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Chapter Text

The Senate building is bustling with activity; the Senators are taking their places and talking amongst themselves already. Masters of the Jedi Council Obi-Wan Kenobi and Mace Windu have been called to represent the Jedi Order.

Honestly. Obi-Wan isn’t quite sure why their presence was demanded. It’s not as if they can cast any votes. To have Jedi in the Senate on occasion certainly isn’t a bad idea, but to demand their presence for a specific Session is rare, if not unprecedented.

Obi-Wan is tired; the war has dragged on for far longer than he would have ever dreamed or hoped. The Jedi hardly take missions outside of leading troops into battles these days, and the fighting and distance from their ideals is taking their toll on the Order and all the Jedi in it. Several Jedi have already left the frontlines, unable to cope, unable to keep going. Many of them have died. Their already small numbers ever diminishing.

“Welcome Senators, the emergency session called by Senator Ach’ki Mandai of the planet Haa’ndu as per Galactic Senate regulation FK23-5 will now commence.” Chancellor Palpatine’s voice rings out across the hall, which slowly falls silent. Many Senators casts more-or-less covert glances toward the Jedi Council repulsorpod.

Obi-Wan and Mace share a look, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Perhaps the Jedi are the only people here who don’t know what the Emergency Session is about.

“Senator Mandai, we will now hear you. The floor is yours.”

Obi-Wan could swear that the Chancellor cast an almost… cruelly smug look in their direction. He’s never liked the man much—for all that Anakin considers him a friend—but this seems out of character, even for him.

The Haa’ndu pod detaches and moves toward the center of room.

“My fellow Senators!” Senator Mandai straightens, her long scaled body glittering in the light, the feathers on her jaw and crown swaying as she turns around to address them all. “The war has been going far longer than any of us could have imagined. It has dragged on, caused more damage and cost more lives than any of us could have ever dreamed.” Her voice is strong, even without the voice-amplifiers.

Murmurs can be heard all around the Senate chamber. Obi-Wan watches the almost iridescent shine of the Senator’s black scales for a brief second before returning his attention to the matter at hand.

“The Republic is funding an army of clones. Sentient beings created and raised simply for the sake of dying in our war. I ask you, is this Just?!”

The room erupts with shouting. Obi-Wan shares another look with Mace. Most of the senators would benefit from some instruction in patience and serenity.

“In the midst of it all are the Jedi. Acting as Generals and Commanders of the Republic Army. An army made up of clones who are little more than slaves!”

Obi-Wan flinches slightly. He’s not certain where Senator Mandai is taking this, but so far the direction seems to be rather unfavourable to the Jedi. The glances in their direction and the demand that they take part in the Order’s own pod suddenly makes a lot more sense.

“This might be taking a rather unpleasant direction,” Mace mutters under his breath. Obi-Wan doesn’t say anything, but nods slightly in agreement.

The room turns silent again and Senator Mandai raises her arms in the air, the light glints off the long, sharp claws on her four-fingered hands.

“The peacekeepers of our Galaxy have been turned into army leaders. Forced to go against the very core of their own teachings, for the sake of this Republic. My fellow Senators, this cannot continue! Supreme Chancellor Palpatine has been incompetent since he was voted into office after the Vote of No-Confidence against former Chancellor Valorum! He’s been inefficient, slow to act, and allowed his own term to be dragged out without a new vote for far longer than any competent politician should have allowed! The war has dragged on because our Chancellor has done nothing to stop the powers that drive it, and it is the Jedi and the Clones that shoulder the weight of his incompetence!”

The sound in the chamber is almost deafening. Obi-Wan and Mace share a wide-eyed look of astonishment. The Senate usually have little concern with what the Jedi suffer in the line of their duty to the Republic. They usually only care when things haven’t gone quite the way the Senate would like.

Obi-Wan looks toward Chancellor Palpatine. The man looks like someone just slugged him in the face, his shock almost radiates off him.

“By Republic law B-45-SK-9, the Jedi Masters of the High Council are our fellow Senators. The Master of the Order, Master Mace Windu and his fellow councillor Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi—High General of the Republic Army and renowned as The Negotiator—are both in session today. With the direct backing of 134 other Senators, I call for a Vote of No-Confidence against Chancellor Palpatine.”

