the outside, she kept expecting someone to tackle
her, demand to know  why she was unescorted, maybe throw her back in the cell.
No-one did.
 Jedi were fragging weird. There's no way she'd allow a former  Jedi inside
her house like this.
Way too willing to forgive.
Way too.
But had it really been a mass decision she was harmless? It's not like the
Council had grilled her to make sure of it.
The realization slapped her in the face.
They afforded her this courtesy because they'd been given someone's word she
wouldn't harm them. Someone's word they trusted implicitly. Someone who's
reputation deserved that kind of trust.
Kark, Kenobi.
 That explained why they didn't meet her with lightsabers lit when she carried
his broken body up the Temple steps. She'd wondered why they didn't assume
she'd  done something to him.
They seemed to automatically know she'd rescued him.
Damn you. Arrogant... Jedi .
There really wasn't a better descriptive.
Jedi.
Well, either he'd gone to try offing himself again—
Or maybe to consider pulling out of his funk.
Or maybe I just screwed his brain up worse.
Wouldn't be the first time she'd had a decent intention result in putrid decay.
 But that did  not make her and Skywalker similar.
No.
 Not at  all.
 She'd wipe that smirk off your face with her  saber, motherfripper—
 
* * *
 
Obi-Wan stared at the reflection of himself.
He'd avoided mirrors since Zygerria.
Now he faced one down.
He looked cadaverous. And his head was bandaged.
I look like someone who's given up.
 Was Ventress right?  Could he still save people?
Was the old, old dream still possible?
All he'd ever wanted to do was become a Knight and help as many people as he
could.
Is it true I can reach some now that I wouldn't have been able to rescue
before?
 Could he save people... simply by  living ?
 Could that really give  them the courage to try just one more day?
And then another... and another?
And could maybe some of those people find healing?
Maybe I never will. Maybe I'll live with this forever.
 But wasn't the suffering worth it if even  one person could dare to truly
live again?
He clutched at the sink basin.
Satine. I miss you so much, I'm so, so sorry.
Tears slipped silently down his hollow cheeks.
Sorry for everything.
 
 
 
***** Chapter 15 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 
The Council was present and about to wrap up the day's review when the doors
slid open and Obi-Wan strode in.
For a moment they all stared at him in shock.
There was a firmness in his step, his chin was up, and there was a confidence
to his stride they'd all missed.
“Masters.” He bowed, then stood tall before them, meeting gazes.
Yoda could sense how excruciating it was. How terrifying.
But something was apparently worththe anguish.
“I have a request. A series of earthquakes on Pantora has left several thousand
people homeless and heading into Pantoran winter. I would like to take the two-
twelfth and five-oh-first to bring the Pantorans supplies Senators Organa and
Amidala will provide from the Refugee Aid committee. I would like to stay for a
full six rotations to set up emergency shelters and organize the refugee camp
into something that can sustain itself without turning into a slum.”
Yoda's ears lifted in pleasure.
 He  missed the days when this was what Jedi specialized in.
He could sense Obi-Wan longed for that time as well.
“That sounds fine,” Mace spoke up, glancing at his fellow Council members.
They nodded, afraid to speak and perhaps break the spell that had come over
their wounded brother.
 “However, I have one stipulation. You need to take Padawan Tano and the Mind-
Healer with you, and the latter gets full access to your cooperation whenever
she deems it necessary, whether you   agree   or not, and no matter how
inconvenient the timing might be.”
Obi-Wan bowed. “It shall be done.”
Yoda sensed that Mace wanted to point out Ahsoka hadn't been locked into
another Master commitment yet, and that there was still a Council seat with
Obi-Wan's name on it—
Yoda sent him an intense shushing in the Force.
Mace's eyes glowered from his checked headlong rush.
 So often people standing before the Council interpreted such an expression as
disapproval with  them , when it was Mace responding to silent directions from
Yoda.
Mace had the self-control to not look over at the elder Jedi...
But not the control to keep it entirely from his face or eyes.
Skywalker had been the recipient of many glares that came from Yoda trying to
keep Mace's quick tongue in check.
The boy had never responded well to correction, and if Mace had gone on his
usual path with him the way he did with everyone else, Yoda had feared an
explosion would take place.
So he'd restrained Mace.
And Skywalker had never known.
Had thought they hated him, inflicted more criticism on him than anyone else.
Skywalker's violent emotions often interfered with his brain.
Yoda's ears sank again at the thought.
He watched as Obi-Wan left the Council chamber, not a falter to be seen in his
step.
No sooner had the doors shut behind him, than conversation started up.
 Saesee's smile could light up a room. Depa beamed. Shaak had the subtle smile
that was so quiet physically, and so  loud in the Force. Mace, massiff-faced
though he might be, looked inordinately pleased.
Ki-Adi, Eeth, Plo, and Adi Gallia murmured encouraged words to one another, and
Fisto sat there grinning, teeth glowing white in the beautiful Coruscanti
sunset.
Yoda sat back in his chair and let his eyes close, feeling the warmth of the
Council.
He reached out farther. Found Obi-Wan.
His shields were still firm, but they didn't have the fanatical edge anymore.
He was struggling.
But he wasn't lying about it.
There were moments when it was hard to breathe, when his step glitched, when he
turned and avoided his target doorway only to have to come back and try again
in order to find the courage to face the person or people within.
There was pain. Grief. A mind-ache that saddened Yoda to the bone, but he
recognized the dogged determination that had been Obi-Wan's from small
childhood.
He suffered.
But he wasn't focusing on himself anymore.
He was focusing on others.
And as long as he did that...
 Obi-Wan Kenobi could take  anything.
 
* * *
 
“Ahsoka, I have a mission for us.”
Familiar voice. Familiar strength.
Familiar presence in the Force.
Ahsoka spun around, eyes widening, begging the universe for this to not be a
dream.
“Master?” she whispered.
Obi-Wan's gaze faltered just the slightest under her own, but he didn't turn
his eyes away. He stoodthere.
 “We have to take the Mind-Healer with us, but—”
“ Master. ” Ahsoka lunged for him, flinging her arms around him and holding
tight. She needed to feel he was  alive. Needed to  not see the bandages on his
face.
Obi-Wan jolted, but refrained from running.
 “Don't ever do that to me again.  Please, ” she sobbed. “Master Yoda had some
plan, and the Mind-Healers told me to stay away— I almost didn't listen, but
you'd— and I was so scared—  clearly I'd messed up in how I was trying to help
you—”
 “What? No,” he protested. “You did nothing wrong. I'm just— I've never been
good with—” He started over. “I'm sorry. I— lie. I hide. Satine—” he swallowed
hard.
Ahsoka's arms squeezed tighter, driving the air from his lungs.
 He patted a cold hand awkwardly against her back. Hugs just really...  weren't
... his thing—
Ahsoka smiled a little through the tears as she pulled back. “Can't hide your
aversion for hugs, though.”
He gave her a weak almost-smile.
 “How am I to know you're not lying again?” Ahsoka asked, tone utterly serious,
staring up at him.  Demanding an answer.
 “The Mind-Healer practically owns me now.” Obi-Wan sighed. “I'm supposed to be
on... on...  watch . To make sure I don't try—”
 He looked at her helplessly, apparently unable to  say the word  suicide.
 “You can see why that's reasonable, right?” Ahsoka worried, also a bit
frustrated. “We thought you were fine and then the next minute Ventress is
saving you?”
Obi-Wan gave her a painful nod. “I'll submit.”
“That's what you said last time.”
“They figured out I wasn't taking the pills.”
 “Yeah. It became a little obvious.” Ahsoka sighed. “ Why, Master? Why is it so
difficult to let us help you?”
She watched as he struggled to find words. Saw the point where he would
normally have given up.
 Saw him duck his head and push  past that point.
Saw him raise his eyes to meet hers, even if the color had drained from his
face.
 “Because for that night, I was property. The Zygerrians', and—” Ahsoka saw his
pulse fluttering in his throat. Saw him  force his breathing to remain steady—
“and Anakin's.”
He said his name, Ahsoka realized.
 “And when the Healers, the Medics, the Mind-Healers demand—  audiences  or
cooperation —”
He wanted to run.
He wanted to turn, leave her here, and escape. Curl up and quit again.
 But for some reason he just... would...  not.. give in—
Yoda and the Mind-Healers had been right, Ahsoka realized.
 Obi-Wan had needed to interact with Ventress  first.  Before the people who
loved him.
He needed what she had to give.
Given the way his face looked, Ahsoka thought the former Sith probably hadn't
been too gentle.
“—It makes me feel trapped, Ahsoka. It makes me feel helpless again. It makes
me feel like I never left Zygerria.”
He looked so vulnerable. Ahsoka desperately wanted to reach out and hug him
again.
 Knew it  wouldn't help  him.
Remembered Satine.
She'd found ways to reach him.
I just have to find my  way.
She moved to stand beside him, so she wasn't looking at him, and he didn't have
to look at her. It was a place of solidarity. She wasn't demanding an
accounting from him now.
 She was  with him.
 She allowed that conviction to wreathe itself around her in the Force, and she
reached out slowly to take his hand in hers. He didn't need that, but  she did.
 She thought of Satine. “When you...  chose to submit to Satine... that didn't
make you feel like property, right?”
“No.”
 “If you  choose to not lie to me, if you  choose to let me and the Mind-Healer
and the clones help you... then we aren't the ones in control, ultimately.  You
are. You've proven you can make your own decisions, you've proven you don't
have to listen to us. Maybe I was wrong. I think I was, when I demanded you
listen. So instead... I'm going to ask. Master, please, never lie to me about
your mental state again. Please don't shut me out. Please let me help you heal.
Please let me fill the role Satine wanted me to play.”
Obi-Wan's fingers tightened against her hand.
It hurt.
Ahsoka could take it.
“It's your choice, Master,” she whispered.
For a long moment he held still.
And then the extra shields he'd raised pulled back, leaving only normal
shielding.
And then he lowered his head.
Ahsoka sensed the barrage of warnings that wailed through his mind, though she
couldn't hear the specifics. She sensed the feelings of panic, of pain—
Fingers around his throat—
 He sank to his knees, hand pulling away from her as he tried to  breathe .
She knelt beside him. “Tome, Master,” she whispered.
A sob ripped through his body.
And then he leaned into her.
The action was so sudden Ahsoka nearly fell over. She braced herself and held
him as he cried into her lekku. She felt his surrender to her. Recognized it
from when he'd done something similar with Satine.
 Only with the Duchess, it had been a  relief for him to do so.
This was difficult for him.
Terrifying.
Ahsoka soothed him, finding herself murmuring words in Mando'a. “Udesi.” She
knew better than to use the endearments that Satine had used. Those were sacred
to them alone. But other words... “K'uur. K'uur.”
Those were fair game.
Together.
Easy.
Hush... shhh...
They reached a part of Obi-Wan that nothing else could.
 When he could speak again, he looked over at Ahsoka, tears still slipping from
his eyes. “I want to know what is being learned about Anakin. I need to know
all of it.”
Ahsoka nodded. “It's being compiled in the library.”
“And after that... there's something I'm going to have to do before we leave.”
 
* * *
 
Obi-Wan stepped into the library.
For a moment a hush stilled across the murmured conversations.
And then they continued again.
Obi-Wan appreciated the effort, even if it eased the feeling of being watched
only a little.
They wanted to make it easier for him.
They were trying.
He made a beeline for the holo in the center of the room. The friends he had in
law enforcement probably would have called the thing a murder board. A very,
very massive one.
He could feel attention was still aimed his way.
It wasn't easy... but he tuned it out.
 What mattered here wasn't that they  knew what had happened.
 What mattered was  Anakin.
 He carefully said the name to himself many,  many times.
He imagined the face. Remembered the voice. Breathed.
Kept at it until his throat didn't close and his heart didn't stop from the
fear.
And then he focused on the compiled facts hovering in the air before him.
Something was terribly wrong.
 Obi-Wan needed to know  what.
And whether...
His other half could be rescued.
 
* * *
 
Anakin paced.
He supposed he should be spending his time by examining his Force-signature and
trying to learn as much about it as he could, but he just couldn't keep his
mind still enough to get anywhere.
Obi-Wan...
There'd been some anger earlier. And then the shields were back.
And then he'd felt a sparkle of hope from Ahsoka...
 And then the seal that ensured  nothing could be sensed from Obi-Wan lifted.
Pain, fear—
A bit of surrender.
To Ahsoka.
Anakin could sense his former Padawan responding. Soothing.
Obi-Wan felt a bit saner, to Anakin's point of view.
And then a sharp concentration had surrounded Obi-Wan's Force-signature.
 It made Anakin's heart ache. It was  so familiar.
 Obi-Wan examining pieces, running through options,  hunting something to its
source.
But when, three hours later, he looked up to find Obi-Wan standing at his door,
he froze in speechless disbelief.
“I'm shipping out.”
 Anakin could hardly  stand hearing the beloved voice. He'd  longed for it, but
now he was terrified—
 “Ahsoka and I are going to run a mercy mission. Leave the war alone for a
bit.”
Anakin watched him.  He's not looking at me. He can't look me in the eye.
 He was supposed to  say something, right? How could he have a multitude of
words for Ahsoka, for  anyone who would listen, and have nothing,  nothing now?
“The Mind-Healer almost didn't let me come see you. But I— She's down at the
end of the hall, just to make sure.”
Make sure I don't hurt you, or you don't hurt you?  Anakin searched for words,
searched to  breathe.  The clamp around his chest was... far too tight.
 Obi-Wan stood in the open doorway, but he made no move to step  into Anakin's
cell. “I was concerned that maybe you believed you'd been left to rot.”
 Anakin's gut reaction was  haven't I been?
He squelched it.
He'd fought with Ahsoka a lot of late. He didn't dare risk that with Obi-Wan.
 He couldn't quite believe his Master was  here . That it wasn't a dream.
That Obi-Wan had chosen to not leave the safety of the door between them.
“Everyone is trying— veryhard— to decide— to find out—”
“How to punish me?” Anakin whispered.
Obi-Wan's head came up, gray eyes meeting Anakin's desperate blue.
Anakin's knees felt weak.
 “No. They're trying to find out what your Force-signature means. It's happened
before, we've learned that much, but all information was stolen from us long
ago. We don't know if the... redness... is...  bad  or not... and the Council
doesn't want to rush to judge you for something that may not be a crime.”
 “But I  hurt you.”
Obi-Wan shivered. “Yes.”
 Anakin waited for him to say something else.  Anything else—
“To punish you for something before we know... why... you did what you did
would be wrong.”
 “It's because I was  selfish . Because I—”
“We've had other selfish Jedi before. This is different, and you know it.”
Anakin shut up.
“The Council doesn't want to wrong you. But until we know whether it's harmful
to those around you or not— or contagious— we don't have anywhere else to put
you.” Obi-Wan's shoulders sank. “But they're trying. Very hard. Searching.”
 “I want out of here, Obi-Wan. It's— I have a hard time believing they're
really— I don't  trust them, Obi-Wan.”
His Master winced. “I know.”
How could Anakin navigate this? He didn't feel it was going too well. “Master,
I'm—”
Obi-Wan watched him warily.
 “ I'm sorry. ”
He saw Obi-Wan waiting for the  but. Waiting for the excuse, the justification—
 Anakin's apologies were always followed with detailed explanations of why it
wasn't  his fault.
 Tears filled Anakin's eyes, spilled silently down his face. “Obi-Wan? I swear.
This time... this time it's  just I'm sorry. No excuses.”
“I don't know if I'm— can you promise it would never happen again?” Obi-Wan
whispered.
 “ Yes. Yes, I—”
“Even if you thought you would lose Padmé if you didn't?”
Anakin fell silent.
Obi-Wan, who had looked cautiously hopeful, deflated.
 “I'm sorry, Anakin. I can't—” his voice broke. “I can't live like that. Not
knowing— I  can't. ” He sank to the floor, sitting on the steps leading into
the cell and lowering his head into his arms. “I thought maybe— we're running a
mission that should have no violence, no aggression— and Ahsoka and I can't
exactly be exposed to something we  haven't already been steeped in...”
Anakin's heart exploded in shock.
 Obi-Wan had come down here to ask him to go  with them.
“Obi-Wan, I—”
 “But I can't live like that, Anakin.” Obi-Wan shuddered. “I  can't . Perhaps
that makes me a terrible Jedi. Perhaps that makes me weak.”
 No.  No.
He couldn't leave Anakin here. If they were together, away from the rest of the
Order, surely they could manage to fixthis. Anakin was sureof it. He just had
to convince Obi-Wan.
 He approached. Cautiously, to make sure to not scare the wounded man. It was
hard not to stare at the bandage that concealed the burn that so easily could
have stolen his life. “Master— you are  not weak,  or a terrible Jedi. You're
the best Jedi I've ever met. But you are  safe with me. I  swear it. Only Padmé
could make me snap like that. You understand that. If... someone had tried to
cut in on you and Satine—”
Obi-Wan's shoulders stilled.
 “It would have made you angry. I  know you loved her. Please don't hold my
love for Padmé against me. I love you  too. I know you would never hurt me, but
if the stakes had been Satine's love—”
Obi-Wan's head came up. He stared at Anakin in incomprehension.
Nervously, Anakin paused. “I— if I had betrayed you in the worst way you can
imagine, wouldn't you have wanted to— hurt me— too?” His words faltered as he
realized his mistake.
“Do you think I care for you so little?” Obi-Wan's expression was one of
horrified disbelief. “Do you think that you betrayingme would make any
difference— you do. You honestly think that.”
Anakin felt gutted by the expression of brokenness that crossed Obi-Wan's face.
 “No, Anakin. Satine had many suitors over the years. I tried to hurt or
intimidate none of them. If she had chosen any of them over me, I would have
stood back so she could find happiness. I  encouraged her to do so. It would
have hurt, it might have  killed me, but—”
 “What if it was  me ?” Anakin begged. “What if  I stole her from you and she
was happy with me? You  would have been angry—”
That grieved look—
 It was  destroying Anakin—
“You don't know me at all, do you.”
 “ Master —”
“I might not have had the strength to be near you. I might have needed to stay
away—”
 “So you wouldn't  hurt us—”
 “So I wouldn't  wreck both of your happiness because I couldn't smile for you!
” Obi-Wan struggled to his feet.
 “It's one thing to  say that, Obi-Wan,” Anakin pleaded. “It's something
completely different to—”
“If you doubt my heart so much, why are you trying to convince me to take you?”
He... understood?
 Oh, thank the  Force.
 “Because we  belong together. And I hurt you, and I should be the one to stand
by you while you heal. Because I should be out there protecting you. Because
every second I sit in here is a chance for you to end up  more hurt.”
The glance of sorrow Obi-Wan sent him gave Anakin a sickening realization.
In just the few minutes he's been here with me...
I have hurt him more.
How  did that happen?
“Please don't leave,” Anakin whispered.
 Obi-Wan's gaze fell away from his. “I'm— weak, Anakin. I— I'm not ready to
risk it. It—  hurt — too much, and—” his voice broke. “If I— can't trust the
person at my back to not hurt me—”
 “I  promise, Obi-Wan!”
“As long as Padmé isn't at stake.”
 “We'll just make sure that she never  is— ”
 “That's not the way the universe  works, Anakin!” Obi-Wan snapped. “And if you
want to talk about  losing someone, how about we just  face that bantha in the
room? Satine is  dead. Because of you.  With all this hypothetical nonsense,
you perhaps should have picked a different analogy, because you  did take her
from me. Only she isn't happy. She's  dead. ”
“And you're angry,” Anakin urged, feeling hope.
 Obi-Wan shook his head. “No. I'm not angry about that. I'm angry because I
came in here to  apologize and  ask you back, and yet here you stand justifying
yourself.  Always justifying.  You said this time it would  just be sorry. And
then you proceeded to try to excuse what  you did because  certainly you
couldn't be expected to do anything  else given the circumstances. So convinced
everyone else is  just like you .”
 “ You were going to apologize to  me ?” Anakin choked out. “ What ? Why?”
“Because I should have seen the  redness sooner. I should have asked more
questions about certain missions you took. I should have  been here for you a
long time ago—”
 “What are you  talking about? You have only ever  been here for me! You can't
take this on you!”
“I cannot and will not absolve you.”
Anakin wavered. “I— maybe—”
He thought of Padmé.
 He hadn't... gotten  better  under her way of handling his violence.
She'd tried that path.
It hadn't worked.
Why expect Obi-Wan to make the same mistake?
 “If you weren't going to...  absolve... me, how could you justify taking me
with you on your mission?”
He hadn't thought Obi-Wan could droop any farther.
He'd been wrong.
 “I thought that maybe you'd realized that loving Padmé should make you a
better person. Not the other way around.”
 “I  am a better person—”
 “And if she was in danger, how many innocent lives would you sacrifice to save
hers?” Obi-Wan demanded. “How many husbands would have to lose  their wives so
you didn't have to lose the woman  you love? How many sons would have to lose
their fathers? How many lives would be  devastated as  meaningless just so  you
don't have to endure that same devastation? Why are  they less important than
you ? Why is  their love less valuable than  yours ? Because  you  don't know
them? That makes their pain acceptable?”
Anakin trembled. “Is that how you see me?”
 “Should I be seeing something different?” Obi-Wan tore his hand down his face.
“Either you were  really good at deceiving me, or I was  really naive , or I
only chose to see the good in you. Because I never,  ever thought you capable
of something like this. Have you killed in revenge before, Anakin? No. No. I
know the answer to that. This question instead: have you ever intentionally
killed an innocent?”
“In battle, things can become so confused, so—”
 “You  know what I mean.” There was a weariness in his tone.
Something that suggested he might just leave if Anakin tried to banthakark him.
 “Obi-Wan,  please don't ask me that.”
“Were you still my Padawan at the time?”
 “ Obi-Wan, please, just leave the past in the—”
 “You were.” Fresh tears traced the tracks down Obi-Wan's face. “Why didn't you
tell me? Why didn't you  trust  me?”
“I was afraid you'd  hate me!” Anakin cried, feeling everything being stripped
away from him. “I was afraid you wouldn't  trust me—”
“Look how trusting you turned out!”
“Love can make you do terrible things—”
 “ No, ” Obi-Wan whispered. “ Self-love does that. Forget what you did to me.
You are willing, in this moment, to murder innocents if Padmé's life was on the
line. If you loved Padmé to the point where whatever happened to  you meant
nothing, you would do  everything in your power to make the good woman that she
is proud of you. You would  never make her be the reason you trample on
principles she holds dearer than life itself. You would  never even  consider
harming people she would be willing to  die to protect. And you would  never
make someone  else bear the pain that you are too afraid to shoulder yourself,
forcing them to take it because you're stronger than they are and they can't
stop you. And if you don't love  her that way, how can I possibly think you
could love me?”
Obi-Wan turned to leave.
 “ Show me !” Anakin threw himself across the cell, landing on his knees. “
Please, Obi-Wan. I've never understood that kind of love. I don't— my Mother
used to talk about it— but I— I just assumed everyone loved the way  I did— I
see now. I realize.  Please give me another chance. Try to show me.  Please. ”
Obi-Wan looked back at him. “You never wanted to listen. You called me cold.
Heartless. You laughed at me. You told me I just hadn't— met the right person
yet.”
 Anakin shivered as he sensed a tenth of the heartbreak Obi-Wan endured over
the loss of Satine. “I was  wrong. Please.  Forgive me. ”
 “I already forgave you, Anakin.” Obi-Wan twisted his fingers together. “I
never held— what you did— against you. I never wanted payback. I only wanted
escape. But forgiveness doesn't make the  pain any less, or the... Anakin, you
broke my heart. In so many different ways, and I just— I don't think I can
take any more. Not after Satine. If you decide to attack again—”
 “I  won't. I swear, Obi-Wan.  Please believe me.  Look at me in the Force, see
if I'm lying—” Anakin laid waste to his shields, stripping himself of all
defenses.
Maybe Obi-Wan would find terrible things, things he didn't know about yet—
But Anakin was desperate.
 He was going to  lose Obi-Wan if he didn't so  something.
His knees ached against the cold floor. His neck hurt from looking up the
stairs at Obi-Wan.
His soul hurt.
Every second dragged by like an eternity. Obi-Wan studied him. Scanned deep.
Reached into Anakin's soul.
Anakin shivered under the weight of it.
He'd never let Obi-Wan in. It had been too dangerous.
A whimper burst from Obi-Wan's lips. A sound that left Anakin shattered.
Obi-Wan was no more convinced of his own safety than he'd been a minute ago.
Worse—
The fear of a possibility now solidified into dread.
But what he said was, “Come with me to Pantora.”
Anakin would showhim. He would provehe had nothing to fear.
 Anakin could protect Padmé,  and his Master,  and all those “innocents” Padmé
and Obi-Wan went on and on about.
 And Sand-people babies really shouldn't count in that designation  anyway. So
what if they'd never done anything wrong? They  would have, if allowed to
fester. Because he'd taken them out, there were that many fewer Raiders in the
years ahead to maul farmers.
 And thank the  Force Obi-Wan was out of his head enough by now he didn't catch
even a  hint of  that.
I can't think like that. I have to try to think like Padmé.
 
* * *
 
The Mind-Healer had a fit.
 She did  not think it wise to bring Skywalker. Not onto a shipful of two
battalions of clones who each had  different but very  deep  issues with him.
 She also didn't think Skywalker was ready to face the ridicule that Obi-Wan
endured in public now, and was even less sure he could control himself if some
of that shame was thrown  his way.
Last thing they needed was for Skywalker to kill some harmless though cruel
hecklers.
Then he'd be out of their hands entirely.
 Anakin  swore his way up, down, and sideways, trying to prove himself to her.
Hardest for him to endure was when she took Obi-Wan aside and asked quietly,
“Do you feel safe?”
And Obi-Wan responded with a quiet, “No.”
“Then why do you want him to come along?”
 “Because I— perhaps I could rebuild my life without him. A large part of me
wants to. But if I leave him, who does he  have ? Who is going to let him come
close?”
“I understand. But that person doesn't necessarily need to be you. Or this
soon. I think some distance might be wise until we can work out a healthy
sharing of power and safety. Right now he has all the power, and you have none
of the feeling of safety.”
Obi-Wan shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “But—”
“I don't think it's wise for you, emotionally.”
 “But if I focus on  helping him, doesn't that help me want to  live ?”
“Yesterday you were completely nonfunctional. It's important to take things
slowly. Better to find it's too easy and add on more, than take too much at
once and have to give back. The one is going to feel a lot better than the
other.”
“Listen.” Anakin spoke up. “I— I want him to be ready.”
He found it was true. He desperatelywanted to move back into his normal place
at Obi-Wan's side immediately.
But he hated the pained look in his Master's eyes. Hated the gut-rumbling dread
his Master felt when he looked at a future with Anakin in it.
 “I will go back to my cell, and I will wait there until Obi-Wan is ready for
that to change.” It was a sacrifice. A  tremendous one. It nearly killed him to
make it.
 He missed the sky, missed flying, missed  freedom , missed it  all —
 But he  had to prove to Obi-Wan that he would respect his Master's self-
determination.  Had to prove that Obi-Wan's safety and comfort were at the  top
of his priority list.
 “You resent the Jedi,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “You don't believe they're trying
their best. If you stay here, you'll forget  you made this choice for me. All
you'll remember is how much you distrust us.”
“I—” He paused.
He had a sneaking suspicion Obi-Wan was right.
 But if he knew  ahead of time to watch out for it...
 “What if I prove my adulthood? I can be reasonable.” He turned to the Mind-
Healer. “If I want him to trust me, I've got to trust him, right? He tells me
they—  you — are trying to help me. If I trust his judgment on the matter, does
that count for something?”
 The Mind-Healer considered and gave him a nod. “It counts for something,
definitely. How  much,  only Obi-Wan can decide.”
Anakin sent him an appealing glance. “Don't leave me to rot forever?”
“I'm not going to run from this, or from you, any more.” Obi-Wan spoke with a
quiet, trembling intensity. “I have to face it. If Master Elvett believes I
should take more time—”
“I do.”
“—Her word is law.”
Anakin nodded. “I will go back to the cell. I swear I won't hold it against the
Jedi. I'll wait for you, Master. However long you need.”
The look of weariness on Obi-Wan's face suggested he doubted Anakin's avowal,
but he gave his former Padawan a nod and left.
 Before Elvett followed, she looked back at Anakin. “I saw you wince at the
thought of accepting what you termed as 'help.' I'd just like to say that no-
one is here to  fix you. My colleagues are very skilled, and their goal is to
give you the tools you need to find a place of healthy happiness. We don't want
to reshape you. We want you to uncover the best in yourself.”
He watched her warily. “If you say so.”
She gave a laugh, musical and without a hint of malice. “My. You distrust mind
doctors as much as your Master distrusts medical ones.”
Anakin felt he had a pretty good excuse.
There was murder in his past he'd been trying to cover up.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Mando'a Guide:
     Tome (Pronounced /TOH-may/) = Together
     Udesi (Pronounced /oo-DAY-see/) = Easy/Take it easy
     K'uur (Pronounced /koor/) = Hush/shhh
***** Chapter 16 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Obi-Wan stretched out on his bunk, feeling closer to normal than he had in a
long time.
It had been a week full of hard physical work, plenty of mental effort, and an
unbelievable amount of verbal negotiating.
The Pantorans he'd come to help had lost everything, and a lot of them weren't
very graceful about it.
He could relate.
He'd had a few run-ins with people who wanted to torment him, but he'd refused
to let it incapacitate him. He was goingto live life on his terms.
In the Force, Ahsoka felt just a little less tightly-wound.
Mid-week Yoda had commed, telling Obi-Wan he'd been spending quite a bit of
time with Anakin, meditating with him, trying to help him find his calm center.
Trying to help him sort through the various pieces of his past.
Trying to help him find a way to accept himself.
Obi-Wan reached out to the Force, breathing in the life of the planet down
below. He could sense the clones.
Most of them were struggling with Satine's death. Obi-Wan hadn't realized quite
how big an impact on them she'd had.
 Most of them hadn't even  met her, but given the way the brothers shared
everything, that hadn't been much of an impediment.
 When Obi-Wan's Mind-Healer wasn't focused on  him, she made herself accessible
to the clones who didn't want to share with a Minder who was one of their
brothers.
For Obi-Wan...
The thought of Satine stung.
 He reached deeper into the Force,  knowing she was there somewhere. Her
essence had been drawn into the cosmic Force.
Made part of the wind and the sky and the stars.
Every once in a while, if he stilled his heart to a quiet enough place...
He could sense her there.
Children, playing games in the dirt with sticks and stones, finding joy in
spite of the severity of their poverty. He could hear Satine's laughter echoing
in their giggles.
The wind carried the scent of her hair to him as he used his hands to build
homes to shelter these precious people from the future winter.
 It felt good to work  hard in the service of life.
The war had taken more out of him than he'd realized.
We have to escape it somehow.
Lying here on his bunk, he could almost hear Satine murmuring words of pride
and love. Encouragement and peace.
And strength.
A tear slipped from the corner of his eye even as his face relaxed in a smile.
Aayhan.
The bittersweet moment of grief and joy.
I understand the word so much better now.
A familiar chime.
The joy vanished.
Cold fingers seized his heart.
He bolted upright and stared at the holodisc on its stand.
No.
 That tone— that frequency—
He answered it. Maybe he shouldn't have, but his fingers moved almost of their
own accord.
A woman, dressed in beskar'gam. Fiery hair that swept just above her shoulders.
Piercing eyes. A sense of hatred that swirled around her so thickly it nearly
choked Obi-Wan.
He knew her.
His stance widened a little. He folded his arms and felt the mask of
professional distance cross his face.
Knew his eyes hardened.
 And he didn't say a word. Force  her to explain herself.
He could outlast her.
 And there was no way in  hell he was going to ask her what she wanted.
“Kenobi.”
Obi-Wan held his silence.
Bo-Katan heaved a sigh. “Look. I'm calling to ask for help.”
Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow, forehead furrowing in merciless skepticism.
But he didn't give her any relief. Not a question to make this easier.
Nothing.
 “It's Korkie. My nephew.  Satine ' s  nephew.”
Still Obi-Wan waited.
“The government is switching over. It's not a good time to be a pacifist right
now.”
Obi-Wan took what little comfort he could in the knowledge that she was
floundering. She'd looked defiant and demanding, and now she looked flustered.
 That left  him in control here.
 “He's a good kid. But  Satine raised him, and he's loyal to that, and he won't
listen to me— and he's Mando  enough that he refuses to blend in.”
Obi-Wan felt his gut clench, but refused to let it show.
 He was  not going to ask.
 “One of his friends is already dead. She refused to accept the new order of
things. The other two have joined us. He's alone and angry and  helplessly
naive. He needs help getting  out and he has nowhere to go.”
“That mighthave something to do with the fact that you killed your sister,”
Obi-Wan said dryly.
Relief lit her eyes, brought by the fact he'd finally spoken. “Yes. But
Korkie... Korkie wasn't raised right, so it's only partially his fault. And I
don't want him dying here, Kenobi. He's family. I can't help it my brother
decided to leave him with herinstead of me. He was delirious near the end. I
would have raised Korkie as my own if I'd had the chance. Ican't help him. So
get him out, Kenobi.”
Obi-Wan didn't soften his steely expression. If anything, he intensified it.
“This has trapwritten all over it. Youand your insurgents are why Korkie's
caregiver is dead. And now that your chief enemy is out of the way, I'm next on
the list. Don't think I don't know you'd like to capture me.”
 “ Listen, ” she snapped. “Satine had it coming to her. Just look at it like
this: I know the Jedi are trying to figure out what's wrong with Skywalker and
how to fix it. Let's just say that any records the Jedi might have access to
are going to be useless.”
 Cold leeched through his bones. “Oh? Do tell.”
“Yeah.  But it's possible to have stories told by people who watched from the
outside. It's not just Jedi who have access to Jedi history, after all.”
“Just spit it out.”
 “I'm a Vizsla by marriage. Trust me. Vizslas were  there at the sack of your
Temple. We left our mark all over it and stole the darksaber.”
 “I'm  aware. ” Obi-Wan reached out his hand, with a show of intention to cut
the call.
 “ So we're aware of the Sith selectively destroying pieces of your database.
Being curious, of course we had to find out why and what.”
“ This we already know. You have nothing.”
 She scowled at him. “I was also... a Kryze... before that name became
synonymous with treachery. And Kryzes... were somewhere else. Does your
Padawan's Force-signature look  bloody ?”
Obi-Wan went very still.
 “You should listen to me, Kenobi. This is the only time I'm going to  ever try
to help you. Understand? We are  not friends.  You were one of the reasons my
sister never saw the error of her ways, never came home.”
 “Then why  are you helping?” Obi-Wan pressed. “Why aren't you just trying to
reprogram Korkie into a mini-you?”
For a long moment she watched him in silence.
 When she spoke again, her voice had lost the arrogant aggression, and there
was a quiet honesty that Obi-Wan could practically taste. “Because I had a baby
recently. A daughter. And if I died, I'd want to know someone who respected  my
worldview was looking out for her.”
 It might look real, it might sound real, but Obi-Wan had to be  sure before he
risked being taken by Mandos who would think that what the Zygerrians did to
him was amateurish.
“Korkie isn't Satine's son.”
“Not by birth, no.” Bo-Katan looked him square in the eye. “But by choice,
yes.And for a Mando, that's good enough. And Kenobi, he doesn't haveanybody
that Satine would have approved of. Nobody but you. And coming to get the kid
is important for you, not just sentimentally, but because as a Kryze, he knows
the family lore. He's your best chance at saving whatever's left of your
Padawan.”
“What would you propose?”
 “I'm going to steal the kid a ship, get him on it, and send him to a neutral
planet of your choice. You better scoop him up fast and get him back to safe
ground because a helpless Kryze is serious bait. He's  going to be pursued.
I'll see what I can do to keep it quiet, give him as many hours head start as I
can.”
 