The noise becomes deafening again, voices shouting both for and against the vote. As it’s been called, it will be carried out, though the outcome is not certain.

Obi-Wan turns Senator Mandai’s words over in his head. Members of the High Council are Senators in the Galactic Senate by Republic law? He’s never heard about that before. More pressingly, for what reason did Senator Mandai bring it up now?

“My fellow Senators!” Senator Mandai’s voice cuts through the ruckus like a hot knife through butter.

Silence falls again, if begrudgingly.

“Yes. I call for a Vote of No-Confidence. However, that is not all.” She straightens up further, and Obi-Wan almost feels the Force swirl around her. There’s a niggling in the back of his head, telling him that this, whatever Senator Mandai will say next, is of utter importance to the future of the galaxy itself.

“I believe that we need to elect a neutral Chancellor. One who stands nothing to gain from war, one who has served our Republic to the utmost of his ability. I call for the Vote of No-Confidence to also be a vote to instate High Councillor of the Jedi Order, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, as the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.”

What?

Obi-Wan stands in his own little kitchen, staring blindly at the cupboard in front of him and stirs his tea. The Senate had agreed to Senator Mandai’s proposal. A Vote of No-Confidence in combination with instating him, him, as Supreme Chancellor would be held in two days, to allow as many Senators as possible to attend.

He shut his comm off two hours ago and has been locked in his rooms since five hours ago. He doesn’t want to see or talk to anyone right now. Escaping the Senate building was a nightmare, reporters and senators everywhere. At least he had Mace to help him bulldoze his way through the crowd.

He sits down in the small arm-chair in the lounge part of his apartment and looks around. He’s been so busy with the war, has barely spent any time in the temple at all, that he can still see the two boxes of his meagre belongings by the door, unpacked.

Obi-Wan has never been very skilled with the Living Force, but right now he longs for the peace and tranquillity that he found in the rooms he’d shared with Qui-Gon during the last years of his apprenticeship, and those rooms had been stuffed with plant life.

Ignoring the possibility of the vote going through, Obi-Wan sits in his armchair, sips his tea, and wonders what sort of plants would be good to fill a Jedi apartment with.

Chapter Text

Padmé Amidala moves through the Senate, Bail Organa at her side, heading toward the emergency session. The information she received about it is scarce, which troubles her, but she knows it’s been called by Senator Mandai of Haa’ndu. The only other information she possesses is that the session is about the war, the clones and the Jedi.

“Bail, do you know anything about Senator Mandai? Her political leanings, why she might have called this session, what exactly she’s planning to address? Anything?”

Bail hums and strokes his chin, easily keeping up with Padmé’s stride even when slightly distracted by his own thought process.

“Haa’ndu is a planet located in the mid rim. The sentient population are called Naangni, they’ve very large and serpentine. Well, you’ll see soon enough when Senator Mandai takes the floor of course.” He pauses briefly, as if gathering his thoughts. “Haa’ndu has been opposing the war since the start and I believe Senator Mandai’s predecessor often spoke of corruption in the Senate. As for Senator Mandai herself, I can’t say I know much. Based on Haa’ndu’s general positions, she’s most likely anti-war. As for her specific feelings on the clones and the Jedi, I have no idea.” Bail gave a minute shrug.

“I had never heard of her before now. I tried to gather information once the session was called, but there’s only so much one can do in such a limited amount of time.”

Padmé keeps her head high, even as she worries. She has friends among the Jedi, she has Ani among the Jedi, and she knows the war has been taking its toll on them all.

An anti-war senator calling an emergency session regarding not just the war, but the Jedi and the clones as well, that has the potential to cause a lot of trouble for the Jedi.

She’s worked hard since she was elected to try and root out the corruption she knows exists. She’s tried to ensure a speedier but fairer process in the Senate. However, as a single senator there’s only so much she can do. She has her allies, but it takes time and the longer the war rages on, the longer the same person sits as Chancellor, the worse the Jedi’s and the clones’ situation grows. She’s seen public opinion start to sway, more and more people grumble about the “war mongering space wizards”—despite how the war information usually centres on the clone troopers—and it sets her teeth on edge.

Breathe, Padmé. They’re still a minority. There’s still time.