* * *
 
It didn't take much.
 The clones were on board from the second they heard the words  Satine's
adopted son.
 It made Korkie some sort of sibling or, if not quite that close, at  least a
cousin.
And they were hoping to run into some Mandos.
Really hoping.
The Mind-Healer was staying out of it.
Ahsoka, who knew Korkie from her time on Mandalore, had nothing to say against
the rescue.
 So they  may have all taken a detour on the way home from Pantora.
And to the massive disappointment of the clones and equally massive relief of
Obi-Wan, they had no tangles with Kryze hunters.
They scooped Korkie up, blew up the ship he'd escaped in, and headed back for
Coruscant.
Obi-Wan felt strange flutters in his gut as he went to meet the boy.
 He'd never...  actually. .. met Korkie.
He'd heard a lot about him, of course...
As much as Satine had heard about Anakin and Ahsoka...
Bo-Katan's voice rang heavy in his heart.
“You're all this boy has now.”
Was it true?
The door slid aside, and there Korkie stood with Ahsoka.
Dimly, Obi-Wan recognized that the clones had made themselves scarce.
Korkie had classic Mandalorian cheekbones, a nose that would have pegged him as
Satine's blood-relative in any galaxy, and eyes the exact same shade of blue as
hers.
“This is Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka offered, giving Korkie's arm a little squeeze
before she walked away.
“I know.” Korkie looked up into Obi-Wan's face, just a hint of worried defiance
in his eyes.
And a mountain of grief.
“You can call me Obi-Wan.”
“Alright.”
 Obi-Wan had  no idea what to do next. “We should reach Coruscant in a couple
of hours.”
Korkie gave a nod.
Still watching his face.
 The scrutiny was rapidly becoming very,  very difficult to take.
Don't run. Don't  run, Obi-Wan warned himself.
“Did she suffer?”
Obi-Wan's eyes widened and his breathing hitched. “What?”
 “My Aunt. I heard of her death after the fact. And Bo-Katan wouldn't talk
about it. At  all.  Did she suffer?”
“No.”
 Korkie gave him a nod, and his shoulders sagged in relief. “I've seen— a lot
of really  bad things recently—”
Obi-Wan's heart melted.
Yes. Yes, he would have.
All he'd ever known was Satine's beautiful, sane Mandalore.
Obi-Wan could imagine the fires raging, the executions in the streets, the
revels, the boastings—
Unlike Korkie, Obi-Wan had walked the streets of the old Mandalore.
 He could sense Korkie's bewilderment. The boy couldn't understand how things
could go from so  good to so  bloody this  quickly.
“What are you going to do with me?” Korkie asked, tone hushed. “Bo-Katan has
washed her hands of me. Completely.”
He sounded lost.
Obi-Wan had been working on the question since that call. “What is it you want
to do? What is your dream?”
“I wanted to be a politician. I was going to be someone Aunt Satine could count
on. Our government's had problems all along. We needed—” he broke off
helplessly. “But it's all kind of pointless now.”
Obi-Wan watched him carefully. “Why?”
“Because Auntie's dream is dead.”
“Is yours?”
 “Yes?” Korkie looked confused. “I mean, there  is no government anymore. And
Aunt—”
The lump that stopped Korkie had a mirror in Obi-Wan's own throat.
“I'll be an adult in a year and nine months, five days standard. I just have to
find a way to manage until then. I'll be fine, I swear. I mean... I can find a
job as an aide or something.”
“What about completing your studies?”
 Korkie shrugged. “It's not like the Academy  exists anymore. It was sort of...
blown up. Most of Sundari is in ruins.”
Obi-Wan winced.
“It's just time for me to be grown up, I guess. How does the Coruscant system
work? Will I be forced into a... foster home... of some sort?” He looked
worried. “I'm so close to eighteen...”
“The Republic takes child care very seriously.” Obi-Wan ran a hand through his
hair. “And it's your right to complete your classes. If not with your original
teachers, then with others.”
 
* * *
 
Korkie had gone for far too many hours without sleep, so while the young
Mandalorian slept, Obi-Wan paced the bridge.
Gradually he became aware of a group of clones waiting patiently by the door.
“Yes? Fives?”
“Sir. The kid is going to be thrown with some random family, isn't he.”
Obi-Wan leaned heavily against the tactical holo-table. “Most likely.”
 “He belongs with  us. ” Fives' brothers nodded in agreement as he spoke.
 Obi-Wan sent him a rueful grimace. “Satine hated violence. Of any  sort.  Just
because she chose to accept us does not mean she would want us turning her
nephew into a soldier or warrior of any kind. If he decides to follow that
path, that needs to be  his decision, for the  right reasons. Not because we
held the door open and made it the most familiar, comfortable path possible.”
 “Family has to count for  something, General. We can't just let him be handed
over to strangers.”
Obi-Wan looked up. Grim. “No. You're right. We can't.”
 
* * *
 
“I am taking Korkie Kryze as my charge.”
Nobody on the Council looked surprised.
 “Are you sure that's what's best for  him ?” Mace pressed. “Do you feel that
you can give him what he needs?”
 “I do not know. All I can do is find out. What I  do feel is that if I steep
myself in death, I will  not heal, and the same can be said of Anakin. Neither
of us should be heading back out into the war. Not at this time, anyway.”
“And what of Ahsoka?” Plo Koon spoke up, concern evident. “I am more than
willing to take her on, but she wants you.”
“It may be irresponsible, but—” Obi-Wan rubbed at his beard. “I— would like to
claim her as my Padawan.”
“Are you ready to raise two young people at once?” Fisto asked.
 Obi-Wan could sense the concern for his friend the Nautolan felt. “I know I
haven't been stable. But I  have done everything the Mind-Healer has asked, and
I will continue to do so.”
 “If apart from the war he keeps himself, healthy for him, to focus on new
young  life it would be.” Yoda pointed his gimmer stick at Mace. “Room, I
think, there is if Master Kenobi wishes to work with younglings. Away from the
war that would keep him, and close for young Kryze's schooling.”
Obi-Wan sent him a grateful nod. “I would appreciate it, Master, but I do not
want to deprive Ahsoka of fieldwork. I would like to work with the younglings,
but I also want to take missions.”
“What missions do you have in mind?” Mace asked.
Obi-Wan hesitated. “I know a small fraction of the Order is still assigned to
disaster relief and mediation. I do not wish to steal those missions away from
them, but—”
Yoda shook his head. “Know them, I do. Willing to take their turn in the war,
most of them will be, to allow you the time to heal.”
Obi-Wan bowed his head in acknowledgment, trying to still the guilt that
whispered through his blood. It felt like his fellow Jedi thought they needed
to walk on tiptoe around him. Give him special treatment because he wasn't
strong enough.
“The guilt, unreasonable is,” Yoda murmured. “Begrudge you this, none of us
do.”
 
* * *
 
Mace seized Yoda's distraction as a chance to speak his mind without
interference. “What about the clones, and your Council seat?”
 Obi-Wan stood tall, like he was bracing for trouble. “I have meditated on it.
I believe that Force is leading me to take the 212 th  and 501 st  with me.”
“You do remember they are the best we have,” Ki-Adi pointed out, hesitant. “And
you are aware of the inroads Dooku is making? The droids already outnumber us
greatly.”
“Yes. But these men are full of anger. If we simply aim them towards the enemy,
it will fester. Make their transition into life after the war even more
difficult. I want them to reach out to the common citizens, and I want the
average person to come to realize these men are individuals.”
“You want to campaign for their rights,” Eeth realized. “And by bringing them
on mercy missions, giving them responsibility and time, you think the
difference can be made?”
 “I think we're going to lose the war. It's become riotously unpopular. Dooku's
forces are only growing larger by the day. We can't destroy the droid factories
fast enough. We lose men, and they aren't being replaced because it takes  ten
years for a clone to mature, and yet the Senate just voted to place another
order with Kamino. That's  encouraging the war to drag on ten more years. It
has to  end.  It's sinking this galaxy into darkness. We only agreed to fight
in order to protect the innocents Dooku threatened, and he's sabotaging every
effort the Senate and the CIS Parliament make towards peace talks.”
 Mace sighed. “There you have it. This war is going to destroy everything, and
yet to pull out, leave the clones to fight and die  alone, with  no-one to
represent them? The non-Jedi military officers think of them as organic droids.
If you ask the Senate, the clones have absolutely no rights. If we don't stand
beside them, who will?”
 “We have to mobilize the average person.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “We have to
make the demand for peace so strong that even Dooku can't resist it. On  both
sides of the line.”
“Have a plan, do you?”
 “Not yet, Master. But that's what I want to focus on. The violence cannot stop
because every time we give ground, Dooku burns a planet. But if the CIS itself
turns on Dooku... then we can do what we were  meant to do. Help bring peace
back.”
 Shaak nodded gravely. “The 212 th  and 501 st  will be sorely missed. But we
can spare them.”
Nods from the rest of the Council joined hers, Mace's included.
But he still had something he wanted to—
Yoda sent him a jab in the Force—
And Mace grimaced and ignored it. “And the Council seat?”
“Will I have the time to do it justice?” Obi-Wan asked. “Between the peace
effort, two battalions of clones, a Padawan, a charge, and Anakin?”
The Council went very quiet.
“You want to take Skywalker with you?” Mace asked, dreading the verbal
confirmation of what he already knew.
“If he is willing to come, yes.”
“The best place for him to be, it is,” Yoda spoke up. “Clear to me that has
become.”
It bothered Mace, to think of sending Obi-Wan out there with no-one to defend
him and Skywalker going along too.
 He trusted Yoda's judgment, but sometimes it was very,  very hard to agree.
“I don't think it's wise,” he said, knowing he sounded stubborn. “What does the
Mind-Healer say?”
“She doesn't want me to rush. But at this point, waiting is meaningless to me.
I've made up my mind where I want to go. More consideration isn't going to
improve it. I would simply be running in place.”
 Mace nodded. “Fine. But I think it makes it imperative you keep your Council
seat. Maybe you don't have to be involved in every meeting and debrief, but you
could definitely use the authority to go with you in your peace effort, and  we
want to make a statement to the Senators who are pressuring us.”
Obi-Wan seemed to brace himself. “About me?”
Kark.
Maybe I should have listened to Yoda.
Shaak Ti leaned forward in her chair. “You don't fit in the streamlined,
faceless organic-droid image they want us to carry. You are polarizing. The
politicians find you embarrassing, but many in the population are identifying
with you. Suddenly, the Jedi don't seem to be a species set apart who surely
can't understand or sympathize with them. And with Satine...”
 “You're becoming something of a folk legend.” Eeth tilted his head to the
side. “I...  may ... have heard a song while on the streets. It  may have been
about you. A ballad about love and suffering.”
Obi-Wan's face seemed trapped in a protracted wince.
 “And after the... park incident, the Senate is even  more uncomfortable with
you holding your Council seat.” Fisto grinned. “They think it makes  them look
bad.”
 “Unfortunately, making them  look good  isn't high on the Order's priority
list,” Mace snickered. “So, if you are willing, we want you to stay.”
 Obi-Wan stared at him, blinked, shook himself and seemed to unfreeze. “Wait.
Let me get this straight. The populace has been slowly turning against the
Jedi, dehumanizing us— forgive the speciest term— considering our lives and
deaths pointless because we live to serve... and you think that  I'm somehow
changing that?”
 “Before, you were a war hero,” Fisto explained. “The same way a blaster-
slinger from some age past might be venerated. Unassailable, unrelatable,
something distant, vague, and non-threatening. Now you're in their  faces.
You've challenged everything they  think they know about Jedi. They know you
struggle. They see you respond to the insults, they know about the park
incident. And they see Pantora. You've set fire to their imaginations. You want
to heal the breach between Separatist Alliance and Republic. Maybe you can.
You're already healing the breach between the common person and the Jedi,
bringing us back to the place where we were meant to be. The trusted
guardians.”
Mace could sense the overwhelming emotions that Obi-Wan was having difficulty
sorting through. They were certainly all over the place.
“What saying, the Council is, is that our approval of your plan pieces, you
have.”
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan murmured.
Shaak Ti moved from her seat to come stand before Obi-Wan. She reached out with
a gentle hand, and lightly caressed his cheek with her fingertips. “You thought
your ability to help people had been severely crippled. It's not. You've been
given wings.”
Tears filled his eyes. He bowed to the Council and beat a hasty retreat.
Mace found a rock in his throat and scowled.
 It fragging  hurt.
 
* * *
 
Obi-Wan thought he should probably go speak to Korkie immediately, to ask if he
would prefer a strange life with a Jedi over a foster home, but—
That meeting with the Council hadn't been—
 The things they'd  said —
He found the Temple Guards had been released from watch duty, and Anakin's cell
door was wide open.
And Anakin sat inside.
The place had been turned into a little den. Droid parts lay strewn everywhere,
a datapad played music in a low murmur in the background, and Obi-Wan spotted a
couple of parenting holobooks lying on the sleep-shelf. He also recognized the
holocron of a Jedi Master who'd had a family. The glass cube was several
thousand years old, and there was no way Anakin could have gotten it on his
own.
A Council member would have had to have retrieved it for him.
And the likelihood was Anakin wouldn't have known of its existence in the first
place...
 So somebody thought of it  for him.
Obi-Wan felt warmth push against the ice in his soul.
Anakin, sitting on the floor, tinkered with a tiny droid, his curls in their
usual chaotic mess across his head.
He was too focused on the task at hand to notice Obi-Wan standing in the
doorway.
Obi-Wan watched him in silence.
This had always been one of Anakin's great weaknesses. He'd get so caught up in
one thing, that everything else could slide right on by.
And he'd never even know they'd passed.
What was the future going to look like? Obi-Wan, Korkie, Ahsoka, Anakin, 212 th
, 501 st ...
What are we? What is this?
And  could they accomplish anything?
The Council clearly had high hopes.
 It scared Obi-Wan. He wasn't at  all sure they were reading the situation
accurately.
 He hadn't seen people responding  positively to him.
All he'd found were the insults and stones thrown at his head. And worse...
 The  reporters ...
A ballad? Someone actually wrote a ballad about me?
It didn't make sense.
 He felt so dirty, so broken so much of the time. So... average. It was hard to
not feel disgust towards the frame that had been so abused. It was hard to not
believe he could have done something  more to save himself—
He remembered what the Mind-Healer had said. She'd told him these feelings were
normal, given his circumstances. Natural.
And that they weren't indicative of truth.
What was done to me has nothing to do with my worth.
I didn't deserve it. I fought as best I could.
I have nothing to be ashamed of.
Anakin paused, frowning down at a washer in his hand.
And now he realizes someone's standing here.
The golden head came up, blue eyes found his, and an expression both eager and
afraid took control of the scarred face. “You're back.”
“I am.”
Anakin cocked his head and his eyes went distant for a moment. “And you didn't
bring the Mind-Healer with you.”
Obi-Wan moved to sit on one of the steps. Joints protested. Obi-Wan accepted
the pain in silence. His body wasn't as resilient as it used to be.
“You don't seem... scared. Last time you seemed scared.”
Obi-Wan looked him in the eye. “I was.”
“And now?” Anakin whispered.
“And now I'm ready. The Mind-Healer said I needed to wait until I was ready to
invite you back into my life. I'm ready.”
Anakin lunged forward, small metal bits flying every which-way, throwing his
arms around Obi-Wan in desperate relief.
The feeling of Anakin's arms clamped tight around him wasn't easy to take. It
triggered several of the warning alarms that Zygerria had built into his brain
and body.
Obi-Wan considered them, accepted them, and decided what he was going to do.
Anakin interpreted physical contact as acceptance, and the refusal of it as
rejection.
Obi-Wan could stand a few more seconds of this.
Probably.
Awkwardly, unused to this sort of communication, he hugged Anakin back.
Feeling his Master's arms embracing him, Anakin sobbed. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Forgive me—”
“You're forgiven,” Obi-Wan murmured.
 “I don't know what to do. Everything's broken and I don't know how to fix  any
of it.”
“I understand.” Obi-Wan thought of Korkie. “I understand.”
 
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Mando'a Guide
     Beskar'gam (Pronounced /bez-car-GAM/) = Mandalorian armor, forged
     with your family. Expresses your very self.
***** Chapter 17 *****
 
Korkie couldn't quite believe his ears.
He'd been trying to resign himself to being left with strangers, tried to steel
himself for whatever that might entail.
 Never  once had he considered that the Jedi his Aunt had loved so fiercely
might take responsibility for him.
How could that Jedi stand there, looking so uncertain, and actually ask if the
plan was acceptable to Korkie or if he wanted to head into the foster system or
a boarding school?
 Korkie stumbled all over himself to make sure Obi-Wan knew just  how badly
Korkie wanted to stay with him.
And then worried it might have been too much, and frightened the Jedi.
He remembered his Aunt talking about how with Jedi, less was more.
“I promise I'll get out of your hair as soon as I legally can.”
Ooh.
Maybe that wasn't fixing it.
Now , instead of looking overwhelmed, the man looked concerned. “You're not an
imposition, Korkie. I don't want you to think that.”
Instead of trying to find words to say, and maybe make things even more
complicated, the young Mandalorian wrapped the Jedi in a hug.
 Korkie  needed a hug.
Satine had always been free with them, and even peaceful Mandalorians had
relied on their long history of using touch to communicate.
Obi-Wan's body felt like the Jedi had stepped into a trap and any flicker of
movement might result in death.
Instead of letting go, Korkie held on, even though he knew better. “I miss her
so much,” he choked.
A shiver ran through the older man, and then arms slowly moved to encircle him,
holding him tight.
For the first time since his Aunt's death, Korkie thought that maybe...
It was going to be alright.
He released the Jedi and saw for a moment the depth of Kenobi's heartbreak,
screaming through his eyes.
And then his focus was completely on the here and now.
“Did your academy have any sister-schools here on Coruscant?”
“No. In Mandalore's colonies, sure, though Concord Dawn never allowed it. They
weren't big on cooperation.”
A knowing smile sparked in Kenobi's eye and almost reached his lips.
Clearly he had a story about Concord Dawn.
I'll ask sometime, Korkie vowed. “Could I take classes here in the Temple?
Ahsoka came and taught at our Academy. Could I just sit in the back of the
rooms here? It's not like I have a long way to go to complete.”
A wry smile— this one including the Jedi's mouth. “There's a reason Ahsoka was
teaching. Jedi children learn the same things as they would in public schools,
but in half the time.”
Korkie's eyes widened. “They're that much smarter than the rest of us?”
 “What?  No . The public school system is half about learning, and half about
occupying time. It doubles as a babysitting service from childhood through the
teenage years. If they streamlined their curriculum, teaching styles, student-
teacher ratio, and study hours, they could do what we're doing. But then
teenagers would be running wild with nothing to occupy their daytime hours. We
don't have that problem, since once our children complete the book-learning
they're taken as Padawans and spend the next ten-plus years in the field with
hands-on experiences.”
 “So I  could sit in on classes... but I'd be surrounded by nine-year-olds?”
“Sorry.”
Korkie considered it. Yeah, maybe that would be difficult to take.
Or maybe not.
He knew that some of his peers had struggled with Ahsoka having authority over
them and teaching them, since she was their age.
That hadn't been a problem for Korkie. Ahsoka had the knowledge and the
experience, what was the big deal?
Kenobi had explained that Korkie wasn't dumberthan these super-genius kids. It
was simply that the two education systems had differing goals. The Jedi wanted
to get the book-learning absorbed in as efficient and timely a way as possible.
The public schools wanted to keep kids and teens out of trouble.
No wonder young Jedi seemed so... grown up. They knew a heck of a lot more than
their non-Jedi peers.
Yes. Maybe some of my classmates will make life uncomfortable. But... I've
never experienced this  kind of schooling before.
And I bet there's subjects that my Academy didn't have.
Granted, I won't be able to actually do  any of the things they teach about the
Force...
But...
It was an opportunity.
 Had a non-Force-sensitive student  ever been taught at the Temple?
Should I throw that away because some nine-year-olds might laugh at me?
And really...
 Would  he have a problem if the kids didn't?
Not likely.
For some of his friends, it would have been insurmountable.
Korkie's ego didn't work in that direction.
“Would I be allowed to learn at the Temple? I would probably have to live
elsewhere, right?”
Obi-Wan considered it for a long moment. “No, I don't think that would be
necessary. You're my ward. They'll find a room for you, get you a schedule, and
go from there.”
Korkie felt a shiver of excitement.
For the next year and nine months...
 He was going to be  living in the mysterious Jedi Temple.
“But I must warn you: you may not find you feel comfortable at the Temple once
you've been brought up to speed on...”
Korkie watched him search for words.
 “My...  clan , Korkie. It's... dysfunctional.”
The young Mandalorian watched the Jedi, wondering how much he should say. “I
am... aware of the circumstances that brought my Aunt to Coruscant. And of the
circumstances that brought her back to Mandalore. And why I'm here now. And Bo-
Katan said that your former Padawan has a crimson Force-signature.”
Obi-Wan looked about ready to die. “My responsibilities are split at the
moment. I have two battalions of clones that need looking after. I've taken
Ahsoka on as my Padawan. And I need to help Anakin with his recovery. And I
answer to a Mind-Healer at all times now. And I'm going to be running non-war-
related missions, because I cannot stand still.”
 “I don't think the Mind-Healer is embarrassing. And Padawan Tano is kind of
amazing.”  And if I'm your ward and she's your Padawan, does that make us
brother and sister? “I get that the clones are people. My Aunt was very
insistent on that. They're just as important as we are, and they're all
different.”
Obi-Wan was slowly relaxing. “You may want to avoid being seen with me in
public.”
“My Aunt wouldn't have.”
“You have your life ahead of you,” Obi-Wan countered. “She threw in her lot
with me years ago. You have no such restrictions. Just know that I will
understand if you want to keep out of sight.”
 Korkie shook his head. “With all due respect, I think that's  not the way to
bring change. People try to shame things that make them uncomfortable into the
shadows, whether that be perceived physical defects, poverty, mental illness,
or a subculture of people who see the universe differently than they do. They
feel they have a right to  not have to see, and that we owe them their fantasy-
land of singular normalcy. The only way to  change that is to refuse to let
them have it. We refuse to let them shame us into hiding. The streets don't
belong to them. We shouldn't be shoved out of sight... and we won't be.”
 
* * *
 
Obi-Wan's heart ached.
He could hear Satine all through Korkie's impassioned speech.
“You are wise for your years. Your Aunt would be proud.”
“She still is. Now. About these missions. If I can keep up with my studies and
not fall behind, would I be allowed to accompany you?”
Obi-Wan gave him a nod. “I'm specifically avoiding anything war-centric. I
cannot guarantee that peaceful efforts will not devolve into violence, but I
can promise it would only be in self-defense, and that I will do everything in
my power to ensure you won't have to raise a weapon yourself.”
“My Aunt would appreciate that.” Korkie shook his head. “But, Master Jedi, I've
killed before. I may be new to violence, but that doesn't mean I have my Aunt's
aversion. Right after her death... things... well, before that. When people
started wearing their armor in the streets, my friends and I started learning
how to use blasters. Auntie was on Coruscant, of course, and didn't know. And
then she died, and it was kill or be killed— and we didn't all make it—”
Obi-Wan scanned the boy in the Force. He was clearly still reeling after his
first kill.
Obi-Wan made note to ensure the boy had access to a Mind-Healer.
“What I'm saying is I'm not a pacifist. My Aunt was, and I respect that. I know
you aren't. And I respect that too. I'm not entirely sure where I stand yet,
but I know it's not in the same place as Auntie.”
 The boy's eyes were screaming  it would mean the world to me if you respect me
too.
 Obi-Wan could understand his need to be treated as a rational being. So he
bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Understood. Likewise understand that I would
have been avoiding the war even if you hadn't come to me. I don't believe I'm
ready for it. I want to avoid violence for as long as I can, for myself and for
Anakin's sake as well. He's going to be beside me a lot soon.”
 There it was.
Korkie finally looked uncomfortable. “Master Kenobi—”
“I told you that you can call me Obi-Wan.”
 “That would make me very uncomfortable. I'm sorry. But as for the other
thing... are you...  sure ?”
Obi-Wan braced himself. “Your objection being?”
“I— it's really not my place.”
 “On the contrary,” Obi-Wan said softly, “we're in this together now. If I'm
dragging you into this mess, it most certainly  is your place.”
Korkie gave him a grim nod. “How often is it that an abused spouse goes back to
the abusive partner?”
Obi-Wan stiffened, but held his tongue.
Korkie needed to be allowed to finish.
 “I know you and my Aunt were— that Master Skywalker isn't— I know that it's
not romantic between you and Master Skywalker. I also understand that you  do
make a family unit of sorts. And I'm concerned that the family unit remains. If
the two of you weren't Jedi, and you were on the outside looking in, would you
advise the abused partner to return to the other?”
 Obi-Wan did his best not to cringe every time Korkie used the word  abuse.
That was fragging hard.
For a long time Obi-Wan stood silent, trying to find both words, and his calm
center.
His gut wanted to snap some harsh words at the boy and hope the subject never
came up again.
But I'm the adult who is going to be investing in his training and future now.
Satine would have smiled and said he was Korkie's  buir.
 Obi-Wan was  not comfortable with the word  Father ... but he could understand
that the responsibilities were going to be similar.
 If he was going to use his  own words instead of  hers , then Korkie would be
his non-Force-sensitive Padawan. Someone to cherish, help grow, turn loose as
they came into their own.
That meant facing down the difficult discussions.
And this one had been inevitable.
 Might as well get it out of the way  first instead of waiting for it to fall.
“Anakin has no intention of hurting me again, and I will be watchful.”
Korkie looked sorrowful. “You know that's what they say, right? For example: an
abused wife will assure worried friends or family that her husband has a good
heart, he just gets overcome sometimes, and that she's sure he'll never do it
again, because he's turning over a new leaf, and either way, she can take care
of herself.”
Obi-Wan sat heavily in a chair.
“A childhood friend of mine ended up trapped in a situation like that,” he
murmured. “And yes. She stayed with him far longer than I felt she should have.
And yes. I eventually convinced her to leave him.”
And...
Obi-Wan had no idea where she or her son were now.
“She deserved so much better than the man she chose.” Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed
at his beard.
“Has anyone suggested something similar about you and Master Skywalker?”
For a moment Obi-Wan was certain he was going mad, because he saw several
thousand Quinlan Vos's staring at him.
One is quite  enough, he begged.
 Vos had been vocal against the situation even  before Zygerria. He seemed to
think that Obi-Wan didn't allow himself to shine because Anakin was a glory
guzzler, and Obi-Wan felt the younger Jedi deserved it.
Vos claimed that if Obi-Wan would step away and take missions on his own more,
Obi-Wan would find all sorts of things Obi-Wan didn't know he possessed.
 “I raised him since he was a small boy. You have to understand, Korkie, that
he was  nine once. An innocent, scared little boy, whose greatest dream was to
become a Jedi and free all slaves.” Obi-Wan  wanted to smile at the memory.
Found it difficult. “He'd never had a father-figure. Your Aunt used to try to
bridge the gap between Jedi and other... household systems by using family
terms.”
“Yes. She considered Master Skywalker your son. And hers.”
Obi-Wan's eyebrows flicked in surprise. So she'd been communicative with her
adopted child.
Of course  she was, you idiot.
 “I'm going to use her terms for now, for the sake of communication. Your
concerns are valid, but although Anakin and I are now equals, that was not
always the case. We're not partners who started out as friends. He was, and
still  is , my son. And you  never  abandon your child, no matter what they've
done to you.”
Obi-Wan watched as Korkie considered it.
“My Aunt would have agreed— about never abandoning your child. But her parents
didn't. They turned her out and disowned her. Publicly.”
“Why do you think that is?” Obi-Wan encouraged.
“They considered tradition to be more important than their daughter.” Korkie
scowled. “And Bo-Katan considered it more important than her sister.”
“And yet she chose to go against it to get you out of there.”
Korkie shook his head. “She seemed to feel guilt. But about Master Skywalker, I
suppose... is he cooperating with professionals? He's being watched by
therapists and he's cooperating?”
“Yes.”
Korkie squared his shoulders. “Then I will not intentionally cause strife with
or over him.”
“I appreciate that.”
“But I'm not likely to respond well if he treats you badly.”
“You and Ahsoka both. And a whole lot of clone troopers.” Korkie's negotiation
and affect reminded him of something. “By the way. Should you decide you still
want to pursue politics, I have two friends—” Obi-Wan paused.
Did he still consider Padmé a friend?
 He didn't trust her. He was afraid of her influence over Anakin, and the fact
they loved each other had  nothing to do with it.
The self-interest involved on both sides was what terrified him.
But just because her relationship with Anakin wasn't healthy didn't mean she
was a bad woman. Or that she was untrustworthy in other areas of her life.
She was a good politician. A good person. Kind. Generous. Honest—
Except for where I'm concerned —
And reliable.
Again, excepting Obi-Wan.
“The senators of Alderaan and Naboo. Either would be happy to help you pursue
such a career. And if you want to head somewhere other than politics, I'm sure
we can find individuals in other fields. That's an advantage of you being drawn
close to the Order. We meet a lot of people in all kinds of professions. If I
don't know somebody I can trust, there's bound to be another Jedi who does.”
 
* * *
 
Anakin felt nervous.
 Very...  very nervous.
 If all went according to plan, he was going to rejoin the 212 th  and 501 st .
And Korkie Kryze.
And Ahsoka.
And Obi-Wan.
No pressure.
 It had been made very clear to him that he would have no authority over the
clones whatsoever, and it had been made clear to  them that they did  not have
to follow any directive he might give.
In fact...
 They were told to not , at this point.
 Anakin knew that the fact they'd been given orders on the subject, not just
you don't have to , would give them a framework off which to build the
following days. It would provide a little comfort, a little normalcy in a sea
of troubles the regs and Kaminoans had  not prepared them for.
 Anakin had every intention of doing his  absolute best to not give any orders.
Whatsoever.
It was the least he could do— try to make it a little easier for them.
He also had no authority over Ahsoka, or Korkie.
Certainly not Obi-Wan.
He made his way from the officers' hangar to the bridge.
Some of the clones along that path refused to look at him, ignoring his
existence. Some watched him with neutral, unreadable expressions.
And some glared after him with a malevolence that rocked Anakin to the core.
 Some of these men  hated him.
 He'd never had a clone  hate him before.
 Ever .
He found the secondary bridge door closed, and as he entered the area, the door
behind him slid shut.
In the now-cut-off area stood Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Korkie, Cody and Rex. In the
corner, watching, the Mind-Healer sat, unobtrusive.
Anakin's gaze flicked from Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, whose reactions he already had a
pretty good handle on, to Cody.
The man looked unhappy, but that could only be found in his eyes. The rest of
him was ruled by professionalism, and the Force around him practically sang of
it.
Korkie didn't look a heck of a lot different, to Anakin's point of view. He
stood near Obi-Wan. Not close enough to seem possessive, and there was nothing
about his posture that suggested protectiveness.
He seemed to be a student, ready to learn.
But Anakin could sense more behind those blue eyes so calmly meeting his own.
 This kid, who he'd seen  twice before in his life, for less than five minutes
each time, was ready to protect  his Obi-Wan from  him.
Guess I deserve that, he mused.
And then he looked to Rex.
And started as he saw the condition of his armor.
There was hardly a scrap of blue left.
Even the jaig eyes were merely vague impressions.
Rex looked sleepless, in pain, and wrecked.
It sobered Anakin.
 He hadn't set out to hurt  Rex.
Actions had strange cascading effects.
Anakin had never been good at calculating them ahead of time.
 
* * *
 
Boil kicked the base of his bunk, leaving a dent in the polished metal.
Skywalker was  back.
Why was Skywalker back?
 Boil's 501 st  brothers were strained to the breaking point, and Boil himself
didn't dare go anywhere near the bridge.
Skywalker.
Betrayer.
No. More than that.
Traitor.
Something itched at the back of his mind, bringing up vague memories of dreams
he never dared speak about.
 Dreams he  knew his brothers endured as well. He'd heard  them talk about it,
in hushed, terrified whispers.
Boil was sick of the dreams. Sick of waking up terrified he'd hurt his General,
only to realize it was an illusion.
Boil wasn't the one who'd betrayed Obi-Wan Kenobi.
 It was  Skywalker.
 And Skywalker was  back.
 Boil had tried to find out what punishment had been inflicted, and was
horrified to discover the answer was  none.
 There'd been some enforced alone time to think, actually  think , since
Skywalker didn't do much of that...
 But that was  it.
That's practically leave-time, he snarled.
 The Duchess was  dead.
His General had tried to follow her.
Boil had never been in love, but he knew how terribly empty his heart felt
without Waxer. He saw how Fives had gone stern and cold after he lost Echo.
Everything all piled together in one horrifying anchor, dragging him down,
farther from oxygen, farther from light, into the murk, into the cold...
Waxer would have urged him to go talk to one of the brothers who specialized in
mind care.
And Waxer was dead because of a Jedi who'd gone bad.
 The Jedi wouldn't have let  Krell go with just a slap on the wrist.
 The Jedi had been horrified over what Krell had done to the 501 st  and 212 th
.
 But when  Skywalker harmed one of their own...
That was okay.
It's because General Kenobi won't stick up for himself.
His General thought he deserved this. Thought he was responsible for Skywalker.
Thought he had a duty towards him.
Duty.
Traitors.
Nightmares.
Death.
Boil groaned and dropped onto his bunk.
 
* * *
 
Padmé felt nervous as Yoda's small fingers pressed against her stomach.
His hand was warm. Gentle.
The ancient Jedi's eyes were closed, his ears raised as if listening.
“Strong they are,” he murmured. “Powerful, already.”
Padmé shook her head. “They're not far enough along to be—”
 “Of  thoughts you speak, and of  body.  The Force and the mind, together  can
work, but the Force, bound by time or  development is not.”
“But Master Yoda, their genders aren't even defined yet.”
“Hmm. And yet, individual Force-signatures each have. Pulsing bright, true.
Full of light.”
Padmé felt sick. “How can they be light when... their father...”
 “ Separate from him they are.” Yoda sat back against the couch, looking tiny
against its cushions.
Cute.
 She would  never say that out loud. At least, not to his face.
 “The best of you, the best of him, they are. Their faults, their  own will
be.”
 “But isn't it  more likely they will... become... monsters... because of who
their father is?”
 Yoda leaned forward, his expression earnest. “A new chance,  every child is.
Precious. The possibility for darkness, inside  all of us lives. Inside me.
Inside you. Inside young Skywalker.”
 “But you knew, when he was a child, that— I mean, I only saw a sweet kid, but
you saw something else. You told everyone to stay away from him, and they
didn't listen, and look what happened—”
 His eyes saddened. “Pain, I sensed.  Terrible pain in Obi-Wan's future. Much
fear there was in the child Skywalker. And Master Windu, shatterpoints saw.”
“Is the danger over? The shatterpoints?”
Yoda shivered.
Padmé felt dread steal away her heart.
For a long time the ancient one didn't say a word.
Then he looked up at her, and to Padmé's horror she saw tears slipping from his
eyes. “No.”
“Master Yoda—”
 “Scored glass, ready to snap apart when struck— what shatterpoints  are, this
is .  Many, inside Obi-Wan, broken have been. Others remain. The points leading
to Mandalore, snapped are. Points leading  everywhere else, remain still.”
Padmé couldn't quite make sense of what he was saying. “Another planet could be
thrown into disaster?”
 “ Every planet. Every Jedi.”
 “Anakin  has that kind of power?”
“Yes.” Yoda reached out towards her stomach. “Since no bigger than your own
children, he was. Obi-Wan, kingpin of the shatterpoint web is. Once broken, out
of the way... all else unprotected lies. But stands, he still does. Holds.”
“How can that be?” Padmé protested. “He isn't a political figure, he's not the
best Jedi you have, he's not even the most powerful—”
 “A matter of  placement, it is. Through Obi-Wan, Mandalore reached was. Work
for the Sith, Mandalorians always have. A new army arises now. Dominoes. If
holds, the first does, the others poised remain. Wavered, Obi-Wan did. A path,
now burning is. If fall completely he does... lost we are.”
 “Then  why are you allowing Anakin to accompany him? And why did the Council
relent and allow him into the Order in the first place? Shouldn't you have kept
him as far away from Obi-Wan as  possible ?”
Yoda sighed. Padmé couldn't find a hint of anger, just immeasurable sadness.
“Trained Anakin without our approval, he would have. Said as much to me he did.
Prevented this, our refusal would not. A different trigger there would have
been. Entwine through the center of the shatterpoint web someone as volatile as
Skywalker... a matter of time, it becomes.”
This was inevitable. If Zygerria hadn't happened, something else would have.
Did Padmé believe it?
“But if Obi-Wan had distanced himself from the Order, wouldn't that have meant
that when he came down... the galaxy wouldn't too?”
 “A child, Skywalker was.” The look of clear helplessness in Yoda's face gutted
Padmé. “ Bound to fate he was not. Choices he still had. Opportunities. To
throw away a child for what they  might become, cruel would be. For hope, the
Jedi Order stands. For  light.  To encourage people, their  best selves to be.”
 Padmé stood up and paced. “Your words aren't helping me figure out what to do.
If I  have these babies, because they have a  chance of not being like their
father, and they do something  terrible , how could I ever live with myself?”
And is that what Obi-Wan's feeling right now?
Yoda simply watched her.
 “Why won't you tell me what to  do ?” she wailed, turning on him. “Why are you
making me figure this out on my  own ? I'm not one of your Jedi. I'm not here
for you to  teach . I need  wisdom. Not riddles.  What  can you tell me about
the twins' future?”
He looked up at her, sorrowful.
It stung Padmé a little. She'd been short with him, when he hadn't laid a
single word or look of blame on her. She'd lied to his face for a long time,
and yet unlike Obi-Wan, he hadn't lost faith in her.
Yoda's eyes drifted shut, his mouth pursed, and he seemed to settle into
himself. “The future, always in motion is. Many possible outcomes there are.
Tiny variables, change everything can. Set in stone, is nothing.”
He breathed in, breathed out...
“Clouded, their fates are. Perhaps because decided, you have not, whether live
to see years of life they will.”
 That made sense, Padmé supposed. “Fine. What are they like  now ? If their
Force-signatures are so obvious, and Anakin's was  always so dangerous, do you
feel something similar with them?”
 “The danger,  inherent in young Skywalker is  not. Comes, it does, from his
unwillingness to listen. To trust. To learn. Focused on self, is he, and lose
sight of others he does. Instead of kindness, fear of loss drives him. Willing
to harm anyone to protect himself, he is.  Learned , all such patterns are,
not born . ”
So that's why you take children so young?
 After all, the patterns had been  very set, carved deep into Anakin's soul by
the time he came to them.
“See them, I do. Your children.”
Padmé froze.
Yoda's eyes were still closed, his cheeks still damp, but a radiant smile lit
his face, almost dazzling her.
“One, quiet. Thoughtful. At the mysteries of the universe, marvel they would.
Seek out its wonders. With love reach out to people others find unlovable.
Believe in the broken. See good where others despaired to find it have.
Compassion. This one, gentle is. Gentle would be. The opportunity to express
these things, the child has not yet, but written through the Force-signature
they are. The future I need not see, to know this one's heart.”
Padmé waited in stunned silence for him to continue, unable to say a word.
Yoda's head tilted, and his beam turned into a more of a smirk. “The other.
Impetuous. Fiery. Determined. The best of the father, this one has. Eager to
communicate. Eager to convince. Surprised, I would not be, if politics this one
chose, over any other profession.”
A politician?
“But— it's strong in the Force—”
“Not all Force-sensitives, meant to be Jedi are. This one... I suspect not.
Perhaps wrong am I. Not the first time would it be.” Yoda's eyes opened, and
back was the weight of old and new griefs. “Loud, this one, where the twin
quiet is. As a team, forged, already they are. Communicate even now, they do,
and communicate with you, I do not doubt they will as they have before.”
 Padmé sat down again, her legs suddenly weak. “Obi-Wan discovered them. He
said Anakin's Force-signature was inside me.”
“Mmm.” Yoda nodded. “When looked upon each alone, difficult to see Skywalker
there. But when twine their signatures  together  they do... whispers, it does,
of the father. For someone as close to Skywalker as Obi-Wan is, unmistakable it
would be.”
“I don't know, Master. I don't think I'm ready for children. But I'm not sure I
could give birth to them and hand them over to you.”
Yoda watched her with large, understanding eyes.
Why is he so understanding? Don't Jedi feel possessive about Force-sensitive
babies? Like they're theirs by right?
“Bracing for a fight, you are,” Yoda observed. “Why?”
 Padmé narrowed her eyes. “If I choose to not terminate the pregnancy, if I
choose to give these two a chance, that  doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to
give them to the Jedi and resign myself to never seeing or hearing about them
again.”
Yoda arched an eyeridge. “Is that how see us you do?”
 “Isn't that the way it  is ?” she challenged.
“No.”
“Banthakark.”
 Yoda shook his head, giving his ears a gentle sway. “In our culture, focused
the formative years are. That where they came from  defines them, limits them,
many people feel. Believe this we do not. Focus, instead, on discovering who a
child is by what's  inside them. Not what was  around them by birth. To mold
them, we seek not, but to  discover. Many young ones, never Padawans become,
because for them the Jedi path is  not. Seek to give them the tools they need
for another life, we do. The life they  fit. When a young adult knows  who they
are, and comfortable with it has become, then if seek out their home planet and
family they desire, nothing to say against it I have. Some do. Some don't. But
in their formative years,  all equal they are. Prejudices from home planets,
left behind are. Social status, wealth, pedigree— all meaningless as they
discover themselves. Many knights and masters we have who dress from their
homeworlds. Master Ti. Even Ahsoka, adopted customs from her homeworld has.
Master Unduli. Master Secura. But each is what they  choose to be, not what
home circumstances suggest.”
“If I choose to have children, there's no way I'm going to wait sixteen to
twenty years before being involved in their lives.”
“Think the one belongs with the Jedi I do not. Frustration, I believe would
result. A cage it would be.”
“And the other?”
“The other, the temperament has. The curiosity. The wonder.”
 “So you would take one and leave the other? That sounds...  wrong .”
 “Said nothing, I did, about  taking. ”
 Padmé shook her head. “Even if you  did take that one, how would you keep it
away from Anakin? If keeping away from family is so Force-damn important—”
Yoda frowned. “Said anything about that, have I? Put these ideas into your
head, who has?”
“Anakin—”
 “Ignored, did he, the bond between Master Koon and his niece? Master Diath and
his nephew? The twins Tiplee and Tiplar, who separated have  never been, from
birth to knighthood and beyond? Call one another 'sister' openly, they do. One
battalion of clones, they share.”
Padmé blinked. “Wait. You didn't raise them to not know they were sisters?”
 Yoda simply  looked at her.
Padmé felt sudden guilt. It was so easy to look at the Jedi from outside their
culture and make assumptions. So easy to judge. So easy to dismiss and ignore.
There are many different kinds of normal. Their normal is just as legitimate as
mine, even if I don't understand it.
Satine had so easily accepted that idea.
 Padmé wondered what her friend would have done had  she had a Force-sensitive
baby...
The loss of Satine ached in her heart.
 The Duchess had known what it was like to love a Jedi, and she'd had so  many
more years of experience than Padmé possessed. She'd been a good listener, had
only given advice when asked...
And was quite dead.
I'm on my own, here.
 “Pressure a parent to give up their child, we do  not ,” Yoda said gravely.
“Wrong, that would be.”
Padmé shook her head. “I think I may have picked up some stereotypes, Master
Yoda. I'm sorry.”
He bowed his head gravely. “Easy to do, that is.”
 “It is. And I don't want to keep doing it. I want you to explain to me what
the options for the twins are, should I choose to bring them full-term.
Motherhood always seemed so far away, I've never given it much thought; and the
last few weeks I've spent panicking. I want to  focus. ”
Yoda's eyes sparkled with fondness, and several decades seemed to lift away.
“Different, you are. Try to understand us, you do. Your friends, the Jedi will
always be.”
 
***** Chapter 18 *****
Chapter Notes
     We are swift approaching the end; soon I will know the exact amount
     of chapters left in this story. All of you have been wonderful, so
     thank you.
 
“Sure thing, Master Kenobi.”
Obi-Wan heaved a sigh and turned to Korkie. For the billionth time, this again?
He was just going to ask.
“Why is it so difficult for you to call me Obi-Wan?” he asked, patient but
tired.
Korkie paused in the doorway. “It's not what I'm used to calling you.”
 “What  are you used to calling me?”
“Uncle Ben.”
The air fell out of Obi-Wan's lungs, leaving him staring at Korkie in stunned
silence.
“It wasn't safe to talk about you, because Death Watch spies might hear. So
Auntie designated that as a codename for you. That way, if we were overheard,
it wouldn't be...” Korkie's voice faltered.
Wouldn't be what Anakin did.
Neither of them was willing to say it.
Finally, Korkie pulled his shoulders back and raised his head. “There was a
backstory to go along with the codename. Uncle Ben was a policeman—”
 A bark of laughter in Obi-Wan's mind. Why, that infuriating,  smug little
Mandalorian woman—
“—on Taris.”
Taris. Also known as “Little Coruscant.”
 And a few thousand years ago, it had been home to a Temple outpost. Jedi had
once  lived there.
Clever Satine. So clever.
 But a  policeman?
How many ways had Satine found to taunt him when he wasn't around to see it? He
had a sneaking suspicion he might find out, with Korkie by his side.
 And of course the boy had no idea that calling a Jedi a policeman  meant . The
belittling it entailed. He stood there, innocent and unassailable.
Somehow, even after death, Satine had just gotten him back for all the times
Obi-Wan had teased her by calling her a Mandie.
You win.
He realized Korkie was still watching him. He pulled himself together and hoped
not too much time had passed.
“Are you refusing to call me Obi-Wan because you can't remember to, or is it
because you don't want to?” he asked.
Korkie flushed a little.
 Ah-ha.  Thought so.
Korkie met his gaze through the embarrassment and held his head high. “I would
never have called you by your first name if Auntie were alive, even if it had
been safe to do so. I was raised to respect adults, especially if they were...
family. If I change that... it feels like I'm forgetting Auntie. It doesn't
feel right. I understand I need to keep moving forward, but I would like to
respect her memory too.”
The familiar, astounding pain from the hole in his heart...
 He still wasn't sure how he was going to be able to  live with it, but...
“It's only right. Her memory is worth respecting,” Obi-Wan spoke up, keeping
his tone brisk to try to move past the aching that made him want to sit in a
corner and weep again.
 He'd  done that.  Twice.  Once with Padmé, once with Ahsoka. Enough was
enough.
“If you want to call me Uncle Ben, I think I can manage that for her.”
 Astounded gratitude flooded Korkie's face. “You— I never—  wow.  Um...  thank
you .”
 Obi-Wan saw the light rolling of weight towards the foot closest to him, saw
the turn of the shoulders—
 Oh,  dear. The boy wanted to  hug him.
 There'd been so  many hugs of late—
He braced himself.
But Korkie kept his feet planted to the floor, and instead closed his eyes, his
face furrowing in concentration.
“What are you—” Obi-Wan started, and then was smacked in the face with a wave
of gratitude flowing off of Korkie. It drove away the cold that he couldn't
seem to banish from his bones, and it eased the sharp agony of loss to a
quieter ache.
Korkie opened one eye, peering at the older man. “Did it work?”
“What... were you trying to do?” Obi-Wan asked, bewildered.
 “For a lot of people, hugs are a way of communicating. Imparting a warmth
inside the soul. My Aunt told me that Jedi hug... but they hug with their
minds.  They don't feel the same thing we feel when they are hugged. It's
uncomfortable for them. For you. So she told me that if I needed to express
that warmth, I had to focus on what it was that I wanted to convey with the
hug, and think it really,  really loudly until it was the only thing in my
mind. With an intensity to where you almost can't breathe. That the Jedi would
feel it. Did it work?”
Obi-Wan's throat closed, and he nodded.
“Good.” Korkie smiled and slipped from the room, leaving Obi-Wan standing
alone.
Tears blurred his vision.
 Korkie...  understood him? Korkie had taken the time to reach out to him in a
way that  could  reach him?
Even Anakin hadn't done that.
 Anakin had discounted Obi-Wan as cold because Obi-Wan couldn't express love
Anakin's way, and had scoffed whenever Obi-Wan tried to explain it. Obi-Wan had
tried to meet him half-way, but he wasn't  built that way and it would have
been so much more likely to succeed if Anakin had been willing to try  too...
 What had he done to deserve Korkie? The boy was  incredible. He deserved a lot
more than tagging along behind a Jedi.
I'll make sure he gets it.
 Whatever Korkie decided to study, he would  get there. Obi-Wan would find him
the mentors he needed, find him connections.
Had Satine simply been trying to raise Korkie to be multiculturally sensitive?
To think outside the box when it came to physical components in relationships?
Or ...
Korkie had Satine.
No-one else.
 And while the danger hadn't always been  visible , it had always been
present.
 Had Satine been preparing Korkie so that if something happened to her, he
would be as compatible with Obi-Wan as possible? Knowing Obi-Wan would look out
for him, had she trained Korkie to understand Jedi, to be able communicate with
one, so that  both of those she left behind would come out of it better off
than if they'd been left to their own devices?
Sly. So sly, you beautiful Mandie.
 Korkie was going to be anything  but a burden.
In fact...
Obi-Wan's memory that he'd been willing to turn Korkie over to a boarding
school should the boy want it now seemed unfathomable. Korkie apparently had a
place in Obi-Wan's heart and life, after just a couple of days that Obi-Wan
hadn't realized existed.
The last time he'd taken a young person under his wing, the two had been
completely incompatible. Unable to communicate. Unable to reach across the
cultural barriers that kept them apart. Obi-Wan couldn't cross it all by
himself, he'd needed Anakin to try too.
And...
Heartbreak had ensued.
The realization that Korkie Kryze was reaching out to him brought tears to Obi-
Wan's eyes.
Obi-Wan had begun to wonder if Obi-Wan Kenobi was a person worth reaching out
to.
To think that maybe there was something wrong with him.
Maybe the relationship between Obi-Wan and his child was a painful labyrinthe
of danger and confusion...
But it looked like he could have something quiet and strong with Satine's
child.
She'd always looked out for Obi-Wan.
 She was Mando, as well as pacifist. Of  course she'd thought of the
possibility of her death. Of  course she'd weighed what it might do to Obi-Wan.
 Of  course she'd faced her options with the tactical brilliance that was her
birthright.
 He  loved her still.
Desperately.
Terribly .
With all of his soul.
He missed her.
He would always miss her.
 
* * *
 
Cody realized his General hadn't seen him step through the door, so for a
moment he simply watched.
The Jedi stood there, lost in thought, body relaxed in that feline grace all
Jedi possessed. His face was calm.
Anyone but a clone might assume he was contemplating what he'd had for lunch.
But Cody knew better than to read his body language or expression.
He went for the eyes.
Cody had countless brothers who looked identical. In the early days of training
on Kamino, the Kaminoans didn't allow them to individualize their hair. Or
clothes. Or armor. Or living spaces. And tattoos were definitely out. Most of
them hadn't received scars yet.
And before Jedi Master Shaak Ti had come to protect the clones from the
Kaminoan scientists...
The tall, compassionless aliens had seen any sign of emotion as a sign of
weakness.
Too much weakness...
And you failed.
They didn't keep failures. They killedfailures.
It had built into Cody and his brothers the ability read the finest muscle
twitches in a face. The smallest shifts in the tone of a voice.
Taught him to not believe serene expressions.
Taught him how to read eyes.
Sometimes, the eyes were the only way to tell brother apart from brother in a
sea of thousands.
Often, the eyes were the only way to tell what a brother was thinking and
feeling.
Cody had discovered Jedi were the same way.
 Their feelings ran  deep. Not loud.
They required watching and care to discover. Tenacity.
 Cody hated what had been done to his brothers on Kamino, but it  had given
them the tools to connect with their Jedi. Granted, it wasn't the tools the
Kaminoans had thought they were imparting. Jedi across the galaxy had been
systematically uprooting  those and throwing them out, trying to invest in the
clones' personhood and self-worth.
Shaak Ti had arrived after Cody had shipped out, but he had been to Kamino
since her takeover.
It was a different place.
And his brothers practically worshiped her.
“Defective” clones didn't die anymore.
The little brothers didn't huddle together, terrified if a squad-mate's eyes
were blue. Or his hair blond. Or if he had a lisp.
Shaak Ti would protect him.
 With the Jedi, being different wasn't an  offense.  It was  encouraged.
Thinking was encouraged. Questioning. Learning.
So instead of following protocol and drawing attention to himself, Cody watched
Obi-Wan's eyes, reading them for long moments. Refusing to rush. Refusing to
assume.
And then he knew.
Knew the level of agony Obi-Wan was enduring.
The weight of Obi-Wan's grief nearly buckled Cody's knees.
 Great  Force , how did he  stand it?
Obi-Wan's gaze tracked to his as the General realized he wasn't alone anymore.
He gave Cody a quiet smile. “Status?”
His voice sounded so normal.
His eyes said something else entirely.
Cody had no doubt his Force-signature looked calm and collected too.
 Did Skywalker ever bother to look beneath the surface, or had he been too
impatient, unwilling to invest the time and effort to actually  know how Obi-
Wan was doing?
 To actually  know Obi-Wan?
And Cody knew the answer to that, because he'd seen into Skywalker's eyes.
Cody had many brothers.
Obi-Wan had one.
His heart ached for his General, but it wouldn't make Obi-Wan's burden lighter
if he brought it up. So, instead, he gave him a formal nod and offered up his
report.
Structure. It helped Cody when the world came undone.
He knew it helped his General too.
Jedi and clone?
Perfect match.
 Cody didn't know what would happen to them after the war, but he  desperately
hoped he'd be allowed to stay by Kenobi's side. He completed his General, and
Cody would never be complete without him.
His place was guarding Kenobi's back.
Always. No matter what.
Skywalker may have betrayed Kenobi...
But Cody never would.
 
* * *
 
 Anakin didn't know what he'd been expecting. Ahsoka had mentioned something
about people treating Obi-Wan not very well, and the Mind-Healer had encouraged
him to simply observe today, but  this was  not what he'd envisioned.
“Hey! Jedi bitch!”
Obi-Wan's shoulders set and he didn't look around, but Anakin spun to find the
voice, furious disbelief rising in his throat.
 He caught the rotten meiloorun with the Force before it could strike Obi-Wan's
head.  Force it stank.
“Taking your bitch for a walk, General Skywalker?”
Anakin's eyes blazed and he took a menacing step towards the offending—
Obi-Wan's hand, light but strong as it caught his elbow. “It's normal, Anakin.
Just ignore it,” he murmured.
Anakin stared back at him in disbelief. Obi-Wan met his gaze with a quiet
glance.
 “He can't  talk to you like that.”
“We're not here to pick a fight. We're here to  help. And if you try to shut
down  everyone who says those sorts of things to me, you're not going to have
time for anything else.”
 “It can't be  that bad, can it—”
Obi-Wan was looking over his shoulder. The smaller Jedi's eyes widened, and
then he spun around and dragged Anakin after him.
“What? What is it?” Anakin craned his neck to see—
And then the chaos struck.
 
* * *
 
Ahsoka, out of hearing but not out of sight, felt a shudder through the Force.
Felt Obi-Wan trying to escape— his soul hunkering down to outlast.
Felt Anakin's growing bewilderment, growing anger—
She dropped the crate she'd been moving and bolted for them. “Fives, grab two
squads and follow me! Media drill.”
“Sir, yes Sir!”
 