As used as Padmé has become to the senators shouting at each other and the person who currently holds the floor, she will probably never get used to the sheer volume of it all. She tries to focus on how loud it is rather than her complete and utter shock, shock she knows that Bail shares.

She’s glad they chose to share a pod today. His presence at her side is grounding.

Her eyes aren’t sharp enough to see Chancellor Palpatine’s expression from here, but she wishes she could.

One thing is for sure:, Senator Mandai isn’t afraid of stepping into controversy. Never before has Padmé seen a senator straight up tell the whole Senate, without mincing any words at all, that Chancellor Palpatine is incompetent. She’s watched as the Chancellor has been given more and more freedom and power and even though a new election should have taken place years ago, he’s allowed others to push for the prolonging of his mandate. She had believed him as he’s said that the powers weigh heavy on him and that he allows it only because it is the wish of the Senate, but as time has passed she’s grown less and less sure.

Padmé only wishes that she and Bail had been among the 134 at Senator Mandai’s side. She would be, if she was asked. After all, she and Bail has already spoken with many of their allies about drafting legislation for Palpatine to give back the emergency powers he was given, to return to a true republic. As it is, she will support Senator Mandai’s proposal.

A Vote of No-Confidence and a new election will be better than the stagnation currently plaguing them.

“She’s brave,” Bail says.

“She’ll receive my support,” Padmé says in answer. Bail just smiles and inclines his head toward her. She knows he will give his support to the No-Confidence too.

“My fellow Senators!” Senator Mandai calls out again, voice ringing clearly through the cacophony with the help of voice-enhancers.

Silence is slow to return, many senators seem unwilling to stop arguing. Senator Mandai is patient, though, and Padmé wonders what more she will say.

“Yes. I call for a Vote of No-Confidence. However, that is not all.”

Padmé feels hear heartbeat picking up and her palms start to sweat. She won’t allow herself to show her nerves on her face, but something tells her that what comes next will be important. Very important.

“I believe that we need to elect a neutral Chancellor. One who stands nothing to gain from war, one who has served our Republic to the utmost of his ability. I call for the Vote of No-Confidence to also be a vote to instate High Councillor of the Jedi Order, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, as the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.”

Oh.

Bail Organa clutches his cup of caff as he and Padmé take their seats in his office. The emergency session is over… and what a session it was. He feels a bit as if everything is spinning. Part of him wants to laugh hysterically. Obi-Wan Kenobi as Supreme Chancellor? No doubt would the man do a fine job, but he would hate every second of it.

“Perhaps that’s why he’s the best choice…” he murmurs, more to himself than to anyone else.

“What was that, Bail?” Padmé looks up from the paper she was reading on moments before.

“Just considering Obi-Wan in the role of Supreme Chancellor.”

“He would hate it. He can’t stand politicians or politics,” she says with a small smirk on her face. They both know what their friend is like.

“He would, and perhaps that is why he should be made Chancellor. At least during the war.” Bail shrugs minutely. “Senator Mandai is right that he stands nothing to gain from it, quite the opposite. He’s one of the best tacticians and generals the Republic has and he doesn’t want power. I can see why Mandai chose him.”

Padmé nods, even as she stares at nothing.

“Yes, I see what you mean. He would do an excellent job because it is his duty, but he would never want to prolong it for longer than absolutely necessary.”

They share another look of wry amusement.

“He hasn’t answered any of the times I’ve commed him, nor has he replied to any text-based messages either. Have you had more luck than I?” Bail takes a sip of his caff.

“No, nothing from Obi-Wan.” Padmé shakes her head. “Anakin said he’s locked himself in his room and won’t answer any summons. Not even from the Council.” She huffs. “I’m uncertain whether or not I want to vote in favour. Obi-Wan is my friend, and he truly would hate it, I’d hate to do it to him, but…” she trails off and won’t meet Bail’s eyes.

“I know how you feel, Padmé.” He sighs. “However, I do believe that we might be forced to put the Republic—the galaxy—over Obi-Wan right now. If he gets voted in, we can offer support.”

The silence that descends between them is heavy. Choosing between the Republic and a dear friend isn’t easy, but at the end of the day, they have to look toward the greater good.

Bail’s comm beeps suddenly, breaking the silence. He brings up the message and reads it over.