* * *
 
 Anakin tried to make sense of the babbling voices, of the flashes of light, of
the people  in their faces  as he tried to push his way through them—
Recording devices of all shapes and sizes—
 So  many beings—
 Obi-Wan looked made of stone as he ducked his head and shoved his way through,
apparently not worried about politeness. At  all.
“General Skywalker. Would you say General Kenobi is the best you've had, or
somewhere lower on the list?”
 What the  frip?  There was a  holodisk in his  face —
He knocked it from her hand and followed Obi-Wan.
 But the mob of reporters was amoebic. They see you headed one direction, those
at the back ooze forward so by the time you're  through , there's a whole
'nother batch— sometimes ones you've fought past  before already once—
“General Kenobi. Are you and General Skywalker a couple now? He seems pretty
interested in keeping you away from us and all to himself.”
Anakin leveled the speaker a glare that could freeze Mustafar.
 “Perhaps  you'd like to comment?” the reporter asked eagerly, turning to
Anakin.
Don't you understand what a glare means ?
 Evidently  not.
“Master Kenobi, what answer do you have for Senator Orn Free Taa's public
statement that you are a disgrace, and I quote, 'The best thing General Kenobi
can do now to serve the Republic is fade out of sight and memory, and hopefully
never feel the need to shine the spotlight into whatever corner he crawls into.
Maybe then we can return to the important issues at hand'?”
“Jedi Kenobi, would you say you are still suicidal?”
“General Kenobi, are you on suicide watch?”
 “General Skywalker, are you aware there's a holonet fanclub entitled  General
Skyfripper dedicated to your sexual prowess? Members are calling themselves
Skybitches and are vying with one another for the honor of being your next
exhibitionistic conquest. Their tagline? 'Rough us up.'”
“General Kenobi, as the first ever Skybitch, do you have any words of advice
for those who seek to follow in your footsteps?”
“Master Skywalker—”
 Anakin froze. He  couldn't move  and there were just so  many, and it was so
loud , and he couldn't get  out, get  away from them, and they were saying such
wretched things—
Anakin felt blind panic building, building—
 Obi-Wan turned, and for the first time looked up. He moved close, gripping
Anakin's forearm, sensing impending disaster. “Steady,” Obi-Wan breathed. “
Steady. ”
These people were  evil , they didn't  care, they were taking  pictures —
 Obi-Wan's fingers squeezed tighter.  “Don't hurt them,” his voice came
desperately over their bond.
“But they're hurting you— ”
“This isn't new , Anakin. It's just new to you .”
It... this had  happened before? Anakin thought he might vomit all over the
filthy lifeforms clawing at him.  “They've been hounding you like—”
“Just keep walking. We'll go to the ship, lock them out. Come on.”
Anakin's feet wouldn't move.
“Please,” Obi-Wan pleaded.
The undercurrent of dread his Master felt only made things become that much
worse. Obi-Wan was afraid he was going to hurt these people.
 As though these people somehow had  worth or  rights.
Anakin couldn't make out their words anymore. Just the noise, the chaos, people
jostling him—
 And then a  hand reached for Obi-Wan's  groin —
 What the  hell ?
Anakin's fist shot out, a vicious Force blow that sent the groper and half a
dozen intrigue-chasers flying.
 Obi-Wan dragged him through the opening created, setting a punishing pace for
the ship. “Follow me.  Now, Anakin.”
 Anakin stumbled after him, ignoring the now even  more fervent clamor behind
him.
 And then familiar white armor surrounded them, providing a buffer. Physically
shoving gawkers back and  away.
Obi-Wan kept moving, so Anakin followed.
“Commander Tano! There's a rumor that you are now General Kenobi's Padawan.
What made you leave General Skywalker?”
“Padawan Tano, has your former Master, General Skywalker, ever molested you?”
“Ahsoka— may I call you Ahsoka?— in the wake of your new Master's suicide
attempt, do you think you may have been better off staying with Skywalker?”
“Commander Tano, is it possible that General Kenobi's suicide attempt is
connected to your becoming his Padawan, or would you have us believe the two
events are unrelated?”
“Padawan Tano, is your former Master interested in women too, or is it men only
for the Skyfripper? There is a raging debate on the holonet as to whether
female Skybitches have a chance. As apprentice and heir to his legacy, can you
give these passionate ladies hope?”
“Listen to my voice,” Obi-Wan commanded over their link.  “ Only  to my voice.”
“But, Master, they're saying such disgusting— ”
“I'm the only one who matters right now. Understand? My voice only. Listen to
me, Padawan.”
Obi-Wan hadn't called him that in a long time. It nearly stopped Anakin's
heart.
“But Ahsoka — we can't leave Ahsoka back there — ”
“You'd be surprised how talented she has become at shutting them down and
sending them home.”
“They'll eat her up — ”
“Anakin. Trust your Padawan, and trust me.”
Inside the ship, with the door locked, the sound was muffled.
Anakin stood in cold shock, and realized he was trembling.
Obi-Wan watched him for a long moment.
 Anakin tried to look at him but  couldn't .  Couldn't meet his questioning
gaze—
“I'm sorry,” Obi-Wan mourned.
 “ You're sorry?”
 “I knew what they were like, and I brought you into public with me. I
practically painted a target on your back. I'm surprised they have only  now
caught up to us.”
Anakin shook his head. This was his third day working alongside Obi-Wan, and
today they'd diverted from their initial plan because of a report that a
housing complex had collapsed a few levels down from Coruscant's glittering
surface.
 For the last several hours, they'd been using the Force to locate and rescue
the trapped and wounded. Because they could lift massive chunks of duracrete
away, they were able to reach the injured  days before a work crew would have
managed it.
The work reminded Anakin of his apprenticeship.
Back in the days when Jedi helped people.
He found missing children and paired them back up with their frantic families.
He carried bleeding, terrified people clear of the rubble and handed them over
to Kix.
He watched the years and burdens peel off of Obi-Wan as he threw himself, body
and soul, into saving people.
The expected death toll estimate made by the Disaster Response team the Jedi
had found on-site?
Thirty-three.
The actual count?
One.
And that one had died before the Jedi and clones arrived.
 It had felt  good, and Anakin hadn't felt this  clean since the Tusken
massacre.
Obi-Wan had glowed in the Force, beautiful...
Whole.
And now...
Anakin felt covered in filth.
 “What is  wrong with them?” he asked, his voice trembling in outrage. “People
just lost their  homes , and they trample all over that to come after  us —”
“At least we completed our work before they arrived,” Obi-Wan soothed. “They
could have found us while we were still trying to pull people from the
wreckage. It's difficult to work around them, but the clones have learned how
to block them very efficiently.”
 Anakin dragged his leather-clothed metal hand down his face. “ Force, Obi-
Wan—”
 He couldn't  begin to express the humiliation he felt. Obi-Wan had been
exposed to all of this... saw this as the new normal...
“Let's go back to the Resolute.” Obi-Wan headed for the cockpit of the shuttle.
“You want to pilot?”
Dimly, Anakin realized Obi-Wan was trying to draw him out. Distract him.
Flying wasn't going to fix this.
 
* * *
 
“You didn't come down for dinner, and Jesse said you were still in here—” Obi-
Wan froze.
His gaze took in the chaos of the darkened strategy room. Anakin stood rigid,
hands planted on the holotable, head bowed.
“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan asked, voice cautious.
Anakin didn't look back at him. It was obvious, so he wasn't entirely sure why
Obi-Wan had asked. The evidence was suspended in the air before him, the blue
of its glow the only light in the room.
 “Looking through the news.” Or... at least... he  had been. For the last half-
hour he'd been staring at his hands.
 Obi-Wan drew in an almost-steady breath. “Why?”
“I had to see if Taa really said what they claimed, and he  did, and there's—”
More. A lot more.
He reached out and cleared the holos.
But he couldn't erase the main image from his brain.
Obi-Wan, hand on Anakin's arm, looking concerned up into his scowling face.
He was trying to keep me from hurting them... and they used it against him.
 That image was  everywhere.
 In certain chat rooms, Anakin had even seen people using it as their  avatar.
The holonet had blown up, and that picture was the cause.
Headlines across all the major news sites accompanied it.
And worse.
 The  little news agencies. The ones who didn't even claim hold to a standard.
Anakin's fingernails clutched at the metal of the table.
He couldn't drive the headlines from his mind.
“Jedi falls prey to the charms of his abuser.”
“Hungry for more: Jedi like it rough!”
“Jedi Courtship Unveiled.”
That one cited an anonymous source in the Temple who claimed that vicious
public rape was just a Jedi's way of saying they're interested in you.
 They  made it up. The  source , the  story , all of it—
And according to the reactions of people who'd bothered to view it...
 There were a lot of people who  believed it.
“You know the news,” Obi-Wan murmured. “They'll find some new scandal and
they'll forget all about us. They want shocking headlines that bring in
consumers. They'll get bored with us when the public gets sick of hearing our
names, and they'll move on to the next thing.”
Anakin had been unable to feel more than gut-punched shock while searching the
holonet.
Now?
The anger flared to life.
 “It's  wrong. They don't  own us, they shouldn't be allowed to  do this—”
Obi-Wan sighed. “Anakin, reporters... it's what they do. You don't  have to pay
attention to the news. You can ignore it. I haven't been on the holonet in
weeks. It's possible, and it's actually pretty peaceful.”
Anakin's fingers clenched tighter, his living bones aching from the strain.
“You've been living with this.”
His Master didn't answer.
“Obi-Wan?”
The agonized question pulled an answer from his friend. A murmured, “You'll get
used to it.”
 “I don't  want to get used to it!” Anakin cried, spinning around and taking a
step forward. Fury billowed about him like a black cape.
Obi-Wan's body tensed and he took a quick step backwards, eyes wide.
Anakin felt guilty—
But Obi-Wan was forcing his breathing to steady, was relaxing his stance, was
reversing the step he'd retreated.
Anakin couldn't sense what he was feeling, though, he was still too angry.
But at least Obi-Wan seemed to not be quite so traumatized by it anymore.
 That was good, because Anakin couldn't  stop it. “They  talk about  you like
you're a—” he searched for a word  vile enough, a word that could express a
tenth of the—
“Anakin.” The word was so gentle. It reminded him of Obi-Wan's cool hand
bathing his forehead when he'd been so horrifyingly sick as a Padawan. The
fever had nearly killed him.
His anger fell away, as if his soul had turned into a sieve.
“I wish I could make them stop,” Anakin whispered.
 Obi-Wan took another step in his direction, the concerned, compassionate look
on his face killing Anakin. “The best way to  do that is to carry on, as if
their words are meaningless. Because they  are. Meaningless.”
A hand, on his shoulder.
Squeezing.
And then receding footsteps.
 Anakin stood frozen, unable to watch him leave, because Anakin hadn't meant it
that  way.
 He wanted to  force them to stop. If someone dared speak of Obi-Wan like that,
he wanted to  choke them,  make them stop, scare the others into  never
treating Obi-Wan that way again,  ever — he would  protect Obi-Wan—
 It was a really,  really good thing Obi-Wan couldn't hear any of that.
* * *
 
Obi-Wan sank into a chair, trembling.
In one way, what had just happened had been very difficult.
The hecklers, and especially the reporters still got to him.
 Obi-Wan  believed what he'd told Anakin, believed it to his core, but that
didn't necessarily make the situation easier. It was an ongoing battle.
So yes. Today's encounter with the press had been excruciating.
 In another... it had been infinitely better than  before.
Because instead of it being aimed only at himself, it had been thrown at Anakin
too.
 And Anakin had been panicking. He'd  needed Obi-Wan.
And again, in the strategy room.
 Obi-Wan had been able to turn himself over to the need to  help.  To comfort.
He forgot himself in order to take care of someone else. Someone who
desperately needed it. And nothing soothed his soul more than that.
But then... right near the end...
It had all broken through and he'd needed to get out. If he didn't feel so
pitiful, he would have been impressed that he'd managed to walkand not runfrom
the room.
As it was, he'd ducked into the nearest empty room with chairs, and fallen into
one.
And... immediately started to doubt himself.
 Should he have left Anakin? Should he have tried a hug? Should he have said
more, said less? Should he have pretended he  didn't notice what Anakin had
been doing? Should he have—
 He didn't know the answers to any of those questions, but he was  sure he'd
messed it up.
 Because he always messed it up. That's why Anakin was struggling now, wasn't
it? It  had to be his fault.
I raised him.
He drew in a deep breath and held it, sinking into a familiar breathing
exercise to try to stave off the panic.
 
* * *
 
Ahsoka followed the turbulence and found Obi-Wan in a darkened consultation
room.
“Master?”
Saying the word, now that Obi-Wan wasn't just aMaster but herMaster, sent a
shiver up her arms. Of gratitude, of grief...
And a promise to be the Padawan he deserved.
Obi-Wan's eyes, focused on the ceiling, dropped to look at her, but he didn't
say a word.
Ahsoka approached slowly, to give him plenty of time to move if he needed
space.
He held still and watched her, his face twisted in discomfort.
The Padawan knelt on the floor beside him. “It was a rowdy bunch today. How are
you feeling?”
She saw him open his mouth to give her an answer designed to make her leave as
soon as possible—
Saw him remember her request he never lie to her about his mind again—
 Remember that choosing to tell her the truth gave him power. Put him back in
control, and he  needed control. He felt powerless at the moment.
A little of the tension in his shoulders eased. “Not well.”
“What do you need from me right now?” Ahsoka asked, hearing Satine's voice
whisper in her mind.
Relief crossed Obi-Wan's face. “I need you to make sure Anakin is safe, since I
can't right now. He was going through the news.”
Ahsoka patted his cold hand and stood. “I will go do that immediately. Do you
think I should send someone else in?”
Obi-Wan blew out a rough gust of air and grimaced. “Master Elvett.”
Ahsoka let her pride in him sing through the Force as she strode from the room.
 Behind her, Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair and wasn't quite sure  why Ahsoka
felt it...
But it stilled some of the raging self-doubt.
 
 
***** Chapter 19 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 
Kenobi was in the way again.
Sidious had entertained hopes that Zygerria might have made him no longer a
threat. Somehow, it had made him even moreof one.
 Sidious  needed Skywalker to be a war hero. And if the war hero went peace-
preaching, it would really frip with the plan. The script had been so  simple.
The Team, heroic and beloved, rescue the venerable Chancellor from the evil
Dooku. Dooku dies in the process... but not before he kills Kenobi. That would
catapult Skywalker from hearthrob darling of the people to anguished savior.
And when the protector of the people who has suffered so much loss stands and
tells them they should make a Chancellor an Emperor, the people's hearts would
cry out to him, and victory be to the Sith.
Anakin, in typical fashion, wasn't doing what he was supposed to do.
 Sidious was still revising the plan in the wake of the Skywalker-betrayed-
Kenobi problem. Oh, it had been very satisfying, of course. Sidious had long
wished  somebody would put the scrawny Jedi in his place.  Force , unimportant,
as far from a child of prophecy as possible,  weak , it was astounding Kenobi
had been such a thorn in his side for so  long .
 But now Sidious had a  bigger problem than before.
Kenobi was mending his relationship with Skywalker.
 That was fine; that could play into the original script again. Sidious might
not have to  reinvent the whole thing. Which would be nice. He  had been
perfecting it for the last thirteen years, and it would be a shame to rush a
new script.
 What  wasn't alright was the twist Kenobi had thrown into the mess.
So like him.
So many Jedi were so focused on the Living Force that they completely missed
the eddies of darkness that Sidious couldn't quite erase. He was a born
chameleon, it's part of the reason Plagueis had chosen him. He was the only
individual in the galaxy who could hide right under the noses of the Jedi
Council.
But Kenobi lived and breathed the Cosmic Force. Whispers of how the puzzle
pieces fit together on the largest of scales danced through that accursed head,
and if he'd been allowed to chase after them, thirteen years ago on Naboo, he
might have unraveled the secret.
 Thank the  Force for Qui-Gon Jinn.
 Sidious hadn't realized at the time the danger he'd been put in. The Padawan
was so quiet and unassuming that his talent hadn't been readily recognizable.
Sidious had assumed that someone so bound to the Living Force as Qui-Gon would
have an apprentice of the same caliber. It had made them the  perfect pair to
investigate the Trade Federation, since Valorum  would send Jedi. They'd be
caught up in the moment, never realize something larger was happening.
 But the apprentice  wasn't  a mini Qui-Gon Jinn.
 And he'd sniffed  trap from the beginning.
 Fortunately, Qui-Gon had felt the need to stomp on Obi-Wan's gift. Hadn't been
willing to acknowledge that the Jedi Order needed  both kinds of Jedi.
And even more fortunately, Obi-Wan wasn't Anakin.
Instead of resenting Qui-Gon's direction and going his own path...
He'd listened. Obeyed.
Let it go.
 And now here they all were.  So close to victory.
 So close to  power.
Kenobi's link to the Cosmic Force had messed things up on Naboo months ago.
Skywalker had been almost ready to turn. He'd seized Dooku's throat, and the
rage and hatred in him was  ready. Palpatine stood by and waited for the
inevitable. The script would alter— Skywalker would turn  first , then wait,
and rescue Palpatine from  Grievous instead  of the already-dead Dooku. Kenobi
still dying aboard the Invisible Hand.
And if Kenobi had been a Living Force fiend, he would have gone back home to
Coruscant after the whole “botched” kidnapping plot.
 But he  hadn't .
 Because he'd sensed there was  more.  That the kidnapping hadn't been the
point. That the kidnapping had been  trappings to stretch Skywalker to the
breaking point, then isolate him, and present him with Dooku to kill.
 He didn't figure out  all of that, of course, but he put enough together to
come running to his apprentice's aid.
And so the fall of Anakin Skywalker had to be deferred.
Kenobi.
 And now,  again. Looking at the vast picture instead of the little one. The
Jedi fought in the war because more innocents would die if they refrained than
if they took charge. They fought in the war because they couldn't leave the
clones alone, couldn't watch a slave army die for the Republic without standing
side-by-side with those slaves, suffering the same lot as them.
 But Kenobi saw the picture. He saw that they  couldn't abandon either the
contested planets or the clones...
But also...
That Jedi could be in multiple places at once.
 And that the war needed to end... but not by  violence.
That kind of massive, multi-dimensional thinking was a problem.
 Not because it could unravel the plan. No. This war had never been about what
the  people wanted. Dooku had everything under control on his side, and Sidious
would manipulate the Senate. No. Even if Kenobi had the people clamoring for
peace, it wouldn't  accomplish anything.
 But it  could still wreck things if Kenobi turned  Skywalker into a  protester
instead of a  war hero. The people would forgive him his scandal if he fought
for them. As long as he still cut the image of a hero.
Anything else was not acceptable.
 Sidious wanted the  hero to add legitimacy to his takeover and Jedi purge.
 So he found himself facing down  another Jedi tuned into the Cosmic Force.
This one didn't pretend to be polite. This one, like Kenobi, didn't trust
Palpatine.
 But this one didn't care to  hide it.
“Master Windu. Have you any idea of the uproar the Senate is in right now?”
The Jedi looked down at him, unsympathetic. “It usually is. They might get
bored otherwise.”
“I assure you, it is no laughing matter,” Palpatine said, trying to make his
voice sound as grave as possible.
It didn't move the man standing before him.
Mace Windu did to Sidious what Anakin Skywalker did to the Council.
“Why didn't Master Yoda come? I specifically asked for him.” Palpatine stifled
his annoyance.
“He's currently tied up by other matters.” Mace kept watching him with those
infuriatingly indifferent eyes.
 “Perhaps reinstating young Skywalker into the war effort would  help. ”
“I though the Senate wanted him locked away,” Mace answered coolly.
 “Fortunately I was able to make them see reason. The situation clearly wasn't
what it  seemed to be. Masters Kenobi and Skywalker were on an undercover
mission. Deception to its core. And with the Separatist army gaining ever more
ground, we need our prize Generals back.”
“I hate to disappoint you, Chancellor, but I don't think the likelihood of
convincing them to return is very high.”
He hated it, did he?
 What  Sidious hated was the way Windu patronized. The way he blatantly just
didn't care to observe the niceties of politics. Yoda, at least, knew how to
pretend to be polite.
 “It would be one thing if they were on furlough to recover, but with General
Kenobi traipsing about the galaxy running errands that, forgive me, but  any
Jedi of far  less caliber could accomplish-- and not just that, but  denouncing
the war—”
“I thought you were opposed to the war as well, Chancellor.”
 Oh, the  mockery in his voice.
If anyone was going to figure Sidious out, it was going to be Mace Windu.
He always thought the worst of people.
 “I  am, but the depredations of the Separatists must not go unchecked.”
“We are checking them. We're just doing it without Kenobi and Skywalker.”
 “I don't see the  point , Master Jedi.”
Mace came very close to shrugging. The  insolence of it!
 “Chancellor, the Jedi were never meant to be soldiers. We agreed to lead the
clones for multiple very sound reasons. However, that was never meant to be a
long-term solution. Obi-Wan is just exploring other options. A little something
called  peace. ”
 “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to recall Master Kenobi at once. We
simply cannot do without him and Skywalker.”  There . That should—
Windu matched his tone. “I'm afraid Master Kenobi has gone a bit rogue and
isn't answering to the Council at the moment.”
 Palpatine narrowed his eyes. He was  sure the man was lying. Why didn't the
Jedi Code forbid lying? It would make things so much more  straightforward —
“I'm sorry, I was under the impression he still held a position  on the
Council.”
 “So you see why we've been trying to keep the situation quiet, then,” Windu
offered, a sorrowful expression on his face that Palpatine knew Windu  knew
wasn't deceiving the leader of the Senate. “The trauma he has suffered  will
have effects on even the healthiest mind. Our hope is that he will come to his
senses sooner rather than later and return to us. All we can do is wait for him
to snap out of this fog.”
 For the love of  hell.
They were the only two people in Palpatine's office, and it would save a  world
of time if they would just  speak plainly to one another.
 However,  I'm the Sith Lord, I want your Chosen One, and I need Kenobi here so
I can destroy him and drive Skywalker into the darkness would just open up a
whole new set of problems, and the timing wasn't right.
 He had to  wait.
He had to  pretend to care, and in response Windu would  pretend to trust him
and  pretend to comply with his demands.
Sidious really hoped he'd get to kill Windu personally.
“Sorry as I am to say it,” Palpatine mourned, “we can't afford to give Master
Kenobi that kind of leniency. We simply do not have the time and resources.”
 Windu spread his hands in a show of helplessness. “It's not about what we will
give him, it's about what he will  take. He was the apprentice of Qui-Gon Jinn,
after all.”
And I happen to know for a fact  that ninety-eight percent of Jinn's
“unsanctioned” activities had Yoda's unsaid permission  all over them. Rogue
Jedi my ass.
But it was a good way to be able to operate without the Senate's approval.
Yoda had a few of those “uncooperative” Jedi in the Order.
“We can't control them,” had been the usual excuse. The Council washed its
hands of whichever rogue was in trouble, the rogue continued their actions,
Yoda gloated, and Sidious glowered.
Most people were just too dumb to see through the compliant mask of the Jedi
Council.
Jedi were far too tied up in their consciences to bend them at the demand of
the Senate. They always found ways around the rules to do “what's right.”
Frightfully inconvenient.
 The Zillo Beast incident had been just  one example. One  very large example.
Of course...
Sidious felt that might still turn out for the best.
 “I flatter myself by considering myself to be a friend of Master Kenobi, and I
happen to believe he has much more regard for the Council than his former
Master did.”  Banthakark. Pure banthakark. Just get this over with. “I'm sure
that if you applied a little pressure, he would yield to the Council's
collective wisdom.”
“We will try, Chancellor, but I cannot promise success,” Windu lied happily.
“Master Kenobi can be very unreasonable, as any friend of his knows.”
 How much longer would Sidious have to put  up with this?
Soon. Soon it will be over, he promised himself.
 But he could only  keep that promise if he could maneuver Skywalker to where
he needed to be. And right now, the boy was out of reach.
As the door slid shut behind Windu, Sidious sat at his desk and stewed.
Kenobi wasn't coming back soon. That much was clear.
I will just have to shift the time-table closer.
Young Skywalker would start having nightmares tonight.
It would have been better if it was Padmé trying to field the dreams, rather
than Kenobi...
 But Skywalker wasn't supposed to know about the pregnancy until later too. His
future apprentice had certainly thrown a wrench in the works with the Zygerria
stunt. First thing Vader was going to learn? How to  follow a plan.
 
* * *
 
“It doesn't feel right.”
Ahsoka, standing in the corner, leaned against the wall, crossing her arms.
This vantage point allowed her to keep watch on all three faces— both her
Masters', and Korkie's.
The door was closed, the clones warned not to disturb, and Ahsoka had the Mind-
Healer ready to join the party the moment Ahsoka gave a warning signal.
 The three at the table  didn't know about that.
Ahsoka had her comlink tucked in the palm of her hand, hidden. A simple click
of her thumb, and help would be here.
 “I don't get it,” Anakin grumbled. “ I'm the one at stake here, and  you don't
feel comfortable sharing information that might help  me ?”
 Korkie drew in a breath, his shoulders squared, his head came up. There was a
glare in his eyes that Ahsoka recognized from her time on Mandalore. It was a
gesture of silent fury that his Aunt had used. “My problems with you as a
person are  not why I'm hesitating.”
From here, Ahsoka could see Obi-Wan's hand move under the table to rest on
Anakin's knee. A steadying pressure. The older Jedi didn't look at his former
apprentice, didn't seem to notice his glowering.
If you were sitting at the table.
 Which was another reason Ahsoka  wasn't.
“Why does it feel wrong, Korkie?” Obi-Wan asked, patient.
Always so patient.
 Ahsoka wondered if she would be that gentle a personality when  she had a
Padawan.  Or will I be short-tempered?
She had no idea.
 “It's...  Kryze business. And I'm sure you all mean well, but— even other
Mandalorians aren't allowed to hear these things. It would be one thing for
you , because you're practically an honorary Kryze anyway, but the others
aren't.  I'm sorry, Ahsoka, General Skywalker, but it feels  wrong to share
Kryze lore with you.”
“I understand, Korkie. There is knowledge that the Jedi are not swift to share
with outsiders either.”
“But you still want me to talk.” Korkie grimaced.
 Ahsoka could sense Anakin's frustration overheating again. He'd always
preferred to menace information out of people instead of coax it. It worked,
most of the time, but Ahsoka had seen Obi-Wan end up with far  more knowledge
by working  with the person.
Oftentimes a scared, angry person left things out, whether intentionally or
not.
Things that could be useful.
 Obi-Wan's fingers tightened again, and Anakin threw himself back in his chair,
trying to let out the steam  without using words. Or wrecking the room using
the Force. Korkie watched him with a wary glower.
And just a hint of his total lack of respect for Anakin Skywalker.
Ahsoka hoped Anakin wouldn't take too much offense over it. Knew that was
unlikely.
Wondered if Satine would be pounding her head against the wall over the feud
trying to form between her two sons.
“Korkie, did your Aunt care about Anakin?”
Korkie slumped in his seat. “Very much.”
Ahsoka felt Anakin's jolt of shock, even though he tried to hide it from his
much younger nemesis.
“Would she have wanted us to know everything we could about his current
condition?” Obi-Wan continued, still gentle.
“Probably.”
“Would she have put tradition before Anakin?”
 Korkie sighed. “Tradition was still very important to her. She just made  new
ones instead of old ones.”
Obi-Wan gave him a nod and waited.
“It would be easier if they would leave,” Korkie finally said.
 Anakin scoffed. “If Obi-Wan's just going to tell us later, what  difference
does it make? Just  spit it out —”
Obi-Wan's fingers spasmed closed so hard Anakin yelped and shot forward in his
seat, no longer lounging. He reached under the table to try to dislodge the
appendages causing the severe pain.
Obi-Wan relented.
Korkie eyed them, the spark of amusement that lurked behind the grim
stubbornness suggesting he'd guessed what had happened.
“Korkie, you said you feel that I'm almost a Kryze,” Obi-Wan spoke up. “You've
told me in the past that Satine shared with you that she felt Anakin was our
son and Ahsoka our granddaughter.”
 Anakin forgot all about his crushed knee.  “What the hell?” skittered across
his bond with both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, an accident.
Obi-Wan ignored it.
Korkie nodded reluctantly.
“I know Satine didn't use Mando'a often at home, but perhaps she used Basic for
this. Did she ever use a truism about family and blood?”
 “Aliit ori'shya taldiin,” the boy murmured. “She never spoke Mando'a to me,
but I've heard it a lot since she died. It's how they justified wanting to kill
me, even though I'm Bo-Katan's nephew. I'm just blood, I'm not  family .”
Another understanding nod from the Jedi Master. “And what are we?”
“Auntie considered you family. That makes you family to me.”
“All of us?”
Korkie glanced over at Ahsoka, then Anakin.
“Don't look so antagonizing,” Ahsoka growled to Anakin.
 Anakin adjusted his expression to be just a  little less vicious. Just enough
to have complied... but still manage to be massively passive aggressive.
 What was  with him?
And then she realized.
Obi-Wan had claimed Korkie.
A boy with a self-control Anakin had never possessed. A boy who appreciated
holobooks, knew how to be polite, could speak well, carried himself like a
prince minus the arrogance, and who treated Obi-Wan like every word the Jedi
said was worth serious consideration.
A boy... from the woman Obi-Wan had loved.
Now Anakin's aggression made sense.
 Anakin thought Korkie was the new  him.
 A  better him.
The thoughts fell together in two-point-three seconds standard. Plenty of time
for her to send Anakin a message before Korkie replied to Obi-Wan's question.
“He's not taking your place with Obi-Wan.”
“He's not ?” came back the caustic reply.  “He's Obi-Wan's chance to erase me.”
Ahsoka glared at him.
Korkie's gaze found Obi-Wan's again. “All of you.”
“If everyone in this room is family, does that make us clan?” Obi-Wan asked,
ignoring Anakin's sneers.
Baby steps. Ahsoka couldn't help but admire Obi-Wan's careful steppingstones.
She had no doubt he would draw Korkie to his viewpoint.
He just had to take small enough steps.
 “We're clan,” Korkie explored, “but we're not all  Kryzes. ”
“Then all we have left to determine is whether family is more than blood.”
Knowledge flooded Korkie's face, followed swiftly by admiration.
Anakin saw it, and turned even more sour.
Grow up, please  grow up, Ahsoka begged, careful to not let him hear her
thought. It would only inflame the situation, and she needed to be a mediator.
A  calming influence. She focused on her breathing, on relaxing her clenched
shoulders, on keeping her expression passive.
 Obi-Wan somehow sat there, to all appearances blissfully unaware of Anakin's
attitude, in spite of the fact that Ahsoka  knew it was paining him. There was
a tiny glitch in the Force that was as loud as a scream if you took the time to
look for it.
And Korkie was rising to the occasion, meeting the high bar Obi-Wan set.
 Which left Anakin being the uncivil one. The...  only ... uncivil one.
Which made him all the more sullen, because it threw him in all kinds of bad
light.
“Alright. What questions do you have?” Korkie asked.
 Anakin leaned forward. “Let's start with why the hell  Mandalorians would know
something about the Jedi that the Jedi  don't .” His entire affect suggested
this was an interrogation and he was grilling a suspect.
 Whom he  would find guilty.
“Ease up.” Ahsoka almost smiled when she heard Obi-Wan's mental voice say the
words the same time she did, making her voice and his almost blend.
Korkie didn't look at all intimidated. His chin came up just a little more, he
looked Anakin in the eye, and he said, “I would prefer it if Uncle Ben asked
the questions.”
 A flash of panic jolted through Anakin's Force, and his head spun around to
see Obi-Wan's face. Not finding shock or rejection, Anakin sat back again,
opting to try an  I-don't-care facade.
Not that he was fooling anybody.
 “ Uncle Ben ?” Anakin mocked. “You think he's going to let you get away with a
nickname so ridiculous?”
Korkie watched him coolly, knowing he had already won this one.
Obi-Wan looked exhausted.
“Obi-Wan. Tell the kid. Tell him he's overstepping and needs to dial it way
down.” Anakin threw his former Master an expectant look.
Obi-Wan didn't look at him.
 “Obi-Wan?” Anakin's confidence wavered. “ Frip, Obi-Wan, he's been here less
than two weeks!”
“Anakin, it's what Satine—”
 “You've known him for all of  two weeks and you're already Uncle. How long is
it going to take before he's calling you  Father ? Huh? Is the time period the
same, or is  shorter ?”
“Anakin—”
Anakin shoved up and away from the table, knocking his chair over.
Ahsoka clicked her comlink and stepped forward.
Korkie held his ground, still sitting.
 It didn't help, because he somehow had a regal bearing that said he didn't
need to stand in order to hold his own with Anakin Skywalker...
And that only infuriated the Jedi worse, even though Ahsoka was fairly certain
Korkie was quite firmly scared.
But his Aunt had raised him.
And she'd done a thorough job of teaching him how to not cower before someone
who was more powerful than you.
In this moment, Korkie looked far more in control of the entire situation than
Anakin.
 And Anakin  saw it.
 And, being Anakin, somehow didn't see that the only way to  regain control
would be to control  himself.  To sit back down, stop yelling, and match
Korkie, cool confidence to cool confidence.
But no.
Anakin's bid to regain control was going to be loud.
Ahsoka moved closer.
 “Do you have  any idea how long I've called you  Dad in my head?” Anakin
snarled at Obi-Wan. “And am  I allowed to use the word?  No. This random  kid
shows up, and suddenly — ”
Obi-Wan seemed to curl in on himself.
Master Elvett slipped into the room and sent Ahsoka a nod. “Korkie? There's a
comm for you. School stuff.”
Korkie rose, sent Anakin an arched eyebrow, walked around the table, and paused
by Obi-Wan's side. He hesitated, looking back at Anakin.
Ahsoka could see protectiveness written all over the movement.
Korkie didn't want to leave Obi-Wan in the same room as Anakin. An individual
he did not trust wouldn't become violent. Because clearly, Master Skywalker had
as much control over himself as an incontinent old-timer.
Oh, boy.
 The image was  so clear.
Ahsoka was moving the same instant as Anakin.
She needn't have bothered.
Obi-Wan was out of his seat and nose-to-nose with his former Padawan.
He didn't say a word.
 Ahsoka inwardly  begged Korkie to leave.
The young Mandalorian watched the two for half a second, glanced at Ahsoka and
the Mind-Healer, seemed to decide that Obi-Wan had backup, and left the room.
The door slid shut behind him.
Ahsoka felt a massive wave of relief.
Still Anakin didn't move. And then his gaze tracked down, and he realized Obi-
Wan was trembling.
Anakin took two steps back, out of Obi-Wan's personal space.
 Obi-Wan seemed to collapse back into his chair. “Force, Anakin, he was willing
to have a truce.  Must it be war?”
 “He's a  random kid who's only important because  Satine left him for you — ”
 “ You were simply a  random kid until Qui-Gon left  you .” Obi-Wan slammed his
flattened palm against the top of the table with a resounding  crack . “ Why do
you hate Korkie so much? You should  feel for him!”
Anakin went pale. “You do see us as the same,” he whispered.
“What?” Obi-Wan ran a shaking hand through his hair, clearly bewildered.
 Ahsoka looked to the Mind-Healer, but Elvett mouthed the word  wait.
 “You're throwing me away for little- perfect- boy. I didn't turn out right, so
you're starting over with better stock.”
Anger flooded the room, sharp and dark.
It knocked the wind out of Ahsoka, and she saw Anakin sway under the weight of
it, absolutely stunned.
 “How  dare you say that to me,” Obi-Wan murmured, eyes blazing. “I do  not
only have room in my heart for  one son. As for your fears: Korkie will never
call me  Father. It's not how he sees me.  Satine trained him to call me Uncle
Ben, and he  asked me if I would accept it. You never  asked to call me Dad.
Don't you  dare take your guilt out on  him—  he's just lost  everything. You
should have  compassion for him. Given  you are the one responsible, I think
it's only fair you should do what you can to make this  easier for him, not  as
hard as possible.  He  just decided to put aside years of tradition to try to
help  you, and you try to scare him as a thank-you.  Clearly you feel
threatened by him, but I can't for the life of me figure out  why since you're
here. Because I wanted you  here. Because I wanted to give us a second chance.
But instead of showing me I made a good decision, you turn into a  bully to
pick on someone who is smaller and weaker than yourself. How safe is that
supposed to make me feel?”
Anakin couldn't look him in the eye.
Horror flooded Obi-Wan's face as he recognized the darkness that swirled around
himself. Saw his own fury.
He bolted.
The Mind-Healer jerked her chin and Ahsoka raced after him, while Elvett moved
to intercept a now-shuddering Anakin.
 