“Senator Mandai has accepted my proposal for a meeting. She and Senator Krit-chick of Barmen II will be here in an hour.”

He looks at Padmé and can see her steel herself.

“When they arrive, I will offer her my support.”

“As will I, Padmé. As will I.”

May Obi-Wan forgive them.

Chapter Text

Anakin Skywalker isn’t certain what he’s feeling. On one hand, he’s upset that a senator had the gall to call Chancellor Palpatine incompetent. The man has done his best for the Republic for years. How could she say something like that?!

He’s seen the reports on the holonews, of course. He doesn’t think anyone in the Republic has missed the pictures of Senator Mandai with her arms stretched in the air, possibly former-Chancellor Palpatine gaping, and Jedi master Obi-Wan with a look of horrified confusion on his face. Anakin hasn’t seen Obi-Wan look like that before—he’s usually too good at remaining calm and straight-faced. If the situation wasn’t what it is, Anakin probably would’ve framed that picture.

As it is, Obi-Wan has locked himself in his apartment—the new one, the one where Anakin’s prints aren’t in the lock so he can’t get in—and won’t answer the door or any messages.

It’s so frustrating!

Especially since now people have started comming him instead of Obi-Wan. Even Padmé did!

Anakin isn’t sulking. He isn’t. Just because his wife commed him because she wanted to talk to Obi-Wan rather than him doesn’t mean he’s sulking or anything.

He’s not.

Okay, so he’s a bit put out. Who wouldn’t be?!

Commander Cody and the 212th have been discussion security rotations, they’re probably roping the 501st into too, Anakin would bet on it. Well, he wishes them luck. As if Obi-Wan would ever stand for having a security detail.

Anakin huffs and crosses his arms, tapping his foot on the floor.

Maybe he should go visit the Chancellor? Though… How much longer can Anakin even think of him like that? If the vote goes through, Chancellor Palpatine will just be… Mister Palpatine. That’s weird, really weird. Anakin doesn’t want to think about that.

Then again, the Chancellor is probably really busy, the whole Senate is probably really busy what with the upcoming vote. And if the Senate’s busy then Padmé’s probably really busy too. Though not too busy to try and comm Obi-Wan, apparently.

He’s not sulking!

He’s been by Obi-Wan’s apartment three times already and Obi-Wan refused to open the door, or even answer when Anakin calls his name through the door every single time. If he’s honest with himself, Anakin isn’t even sure Obi-Wan’s in there. For all he knows, Obi-Wan has jumped out his window and escaped into the bowels of the Temple, never to be seen again.

Okay, maybe that isn’t fair. Anakin knows that Obi-Wan is all about duty. There’s no way he would do that. Anakin even resents his utter dedication to duty sometimes. Maybe not even just sometimes. A lot, actually.

Anakin sighs and sits down on his bed. He picks up his comm and send another message to Obi-Wan. Can’t the stubborn man just answer already?!

Then his comm starts beeping with an in-coming call and Anakin nearly drops it in surprise. he fumbles with it for a few seconds before he finally manages to answer.

Unfortunately, the person calling isn’t the one he’d hoped for.

“Master Windu.” Anakin has gotten pretty good at keeping his voice level when talking to Master Windu… at least for a while.

“Knight Skywalker. I’m calling on the behalf of the Council.”

Oh boy.

“I see, what does the Council want with me?” Anakin hasn’t even done anything worthy of Council attention recently! Why in the core worlds would they be calling him now? Unless…

“Have you spoken to Master Kenobi in the last few hours?”

If he didn’t have to keep a straight face for the holo, Anakin’s sure his face would be split in a wide grin right now. Obi-Wan isn’t even answering calls for the Council. This might just be the best day in months!

“No, he’s not returning any calls. He refuses to open his door as well.”

There’s a pregnant pause. Anakin only barely refrains from fidgeting, he hates talking to Council members.

“I see. Thank you for the information, Knight Skywalker. Do call us if you manage to get in touch with your former master. We would very much like to speak with him.”

They say their goodbyes and then end the call. Anakin allows the smile spread on his face.

Obi-Wan is hiding from the Council! If he’d just talk to Anakin, this would be one of the best days of Anakin’s life.

All thoughts of Chancellor Palpatine are quickly forgotten, he needs to tell Padmé immediately.