* * *
 
Ahsoka followed, as silently as she could, until Obi-Wan stopped running.
Apparently he had realized he couldn't get away from her.
He turned so fast she nearly ran into him.
Words tumbled out of his mouth, anguished and terrified. “I'm turning into
him.”
Again the urge to hug.
Ahsoka shoved it mercilessly aside. “Master,” she simply said. No remonstrance,
no dissent.
Simply the word, spoken with a quiet calm that he immediately latched hold of.
 “Force,  Force, I've made it worse again. I yelled at him. I wrecked him, and
I can't get it right even now — ”
 “Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Ahsoka blurted, losing her plan in her shock. “What
do you mean, you  wrecked him?”
 “I shouldn't have been the one to train him. I was barely a knight —  I
wouldn't have been a knight but for the fact I defeated Maul. I didn't even
kill him. They  thought I killed him. My knighthood was a farce. I wasn't
ready, and I definitely wasn't ready to train someone as powerful and important
as him. I made every mistake in the book. It should have been Yoda. I was
arrogant, I thought I could train him, IV”
“ Master , you gave it your  best. You gave  him your  best.  That's all
anyone can do, even Master Yoda — ”
 “My best wasn't  good enough, ” Obi-Wan whispered, eyes wide with pain. “He is
what I made him.”
“No. That's not the way it works, Obi-Wan. Children don't end up how the
parents wanted or anticipated.”
“You aren't—”
 “ Listen to me, Obi-Wan. Your training was important, yes. His surroundings
impacted him. Of course. But in the end, only  Anakin can decide what  Anakin
does. And who are we kidding? He  always has. He only obeyed you when it was
his idea anyway. Obi-Wan, if a perfect parent was required for a kid to turn
out okay,  no-one would  ever turn out okay. You give them what you can, and
then it's up to  them. ”
 He shook his head. “You don't understand. You've never  been one before.
Besides. The current situation  is my fault. I should never have goaded him. I
shouldn't have lied to him. I should have found  another way to rescue the
Togrutan colonists — ”
 “ Hey, ” Ahsoka soothed. “After  every mission we look back and see things
with hindsight that we couldn't see in the middle. It's easy to judge ourselves
using the clarity we get with distance, but it's  wrong. ”
 “This all happened because I goaded him.”
“No. This happened because Anakin chose to let it happen. You did what you
thought you had to do at the time. Whether you would do it again, knowing what
you do now, is another question entirely. You are  not responsible for what
happened to you. You did  not bring it down on your head, you did  not deserve
it, you do not — ”
 “But I  knew how angry he gets. No. I didn't. But I knew  enough.  Yes, he has
blame, certainly, but I created the cage and stepped into it.”
 “I suppose you think what the Zygerrians did was your fault too.” Ahsoka
struggled to keep the scowl from her face. “ Master— ”
“Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon should have trained him.” Obi-Wan turned away from her.
“I'm sure he wouldn't want you to think—”
 “You didn't know him. No. He would tell me I have failed. He would have been
honest with me, unlike all of you. He would never have tried to tell me  other
than that I was a failure. It should have been me who fell on Naboo, but I
failed him  then, too.”
 “You are not  guilty by right of  survival! Haven't you been listening to
anything the Mind-Healer has said?”
He snorted a laugh through his nose. “The Mind-Healer is trying to keep me from
attempting suicide again.”
It was the first time he'd said the word aloud. It froze Ahsoka's blood.
“You're not seriously thinking—”
“No. Failing once at that was quite enough.”
 “ Listen to me, Master. Your own worst critic is  you. ”
“Only because Qui-Gon is dead.”
 “I don't believe that. I've heard people say he was very  kind— ”
 Obi-Wan laughed again. A hollow, empty sound. “Yes. He took in every stray he
came across. Except for me. I wasn't worth rescuing. I wonder if he knew,  even
then knew what I'd become. Knew I wasn't worth it.”
 “What are you  talking about? You were his  Padawan— ”
 “He rejected me. Again... and again... until I nearly died for him. And then
he took me. And when he found Anakin... well, Anakin had more potential. Anakin
had power, would gain a strength I could never hope to touch, and Anakin was
the Chosen One. So Master Jinn recommended me for the trials. I wasn't ready. I
wouldn't have passed. That didn't matter. His eyes were elsewhere. The first I
heard of it was before the Council, when the highest praise he could give me
was  'he's competent.' ”
Ahsoka winced.
 “No. Qui-Gon would never have coddled me the way all of you keep trying to.
And Anakin thinks I'm replacing him. How the  frip can he  think that?” Obi-
Wan's despondency froze to disbelieving anger.
 “Listen, he has self-esteem issues that  almost match yours. Though I'm
thinking yours trump just about any case I've ever seen.”
 “ Master. ”
Ahsoka looked around, found Anakin hurrying towards them, looking penitent.
She wondered what the Mind-Healer had said.
Anakin reached them. “Obi-Wan. I'm sorry. Korkie scares me.”
 Ahsoka did her best to hide her shock from the Force and her face. She hadn't
expected him to be quite so honest about it. Clearly the Mind-Healer had said
something impressive .
Obi-Wan's scowl was fading.
 “It's just... I look at Korkie, and I look at  me ... how I was at that age...
and how I am now... and I can't imagine  how you could want me, when he's
here.”

Obi-Wan's shoulders sagged. “Oh, Anakin.”
And then he was suffering through another hug, doing his best to return it with
the warmth expected. Ahsoka watched the intense discomfort in his face, and
suddenly realized just how much he hatedhugs.
And how much he lovedAnakin.
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Mando'a Guide:
     Aliit ori'shya tal'din (Pronounced /ah-LEET or-EESH-yeah tal-DEEN/) =
     Family is more important than blood
***** Chapter 20 *****
 
“Ahsoka? Ahsoka! What's wrong?”
Somehow the Padawan looked up at her former Master.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she should ask how the second
attempt with Korkie had gone, since she'd been called away for a comm from the
Temple at the beginning and missed the discussion.
But she couldn't bring herself to care.
Not right now.
“Barriss is dead.”
Anakin cringed in sympathy. “Force, Ahsoka, I'm sorry. What happened?”
“The war. Too many droids. Got trapped, reinforcements couldn't get there in
time.” Ahsoka suspected she might not be very coherent, and wasn't sure it
mattered. So many Jedi had fallen in the last two and a half years... but none
quite this close to her.
Ahsoka felt the moment when her new Master caught hint of her grief in the
Force.
It didn't take long before he reached her.
Anakin engulfed her in a hug, and Obi-Wan cradled her mind, grieving for her
and with her.
Two very different sensations...
But with both combined, Ahsoka thought she might make it through this.
She needed both.
She'd tried pushing Anakin away, had taken on the role of Obi-Wan's protector
and advocate...
But she needed Anakin Skywalker in her life.
So she let him hold her as she cried, and clung to Obi-Wan's quiet, loving
signature in the Force.
The three of them, a unit against the storm.
 
* * *
 
“Whatwere you thinking?”
 “This has  as much to do with  us   as it does with him.” Fives had that
stubborn look on his face that his brothers knew so well.
“I think he's right,” Jesse chimed in. “It's not eavesdropping when it's
something you need to hear.”
Tup frowned. “I'm not sure that's how it works—”
  “It's   spying.   On our   commanding officers  ,” Rex protested again,
feeling like the only voice of reason in this room. Even   Cody   was just
standing over there, pretending to not hear what was going on instead of
stopping   it.
  What had discipline   come   to these days?
  “The kid called it a Crimson Force-signature. Basically, a long time ago— a
really   long time ago—”
Tup shook his head. “What? You mean like thirty years?”
Wooley's eyes widened. That was over twice how long any of them had been alive.
  “I'm talking   longer  ,” Fives said, his voice dropping to give emphasis.
“Hundreds—   thousands   of years longer.”
  “  Thousands  .” Wooley sat back, trying to comprehend it. “Was General Yoda
around?”
  “Nah. Before even   him.   Anyway. There were Jedi in love, and some of them
were like General Kenobi and some were like General Skywalker. The Duchess
called it selfless and selfish.”
Rex winced again. Satine. His brothers talked about her as much— or more— now
that she was dead than before. The Mother who died.
Some of his brothers even believed she was watching over them from whatever
afterlife there might be.
Rex didn't believe a word of it. He didn't believe in much these days. There
was duty. There were orders.
His men were losing discipline. So were Cody's. But Cody wasn't trying to rein
it in.. and Rex didn't seem able to. He wondered when he'd lost his authority.
When his brothers had stopped listening to him.
He wondered if alcohol helped like civvies claimed. He might have to look into
that. The thought had never attracted him before.
  “So apparently General Kenobi and Commander Tano and just about every Jedi in
the galaxy has a signature that's sort of like looking into the heart of a
star. It's selflessness that makes it that way. And self  ish  ness makes it
the other way. And apparently his wasn't always that color, because nobody's
born like that. And it can go away, if he makes decisions that help others
instead of himself. Though it's only likely to go away completely if something
big happens and he responds like a Jedi instead of looking out for himself
first.”
“What happened that long time ago?” Tup asked.
  “Apparently, something really, really bad. For a really long time— over two
hundred years. That's why Jedi don't throw the word   love   around much,
because it's one word that gets used for   both   kinds. They ended up really
burned and a bit gun-shy over the word. So they called the selfish stuff
attachment,   and they tried to describe the   selfless   thing using any word
but   love.   So all that talk about the value of life, compassion, putting
others' needs first, forgiveness, nurturing, loyalty, willing to take a blaster
bolt for someone— that's what they were talking about.”
  “There were a lot of Jedi who looked like General Skywalker back in the day?
In the Force?”
“Yeah. A   lot.   And it was too easy to assume someone meant the   selfless
stuff when they really meant the other thing, when the word   love   is used.
They decided that instead of being   told   it, they wanted to be   shown
it.”
  “I could get that,” Boil grumbled. “Words are cheep.”
Rex squinted at him. Hell. Boil looked almost as bad as   he   did.
Cody had been badgering Rex to go see the mind-caretakers. Or, if he couldn't
stand to let a brother help, then the Jedi Mind-Healer.
Rex just couldn't find enough effort to care to go.
Cody told him he was behaving like General Kenobi.
Maybe he would listen to Cody. He'd probably try the Jedi, not a brother.
No. No, definitely not. Not the Jedi. He'd go for the clone equivalent. Maybe a
brother could make sense of the nightmares he'd been having.
  “What's so bad about selfish love?   Attachment  , they call it?” Jesse
asked. “I mean, isn't that what most people have? From the Duchess'
descriptions, I'd say that most people love   that   way.”
Fives shrugged. “If it's not hurting anybody, the Jedi don't care. As long as
it's not a person who's got other people's lives and happiness on the line. So
if General Skywalker wants to keep the selfishness part of it, then he's
welcome to, as long as he's no longer representing the Republic. If he gives up
that authority.”
“Would he have to stop using the Force?” Kix wondered.
Fives shook his head. “No. But he'd have to give up the lightsaber, because
lightsabers are a symbol of authority. It's like a badge. He can't be the
automatic commanding officer when he walks in a room. He's got to be a
volunteer. Same as the rest of the people in the galaxy. General Kenobi said
something about how Jedi only allow selflessness in their ranks so that the
rest of the universe is free to love selfishly. That they can do so in safety.
Somebody has to look out for them.”
Now Cody angled himself towards the conversation. Rex saw the movement out of
the corner of his eye.
“So what's he going to do? Is he going to try to think about others more than
himself, or is he going to leave?” the 212th's Commander asked.
And now Fives looked sober. “He didn't say.”
 
* * *
 
Korkie studied the massive holomap, just a little envious of the kids around
him.
It was hard to resent them, though, when they treated him with so much respect.
 He was twice their age  and couldn't tap into something they all had been able
to manipulate from babyhood. He'd been sure there would have to be  some kind
of effort towards bullying at some point. It would have been inevitable at the
Academy back on Mandalore.
Korkie was astounded by the kindness that surrounded him. Apparently, the Jedi
took full advantage of the younger years, and by this age, those principles
were fairly well settled.
He was accepted, and when he asked for help in catching up, they assisted with
no sign of arrogance or condescension.
 He'd heard of one bully.  One.
But that kid wasn't in any of the same classes as Korkie.
 He had no doubt that the  one would seek him out eventually, but he felt
rather optimistic about the whole thing.
 Life wasn't  bad here by any stretch of the imagination. The gardens were
gorgeous, the library  massive, the teachers, some of the best in the galaxy
and among the most patient, and the food was amazing.
The only thing that would have made it better would be if Lagos was still alive
and here.
Or if Amis and Soniee hadn't defected to the resurrected Mandalore.
 
* * *
 
Anakin, just out of the holo pickup's range, almost didn't breathe as he
listened to the beloved voice.
“How long are you going to be back for?”
“I don't know.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “We're running supplies out to the
slums on Coruscant's moons. It could take a few days, longer if we find
something that needs fixing.”
Anakin felt the rumble of the engines as the Blockade Runner came to rest on
solid ground. Silently, he urged the clone pilots to stay back, to give Padmé
time...
“I just... I don't know, Obi-Wan. To be honest, I don't understand how you
could take him back so easily.”
Obi-Wan nearly choked, but he didn't say anything.
 Anakin cowered back a little further.  Easy has nothing to do with it, he
knew.
“Nobody's expecting you to take him back at this point. All he's asking is to
be allowed to see you. For just a little while, on your terms.”
Padmé hesitated.
 She was  so beautiful. Anakin could barely stand it. And she looked so
grim...
“I don't know, Obi-Wan.”
“What about by holo? That way you aren't in the same room?”
 Anakin's heart skipped a beat. What was Obi-Wan  doing ? Could he be angling
towards Anakin speaking to Padmé  now ? Panic seized his throat. If that
happened, what was he going to  say to her? What  could he say to her—
“No. I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I want to watch from a distance awhile longer first.
I'm just not ready.” Nervous dread crossed her face. “He's... not going to lose
patience with me and show up in my apartment one of these nights, is he?”
Even through the comm, Anakin could sense her jumpiness and fear.
 Fear of walking around  her own home.
He bit the inside of his lip.
Tasted blood.
“I promise he will respect your boundaries,” Obi-Wan said. So quiet. So
earnest.
He believes that. He believes in me. How can he?
Force, he loved Obi-Wan.
I'm really unreasonable a lot of the time, probably.
He would have to make it up to him.
He was still standing there musing when the call ended and a knock at the
outside hatch announced a visitor. Obi-Wan crossed the room and answered the
door.
“Can I help—” Obi-Wan's voice stuttered, failed—
And then the hatch was slammed closed, and Obi-Wan was on the far side of the
room, moving with the speed of a scared tooka.
 “Force,  Obi-Wan ?” Anakin yelped, springing to his side.
His Master looked up at him, eyes wide, body trembling.
Terrified.
And frozen.
Ankain lunged for the door, lightsaber out, and threw the hatch open. He hadn't
sensed danger. Why hadn't he sensed danger?
 The man standing there stumbled back with a curse, and now terror was bleeding
off of  him in waves.
Anakin searched for a weapon, for a—
And then paused.
A middle-aged colonist.
Hands roughened through years of working the soil. The strong but unimaginative
clothes of a farmer. Lines of care worn in the forehead and around the eyes. A
gentleness in those eyes that had Anakin returning the blue plasma to the hilt.
 It would be hard to find someone more harmless than this. This was one of the
people they'd come to  help.
Anakin looked back at Obi-Wan, curled in the corner, arms around his head,
trying to breathe.
“Uhhh—” he threw the bewildered farmer an apologetic glance. “Hang on a minute.
Somebody will be out in a minute to help.”
“What did I do?” the man asked.
Anakin shook his head. “Nothing. You did nothing.”
He shut the door and walked over to his former Master. “Obi-Wan?”
The older Jedi was murmuring incoherently to himself.
“Master?” Anakin crouched down beside him. “Can you hear me?”
The Force shuddered with the weight of Obi-Wan's torment.
 No. Obi-Wan was  not hearing him.
Anakin reached out, placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. “Hey. Come back.
It's me. You're safe, I promise.”
Obi-Wan flinched at the touch.
“You're not there anymore,” Anakin promised. “It's okay, Obi-Wan.”
Slowly, Obi-Wan pulled out of his flashback, the panic attack slowly easing,
pulling its claws loose from his guts.
Tears slipped down Obi-Wan's cheeks as he realized what had happened.
 “Hey.” Anakin pulled him into his arms and patted his shoulder awkwardly.
“Remember what the Mind-Healer said. It's normal. We'll get past this. I
promise. ”
“He didn't do anything wrong ,” Obi-Wan sobbed. “He's one of the people we're
supposed to  help —”
“You didn't do anything wrong. And you recovered  really fast, Obi-Wan. That's
a  good thing—”
 “I just fell apart like a—  terrified youngling —”
Anakin felt waves of relief as he saw movement from the other parts of the
ship. “Listen, Obi-Wan, you don't have to deal with him. Okay? The clones and I
can handle it. He'll get the help he needs. But you don't have to be part of
that.”
And outside, the Zygerrian who lived his life independent of and mostly
ignoring galactic events, wondered what it was about himself that could have
possibly sent a Jedi fleeing in revulsion and fear.
 
* * *
 
News of the exploits of Kenobi filtered through the haze of war talk.
His efforts frustrated the Senate to no end, and the politicians turned on the
Order to try to change the situation.
But this is where the structure of the Jedi Order kicked ass.
If the Senate wanted to communicate with the Jedi, they had to go through the
Council.
Because the Council comprised many individuals, they could take turns bearing
the ire of the Senators, switching one another out to diffuse the pressure.
It made stalling beautifully easy.
They mournfully disavowed knowledge of Kenobi's plans. Assured anyone who asked
that it could all be attributed to post traumatic stress.
He'll come back when he's ready, we just need to be patient with him. Can you
imagine how horrible what he went through was? Certainly you want him to
recover. What if he froze up on a battlefield, and lost... say... lost control
of one of the hyperlanes leading to Coruscant? No, you want him ready when he
comes back.
He's not answering his comm. We can't spare the bodies to send someone to track
him down.
Would you like to see the latest report on the Outer Rim sieges?
 
* * *
 
Obi-Wan took advantage of every hour the Council managed to buy him.
Anakin followed after him, helping as best as he could.
The younger Jedi didn't think the people really wanted peace... but...
He wasn't going to pop Obi-Wan's bubble.
 Somehow, in spite of his focus, Obi-Wan  had noticed the growing circles
underneath Anakin's eyes.
It hadn't been easy to confide...
But...
Yes. He was having nightmares again.
 Yes. Similar,  very similar in tone to those he'd had about his Mother just
before her death.
 Obi-Wan had gently drawn the answers from him, one after another.
These were about Padmé.
Dying in childbirth. In pain. In blood. In tears—
  “But that's   months   from now,” Anakin pleaded. “We have time to figure it
out, right?”
“Of course. We'll figure it out.”
Anakin gave him a nod. “We always figure it out.”
But Obi-Wan refused to lie to him.
So Anakin's words hung in the air, a desperate bravado that had no foundation
in truth...
And they both knew it.
But he could also sense Obi-Wan's grim determination to find a way to save the
Senator who held Anakin's heart.
Anakin's gut told him to resent Obi-Wan for his unwillingness to ply his friend
with sweet lies...
  But his soul recognized the fact that Obi-Wan would   fight   for them.
And that was worth more than all the empty words the universe could offer.
 
* * *
 
Dooku sat meditating, searching the dark for answers.
 Something was  wrong.
He didn't know what.
And if Sidious figured it out first...
It would be bad.
 Something was  threatening...
He needed to go, or he would be late to the gathering of the Confederacy's
Parliament. An amusing farce, comprised of people who thought the war was about
ideology. Avoiding corruption. Completely ignoring the founders of the war.
The Trade Federation. The Banking Clan. The Commerce Guilds.
None of them had been fighting for an ideal.
They all fought for money.
But, sure. Let the CIS think it was fighting corruption.
It kept the average Separatist quiet, compliant, and useful.
 Their only purpose to  exist was to kill off Jedi, and keep those surviving
too distracted, too surrounded by death to be able to stave off his Master's
takeover.
It would all be over soon.
He presided over the gathering, listening with half an ear to the boring
details of stupid people who thought they had worth.
And then his head came up in disbelief.
 They were  not saying what he  thought —
 They couldn't be  serious —
 They  were. They were accusing him and Grievous of  war crimes.
 They were  evicting him. Disowning him. Taking the army away from him, and all
political authority he possessed.
 Who did they think they  were , and where in  blazes had this  come from?
“Who is it that brings such terrible accusations against me?” he demanded. “As
your founder, I have the right to meet my accusers face-to-face.”
 It turned out they didn't have a  person accusing him, but instead, visual
footage. A  lot of it.
Some of it from security cameras...
Most of it from droids' points of view.
His battle droids.
 Someone had stripped the images from their electronic brains.
“Where did you come by this supposed evidence?” he finally interrupted the
damning flood.
 “Is that relevant? It's been tested by our best slicers. It's legit, Dooku.
We're supposed to be  better than they are. But it looks like in our fight
against corruption, we overlooked a major source. Right  here. ”
It ended in a discussion.
 Dooku drew aside the leaders, and  explained to them that they weren't going
to throw him—  or Grievous— out. They  certainly were not going to put them on
trial, and they  certainly were going to let this go.
These minds were too determined to be forced without breaking. He had no use
for vegetables.
 But threats of death and destruction could be just as effective, and the the
people he faced might be fools, but they weren't  suicidal fools.
Nope. That was just Kenobi.
 And Dooku had a sneaking, horrible suspicion that it was  Kenobi who had
supplied the Separatist Parliament with the evidence.
And that was enough to make even a dignified Count swear.
 
* * *
 
 “They're not going to do it.” Anakin scowled. “You don't  understand them,
Obi-Wan. They're evil. They don't care about  justice and  lives —”
 “Give them a  chance , Anakin.”
 The younger Jedi ran a rough hand through his hair. “You're setting yourself
up for  major disappointment. Do you really think the Separatists  don't know
what Dooku and Grievous are like? How  stupid would they have to be?”
“Not stupid; deceived. It's not like they have living individuals on the front
lines who aren't loyal to Dooku. And communication between Republic and CIS is
nonexistent. Anything they hear, they would assume to be propaganda, and since
when does the Parliament investigate any of the worlds Dooku takes over?”
“They're never going to turn on him. You believe too much. With some people,
there just  isn't good in them.”
Obi-Wan sent him a neutral glance. “And how does one identify such people?”
 “By what they  do, of course, and what they  don't do. They stand by and let
people suffer when they could  stop it—”
What was that? What was that wondering spark in his Master's eyes?
What did I say?
And then it clicked, and his face flushed crimson.
I'm gonna shut up now.
Obi-Wan watched his discomfort with kind eyes. “Anakin, things are rarely as
black and white as we would like. I know you want to define things by  loyal to
you or  enemy, but there is more in this universe than that. Ventress, for
example. Hondo, for another. I do  not believe the Separatist Parliament to be
entirely corrupt.”
“But the Confederacy was founded by—”
 “Massive corporations, yes. But then the idealists jumped on the wagon, and
they are the ones in the Parliament. The corporations still manipulate behind
the scenes, but don't underestimate the idealists. They resent corruption? Let
them take on Dooku. Not us.”
Anakin shook his head. “You're so deviant, you know that? Convincing them to
turn on one another?”
“It's not deviant if I'm helping them achieve their goals.”
 Anakin arched an eyebrow. “Uh...  no. It's  more so. Do you ever maneuver me
like that?”
“Only occasionally.”
Anakin snorted a laugh, saw the quiet smile on Obi-Wan's face.
Felt his spirit soar.
 Laughter.  Easy laughter.
And suddenly, Obi-Wan's naivete when it came to believing people could be
something better than they seemed wasn't annoying him anymore.
It's the only reason I'm still here.
And somehow, he wasn't surprised when they were smuggled, in the dead of night,
into a neutral location, to discover the Separatist leadership, some physically
present, and others by holo.
 He hadn't believed in  them.
But he believed the hell out of Obi-Wan.
And if anybody could call the good in somebody to light...
It would be him.
 
* * *
 
 It was cruel, to realize that they were in more trouble  now than they'd been
before ceding from the Republic.
 They'd fallen back into line, because they were  dead if they didn't.
 But they weren't going to give it up. They  couldn't. Not after all the lives
that had been lost to get this far.
There was one insurmountable problem.
Who could overthrow a Sith?
There was only one option.
 But to ask the Jedi Order, the Generals on the opposite side of the conflict
for  help...
Impossible.
 But there was  one who had pulled away.  One who denounced the violence.  One
who was calling for respect and co-existence.  One who called the fighting
pointless.  One who'd made it clear he wasn't part of the war anymore. One who
reached out to help  their citizens as well as the Republic's. One... who just
happened to be  very skilled .
 They could turn to  him.
 
* * *
 
Anakin watched in awe as Obi-Wan's skills blazed bright.
 His Master was good with a lightsaber.  Very good.
 But he was  even better with words.
 For the first time, Anakin allowed himself to actually pay attention to what
was being said, and how.
And how Obi-Wan knew just what to say, and when.
Allowed himself to know, to his core, that had he been expected to run this
discussion...
Everything would be in shambles already.
 Hell. They wouldn't even  be here. He'd be out slaughtering droids.
 Anakin tried to be suspicious. Would the Separatists  really betray Dooku and
Grievous into their hands? Everything he'd told himself over the last two and a
half years said it was ridiculous.
But he could sense these beings' desperation.
Obi-Wan, of course, drew them out.
Yes.
The Team would go after Grievous and Dooku.
If...
The CIS agreed to enter into peace talks with the Republic Senate to find a
nonviolent solution to the conflict the moment the two war criminals were
apprehended.
If  the CIS agreed to cease all hostilities for the duration of said
negotiations.
If the contested planetary systems were allowed to decide their allegiance by
local vote instead of proximity.
Anakin didn't believe they'd go for that last one.
But Obi-Wan acted as though he believed it reasonable, and after a moment's
consultation, what came back wasn't a refusal, but a request for clarification.
Which Obi-Wan was happy to give.
“We will assist you, if the solution you seek with the Republic Senate isn't
based on a line drawn across the galaxy. If a planet within your borders wishes
to return to the Republic, it is to be allowed to do so without reprisal. And
if a planet within the Republic wishes to join the Confederacy, the same
courtesies will be applied.”
Another small bout of conferring.
And then they agreed.
Anakin tried to keep his eyes from widening, resolutely kept his jaw clamped
closed.
 Anakin had  no idea what Bail Organa planned to do about the  Senate — it
would take  two sides to make this work—
But the Separatists handed over passcodes, schedules, schematics.
How in blazes?
But Obi-Wan simply took it in stride, as though all of them were reasonable
beings, and this was an honorable outcome.
Somehow the Separatists left without feeling like they'd sold out. Left feeling
heard.
Left feeling like they'd wonsomething, not lostsomething...
 Left thinking that maybe not  all Jedi were bad.
 And as they flew deep into the heart of Separatist territory, Anakin couldn't
help but glance at the man in the copilot's seat, and realize it was a  good
thing that Obi-Wan, not Anakin, had automatic authority on missions.
The older Jedi had a wisdom Anakin hadn't discovered yet.
I may be more powerful... but he's been around longer. He's seen more. And he
knows how to harness the power he does  have.
What was the point of having stunning amounts of raw power if he couldn't
control it and direct it?
I flail in a direction and hope to smash something.
Obi-Wan had precision and grace.
Anakin had thought his efforts to hone that stemmed from paranoia or something
possibly bordering on OCD.
Not anymore.
I think I need him. Not just because I'd miss him, if he were gone, but because
he sees things I never would in a million years.
Obi-Wan had insight.
Anakin had the power.
Maybe this time we can win.
So when Dooku was in sight, and Obi-Wan murmured, “Together?”
Anakin had but one reply.
 “Always.”
 
***** Chapter 21 *****
 
Dooku struggled to turn this fight in a positive direction.
It wasn't working.
 He'd been  aware that people on both sides of the divide wanted peace.
That didn't explain the two Jedi who had come out of nowhere.
He hadn't sensed them coming, hadn't been prepared—
 But they were heroes of the  people now, and the  people had decided...
 And the people would  not be told  no.
The Sith were out of time.
His Master had a plan involving a kidnapping, which would forceKenobi and
Skywalker to come out of their pacifistic vacation and back into hero-ing—
 And Dooku was supposed to kill Kenobi  then —
 But he was  done playing games.
Done.
 The fact that the Jedi had gotten so close meant his pawns weren't  pawns
anymore.
Or... a darker thought... Sidious had done this to him. To test him. To see if
he was too old for the job.
 Kenobi was dying.  Tonight.  And Skywalker? He was going to be  humbled. His
Master didn't want him dead, but he would  surely be damaged.
 “Do you  really  think you have a chance?” he mocked. “I know how you fight,
after all, and you have never bested me  once .”
Skywalker's eyes gleamed. “My powers have doubled since we last fought, Count.”
 “The Pyke homeworld, was it not? Wasn't that the time  Master Kenobi nearly
fell off a cliff and you had to save him? I don't seem to remember the two of
you being much of a problem. I achieved my intent  and then left without much
difficulty.”
“Why won't he shut  up ?” Skywalker groaned.
Kenobi shrugged. “You know the elderly. He probably moves his mouth non-stop in
order to drown out the sounds of his joints creaking.”
Mid-strike, Skywalker snickered.
 That was  quite enough. Dooku was having painful flashbacks of Florrum, and
having to spend  hours chained to these two.
 He might just  accidentally kill Skywalker after all.
“Your arrogance is obnoxious.” Dooku pressed his attack, saber flicking in,
out, around—
 But Skywalker was  right.
These two were more in harmony than before. Like a couple of planets that took
turns orbiting one another, the Jedi fought like they'd been made each for
other.
This was worse than when Ventress and Savage had teamed up.
Worse than the mysterious invisible assailants on Serenno.
His heart thundered in his chest, and for the first time since his battle with
Yoda on Geonosis, Dooku felt fear of the outcome.
 If they worked  together, he was lost.
He had to incapacitate Kenobi and isolate Skywalker. Enrage him, unbalance
him...
Yes.
He danced to the side, behind—
His fingers twitched—
The Force slammed behind Kenobi's knees, dropping him heavily to the floor.
“That's better,” Dooku praised, keeping the pressure heavy across Obi-Wan's
calves, holding him there as the Jedi struggled to stand. “Kneeling. Where you
belong. It's about time the universe stopped idolizing a pathetic whore.”
Dooku felt the snap in the Force.
The sudden twist as Skywalker fell out of sync with his Master.
Felt Kenobi's alarm as he realized they'd lost their advantage.
 Now they were  Dooku's.
He scooped Kenobi up in the Force and hurled him against the wall with a speed
that would pulverize bone, while simultaneously fighting off Skywalker's
assault.
 
* * *
 
Obi-Wan might be trapped, but he could still breathe.
And as long as his brain had oxygen, he could think.
So he saw the wall.
And had the presence of mind to fling out a counter blow—
The wall exploded from the conflicting messages, the ceiling toppling in.
Obi-Wan choked on the dust, struggled to retain consciousness—
At least Dooku's hold was gone—
Anakin.
Obi-Wan stumbled forward, only to be struck by the rest of the wall giving way.
 
* * *
 
Skywalker's first blows were anger-crazed. Clumsy, imprecise.
They reminded Dooku of Savage when the zabrak had first sparred with him.
Anakin didn't have the physical strength of Savage, but his power in the Force
dwarfed the could-have-been assassin's.
And then something changed.
Dooku saw it in Skywalker's eyes.
This wasn't a pure soul who had never killed in a cold, vicious rage.
No.
And suddenly, Lord Tyranus knew Sidious had betrayed him.
He saw Skywalker's blood-drenched Force-signature and the pieces clicked
together.
Light and dark.
 One wasn't a certain  set of moves, and the other another collection.
Mind-trick. Force-choke.
It wasn't even the Force itself. There wasn't one half light and one half dark.
 It was all about  intent when the user tapped into it.
Reach with selflessness, and light came to you. Reach with selfishness,
darkness.
 Dooku had been so focused on the fact that Skywalker was so selfless so much
of the time, that he'd glossed over Skywalker's Force-signature's  color. He'd
assumed it had something to do with the boy's turbulence or impatience.
Hadn't realized it was a manifestation of the selfishness that lurked in the
soul beneath.
 If it continued to grow and spread, it wouldn't  be red for much longer.
It would be dark as night.
Sidious knew this. Had been slowly creating the boy. Had allowed Dooku to try
to enrage Skywalker.
Well...
He'd done it.
Skywalker was filled with hate.
And in some time in the past, he'd already gone through the can't-find-finesse-
in-the-midst-of-it phase.
Sidious hadn't told him.
And Dooku had just made his own grave.
Desperately, he tried to regain his control over the situation, but the fear
blazed from his eyes.
Skywalker saw it.
And the little peasanthad hunger lighting up his face.
He would feed off Dooku's fear, his pain, his death—
Somewhere, Dooku sensed Kenobi struggling to get involved.
And then the Sith's right hand was missing, lightsaber gone—
 
* * *

Anakin paused half a moment, then decapitated the Sith. He watched the head
roll across the floor, watched the body writhe.
Loved every second of it.
This was what he hadn't been allowed to do to the hecklers or reporters.
This felt right.
The haze of red across his eyes seemed to darken.
 That couldn't be right. He'd come to fight Dooku to  save the galaxy, to  help
people  he didn't like , to bring  peace, and to avenge Obi-Wan—
And then he felt a tremor in the Force.
He spun around, feeling disoriented. Found Obi-Wan, trapped under durasteel.
Just a couple cuts with his lightsaber, and the older Jedi would have been
freed. In fact, one of them had been made, and the second begun.
Obi-Wan's eyes stared up at Anakin, wide.
 But what punched Anakin in the gut was the deep, deep  fear written across his
face.
Anakin raced to him, reached to help pull him out—
Obi-Wan shrank away from the touch, shivering.
 Anakin couldn't believe it. They'd been so  perfect together at the beginning
of this fight, his Master falling into the old, comfortable banter—
 “What did I do?” Anakin pleaded. “ Please don't be scared of me—”
 “You killed him in anger, Anakin. He was beaten. Disarmed. Didn't you  see the
look in his eyes? He was  done fighting. He would have  surrendered —”
 “He  hurt you !” Anakin thundered.
Obi-Wan cringed and fell silent.
Anakin reached out for him, feeling unspeakably guilty. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry,
Obi-Wan. Please—” one hand found the older Jedi's shoulder. “I—”
“You didn't see yourself,” Obi-Wan whispered, pulling himself free from the
wreckage. “You— the red went away.”
 Anakin shook his head. “Isn't that a  good thing?”
 Obi-Wan returned his lightsaber to his belt, straightening his robes as if
that could somehow center him, his fingers nervous and shaking. “What Korkie
didn't say, but what I suspected, now I  know.  Darkness will take even selfish
love away from you. Eventually... eventually even the care you have for me will
go away. And in that moment, standing over Dooku, you killing him had nothing
to do with love for me.”
“That's not true—”
“It was like looking into a black hole,” Obi-Wan whispered. “I could see you,
but I couldn't reach you. You didn't hear me, you didn't feel my contact across
our bond—”
 “I may have gotten carried away—”
“You were  gone .”
Anakin watched in horror as tears slipped down Obi-Wan's cheeks.
Obi-Wan was afraid of him. Didn't trust him.
No. He must trust me. He invited me back. I'm missing something.
Anakin shoved aside the feeling of betrayal and took a deep breath.
 And chose to look closer. To make the effort to really  listen.
What he found chilled him to the core.
 Obi-Wan was afraid  for him. Felt utterly helpless.
 Was afraid of what would be  done to Anakin.
 By darkness  itself.
When Anakin took a step forward into Obi-Wan's personal space, he made sure to
do it non-threateningly. He reached out and gripped Obi-Wan's shoulder. “I will
never turn,” he promised.
Obi-Wan looked up into his eyes, and Anakin saw that his words had only added a
terrible grief to to them. “Have you ever heard of Darth Malgus?”
 “He was there when the Temple burned.”
Obi-Wan gave him a nod. “He was also falling in love. Do you know what he
found? He discovered that even  selfish love tainted his darkness. That it
weakened him. But by then he was too addicted to power. So you know what he
did?”
“No.”
“He killed her. He had just saved her, just gotten her back... and he killed
her.”
“You think I could hurt Padmé?”
Obi-Wan shuddered again. “I think that if darkness takes you, there will come a
day when you don't seeher. When you look at her, and your inflexible little
categories of loyal to meor enemyswing the wrong direction. When all you see is
you.”
“Master. I'm not taken. Look at me. See? Same old crimson self? Yes, I'm self-
focused, but it's not—”
 “You don't understand, Anakin. Darkness  is selfishness. It's not some
arbitrarily defined  evil. The  Sith are not  evil.  They are self-focused...
to the core. All selflessness has bled out of them. They  cannot touch the
light because to do so would be to act selflessly. Anakin, the reason why you
aren't surrounded by the dark is because you have moments,  beautiful moments
of selflessness. But the way you love me, Ahsoka, Padmé... it's opened the
door, Anakin.”
Obi-Wan stepped closer to him, shocking Anakin. His Master gripped his
shoulders tight in his hands, staring straight into Anakin's eyes.
He felt like a Padawan all over again.
There was a quiet urgency. A desperation, in his Master's face. “You must
decide. The darkness will not wait for consent before it consumes you. If you
keep ignoring this... and you keep placing yourself in violent situations...
you will wake up one morning and discover there is blood on your hands, on your
pillow, and you will wonder what you've done, and you will look out the window
and see...” He paused, trying to steady his broken breathing. It didn't work.
“You have to decide, Anakin.”
And then Anakin found himself wrapped in a hug.
 He could tell it was hurting Obi-Wan, was something Obi-Wan was doing for
him.
What better place to start than what was right in front of him?
 “Obi-Wan, you can let go. Show me you love me  your way.”
Obi-Wan pulled back and sent a worried, unsure glance his direction.
 “Use your language. Hug me  your way.”
Obi-Wan nodded, his eyes filling with tears again as his lashes fell shut and
closed them in.
Anakin held still.
There.
A sensation he'd felt a million times throughout his childhood. Gentle hands,
cradling his mind. Holding it as if it was the most precious thing in the
universe. Fragile, beautiful, infinitely valuable.
The hands protected, the hands supported.
Anakin let his eyelids fall shut so he could focus more closely on his other
senses.
 He opened his heart and  listened.
What he felt nearly knocked him off his feet.
Pride.
 Force. Obi-Wan was  so proud of him.  Believed  in him so much it made Anakin
feel guilty.
Trusted him. To the end of the universe and back.
Fierce love that made Anakin feel as though his heart might crumble to dust
against its clear fire. White flames that didn't burn, didn't harm... but
cleansed.
 Was  this what Obi-Wan had been saying all along? All those years when Anakin
had grumbled that Obi-Wan didn't  see him, didn't  praise him, didn't  love
him?
He told me in every way he knew how, and then some.
Tears tracked cold lines down his face.
The urge to pull Obi-Wan back into a hug struck him.
But another idea surfaced.
He wanted to try something.
He took everything he felt for Obi-Wan, and tried to boil it down to its most
condensed form.
Then, instead of reaching out for Obi-Wan with his physical hands, he used the
Force.
Obi-Wan's signature started, betraying his surprise.
And then his Master melted.
Clinging to Anakin's Force-signature like it might be a life-raft in a sea of
acid.
 “It's either avoid confrontational situations, stop carrying weapons, stay
away from things that make me angry... or be rid of the red.” Anakin drew in a
deep breath. “And I get rid of the red by choosing  others over  self. I'm not
sure how to see it. I  thought killing Dooku  was for other people. But—
evidently not. Evidently I did that for me.”
And surrounded by Obi-Wan's beautiful light, Anakin could  see it now.
Things looked so different through the murky crimson haze. It was so much
harder to identify things.
 “I can't just step back from helping people. Even if I left the Order, I  have
power. I can't just sit back while people suffer. So I'm going to find a way to
clear myself of the red. I'm choosing, Obi-Wan. I choose  you. I choose  Padmé.
I choose  Ahoska. ”
Anakin's knees buckled as he felt Obi-Wan's response. His eyes flew open as he
crashed to his knees.
Obi-Wan stood, apparently relaxed, head bowed and eyes closed...
And there was only a tiny smile, just barely curving his lips.
My Force. I had no idea what hid behind that serene expression.
Obi-Wan's eyes opened, and he held out his hand. Anakin allowed his Master to
help him to his feet.
“Shall we get out of here?” Obi-Wan asked.
He could have been asking about the weather.
 But the Force  sang. All around Obi-Wan, it felt like a full-blown orchestra
of emotion—
 So thoroughly  experienced , so deeply  felt —
Anakin somehow gave him a nod. “Grievous next?”
“Yes. And this time, don't focus on how he has offended against you by hurting
people you care about. If we bring him back alive, and the Separatists try him
publicly, how will that affect the Senate's response when the CIS requests
peace?”
It clicked into place. “The Senate is going to be wary. Wanting proof of good
intentions. Punishing Grievous for what he's done... that's an enormous gesture
of goodwill.”
 “It certainly is. So when we fight Grievous and you have an opening to kill or
disable,  which would be the selfless path?”
“Taking him alive.” Anakin ran his mechanical hand through his hair. “ Force ,
I don't know if that's possible. He always runs away.”
“Then we'll have to make sure he  can't run.”
 “That's... a  lot of damage, Obi-Wan.”
“The instant he surrenders, we'll stop.”
 Anakin tried to comprehend what it would take to slow a monster like Grievous.
Losing several limbs, at  least.  Striking a match and throwing that into the
mix might help.
He glanced sideways at Obi-Wan, thankful their shields were in place.
I have got to get a handle on this need for retribution.
He didn't understand Obi-Wan's ability to let go of the need for revenge.
But I do know why.  Because the pursuit of revenge hurts the people around you.
And Obi-Wan will always put others before himself.
Anakin had mistaken Padmé for an angel once, long ago.
I shouldn't have asked him if he was a Jedi too.
I should have asked him if he was an angel  too.
Obi-Wan led him back to the ship, and Anakin allowed himself a small, amused
smile. It had been rather disappointing to encounter a real angel on Iego. She
hadn't held a candle to Padmé, and in the Force, she didn't have anywhere near
the beauty his Master did.
Wings or no wings.
 
* * *
 
Grievous growled as he lost a leg.
And then an arm.
He tried to run.
The Team wouldn't let him.
There were no battledroids to get in the way.
No civilians or clones to protect.
Nothing to hide behind.
 Even so, Grievous was  going to get away. Anakin could feel it. Could feel his
own personal desperation and frustration—  not again—
Obi-Wan stood between Grievous and the door.
Anakin couldn't quite believe his eyes when his Master's fingers loosened their
grasp on his saber and it spun away into the corner.
Obi-Wan ended up thrown on the floor.
All Greivous had to do to escape was step past him.
 The cyborg hesitated, Anakin could practically  see him calculating—
 Obi-Wan lashed out at Grievous's shin with his own as though to sweep his
remaining leg out from under him. Of course the  metal didn't give.
Anakin winced as Obi-Wan screamed in pain.
 But Grievous wasn't thinking about  running anymore.
 The cyborg General thought he scented a wounded enemy. Someone weakened. And
he could  not pass up the opportunity to go in for a kill.
Anakin redoubled his attack, and as Grievous reached for Obi-Wan, the older
Jedi rolled, using the Force to draw the saber, ignited, from the floor, but
not to his hand.
Caught off guard, Grievous lost a second arm.
Anakin took out his other leg.
And then Grievous recognized he'd been played.
Dragging himself along with his remaining two arms, he tried to escape.
 He couldn't fight back anymore, but he could move  fast.
Anakin Force-leaped, ending up in front of him, and taking the last two arms.
Grievous shrieked curses at them, completely helpless.
Obi-Wan walked to join them.
Anakin stared down at the defeated criminal, breathing heavily. Not quite sure
he believed they'd made it.
 And instead of resenting the fact he couldn't  kill him now...
 He thought of what peace between CIS and Republic would mean. All the
civilians who  wouldn't die in bombings. All the clones who  wouldn't die on
the battlefields.
All the Jedi who could return to disaster relief and mediation.
Perhaps they would even have time to hunt down slaver rings now.
Hell yes.
Putting aside the personal satisfaction of killing Grievous was worth it.
Obi-Wan reached his side. Quiet. Controlled.
“That shin thing really worked. Can't believe you let go of your lightsaber.”
Obi-Wan shrugged. “We were going to lose him if he didn't decide to stay of his
own accord. Had to make it enticing.”
“Bet it hurt.”
“Oh, no. Not at all. You just loosen the muscles in your fingers and let
gravity take over. Quite relaxing, actually. I understand now why you do it so
often.”
 Obi-Wan was  teasing him.
Force that felt good.
And Anakin understood it this time too.
 It was Obi-Wan's way of telling him he'd  seen Anakin make his choice. That he
was proud of him.
“Think Padmé is ready?” Anakin asked.
Obi-Wan sent him a nod. “I warned her there wouldn't be much time. Bail seemed
cautiously optimistic.”
Well.
They'd just have to find out.
 
* * *
 
Sidious stormed back towards his office.
 The plan had gone to  hell.
 Dooku was  dead , Grievous being punished by the CIS—
Sidious' only warning had been when he felt his apprentice's death in the
Force.
 And  then the CIS reached out, requesting a cease-fire and peace-talks.
 Palpatine had  tried to manipulate the situation, but with Grievous and Dooku
both  clearly punished, and the Jedi Order throwing in  its support of the
situation and the people clamoring for peace—
 But he might have pulled it off  if only.
 But  damn that Senator Organa and his ties to Master Kenobi! The Jedi must
have tipped his friend off to the fact that the heads of the Separatist army
were going to fall and the CIS about to request peace, because the  Senate had
clearly been  prepped.
 Sidious' spies had noticed that the  we-want-peace faction had been
disgruntled and verbal, but they hadn't realized it was something that could
end up being  productive or  relevant —
 Stupid,  stupid people.
 They hadn't  seen fit to  bother him with something so  normal and  trivial.
Force take them.
The script may have been derailed before.
 Now it was torn up and  burned.
The droids were temporarily deactivated, pending permanent deactivation.
The clones had been told to stand down.
 The Senate had shown the  audacity to declare the war  over , and that it was
simply the details that needed to be arranged.
 And guess who was  presiding over said negotiations, like a Jedi of old?
Frakking Kenobi.
And worse.
Skywalker.
 Which handed the whole thing the legitimacy that Palpatine had been  creating
to be aimed  his own direction. Sweet hell, he hadn't built Skywalker up into
the public idol in order to back  peace negotiations.
Bail Organa and his massive following were poised to start decentralizing the
government the instant the war was over. The power Palpatine had accumulated
was going to be whittled away.
 The 212 th  and 501 st  had been moved from their ships into the Jedi Temple
for temporary housing while the ships went out to collect the men from the
military bases on occupied Separatist planets.
There were more clones out there than ships to ferry them back.
 His beautiful plan was  gone.
He was out of time.
 The talks were close to finishing up .
Everything was just about settled.
 So he called on the  last privileges he had as Chancellor, and  demanded
Skywalker and Kenobi come see him.
On a matter of a security threat to the proceedings.
 Kenobi protested, said at least  one of them should stay—
“Trust me, Master Kenobi, this may make the difference between the success and
failure of these proceedings.”
They came. Like moths to a flame.
He heard the door slide open.
They would be here in a moment.
He pressed a button, activating a long-range comm.
“Execute Order Sixty-Six.”
He had one more directive to give.
This one went straight to Rex and Cody.
 
* * *
 
Padmé studied the hologram of what her children looked like physically.
Very unimpressive, given what Yoda had described.
She found herself wondering which was which.
The politician... the Jedi...
 She knew. Somehow, staring at those tiny, unformed bodies, she  knew.
She wanted them.
The Jedi Healer, a beautiful alien named Doctor Nema, hovered her hand over
Padme's belly. “I'm going to introduce myself to them in the Force. Watch
closely.”
The Jedi's eyes fell shut, and a smile played around her mouth.
One of the tiny life-forms vibrated. The other seemed to glow.
 Padmé's jaw dropped open. “That wasn't what it  looked like—  couldn't have
been—”
 Nema laughed and backed the recording up so Padmé could see it again. “They're
strong. And  very aware. This one—” she pointed to to the  not glowing one— “is
quite ferocious. Has very little patience for a Force-signature that does  not
belong. She gave me quite the kick.”
“ She ?”
Nema went still. “I know gender is something the little ones will have to
define for themselves once their minds are farther developed, but it just felt
right. I'm sorry. Don't expect a certain body style for that one because of
what I said.”
“Of course. No harm done. How about the glowing one?”
“Curious. Wants to know more. Was excited to encounter someone new.”
Hell, yes.She wanted to keep them.
But for now, she needed to get back to the Senate. She hadn't wanted to
postpone her appointment with Nema, but she also wanted to witness the final
moments of the peace accord.
 
* * *
 
 “You're kidding. A  circus ?” Korkie shook his head in disbelief.
Byph nodded his head, gesturing wildly.
Petro leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “We were pretty good,
too.”
 “And then  Grievous showed up and Padawan Tano did her best Master Kenobi
impression and convinced Hondo to  help us, but if Katooni hadn't talked him
out of it, he would have left us there.” Zatt grinned. “I have some holos from
the flight home.” He produced a disc and showed off images of the small band
and a grinning Weequay.
Korkie leaned in close for a better look. “Wow. But you ended up with your
lightsabers, right?”
“Oh, yeah.” Petro tossed his towards the Mandalorian.
Korkie caught it with only a hint of hesitation. “Are you guys supposed to let
me look at them?”
Ganodi batted her eyes at him. “There's no rules against it.”
Korkie studied the lightsaber to avoid having to meet her gaze.
 Goodness. The little Rodian certainly had quite the crush on him. He wasn't
entirely sure how to deal with it, so he decided that he'd pretend he hadn't
noticed for now.
She was half his age, for Force's sake.
He smiled at the thought. Swearing like a Jedi didn't feel strange here.
And if he accidentally did it out loud, it wasn't going to start a war.
He looked up at the sky above his head, obscured by gently rustling leaves.
He never would have guessed the clouds and sun to be fake. The plants all
seemed to be quite fooled as well, looking full and healthy.
 Though being situated in a giant house filled with Jedi, he wasn't sure how a
plant  wouldn't thrive.
Korkie still needed maps to navigate the massive structure. At least he now
knew his way from his room to most of his classrooms, and to the dining halls
without having to check his datapad. But only if he went in a certain order. If
he went from current politics to geography to the dining hall, he still got
lost. He had to zip over to the library between star charts and lunch in order
to keep the labyrinth straight.
These kids found it amusing to watch him squint his eyes at the various cross-
passages, trying to remember which ones to take.
I am  getting better, and they have nine years of practice on me.
“Want to turn it on? Try some forms?”
Korkie looked over at Petro. “I don't know your forms. Sword-fighting on
Mandalore is very different; we use metal blades. The balance is completely
opposite— a heavy blade versus a weightless one. And we have our own styles of
combat that reflect it.”
“Okay, show us some of that, then,” Katooni urged.
Byph squealed his agreement and Gungi looked hopeful.
“Alright.” Korkie stood up, waved them all back, figured out where the ignition
switch lay, and began his demonstration.
This had been the one violent art Satine had allowed Korkie to study. At
school, he and his friends studied fencing.
 This was  not fencing.
 His private instructor had initiated him into a style used specifically  for
combat. Where the rules had nothing to do with  fairness, and everything to do
with energy conservation.
And where the edge was more lethal— and more useful— than the point.
When you stabbed an opponent, your blade was trapped until you freed it.
 Not something to take lightly when you're not using a lightsaber. Of course,
with a blade made of  light, flesh would give way like butter and you didn't
have to obey certain rules of fight dynamics.
“Try spinning it,” Petro called.
 Korkie barked a laugh. “Where I come from, you would never waste energy like
that. The point of a fight is to tire your opponent, and  not yourself.”
“But they're pretty,” Ganodi protested.
Korkie shrugged. “And take effort away from the end-goal.”
“They're super useful for intimidation,” Petro argued.
 “And with a blade that  weighs nothing, maybe it's an acceptable trade-off.”
Korkie experimentally wove the blue beam in a figure-eight.
 Another difference between fencing and real-blade sword-fighting:  no lunges.
For two very simple, very solid reasons.
They took more energy than accomplishing the same end with a less dramatic
path.
And they risked putting strain on the four most precious joints in a sword
fight.
The knees and ankles.
 And Korkie had been trained to  never risk them. No matter how pretty the
result might look.
Satine had never attended his lessons, and she had instructed Korkie to keep
them secret.
 To this day, Korkie had no idea  why his Aunt had been in favor of him
learning something so blatantly violent... and of course, now he couldn't ask.
Still, somehow he felt closer to her than he had since her death as he moved
from one guard to the next, always mindful of his feet, focus widened to take
in his surroundings and prevent tunnel-vision.
He could almost see her smile.
 
* * *
 
Rex prowled down the hallway, looking for Cody.
He knew he should be happy that the war was practically over.
But...
 He'd been designed to  complete the mission, and the mission had been to  win.
This wasn't... winning. This was... something else.
And it had nothing to do with how much his brothers had fought and suffered.
He felt inadequate, incomplete; like he'd failed somehow, even though his mind
put the thought down ruthlessly.
 He'd been able to see the nervous tension throughout the 501 st  and 212 th .
They all felt it.
 That, and the worrying of what would become of them. They had nowhere to  go.
Yes, the Temple had thrown its doors open to them, ready to house them until
something more permanent could be figured out.
 And yes. It had been built to house ten thousand Jedi without feeling crowded,
and most of the Jedi weren't home, so there was room for a  lot of brothers, so
they wouldn't be  immediately homeless.
 But that didn't give him  any hint as to where they were supposed to go from
here.
There was Cody. Rex moved past Ahsoka, Fives, and Tup to reach him.
Maybe Cody could make sense of his jitters, calm him down.
Rex dimly realized that was what General Skywalker turned to General Kenobi
for.
When did we start becoming like our Generals?
It wasn't a comfortable thought.
 It could only be a good thing, where Cody was concerned, and it  had been.
But Rex...
He shook his head, trying to dislodge the headache trying to take hold.
My General snapped and did something terrible.
According to the Jedi, individuals weren't locked into destiny. They could
choose their own path.
I don't have to be like him that  much.
His comm signaled, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Cody receive the
same message.
 It was a command channel. The  highest command channel.
Not a call you could duck.
So, rattled though he was, Rex answered.
 
***** Chapter 22 *****
 
“Chancellor. You said it was urgent?” Obi-Wan masked his impatience as best as
he could. He wanted to bethere when the final agreement went down.
 No, he wasn't  needed, at this point, but he wanted it.
 Wanted to watch and murmur,  Satine, we did it.
We stopped the violence.
We found an answer.
 But instead he was standing  here .
So he took a deep breath and centered himself.
“I'm afraid it's more than urgent, Master Kenobi,” Palpatine said, looking
earnest and concerned. “It's not just the peace-talks that are in danger, but
every—”
A lance of pure agony stabbed through Obi-Wan's soul.
 