Chapter Text

There’s a part of Obi-Wan that’s screaming at him that he’s shirking his duty by hiding away like this. It screams and wails and almost hurts. The larger part of Obi-Wan, however, is tired.

Tired, confused… and scared.

He hasn’t been this scared since just after Qui-Gon died and he was suddenly a Knight with a Padawan. Oh, he’d demanded as much—anything to keep the promise he’d made to his dying Master—but he had still been scared witless. Everything had been turned on its head and he hadn’t known where to even begin.

It’s just like that, now.

The war has dragged on, longer and longer. His nerves are fraying, he sleeps far less than is recommended because there’s just so much he has to do and so little time in which to do it. Perhaps he should go talk to a mind healer, but he really doesn’t have the time for that right now.

He made Master before Anakin was even Knighted and he has always felt it was too early. Before he knew it, the war had started and there was little time to consider his change in status. Becoming a part of the Jedi Council had been another shock to his system.

The fact that someone even suggested that he should be made Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic makes him want to run screaming into the night, never to be seen again. How in all the core worlds has he managed to make people think he’d be the right person to hold that much power?

Isn’t it enough that he’s a Jedi Master, on the Jedi High Council, and a High General in the Grand Army of the Republic? Especially since he can’t shirk his duty and quit any of them! Unless, of course, the rest of the Council decides to oust him should he get elected.

Force. What if he gets elected as Supreme Chancellor?

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath and releases it slowly.

He repeats the action.

In. Out.

In. Out.

He slowly gets a grip on his anxiety and touches on the Force as he breathes out.

Plants. He was considering getting some plants for his apartment.

Obi-Wan sips his tea in contemplation. He planted most of Qui-Gon’s in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. They have grown well over the years and surely Obi-Wan could bring some cuttings back to his rooms?

Of course, that would mean leaving his quarters in the first place. Which means seeing other people. Which gives Anakin a chance to catch up to him. Cody is probably prowling around with the 212th somewhere too.

Obi-Wan sighs and finishes his cup of tea, immediately heading to his small kitchen to refill the cup.

He’d like to go to the training halls and do a few katas to burn off some of the jittery nervous energy in his system, but, again, that means leaving his room and probably talking to people.

He stops and casts a critical eye on his small sitting room. He could probably just rearrange his furniture a bit and do some of the calmer and more contained katas right here in his apartment.

He lets himself smile at the thought before he sets his still steaming cup of tea on the counter and goes to set things up.

Chapter Text

“Amlarion! What’re you doing? We don’t have any extra coursework, do we?” Initiate Im Darin says to her friend.

Said Mon Calamari Initiate turns from the terminal to look at her.

“Oh! Im!” he says and flaps a webbed hand at her. “Come here! I’m looking up Master Kenobi’s records. The Senate will be voting about whether or not to have him replace Chancellor Palpatine tomorrow, so I wanted to know more about him.”

“Ohh! Good idea. Scoot over,” she says and squishes herself into the seat with him.

They’re silent for a while, while Amlarion continues to bring up relevant information. Soon they gape at the screen.

“He never took the Trials?!” Im hisses, scandalised.

“B-but! If he never took the Trials to become a Knight… How did he become a Knight? Is he even allowed to be on the Council?”

“Who else would be on the Council in his stead then? It’s Master Kenobi! The Sith Killer! Of course he’s on the Council!”

Jocasta Nu makes her way over to the excited initiates being far too loud for the Library. Respect should be shown to the other patrons. Even if Master Kenobi is a rather… interesting subject.

“I am so glad, that we’re all back on Coruscant for this,” Garen Muln says with a wide grin.

Bant Eerin smacks him on the upper arm with a disapproving look. “This isn’t funny! Poor Obi-Wan! Doesn’t he have enough on his plate already?” She crosses her arms over her chest and stares her friends down, as if daring them to say something.

“How does he do it?” Reeft asks, sounding lost, looking at the others. “Not only does he become the first to encounter and then kill a Sith in a millennium, he then gets made a Master really young and only a short time after that he joins the kriffin High Council! And! And, now the Senate is voting about making him the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic! I mean… How does that even happen?”

He’s met with shrugs all around.

“I don’t envy him, I can tell you that much,” Bant says with a sigh. “He’s a High General in the Army too. We all feel spread thin being Generals and such, I can’t even imagine how tired Obi-Wan must be.”

“I… I can’t decide if I envy him or not. I mean, being a Master already would be neat, and everyone respects Council members a lot… But at the same time…” Reeft looks at the floor and rubs his chin.

“It has to be a lot of responsibility and a pretty heavy burden, don’t you think?” Bant says.

“At least he has us to occasionally drag him out for a round of ill-advised adventures, right?” Garen says with a grin.

They laugh.

Reeft shakes his head and wipes some tears of laughter from his eyes. “Well, true enough. Perhaps we should see if we can manage to drag him out of that apartment of his. I heard a rumour he’s locked himself inside and refuses to come out.” He looks meaningfully at his friends.

“Good idea, he hasn’t answered a single message I’ve sent him since the news broke, so perhaps the only way to get a hold of him is to go there and bother him from outside his door.” Bant laughs again.

They get to their feet and straighten their robes. Time to go to see if they can save their Crèche mate from himself.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan has been locked in his room since yesterday, hiding away from everything and everyone ever since the small disaster of an emergency senate session.

Enough is enough. He cannot spend the rest of his life hiding away—even if you ignore the fact that he’ll need to restock his shelves sooner rather than later. His friends have been by, Cody has been by, Anakin has been by, the council has commed him several times. He’s grateful the council has elected to respect his privacy enough to not force his door open. That would have been embarrassing for everyone involved, he thinks.

Obi-Wan goes about his morning routine with intermittent sighing. He trims his beard, brushes his hair and his teeth, eats a small breakfast and gets dressed carefully in his robes.

Even though he goes about his morning much slower than usual, taking long breaks where he stands still and simply breathes, he’s still finished much faster than he would have liked.

He sits down in his armchair and starts up his comm again. It beeps and beeps and beeps with innumerable messages and missed comms. He scrolls through them quickly.

Anakin, Anakin, Anakin, Council, Bant, Anakin, Padmé, Reeft, Anakin, Bail, Garen, Anakin, Anakin, Bant, Padmé, Council, Council, Bail, Bant, Anakin, Anakin, Anakin, Anakin… The list goes on and on.

Obi-Wan sighs and puts his comm away. There’s no point in answering the old messages anyway. Better to wait for new ones to show up. If they show up.

He gets to his feet and looks at the door. First objective of the day: get some cuttings from Qui-Gon’s old plants to bring into his rooms.

With a resolute nod he moves forward.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin’s voice rings out, disturbing the peace and calm of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He sounds to be both relieved and angry and Obi-Wan finds he can’t blame him. It’s hardly surprising that Anakin would be upset after Obi-Wan’s refusal to see him or answer his numerous messages.

“Good morning, Anakin. What brings you to the Room of a Thousand Fountains?” Obi-Wan looks up from where he was currently working on getting a cutting from Qui-Gon’s favourite Murgröna rose. The thing has absolutely flourished since Obi-Wan planted it, which makes him very happy indeed.

“Well, uh… I was hoping to find you, obviously! You’ve been locked in your room since yester—what are you doing?”

Anakin crouches down next to where Obi-Wan is sitting on his knees, heedless of the grass stains he’ll no doubt get on his pale beige robes.

“I decided my rooms need some greenery, so I’m taking a few cuttings from Qui-Gon’s plants. I planted them here after…” He trails of and stares at the plant, gently running his fingers over the dark green leaves.

“Oh. Uh.” Anakin seems unsure of what to say. Obi-Wan decides to take pity on him.

“I apologise for hiding away like that. I needed some time alone to think. Why don’t you join me for some tea, hmm?”

Chapter Text

The time has come. If Obi-Wan feels like being dramatic, he would say that the fate of the Galaxy will be decided in a few short hours. It’s not exactly true, whether or not Chancellor Palpatine remains in office surely won’t decide the ultimate fate of the Galaxy, nor will Obi-Wan being voted in or not do it either.

So no, tt’s not the fate of the Galaxy that’s being decided, more the fate of Obi-Wan’s sanity.

Hmm…

Perhaps he is feeling a bit melodramatic.