* * *
 
Anakin heard Obi-Wan scream.
Heard himself scream.
The Force— blood and horror—
 Jedi dying  everywhere, all at  once —
Betrayal, horror, disbelief, heartbreak—
 In a second,  thousands of them fell.
In the next second, thousands more.
In the following five seconds, hundreds yet.
They dropped from ten thousand to a couple hundred.
 In less than ten seconds, they'd been  decimated.
Ahsoka.
 Anakin staggered for the door. The  Temple  was under  attack —
 The few Jedi who still lived were  there —
And the struggle, the desperate fight for survival—
 They needed  help —
Obi-Wan groaned, inarticulate, shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it.
Then raced for the door.
 Somehow, Anakin followed,  somehow making his legs work against the darkness
and death shredding his mind.
 The blood vessels in Obi-Wan's eyes had burst, leaving him red-eyed, and the
itching in Anakin's own told him he had to look the same. He could barely
breathe. It was too  much, too  horrible , it didn't  matter how strong his
shields were, the sheer betrayal and devastation was too smothering.
The weight of the slaughter dragging his mind towards unconsciousness.
 He fought it off. He  had to. Lives depended on his actions—
Obi-Wan fell.
One second he'd been running, the next his feet froze and he toppled forward
like a felled tree. His knees didn't bend, his hands didn't reach out to break
his fall. He landed flat on the carpet and didn't move.
 “ Kark ! Obi-Wan !” Anakin crashed to his knees beside his Master, rolling him
over.
 
* * *
 
The mission wasn't over.
He had a chance to complete the mission.
Orders. Duty.
Traitors.
Rex spun on his heel and located one of the Jedi assigned to him.
A young Togruta.
 He wasn't sure of her name. Had no memories of working with her. Just a
throbbing  terrible pain in his head.
And orders.
 She was a  traitor.
By the time she was turning to look at him, wide-eyed and bewildered, he'd
already put five rounds in her back.
The question never formed on her lips.
He sent several more rounds into the twitching body that collapsed at his feet,
just to be sure.
Jedi were tricky bastards. They feigned death, then killed your brothers while
you slept.
 Traitors killed clones. Traitors  butchered clones.
There was only one Jedi Rex could remember clearly.
Krell.
He knew better this time. You couldn't let the traitors have a moment to twist
your mind.
His brothers were on the line.
Traitors kill brothers.
Orders.
Brothers.
 The  mission.
Rex went hunting.
 
* * *
 
Nema stiffened at the doorway, her eyes going glassy with horror.
“What is it?” Padmé demanded.
 And then images shuddered through her mind.  Death.  Jedi after Jedi falling—
 She couldn't see  why —
 But her children were horrified, terrified, in  pain —
Fury rushed through her blood that she couldn't protect them from an energy she
couldn't manipulate.
A clone in the hallway stopped before the door, turning to look at them.
 “Trooper!” Padmé called, hurrying forward. “What is  happening? ”
Between the space of one heartbeat and the next, Nema was sliding dead down the
wall, eyes wide, leaving a bloody smear down the once-beautiful wallpaper.
Her blood was blue.
Padmé whirled on the clone, expecting to feel pain exploding through her body,
but the man turned and strode away.
He had no interest in her.
 “What the  hell was that?” she demanded, racing out into the hallway.
Only to be struck by screams.
More blood.
Bodies falling, the harsh thud of armored boots—
Padmé found a fallen clone. Grabbed up his blaster.
Raced for the sounds of battle.
 What in  hell's name was happening?
Her mind offered up a single word.
Massacre.
 
* * *
 
Two of his young friends were dead before they realized something was wrong.
Then small lightsabers were out, deflecting bolts.
Small hands shoved Korkie back as small Jedi moved in front of him to defend
him.
 That was  all kinds of wrong.
But they were faced with a meadow.
No cover.
Except two paltry trees.
“Behind the trees!” Korkie demanded.
They lost another as they took refuge.
Korkie drew in a deep breath. He still held Petro's lightsaber.
The human boy had been one of the first two to fall.
Korkie took count.
He still had Gungi, Ganodi, Katooni.
His heart clenched tight.
But his battle instructor had been thorough.
There's time later for grief.
 There's never time in the  moment.
Korkie took a quick glance around the trunk.
The clones were advancing.
There were at least two-dozen of them, coming from both exits... and leaving
snipers in the doorways.
“Is there another way out of here?” Korkie demanded.
 “An access door behind the waterfall,” Katooni stuttered. “What is  happening
?”
Korkie met her gaze, ensuring his face was calm, eyes hard. “I don't know. But
we're going to make a run for the waterfall. It's our only chance. You three
continue deflecting the bolts. We keep close together, cover for one another.
Understood?”
Two heads nodded, but Ganodi cowered. “We're their friends. There must be some
mistake. If we surrender, surely they'll stop—”
“No. They won't.” Korkie had survived the devolution of Mandalore.
 He  knew merciless when he saw it.
 “When I say run, you  run. ”
She shook her head in terror, freezing up.
“Do it for me, Ganodi.”
Her eyes widened.
Maybe later he would feel guilty for giving her a special smile. For
manipulating her like that.
Or maybe they would all be dead and it wouldn't matter.
 Either way, she was  nodding now. Focused.
Ready.
They made it to the access door.
When they opened it, they found troopers pouring in.
They lost Gungi.
The wookiee fell without a sound, eyes wide.
Korkie slammed the door shut and drove Petro's saber through the catch
mechanism.
It wouldn't hold them long. He turned, looking out at the troopers who were
almost upon them.
“If we wait here, they'll stay out of reach and pick us off one by one. We have
to get past them, get out of here.”
“But if we do, they'll shoot us in the back!” Katooni pointed out.
Yes. They would. “That's why we have to kill them all.We close, we take them
down, and we run. Stay close together, block the blasts. Ready? Start on my
mark. We'll go for the left flank first and work our way around.”
“Whyare they doingthis?” Ganodi wailed.
The answer was obvious to Korkie. “They were sleeper agents. Designed to kill
you. But they never knew it— that way you wouldn't sense it.”
It might be classic, but he'd never heard of such a stunt being pulled on so
massive a scale.
 “ Everyone is dead,” Katooni choked. “All  over the galaxy! We're  dying !”
“Our only chance is to get out of here. To do that we have to take them out.”
Korkie now wished he'd headed down the access hallway.
Then again, this was his third engagement, and he supposed it was only natural
to miss things.
 It was insanity, it was  wrong to lead children into battle.
But if he went out to defend them, he would fall.
And they would die huddled in a corner.
At least this way...
It was an attempt at survival.
Korkie hoped that wherever his Aunt was, she wasn't ashamed of him.
 
* * *
 
Padmé discovered that once she fell in beside the desperately struggling Jedi
and started shooting at the troopers who were mowing them down, they lost the
distinction they'd been following.
Apparently her designation had changed, and she was someone to kill now too.
Even though she'd pulled out her Senate authority and  demanded an answer,
demanded they stand down.
Even though she was only using stun blasts.
 There were too many.  Far too many.
And coming from every direction imaginable.
At first she'd been horrified that the Jedi were killing the clones.
 And then she'd recognized the sheer  numbers...  and the fact that there were
children upstairs...
And that when a clone fell, horribly wounded, he still crawled towards them, an
all-consuming need to murder overcoming pain or the loss of limbs.
Padmé had no idea what had been done to them. Whatever it was had completely
stripped them of their personhood, any concern for their own survival.
She'd called some of them by name, but they didn't respond.
They didn't seem to know their names.
 And there was no hint of recognition when they looked at  her , either.
 From the incoherent, anguished words of the Jedi around her, and the images
flashing in her mind, Padmé realized this was being repeated  everywhere.
Where is Anakin?
Was he even  alive ?
Kids, if you can, call your daddy! We need  him, or none of us are going to
walk away from this!
As it was, given the sheer number of opponents, and the intimate knowledge they
had of Jedi strengths and weaknesses...
She wasn't sure even Anakin could survive.
That thought had her switching her blaster from stun to kill.
If every man she shot could recover, only to attack her husband?
I'm sorry, but I have a family to protect.
 At least now every trooper she took out  couldn't kill Anakin.
Ever.
 
* * *
 
Hell.
The Temple had gone from the stalwart defender of freedom and the epicenter of
compassion in the galaxy to a shrine of blood in seconds.
And with every hallway overrun, more washed its stones.
Jedi. Clone.
The Temple burned.
Walls and floors and ceilings gave way to the depredations of explosives.
Priceless works of art, gifts from the people Jedi had assisted over the years,
fell shattered and stained.
A historian would be weeping.
The best friends the Jedi had in the galaxy were the clones.
And the reverse was also true.
But friend slaughtered friend in a desperate attempt to survive.
An attempt that became ever more clearly futile.
But they were Jedi.
They couldn't just stand by and watch children die.
So they fought. They fought until they couldn't stand, until they were on their
knees, bleeding from innumerable wounds, and stillfought.
They fought until their lightsabers shattered and their bones gave way, and
still they tapped into the Force to collapse hallways, to fling troopers back,
to—
Death.
It claimed them, one after another. An endless march.
And with every one lost, the Force decayed just a bit more, requiring more
effort to use. Causing more pain when its children tried to reach it for
strength.
Fragile minds in the Healing Halls, damaged from the war or missions gone
wrong. broke under the weight of the Force's violation.
Their screams could be heard shattering through the Temple, uncannily high.
They didn't fight the clones who came.
But the silencing blaster bolts couldn't seem to stop the ringing among the
columns.
 
* * *
 
It took all of Palpatine's control to not throw his head back and drink in the
pure, unadulterated agony of the present.
The only moment that was going to be better was when the clones awoke and
realized what they'd done.
Exquisite.
A revenge fitting for the Sith Order.
The fact that it wasn't the Jedi who had wiped them out was irrelevant. The
fact that Darth Bane had been the one to annihilate the Sith was hardly the
point, here.
 The Sith wanted the galaxy. They wanted to control  everything, down to the
very breaths its inhabitants took, and the Jedi had stopped them  too many
times.
The clones would be worthless as an army after this.
That was all right.
There was a planetful of Mandalorians, eager to prove their supremacy.
All you had to do was pay them, and they would do anything.
Very useful, that.
Ahsoka had been one of the first to die. Palpatine had made sure that would be
the case.
He didn't want Anakin to be dragged away from this room by a need to protect
his former Padawan.
Anakin had felt it even as he ran for the door.
He knew.
 Tears streamed down his face as he shook his Master, desperate not to lose him
too. “Obi-Wan,  please ,” Anakin looked up in a panic. “I can't  leave him, but
the Temple is under  attack —”
Palpatine gave him an understanding nod. “Of course you can't leave him. What
is happening to him?”
Anakin searched his Master's Force-signature.
 What he  thought was Obi-Wan's.
No hint of a smile betrayed Palpatine's hidden self.
Thanks to his future apprentice, the Sith knew what Obi-Wan's shields were
supposed to look like.
 Mimicking unconsciousness, with just a little something  wrong was easy.
 Concealing what was  really happening.
 Kenobi's shields might be arranged differently now, in the wake of Skywalker's
betrayal, but they were  built the same. Kenobi would always be susceptible to
attack.
Not that it mattered.
This was the final attack.
Well done, Lord Vader. You handed me his soul on a platter, ready to take. A
fitting gift, my true apprentice.
 He had waited  years. Suffered through  Dooku in order to reach Anakin.
And he was ready.
No more waiting.
 “There's something wrong with him, but I don't know what, I don't know if I
can leave him!” Anakin looked up at Palpatine, desperate for guidance. “He's
helpless, and I don't know what the  hell is happening—”
“Anakin.” Palpatine put on his concerned, fatherly voice. The one the boy had
always had a weakness for. “Do you remember what you told me about the Sand
People?”
Confusion and impatience crossed Anakin's face. “Yes?”
“It's my turn. I have something terrible to confess to you.” Oh, the grieved
expression. He'd perfected that one. He was very pleased with it. “I have seen
horrible visions concerning Padmé and your children.”
Padmé. Who was in the middle of peace negotiations, and likely had no idea that
her husband's family was being slaughtered.
The script might be rushed, but it still had beauty.
 Anakin stared at him, uncomprehending. “ Visions ?”
Palpatine felt Obi-Wan thrash against him, felt him struggle to reach out to
his Padawan.
The Sith quietly kept him underfoot.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was slowly dying, cut off from his former apprentice, Anakin
completely unaware of the agony dragging his former Master away.
Palpatine left Obi-Wan just enough awareness to hear what was happening.
 To  know.
Watch as I take him from you.
All Palpatine had to do was stall. Obi-Wan's life would drain away...
It would be a welcome bonus if Obi-Wan survived long enough to see Anakin
betray him one last time, but it wasn't necessary.
That had always been Maul's greatest flaw. The need to gloat before the prize
was reached. Before the enemy was dead.
He lost his legs to it, and then he lost his freedom to it.
Who knew what the failure of a Sith would lose next.
 He never  learned.
“Anakin, my boy, you are the son I never had.” Palpatine spoke the words
heavily, allowing grief to whisper all through them.
Obi-Wan struck out at him.
Come, come, Master  Jedi. Die in peace, perhaps?
The man's efforts were amusing. Very, very pathetic, but amusing all the same.
He had a fire that just would  not be put out.
Let's see how eager to fight you are when you  remember.
It was but the work of a moment, and then it was done.
Obi-Wan was trapped on Zygerria again. Surrounded by his abusers.
Screaming for Anakin... who wasn't hearing him. Who was focused on something
else entirely.
Now if Obi-Wan tried to fight Sidious, the memories would grow  more intense.
More vivid. More throttling.
The quieter he lay, the fainter they would become.
 Obi-Wan understood the terms.  Oh he understood them.
The rebellion seething through his soul was polluted by the terror, the horror,
the freezing panic—
Palpatine let it soothe his frustrations away as he focused his will upon
Anakin.
“I love you too much to stand by and watch Padmé waste away. I couldn't let you
lose your love and your children.”
 Anakin was staring at him. “ Visions? ” he demanded again, this time a bit
more stern.
“Anakin, my mentor taught me everything he knew about the Force. Including the
nature of the dark side.”
 “ You  know the dark side?” A shiver ran through the kneeling Jedi.
 Palpatine gave him a patient smile. “Anakin, to become a wise and balanced
leader, one must embrace a...  larger view of the Force. Not just the narrow,
dogmatic view of the Jedi.”
It was amusing to claim that he used both light and dark.
 There wasn't a selfless bone in Sidious' body, therefore the light was a
sealed volume to him. He couldn't touch it, couldn't use it.  Certainly had no
desire to.
 And even more certainly had no interest in diluting his apprentice's power
with something so vulgar as  compassion.  He would bleed the selflessness from
Lord Vader until not even the memory of remained. Until his apprentice would
face down his own loved ones and murder them, feeling nothing but a cold
satisfaction.
Would watch them plead with him, weep...
Without it affecting him in the slightest.
 “ You are the Sith,” Anakin snarled, no longer kneeling but crouched
protectively over his dying Master, saber in his hand. “What have you done to
Obi-Wan?”
“He is fine—” Palpatine soothed.
 “You've  murdered the Jedi, murdered  Ahsoka !”
 Palpatine could sense his desperate  need to save the last few still alive at
the Temple.
But Obi-Wan Kenobi was the chain around his ankle.
 Anakin would  not leave him alone with the Sith Lord.
 “I understand your anger,” Palpatine murmured. “It's only reasonable. It's
only  right, that you should hate me. To cheat death is a power that comes at
great cost. I was willing to pay that price for you, Anakin. Padmé  will die if
the sacrifice is incomplete. I chose to begin this myself, to spare you. So
that you don't have to bear the weight of guilt. And believe me, it is a
terrible weight. But to save her, we must focus darkness to an extent it hasn't
been in thousands of years. It must be thick enough that we can  compel it to
save her. Bend it to our will.”
Anakin's snarl deepened. “Obi-Wan promised we'd figure it out—”
“So you knew?” Palpatine feigned studying his face.
The snarl faltered. Vanished. “I've... seen visions too—”
 “Then you've seen Obi-Wan succeeding? Saving her?” Palpatine asked, everything
about himself eager, knowing full well Anakin  hadn't.
It hadn't been engineered into the dreams.
“No—”
 “He means well,” Palpatine lamented. “He has  always meant well, but he
doesn't have the strength. Anakin. You know exactly how far Master Kenobi's
strength goes. He couldn't save his  own  love. He cannot save yours, though he
would be willing to die trying.”
 
* * *
 
Korkie fell to his knees as a bolt struck him in the thigh.
He took out two more troopers.
It wasn't enough.
 He  willed Ganodi forward, but she placed her back to his and fought until she
fell.
 Wouldn't listen to his commands to  run .
 Katooni  did .
She died surrounded by a pile of dead clones.
Men she'd killed.
 Korkie looked up into the muzzles of blasters.  So many, despite all those
he'd slain.
I'm sorry, Auntie.
I'm sorry, Uncle Ben.
He hoped his Uncle had survived.
He doubted it.
Oh...
He doubted it.
 
* * *
 
The seeds Palpatine had sown three years ago were paying off.
After his Mother's death, Anakin couldn't even fathom the thought that his
dreams might be false.
 Might be  sent to him.
This part of the plan, at least, had gone beautifully.
Anakin stared up at him, the conviction draining from his face.
A quiet knell, like the tolling of a bell through the Force.
The last Jedi at the Temple had fallen.
There was a breath, then two—
And Palpatine braced his soul against the coming wave—
There it was.
Clones all over the galaxy blinked, stared down at the blood on their hands—
Wondered where it had come from—
 Looked up to find hell .
The realization of what they'd done.
They knew nothing about the chips in their heads.
They didn't know why, they didn't know how.
 All they knew was that the nightmare was  here.
 
* * *
 
Some brothers killed themselves, convinced this was another dream.
 Usually, when they died in the dream, they  woke up.
 Others ate their blasters knowing full well this  wasn't a nightmare.
Horror, despair...
Their reasons for living were dead by their hands.
And the Jedi were traitors— the most vile word ever— but believingit was so
difficult— didthey believe it?
 And if the Jedi  were traitors . ..
 Would the clones want to be anything  else ?
 But if the Jedi  hadn't been traitors— then the clones  themselves were the
traitors—
 And traitors deserved to  die —
Many chose death.
Others struggled with reality until it bested them, sinking into a catatonic
state.
 Others kicked at the wall, muttering over and  over that they'd done the
right thing. Good soldiers  followed orders.  Good soldiers.  Traitors .
 Trying desperately to  hate the beings they  loved because it was the only way
to  survive what they'd  done.
Fives, Wooley, and Kix had gone down while there was still fighting.
Cody was pacing, trying to make sense of it all.
Boil was one of those kicking a wall.
Tup had killed himself.
Rex didn't know where Jesse was. Whether he lay among the masses of the fallen
or if he'd run away. Or chosen death.
Rex crouched by the body of his Commander, fingers tracing a torn lekku.
She was so beautiful in death. So young. So innocent.
 Could she  really have been a traitor?
 And why hadn't he been able to remember her  name when he—
When he—
He shuddered.
 He desperately needed General Skywalker to come walking up and  explain it
all. To make sense of this hell. To either  kill him and  end this, or to  save
him from it, but he  needed orders.  He  needed an explanation.
But General Skywalker was a Jedi.
That meant he was a traitor.
 And Rex knew...  knew...
That if the man walked through those doors...
Rex would be flying for his throat, trying to slaughter him.
He didn't know how he knew.
But he knew.
Stay away,  he begged.  If you're alive, stay away.
And then his mind buckled, because he was wishing a traitor success.
 What kind of soldier did  that ?
 
* * *
 
A hush fell across the universe.
The Jedi, down to the last Padawan, were all dead except for the two in this
room.
Not a single one had survived.
Not one.
The weight of it closed in around Anakin, driving the breath from his lungs,
crushing his heart.
The darkness was cloying, a syrup that wanted to crawl up his nose and into his
eyes and down his throat. He tried to push it back, but it wouldn't let him go.
It seeped through his pores into his veins, tasting like blood in his mouth.
The worst thing about it was it didn't hurt.
 It didn't taste...  bad.
The darkness called to him, whispered words of assurance. Promised release from
the agony.
Promised he could hide in its warm depths.
It embraced him, and offered safety.
 Offered him the strength to  force the reporters to stop. To  force war to
never start again. To  force Padmé to live.
“Anakin.” A trusted voice. A loved voice. A fatherly voice.
The only thing that sounded sane in this warped, twisted reality.
 “I am so close to saving Padmé, but there is one final thing you have to do.”
Anakin looked up, wanting to scream at him, wanting to  kill him for what he'd
done...
 But the man looked and  sounded so caring...
 And all of this, he did for  Anakin. To save  Padmé for  Anakin.
 
 
 
***** Chapter 23 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 
Any respect for himself that Anakin retained died as he looked up into
Palpatine's weathered face and asked, “What is it?”
“Sit and hold Master Kenobi,” Palpatine said, tone so gentle.
“What? Why?”
“He is dying, Anakin.” Compassion spilled off the old man in the Force.
Panic seized Anakin's throat. “What?”
“I am draining his life, and I will pour it into Padmé. Search the Force. He is
not in pain. He is not conscious. It's like dying in his sleep. He didn't know
ahead of time. No fear. Just gentle sleep. Don't you think he's owed some
peace?”
“But—”
“Think of how broken he would be to awaken and find everyonedead. Everyone,
Anakin.”
His mind wouldn't work , he couldn't think — the darkness was so thick, it made
his thoughts sluggish, he couldn't string them together— “You—”
“Isn't giving up life so another can live the essence of being a Jedi?”
“But—”
“And isn't Obi-Wan Kenobi the best Jedi you've ever known?”
It made so much sense. Didn't it? No, no, something was wrong— Palpatine was
lying,right? That's what Sith did?
But Obi-Wan had said Sith weren't evil. Just selfish. That light and dark had
nothing to do with good and evil.
Palpatine loved him selfishly, hadn't wanted him hurt.
That didn't make him evil.
It made him dark. Selfish.
And Obi-Wan hadonce said that he didn't see death as an enemy. Anakin had
claimed that death was the end,was the ultimate terrible...
Obi-Wan had looked at him with those clear gray eyes and told him that to die
knowing you had done your best... was a well-deserved rest. Sleep.
And that to die so that another could live...
Wasn't a bad fate by any means.
That was before Zygerria.
Anakin searched Obi-Wan's signature in the Force, but Palpatine was telling the
truth.
Peace. His Master was at peace.
And if he woke up... he would never find peace again.
Something pushed against the quiet of the room. Something violent. It
manifested itself in a weak plea. “Padmé wouldn't want—”
“But what would Obi-Wan want? Would he want her to die so he doesn't have to?”
The words were spinning around. So confusing. Something wasn't quite right.
What wasn't quite right?
It felt like something Obi-Wan might say.
Only... notlike something Obi-Wan would say.
“Anakin... my boy... Korkie Kryze is dead. To save your wife. Do you really
want to force Obi-Wan to live with that? Wouldn't that be Zygerria all over
again? Forcing him to live a nightmare? Refusing to let him go?”
Cold sank fangs into Anakin's heart. “But—”
“Would you selfishly demand he stay with you? Afraid to cause yourself the pain
of losing him, would you force him to endure unfathomable pain? Isn't it kinder
to let him go? Isn't it the selflessthing?”
It sounded right. It sounded wrong.
“I know you try to ignore it,” Palpatine murmured, so loving, “but he longs for
death. Craves it. He's lost everything. The Jedi, his love, Korkie, his
Padawan. He doesn't know it yet, but he's lost his clones too. It would be the
height of cruelty to force him to endure it against his will, when he has the
chance to be a hero, one last time. Imagine him waking up to discover Padmé and
your children have died, to save him for such an empty existence. It would kill
his soul. You know it would. Letting him go... it would be a mercy, Anakin.”
“I— can't. ” There. That was coherent. He couldn'tstand by and watch Obi-Wan
die.
It just wasn't in him.
“He would forgive you, you know. He always forgives you.”
Finally. Something that made sense.
He stared down into the beloved face. Knewhe would die for Padmé in a
heartbeat.
“Padmé would live?” Anakin asked. He hadn't meant to ask. He hadn't—
“I can guarantee it.”
Anakin rubbed at his eyes with his fingers, hoping to clear his mind, clear his
vision— “Can't we get the power some other way?”
“No. I have never lied to you, Anakin, and I wouldn't start now. Not with
this.”
“Can't you take my life to feed hers?”
“Anakin, my dear boy, if I did that, what would be the point? It was you I
wanted to spare.”
Something clicked in the fog in Anakin's mind.
He's not being selfless. He wants me alive. This isn't about saving Padmé for
me. I'm not the point here. What I want doesn't matter to him.
Selfishness.
Sith.
Anakin yanked his lightsaber out and aimed it for Palpatine's heart. “Release
him.”
“What are you doing?” Palpatine pleaded, sounding so reasonable. “Padmé will
die . Think about this. Please. Kill me, if you must, if you cannot break free
from your slavery to the Jedi Council, but save her.”
The comm at the desk pinged and a mini Mas Amedda appeared. “The peace treaty
is signed, and the motion has also passed. The Senate elected you Emperor of
the Republic to give you the authority you need to protect them from the
betrayal of the Jedi. To protect the infant peace. Congratulations, Emperor
Palpatine. Your Empire awaits.”
The holo vanished.
Anakin's eyes glittered. “What did you tell them?”
“That the Jedi demanded the war continue. That they tried to sabotage the peace
negotiations. That they threatened the Senate and were going to restart the
war.”
Anakin felt the anger swirling in his heart, the darkness. He couldn't help it.
This man was vile. “You've killed so manyalready. Who next? Next it's going to
be the people who protest that you killed the Jedi. It's going to be the people
who would expose the betrayalas a lie. It's going to be the people who resent
an empire.It's going to be politicians who believe in democracy—”
“You don't believe in democracy, Anakin. I've listened to what you've said over
the years. You believe a stronger government is necessary. Help me make it a
goodone. A justone. It's the onlyway to prevent war from returning. You know
how corrupt the Senate is, how greedy. With this power, we can ensure the peace
is never broken again. No more deaths.”
Anakin hesitated.
This is my moment. The moment I decide between me and others.
But...
Wouldn't saving Obi-Wan be for Anakin, and choosing to put an Empire's needs
before his own be selfless?
The choice wasn't supposed to be this confusing. It was supposed to be obvious.
The Jedi were dead.
There was nothing that could be done about it now.
He could make their sacrifice pointless. He could make it so they died for
nothing. Or, he could do what he could with the cards dealt him. Padmé could
live. The Empire could be good. There would be peace.
Wasn't that what the Jedi were willing to die for? To save lives?
No, this wasn't what any of them or Anakin himself wanted, but it was done, and
wasn't making the best of it a Jedi trait? Instead of wailing over the past,
forgingthe future into something better?
Obi-Wan lay so quietly.
The lines of pain, of fear that so often marred his forehead gone.
He didn't know his family had been annihilated.
He didn't know.
Anakin felt his heart break.
Obi-Wan would never accept an empire. He would think it slavery for the average
citizen.
Obi-Wan would be miserable. An avian trapped in a gilded cage.
Anakin stared his decision in the face.
Padmé and his children... or his Master.
Palpatine was right. He knewwhich Obi-Wan would choose.
A memory of Mortis flitted through his mind. “Their powers are too strong for
us, Anakin. Save Ahsoka.”
It hadn't been Padmé, then, but if it hadbeen, his Master's words would have
been the same.
He'd given permission. No, a command.
Ahsoka was dead.
Ahsoka, who Obi-Wan was now responsible for.
No.
No.
The agony Anakin felt at her loss was notsomething he would inflict on his
Master.
He had Obi-Wan's wishes on the matter.
And in this moment, Anakin chose to respect them over his own heart.
I love you.
He turned off his lightsaber and sat beside Obi-Wan.
He gathered his Master in his arms, drew him close, cradling his body.
If Obi-Wan must die so that others could live...
At least he would die surrounded by love.
Even though Obi-Wan wouldn't know it, wouldn't feel it, he would be bathed in
gratitude and sorrow. He would not die alone. Not like the rest of the Jedi.
Anakin would make his sacrifice, and the sacrifice of the other Jedi, have
value. Have meaning. He would take something horrible, something terrible, and
bring life and securityin its wake.
And...
Anakin would be withObi-Wan in his final moments. Walk beside him to the brink.
Would know what it felt like to die with him.
He would carry that knowledge, that burden, forever.
He owedObi-Wan that.
He pressed a gentle kiss to the death-white forehead. Thank you.
In life, Obi-Wan had given him everything.
Death would be no different.
He lowered his forehead to press against Obi-Wan's hair. Closed his eyes.
And one last time, gently pushed his way through the shields, to hear the
silence, feel every pulse of his heart.
In half a standard second, he knew.
Knew the Sith had lied.
Knew Obi-Wan was aware. He was notasleep, unconscious, unknowing.
Knew Obi-Wan's excruciating anguish, body and mind and heart.
Knew Obi-Wan was screaming, and there was no-one to hear him.
Knew Obi-Wan was keenlyaware of all he'd lost.
Knew Obi-Wan was trapped on Zygerria.
Knew that the harder Obi-Wan pushed against the illusion to try to rush to
Anakin's aid, the more viciously the memories closed in on him.
Knew Obi-Wan knewhe was dying. Felt the slow draining agony as life was torn
centimeter by bloody centimeter from his clutching fingers.
Knew none of Obi-Wan's muscles obeyed him.
Knew Palpatine had placed false shields around Obi-Wan to keep Anakin docile.
Knew Obi-Wan had heard everythingthat had been said.
Knew Obi-Wan's point of view on it.
Obi-Wan's vision was so much clearer.
Palpatine wasn't trying to muddle his judgment . He wantedObi-Wan seeing
clearly.
And the way Obi-Wan saw it burned through Anakin's soul.
Palpatine didn't love him.
Not even selfishly.
Palpatine wanted his power. Palpatine wanted control over the Chosen One,
wanted to mold Anakin into something that would give Palpatine more power.
Wanted to use him, and would cast him aside once he no longer wanted him.
Obi-Wan saw that Palpatine had stripped away all of Anakin's friends except for
Palpatine himself. Leaving himthe only one Anakin could turn to.
Anakin knew.
Half a second.
His eyelids had just brushed closed when they flew open again. His head snapped
up with a snarl. “This ends here. Let him go.”
Palpatine knew he knew. He dropped the facade of kindness, his eyes turning
hard and cold. “You will bow the knee or Padmé dies.”
“Padmé would rather die than have me bolster your power and hand you the
Republic.” It was difficult to say, sodifficult—
But every word was true.
And what Padmé wanted mattered.
It sure as fripmattered.
“How about your unborn children? Would she be so careless with theirlives?”
The cold surged through Anakin's blood. “I will save them.”
“You can't if you're dead.”
“I'm not dead yet.” Anakin was on his feet, lightsaber lit, moving to stand
between Obi-Wan and the Sith.
“Bow to me, Skywalker, or they die.”
“They're dead already, because they would fight you to the bitter end, whether
I gave in to you or not. If I betrayed them, they would wish they were dead,
and they would fight on. I'm doneforcing my will on them.”
Palpatine prowled to the side, and Anakin turned slowly to always keep him in
view.
“Let's get to the heart of it, then, shall we?” Palpatine smiled. “You. You
don't want to lose. You're so young. You have a little power. Think of how much
more you could gain. You could achieve all you ever wanted: you could make
Padmé's dreams of the end of corruption come true. Surely she would forgive
you, if you could accomplish that. You can learn how to beat death. And you
could make the reporters stop saying those vile things about Obi-Wan. If you
bow to me.”
How in hellcould he know all that, unless he'd been touching Anakin's mind over
the years? Somehow reading his thoughts, his feelings, without Anakin's
knowledge or consent?
The thought sent a shiver of revulsion down his spine.
What else had Palpatineseen?
This must be how Obi-Wan felt when hismemories were violated.
Anakin gripped his lightsaber and his muscles tightened, ready to spring.
Palpatine gave it one last effort. “If you die, there will be no-one to help
Padmé. I won't have the power, and all those who would have helped her are
dead. You can either kneel before a new Master, or die with the old one.”
Force, why wouldn't he shut up?
Even as Anakin lunged forward, a red saber meeting his blue, he knew.
If Obi-Wan hadn't been here...
I would have fallen for it. I wouldn't have been able to see my way out of the
web.
He owed Obi-Wan his soul.
Anakin fought as he never had before. He released himself to the Force, gave
himself over, allowed its surging light to twine through his arms, his legs,
his mind—
It was beautiful. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.
It was exhausting.
Death hung heavy in the room, grabbing at him. It felt like fighting
underwater. It shortened his foreknowledge of what was about to happen. Gave
him less warning.
It had the opposite effect on Sidious.
Palpatine was no old man, apparently.
The battle raged around the room, destroying art, destroying the desk—
Anakin knew the moment when the tide turned.
It was the three and three-quarter minute mark.
From there, it was a matter of five more blows and then Anakin's lightsaber
shattered and Anakin was driven to his knees.
Even as he fell, the thought cut through the fog that would notleave.
He was going to die. Right here, right now.
I'm sorry, my love. I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I'm sorry, Snips.
But at least he could look all three in the face.
There was a cleanness here he'd never known he needed.
It wasn't so bad to die, when there was that.
A blue blade erupted through the Sith's chest.
Anakin stared at the lightsaber tip, baffled.
Palpatine's eyes rolled up in his head and he fell forward—
Anakin rolled out of the way and onto his feet, just in time to catch Obi-Wan
as his Master collapsed.
“Howdid you—?”
Anakin thought of what he'd seen when he'd stepped into Obi-Wan's mind.
And then realized.
Obi-Wan had chosen to allow the illusion to have its way, as brutally as it
could inflict, because he was going. To. Help. Anakin.
He'd thrown away any attempt to save himself, to try to hide, to minimize the
damage.
He'd walked throughZygerria, while it tore his soul asunder.
Suffering in silence.
Because he hadn't fought back, Palpatine hadn't sensed him. Had assumed he'd
given up.
Hadn't realized.
Anakin sank to the floor, holding Obi-Wan close. The blood dripping from his
Master's nose and ears terrified him.
Obi-Wan had endured it all over again , by choice—
For Anakin. To save the boy he loved.
“Live, please,” Anakin begged through the tears running down his cheeks.
Obi-Wan's gray eyes found his face. “Anakin... they're all gone .”
“Yeah. Yeah, they are.” Anakin could feel the gaping tear in the universe. “And
I may lose Padmé and my kids. If that happens, you're allI have left. Please
don't leave me.”
“Anakin... your Force-signature... it's clean...”
“What?” Anakin stole a quick glance at himself.
His jaw nearly fell open in stunned disbelief.
No longer blood-soaked. Where it brushed against Obi-Wan's, it no longer seemed
to taint his Master's by proximity.
It... it matched.
And where they overlapped, strength and beauty burned brighter.
For the first time in his life, Anakin felt worthy of the man bleeding in his
arms.
“Look at that,” Anakin half-laughed, half-sobbed. And then something else
caught his attention.
Yes. The galaxy's wound was terrible.
But the throttling darkness was... lifting.
The pall that had fallen across the Force on a galactic scale, that had been
slowly creeping for decades and had become so thick in the last three years...
It was receding. Falling away.
Light, so besieged, so sickened for so long, spilled across the universe.
A sunrise. Glorious. Beautiful.
The sense of freedom that spilled into Anakin's soul almost made him feel
giddy. “Did I do that, or did you ? I think youdid that, when you killed
Palpatine.”
“No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered. “Look at us.”
His Master must have seen his confusion—
“Balance... it was never about light and dark.”
Anakin looked closer.
Saw it.
Obi-Wan's gift for the Cosmic Force, Anakin's own for the Living Force,
overlapping in perfect harmony.
He's right.
“Finding our balance did all this?” Anakin stared into the Force's breaking
dawn, overwhelmed.
Obi-Wan half-smiled. “I'm sure overthrowing the Sith didn't hurt.”
“Well. That , at least, was something you accomplished .”
 