Moving on, surely the Senate can’t be so stupid as to vote him in, can they? That would make him a High Councillor, High General, and Supreme Chancellor at the same time. Giving all those roles to the same person would be outrageous! No one wants that kind of concentration of power!

Deep breaths. Don’t centre on your anxieties, Obi-Wan, release them and focus on the Force. The comfortable feeling of his negative emotions falling away, and the Force moving in time with his breathing and brings a sense of inner peace and serenity. It almost makes Obi-Wan smile.

He’s certainly taken more to meditation since he got older. What was once frustrating and time-consuming is now like a comfortable blanket, helping him keep the chill—of fear, the war, grief, the Dark—at bay. That is likely why they start so early, so they learn and get better at it. Meditation is not an innate skill, it is something you learn.

Hmm… Anakin could do with some refresher courses, now that Obi-Wan thinks about it.

“The vote will begin soon, we must enter the Senate Chamber.” Mace is a steady presence at Obi-Wan’s side. Obi-Wan truly is grateful his friend decided to come along for this, though he may say it’s his duty as a Master of the Council Obi-Wan is on to him.

“Go we shall,” Yoda says and taps his walking stick against the floor. Obi-Wan has no idea why the Grandmaster wanted to come, he usually does his absolute best to avoid the Senate. Still, his presence too is a comfort.

The vote is actually two votes taking place at the same time. The first: Confidence or No-Confidence for Chancellor Palpatine; the second: should No-Confidence win, instate Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi as Supreme Chancellor yes or no.

A simple setup, and efficient. Though Obi-Wan has to admit he’s curious how they got the idea approved. Usually the senate loves to take as much time as it can for every small thing. Not that deliberation on difficult topics is a bad thing, mind you.

If the first vote ends with a majority having Confidence in Chancellor Palpatine, then the second vote does not matter. However, should the vote be No-Confidence, then the second will see whether the majority agrees to make Obi-Wan into Chancellor Kenobi. If not, then a regular senatorial election will be held, as when the vote was cast and ended in No-Confidence in Chancellor Valorum.

The three Jedi sit in their repulsor pod. Technically, they all count as Senators because of Republic law B-45-SK-9—as Senator Mandai so kindly informed the Senate—and could cast votes in this election, however, the Jedi, as they so often do, have chosen the neutral path. It would hardly look good for them to cast votes anyway.

“Get involved in the vote, we will not,” Master Yoda said in the very beginning of the session. The proclamation seems to have helped calm some of the dissenters, Senators who possibly feared a power-grab.

That thought makes Obi-Wan pause. Naangni are known to be immune to Force suggestions, is that why the 135 Senators chose her as the representative? So that no one could claim foul? Interesting possibility if nothing else. Obi-Wan isn’t quite certain how well known the actual capabilities of Jedi are.

One by one senators start pressing in their votes, there’s a delay in the system to ensure that no one will know just who has votes for what, unless they themselves say so.

When the first numbers show up on the projection…

Total votes cast: 1000

Vote of No-confidence
Confidence: 54%
No-Confidence: 46%

Instate Master Kenobi
Yes: 75%
No: 25%

Obi-Wan stares. Blinks. Stares some more.

He wasn’t expecting it to be that close and he certainly wasn’t expecting such a clear majority to wish to have him has chancellor, even though many of them still have confidence in Chancellor Palpatine.

The votes keep coming in, one by one, and the numbers start shifting. The vote for instating him never drops below 70% and there’s a detached sort of dread that fills him at the thought. But, as long as the No-confidence doesn’t go through, that doesn’t really matter. He can just… consider it a compliment.

But then the No-Confidence vote starts shifting, back and forth between the two. Obi-Wan stares at the numbers, blinking slowly.

Vote of No-confidence
Confidence: 49%
No-Confidence: 51%

He shakes his head slightly, not quite able to believe his eyes. Should it really be so close?

Vote of No-confidence
Confidence: 51%
No-Confidence: 49%

He doesn’t dare to breathe out a sigh of relief. He doesn’t actually trust Palpatine, and perhaps he should hope for the vote to go through, however…

Instate Master Kenobi
Yes: 76%
No: 24%

If only the risk of Obi-Wan himself being voted into office didn’t exist. He doesn’t want to become the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. He’s no politician, he dislikes most of them, and beyond that he holds some distaste for politics in general. It’s bad enough what little exists within the Temple!