* * *
 
Obi-Wan lay still and watched the spectacular colors streaking across the
Force.
It had been shadowed for so long, the hues muted, muddied, broken.
He hadn't been alive when the Force originally looked like this. He had only
ever lived under the threat of the Sith.
This was...
Beyond his most beautiful dreams.
Anakin could say he was sure it was Obi-Wanwho had brought it, but Obi-Wan knew
better.
“We both did,” Obi-Wan murmured. There was no way he would have been able to
kill the Sith himself. Not without Anakin casting his lot in with the light.
In the end, it had been Anakin who decided which way the galaxy would go.
Brought balance.
You were right, Qui-Gon. So right.
Cosmic and Living Force unified.
The light returning to where it belonged, and the shadows to their place.
Stillness had fallen. A peace and a hope that drove memories back into darkened
corners.
The Force was so close.
Anakin was so close.
For the first time in his life, Obi-Wan could just restin Anakin's presence in
the Force. Perfect. Finally whole. So, so beautiful.
And this amazing creature called him Master.
What a gift.
One Obi-Wan had never been worthy of.
Quinlan Vos had been wrong. Standing in Anakin's wake wasn't a demeaning place
to be.
Content. Very content.
Oh look... there was Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan smiled to him, felt warmth seep into his bones as his Master smiled
back.
“You did it, Obi-Wan.” His Master's voice so proud...
“I'm not a failure?” Obi-Wan asked, feeling fear again—
Qui-Gon's eyes gentled. “No. You were never that.”
The years of self-doubt, of self-hate drained away.
It was so beautiful here, so quiet.
Satine... Ahsoka... the thousands in his family...
They were waiting for him.
But there was one very special person left in the land of the living.
Obi-Wan pushed back, away from the golden drift of the Force.
Away from Qui-Gon.
He became aware of the painfirst. Tearing through his body.
Something still so, sowrong.
He blinked up at Anakin. His Padawan was still caught by the song of Light's
morning.
“It's— it's not stopping,” Obi-Wan rasped. Anakin deserved to know.
 
* * *
 
Anakin stared down at Obi-Wan, shocked by how weak, how painedthe voice
sounded. It broke him free of his wonder. “You're still dying?”
“Yes.” A cough wracked the thin frame.
Panic. Sharp and cruel.
“Listen to me. You've got to find out what he did. What's wrong, and then
healit. Alright?”
Obi-Wan nodded his head and his eyes drifted shut.
Anakin felt his heart hammering in terror, each beat a pounding pain in his
head. You can do it. Come on. We can make it through this.
Obi-Wan's eyes flew open, gray staring up at him in horror. “Your twins
—Palpatine did something to them—”
Anakin shuddered.
So much— so muchbeing taken from him—
He had to focus.
If he wanted to save any of them, he couldn't flail. He had to fight smartthis
time.
One thing at a time. What was right in front of him, first. “Find what he did
to you , Obi-Wan. Now.”
Obi-Wan tried, but the effort was draining what strength he had left.
Soon he wouldn't be able to heal himself even if he didfind what he was looking
for.
“I can't find it. And if I can't find it, I can't heal it,” Obi-Wan panted, his
agony pulsing harsh in the Force.
“Let me in. You rest, and I'll look.”
“You can't heal — it's not your gift.”
Anakin held him tighter, knowing what he was asking Obi-Wan to endure. Knowing
how cruel it was. “No. But I can search . Then youcan heal it. You'll die if we
don't. Please let me in.”
 
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Tomorrow morning, if all goes according to plan, I will post the
     final chapter and epilogue.
***** Chapter 24 *****
 
 
 Obi-Wan stiffened in his arms as Anakin's request sank home. “Aren't you
just... going to barge in? Like—  last time—”
Anakin thought of that horrible day when Obi-Wan had come so close to killing
himself.
Thought of the hell he'd inflicted on his Master in the process of trying to
save him.
And ultimately failing.
“No,” he whispered. “I'm not going to invade your mind again. It's your
decision. Pleaselet me save you.”
He couldn't breathe.
Obi-Wan hesitated for seconds that tore at Anakin's soul.
And then he whispered, “You may.”
Anakin felt him lower his shields, felt his body trembling in his Padawan's
arms.
 
* * *
 
Palpatine... Palpatine had been hell.
But it was so much easier to take that kind of torment from an enemy.
Obi-Wan called on every scrap of willpower he possessed to hold still.
“I'm sorry,” Anakin whispered into his mind.
His Padawan tried to be as gentle as possible.
But Anakin's mind searching through his own put him so close to being back
where Palpatine had held him down.
Rooms Obi-Wan kept resolutely locked were opened. Their contents brought back
into view.
Obi-Wan writhed, keening in anguish.
He felt Anakin's arms close tighter around him, pulling his Master to his
heart.
Something wet fell on Obi-Wan's face.
Then again, and again.
Anakin's tears.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Anakin murmured as he searched.
And then a moment of stillness—
“I found it. It's here, Obi-Wan. Right here.”
Yes.
It was.
 Obi-Wan was too tired to be able to translate the sensations into anatomy
charts, but fortunately  that was unnecessary for healing.
Obi-Wan reached for what Palpatine had broken. Tried to pour strength into it,
tried to draw the shattered edges together—
And couldn't. He didn't have the strength.
He was too far gone.
Far too gone.
The pieces slipped from his numb grasp.
He felt Anakin's alarm, hands shaking his shoulders, words in a desperate,
tear-choked voice.
It was so far away. So distant.
 
* * *
 
Anakin had only one option left.
He had to heal Obi-Wan himself.
 Hoping to  hell and back that he wouldn't somehow make things  worse —
 That  had happened, last time he attempted to save a dying Jedi—
He poured his soul into trying to mend the rent. He drove himself further than
he knew he could, refusing to even take a breath.
He focused like had never in his life before.
Almost.
Almost —
And then he felt something snap in his own mind and body.
Felt blood trickling from his nose.
Feeling just a bit detached from it all, Anakin realized that nowhe'd done it.
He was dying too.
Obi-Wan wasn't saved...
But Anakin was joining him.
A low, pained laugh escaped him.
Obi-Wan had always warned that one of these days he was going to try something
that he just couldn't do... and he wouldn't walk away from it.
I guess he was right.
He gently pulled away from Obi-Wan's mind, nudging the shields back into
position as best he could in the wake of Palpatine's surgical strike.
Obi-Wan shuddered in his arms.
Curled there, on the floor of Palpatine's office, a dead Sith prone nearby...
What a way to go.
 Certainly wasn't what he'd envisioned. Though... he'd never actually
envisioned  anything.  He'd always subconsciously assumed he  would get out.
Somehow, someway.
 He'd never looked death in the face and actually  expected it to take him.
Not until Palpatine had him disarmed.
And now... here again.
Obi-Wan cupped his hands together, and Anakin watched a feeble glow appear
between them.
“What is that?” Anakin asked suspiciously.
“I can't— heal myself, but I have a little strength left. If I can concentrate
it. Put it in one place.”
“What for?”
 Obi-Wan's gaze focused on his hands. “To save  you .”
 “You already  have. ”
 Gray eyes raised to meet his blue, and Anakin read anguish in their depths.
“Let me save you,” Obi-Wan pleaded. “ You I can heal. It's a simple break. I—”
 “ No . Listen to me. The twins. You said something about the twins.”
“Dying.” Obi-Wan's eyes lost their focus as he reached out, the small healing
talent he possessed burning inside him. “Padmé— Padmé is fine—surrounded by the
dead, but unhurt—”
 “Obi-Wan.” Anakin swallowed hard. “Save the twins.”
His Master's forehead furrowed. “You won't be alive to meet them. You— you and
Padmé can always have another child—”
“But it won't be  these two . The gentle one, the fiery one— it would be a
different child. I know it makes no sense, I know it's unreasonable, but I
love them.  Those two.  Please, Obi-Wan. I want them to have their chance. I
want them to show the universe how amazing they are. I had my chance. Master...
save  them. Not me.”
He couldn't believe the force of the love he felt for those little life-forms.
Desperate. Consuming.
 Never, in his life, had he believed in  dying for someone. Not when he had
been confident he could bend fate and force the future in order to live  with
them.
But...
The thought of dying so his children could live wasn't... it wasn't as bad a
thought as he would have expected.
Obi-Wan read it in his eyes.
Considered.
Chose what his brother wanted over his own desire to see Anakin live.
Put Anakin first, himself second.
 And  Force , Anakin loved him for it.  I asked him to show me.
Here it is.
“The twins it is, then.” Obi-Wan focused. The light between his hands grew
brighter.
Anakin watched it with a swelling heart. Obi-Wan's life-force.
He didn't have Obi-Wan's ability to focus so precisely, but Obi-Wan's hands
were trembling so badly from the pain and from the drain—
Anakin covered Obi-Wan's hands with his own. Stilled the shaking. Allowed his
own power to add to the fragile orb of light. The effort was clumsy, but Obi-
Wan welcomed it.
“When I send it, it's over,” Obi-Wan warned.
 Anakin nodded, feeling Obi-Wan scanning him desperately, searching for any
sign that Anakin wanted to  live . Of course he did. But he wanted his children
to live  more.
And he was willing to give himself to make that happen.
And no, Obi-Wan...
“I don't resent it.”  Aloud, he said, “Not a bad way to go.”
“No. It's not.” Now reassured, Obi-Wan's face glowed with an almost perverse
triumph. “I love you, my brother.”
“And I you, Dad,” he murmured back, throat thick with feeling. “Together?”
“Always.”
And then somehow, the sphere of light was gone.
A myriad of images assailed Anakin.
 Padmé,  demanding an answer from clones who had ceased their aggression the
moment the last Jedi had fallen. The broken-hearted confusion of the men.
 Padmé, refusing to believe the clones had betrayed them. Seeking out answers,
until a plot was unveiled. Anakin couldn't see the details, but he saw— was
that Senator Organa? No...  Chancellor Organa... and  Vice-chancellor
Amidala...
Their term marked by seeking out the clones, removing what had controlled them.
Ensuring as many of them found healing as possible. Finding futures for them.
Finding rights.
Anakin saw clones standing in small groups, tears running down their faces as
they were declared innocent of the Jedi slaughter. As they were declared
legitimate human beings.
 As they were declared  free.
He saw Rex refusing to leave Padmé's side. Begging to be allowed to be her
family's personal guard.
Padmé agreeing.
Anakin saw—
A shiver ran through him—
He saw a young woman with her mother's eyes. Intense. Outspoken. Determined.
The youngest Chancellor the Republic had ever known.
The main goal of her administration...
The complete eradication of slavery from the galaxy.
Anakin tried to take it in.
The desperate dream of his childhood realized....
By his daughter.
 His  daughter. So beautiful. So grown up.
 The images just kept coming, so fast, so  vivid, so full of texture and
feeling—
A young man, with a gentleness that reminded Anakin of Obi-Wan, watching over
his mother. Finding future generations of Force-sensitive little ones, and
introducing them to its light.
He seemed to be a clone magnet.
Trooper after trooper sought him out, as if proximity to him helped heal their
own broken psyches.
Anakin saw the Order rising from the ashes, life from death, led by his son,
watched over by countless clones, who threw their lot in with the new Jedi.
They lived with the Jedi. They guarded their Jedi from harm.
They helped raise the orphans.
They went on missions with them, turning themselves over to the goals of
bringing compassion and healing across the universe.
He saw the white armor becoming almost as iconic as a lightsaber and robes,
symbolizing hope. Justice.
Mercy.
They built on a foundation Obi-Wan had laid. Obi-Wan had reached out to help
people.
And years later... apparently his kindness and dedication hadn't been
forgotten.
The people reached back.
Anakin saw the memory of all the Jedi who died today treasured. Grieved.
The lies Palpatine had spread brought crashing down.
He saw that of the names that were now revered...
It was Obi-Wan's at the top of the list.
 Anakin  saw.
 He had wanted to make people see Obi-Wan for who he  was , not what had been
done to him.
 It  happened.
He practically became the patron saint of the downtrodden.
The hero of heroes.
The images moved too fast to hold on to. Too much information spilling through
his soul, Anakin could only comprehend so much.
He saw his son again.
He's the gentle one.
Saw him working alongside—
 “Korkie's  alive, ” Anakin whispered.
A vibration of assent came to him across his bond with Obi-Wan.
His Master was seeing this too.
The three of them— Anakin's children and Satine's—
Determination that took Anakin's breath away—
He'd seen the efforts of his love and his children.
But Korkie had a plan too, and Anakin's family backed him up.
Mandalore.
He saw Cody at Korkie's side. Standing by him in every victory and defeat;
guarding, encouraging him.
Slowly coming to forgive himself.
Finding purpose in the child Kenobi had claimed.
And Mandalore...
 Slowly... surely...  giving way to Korkie's passionate will.
It was a fight of decades, but Korkie was winning, centimeter by centimeter,
flanked by the the twins.
When one felt discouraged, the other two bore them up, only to be encouraged
when their turn came. Where one was weak, another had strength. It was a triad
that refused to break, no matter what came their way.
The wave of elation that came crashing into Anakin from Obi-Wan nearly made him
black out.
 His best friend had felt the sacrifice worth it  before.
Now... knowing it would redeem Mandalore...
He was beyond content.
He was happy.
And then a new image caught Anakin's eye.
Many, many years ahead...
A young man with dark hair...
Named for Obi-Wan.
And when darkness tried to rear its ugly head again, in a new form—
He was there to resist. To stop it.
Ben.
The images faded, and the two Jedi knew the time was here.
Anakin felt Obi-Wan squeeze his fingers tight, too overcome for speech.
Anakin cradled Obi-Wan even closer.
Death beside him wasn't a lousy option.
It was perfect.
 
 
***** Epilogue *****
Korkie awoke in a hospital bed.
No.
Not acceptable.
He should have died alongside his new family. He should have—
He recognized the woman sitting by his bed.
Senator Amidala.
Mother of Master Skywalker's children.
He wanted to ask if his uncle had survived. Wanted to ask if anyone in the
Temple had.
The woman seemed to know, even though his lungs wouldn't work.
She took his hand, and through quiet tears, told him.
 
* * *
 
Padmé had seen Anakin's last moments.
 She'd been in the middle of yelling at blank-eyed troopers who seemed
disoriented, almost more angry that they  hadn't killed her alongside the
people she had struggled to protect than angry at them  for killing.
 Standing alone, unassailed, when these precious people lay  dead —
She had never felt so... filthy in her life.
But in another place, the twins' father had been in trouble.
Mid-rant, Padmé crashed to her knees, the Temple and troopers blotted out by
the strength of what her children were channeling to her.
 Anakin's emotions echoed through her as she  watched, helpless to do anything
but submit to the twins' attempt to communicate .
 She saw, she  felt Obi-Wan's parting gift.
 Saw,  felt Anakin's choice. His love.
Knew what they'd done.
Knew what it meant.
Slowly, her vision returned.
She could feel the turbulence of the twins. Their anxiety. Their confusion.
“Your daddy was a hero,” she whispered, placing a hand against the stomach that
had yet to show its occupants. “And he loved us very much.”
She had no doubt of that now.
She shared it with Korkie. Telling him of Obi-Wan's final moments.
Of Anakin's.
 The twins didn't know what it was that Anakin and Obi-Wan had seen. That bit
was very,  very fuzzy. Clearly, the dying Jedi had seen  something in the three
seconds before silence claimed them. They'd been practically glowing with awe
and wonder.
All that could be picked out was that when Anakin murmured, “Korkie lives,”
Obi-Wan looked like he'd been given the world.
The young Mandalorian hid his face in his hands and wept.
 He had lost  too much.
Padmé understood.
She felt the same.
She drew Korkie into her arms and soothed him, her tears dampening his hair.
 
* * *
 
Bail took the Senate by storm.
They'd caught Mas Amedda red-handed as he tried to erase security footage of
the Chancellor's office.
The holos had been most enlightening.
Amedda was in prison, where he belonged... and Padmé replaced him.
Bail, elected in an astounding landslide, immediately started relegating
authority backto the planetary systems, limiting his own power. Slowly
returning what the Chancellor had gathered up.
 Bail offered to take in Korkie, but Padmé had beaten him to it. So instead, he
kept an eye on his friend, unable to imagine just  how difficult all that had
happened must be for her.
 Hell.  He was hurting.
 The loss of Obi-Wan was a wound that would take a long,  long time to lose its
pain. But somehow, when he was actively involved in helping Jar Jar process and
recover, he caught his own heart taking sneaking steps towards healing.
Strange, how seeking to help someone else helped himself.
The birth of the twins went smoothly, with no complications whatsoever.
A healthy boy and girl, and a healthy mother.
Breha practically adopted the little ones, and the attention she lavished upon
them vied even with that of their Naberrie grandparents.
 
* * *
 
The first time Padmé place infant Leia in Rex's arms, the clone had been
terrified of breaking the baby.
In fact, he only agreed to try when Padmé insisted.
For long moments he cradled the child, staring down into the scrunched-up
face...
And something started to heal, deep inside him.
It stole Padmé's breath to see it. The crazed agony that never left those eyes
quieted. Eased.
The earliest days of the infancy were the easiest Padmé had experienced in the
last several months.
 She was too busy, and then too exhausted, to  think much. One baby would have
been a tremendous change. And she had two.
She had no idea what she would have done without Korkie.
 He changed diapers. He walked for hours with one or the other when they would
not stop crying.
The stacks of homework from a local academy mingled with datapads stuffed with
information on baby-raising.
Padmé wondered if she should feel guilty that he'd read more of them than she
had.
But there came a time when the twins started sleeping through the night.
A time when watching the milestones of their growth made the loss of Anakin raw
all over again.
Yes. She shared these moments with Korkie and Rex, both of whom adored her
children...
But they were Anakin's.
And he would have worshiped them.
There were mornings when it was hard for Padmé to face the day ahead. Mornings
when she stood on the balcony, looking out at Coruscant's skyline and all she
could see was blood rising like a mist from the ground.
Luke always seemed to know when it was one of those mornings.
As soon as he was mobile, he would escape whatever barricade might get in his
way so he could scramble out to where she stood leaning against the railing.
It happened.
Every time.
 At first, Korkie or Rex would come running after him, horrified and utterly
bewildered how Luke had escaped  this time, when they'd  made so very sure —
But they saw how Luke's snuggles chased the lines from Padmé's forehead. Saw
how the edge of her pain would dull to something that could be endured.
So they stopped fighting the escapes. Luke never strayed from his focused path,
and he didn't seem interested in escaping at other times.
It became a comforting thing. Something Padmé could count on.
 A little some one  she could count on.
She would swoop Luke up and hold him tight, and turn away from staring out at
all that had been lost.
Turn to cherish what had been saved.
The little ones loved Naboo, especially once they reached the point where they
could scamper about on their own feet.
Padmé wondered if they felt the life that saturated the planet. Whether it made
them feel safe and whole.
Anakin used to say things like that.
She suspected it might not just be the Force-sensitives who felt the gentle
pull of life there, as she watched Rex take the toddlers running through one of
the flower-strewn meadows and heard genuine laughter from the battle-scarred
man mingling with the sweet giggles of her children.
 Long before the twins could talk, Korkie had begun murmuring stories to them
of  your Dad and Uncle Ben.
At first it had hurt, and Padmé had needed to lock herself away in her bedroom
and cry.
And then it became something bittersweet...
And, eventually... something that made her smile.
 Now they would sit rapt, staring up at Korkie with earnest faces, unable to
get enough. They wanted to hear about the war. About the peace. About  Aunt
Satine.
About how Dad and Uncle Ben saved Little Luke and Leia.
That last was their favorite story.
Padmé wasn't sure how Korkie had the strength to tell it, but he always did,
whenever they asked.
And they asked often.
Your Dad and Uncle Ben were very hurt from fighting the Sith.
“The Sith was a bad man, right Korkie? He wanted to make Dad into a bad man and
take away freedom.”
That's right. But your Dad and Uncle Ben didn't fall for his tricks. There was
a great battle, and —
 “And they  killed the Sith.” That part impressed Leia far more than Luke. “But
the Sith hurt Uncle Ben.”
Very much. Your Dad tried to help him, but the hurt was very strong. Soon your
Dad was hurt too.
The children would scoot closer, breathless, even though they couldn't remember
a time when they  hadn't known how it went.
And then Uncle Ben realized the Sith had hurt Little Luke and Leia too —
“Little Leia!”
You're right. Little Leia.
“And Dad wanted to save us.”
Do you know why?
“He loved Little Luke and Little Leia.”
 Very much. So he and Uncle Ben held their hands together —
“Like this?”
Yes. Like that. And they sent all their love to Little Luke and Little Leia,
and it went all the way inside to their hearts —
“And the hurt went away!”
Small faces lit up and eyes sparkled.
It certainly did.
“And now Dad and Uncle Ben are one with the Force.”
 That's right.
“It means they live in the flowers.”
 Gentle laughter.  Close enough.
“Dad and Uncle Ben are heroes, aren't they?”
Yes they are.
At first, Padmé had been afraid of what such a story might do to their young
minds, but hadn't wanted to tell Korkie  no .
 And then she  saw the effects.
Saw how even though Anakin was gone, he had a very real presence in his
children's lives, created by the stories Korkie told.
 Saw how they revered their father and “uncle.” How they would run about with
sticks in their hands, pretending to  be their Jedi heroes.
 Heard little voices lisping to imaginary foes about how it's better to find
peace through  negotiations than through  fighting.
And realized she would never have to field the question,  why don't we have a
dad?
That alone made her thank the Force for Korkie Kryze.
 Somewhere along the line Korkie must have said  something, because five-year-
old Leia started chattering to her mother about  Big Sis Ahsoka.
At that point, Padmé's concern that the twins might not have strong enough ties
to the past vanished.
 Korkie watched over the children Obi-Wan had given his final breath to save
with a dedication that reminded Padmé of the way the Negotiator had taken  him
under his wing.
 Korkie was just always  there, when the little Skywalkers needed him.
As more years passed, Padmé found herself at a loss how to answer many of the
questions the twins asked relating to the Force. Maybe it was cowardice, but
she made Korkie field their inquiries.
Padmé didn't know if he knew what he was talking about, but it sounded like it
made sense, and it seemed to help Luke and Leia.
That was good enough for her.
The great library and holocron vault of the Temple had been destroyed in the
attack, so they didn't really have anywhere to turn but to memories.
Korkie's. Rex's. Cody's.
 Once the clones discovered that there was a family who  wanted to hear what
they remembered about their Jedi, they began to appear out of the woodwork.
Sometimes they would talk for hours.
Others would sit staring at their hands, manage to choke out the most important
thing their Jedi had taught them, and then dissolve into tears.
 It's no wonder Luke responded so warmly to them and  had to find a way to
incorporate them into his efforts to rebuild the Order.
 He was incapable of standing by and  watching when he saw people in pain.
The aging troopers adored him, and they adored the little Jedi Luke started to
train as he stumbled across them.
And then one morning Padmé stood at her balcony, the old ache in her heart a
shivering wail, and realized it had been years since the last time.
Her son had moved out, into his own home long ago.
A man. Her boy was now a man.
 Instead of him being her  Little Luke, she was now his  Little Mother.
He wouldn't be coming to her aid anymore. Those were treasured memories of a
time now passed.
She missed him.
And she missed his father.
So much.
It took a few moments to recognize the speeder's rumble.
And then the sound changed to well-loved footsteps.
Strong arms wrapped around her from behind and she leaned back into Luke's
strong embrace.
He didn't say a word.
He simply held her and watched the sunrise.
 
* * *
 
 Boil ignored the pleas of his brothers to join them and the  new General
Skywalker.
The Jedi didn't have a military title, but Boil's brothers just couldn't manage
to let go of the beloved word.
 It didn't matter if no-one  else saw him as one. He was  their General.
Their second chance.
And in spite of everything, he believed in them.
 Boil saw the good that the new Skywalker had done for his brothers, and he
was glad they'd found a way to make peace with their lives.
But he was done with Jedi. Very done.
He almost fell into his new career.
Bounty hunting.
 It made so much  sense. Yes, it took some time to get used to not having
orders to follow...
 But Boil never wanted to take another order  again.
And this job allowed him to hunt war criminals to the ends of the universe and
back. Members of both the Separatist and Republic war machines who had crossed
the line again and again were finally being called to account for the lives of
his brothers and civilians.
And Boil made sure they kept their appointments in court.
It was a grim satisfaction, but it was satisfaction.
And it allowed him to sleep at night.
 And he  might... make the  occasional visit to a certain dusty planet with
brightly-colored people...
 And he  might spend time with one green-skinned Twi'lek child...
 And he  might... smile...
 Every time she calls him  nerra.
 
* * *
 
Qui-Gon Jinn watched Luke, careful to let him learn on his own.
The boy would learn best if he made his own mistakes.
But when he finally came up against something he couldn't beat on his own, Qui-
Gon would be there.
He was sorry that he'd never had a chance to train Obi-Wan in the ways of the
Whills.
He would have enjoyed the company of his former Padawan.
But he also knew that Obi-Wan had been more than ready to find peace and rest.
Traces of him whispered through the Force.
Wherever it went, hints of Skywalker followed not far behind.
Even now, consciousness scattered across the unending sea of time and space,
the two were inseparable.
Qui-Gon smiled at the thought.
They were safe. Out of reach of any more harm.
And the sky was bluer, the oceans wilder, the winds sweeter, the rains gentler
for their presence.
Qui-Gon wasn't sure if he was imagining things...
But there was a scent that occasionally crossed paths with the whispers of Obi-
Wan.
 Something that reminded Qui-Gon of war  and nonviolence. Passion  and self-
control.
And when this hint and the traces of Obi-Wan collided...
 The Force hummed with the sheer  rightness of it.
And a sunrise turned into a masterpiece of unspeakable beauty.
And a baby giggled.
And Mandalore took one tiny step closer to change.
 
 
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