And then the No-Confidence starts gaining ground. It starts moving away from being just around the 50% line.

Vote of No-confidence
Confidence: 42%
No-Confidence: 58%

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and breathes out a sigh. So this is truly happening, then? Another task he never asked nor hoped for being lain on his shoulder by someone else?

Vote of No-confidence
Confidence: 39%
No-Confidence: 61%

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and shuts out all of the noise. The murmurs and beginning of shouting among the Senators, Mace’s deep breathing to his right, the sound of barely choked down cackling from Yoda on his left.

He withdraws inside himself and enters a state of deep meditation. Don’t centre on your anxieties, Obi-Wan. His master’s words echo in his mind.

Breathe in the Force and out the negativity. Shut out the noise and centre yourself around the peace and tranquillity you carry within. Not that Obi-Wan actually carries much of that with him these days, not with the war as it is. It’s been a long time since he truly felt completely at peace, not since before his Master died—the last time he felt truly safe.

Even so… Centre in the stability of your self. In your knowledge of your own body. Stay in the now, and discard all distractions.

“The vote has finished, Obi-Wan.” Mace’s voice and the feeling of his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder reaches him even deep in meditation as he is.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes.

Vote of No-confidence
Confidence: 41%
No-Confidence: 59%

Instate Master Kenobi
Yes: 74%
No: 26%

Of course.

Obi-Wan clenches his hands briefly to suppress the urge to bury his face in his hands, and allows the Senate and the Journalists to see nothing but a calm and serene expression on his face.

He can’t wait to get back to his Murgröna rose cutting. Maybe things will make more sense then.

Chapter Text

“No. Absolutely not.” Obi-Wan refuses to even look at the dreadful robes the aides are holding out to him.

Gaudy monstrosities and horribly unsuitable for a Jedi to wear.

“But Chancellor, please. It’s traditional for the Chancellor to wear robes like these. They should be in your size—”

“No,” Obi-Wan interrupts the aide before he can finish. “I am a Jedi, not a politician. I was voted in because I am a Jedi and not a politician. I absolutely and adamantly refuse to look like a politician.”

Anakin, the asshole, is in the background trying to choke down giggles. Figures that he finds this funny. Obi-Wan sends him a sour look, before he notices that both Padmé and Bail have the expressions of people well versed in the art of looking neutral while laughing on the inside.

All his friends are assholes.

“I am a Jedi and as such, I will wear Jedi robes. These… robes you’re holding are absolutely unsuitable. I am still a General and a Jedi, I cannot be hampered by my own clothing.”

If he hadn’t had years of practice in staying stoic and projecting serenity, he probably would have seemed more that just slightly annoyed. As it is, Obi-Wan just barely keeps it together.

He understands that they think the inauguration ceremony is important, but Obi-Wan cannot actually care less right now. They voted him in as a Jedi Master, and he will do his duty as a Jedi Master.

Obi-Wan looks at the clothes left out for him for his inauguration. He’s been betrayed.

They are Jedi robes, just as he demanded. But somehow, somehow, the aides and Senate workers has managed to convince the Jedi to allow a tailor to alter some Jedi robes.

Gold trims on the cloak. A blue that looks uncomfortably like his own eye colour hemming the cream coloured overtunic. That same blue for the obi. Black boots shined to perfection. Gold on the utility belt. Gold trimming the edges of his high collared undertunic.

Gold. On Jedi robes.

Has the rest of the Council lost their minds? Is this pay-back because he refused to answer when they commed him during his… time of peace and solitude?

He’s horrified. It’s ridiculous. He cannot be seen wearing this. Of course, it’s not like he has a choice when one of the aides must have snuck in and stolen his old set of clothing while he was in the fresher.

As much as he absolutely does not want to wear them, he’s verging on being late and he certainly cannot go through the inauguration naked.

With a despairing sigh, Obi-Wan begins dressing.

He stands in the middle of the Senate chamber, head held high, dressed in Jedi robes with gold and a shining sort of blue on them during his inauguration. There are holocameras everywhere. He knows a video of his inauguration is being projected throughout the Republic.

If this is the image that he’ll leave behind in history books—because there is little chance that him becoming the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic from this sort of upset will be left out of the history books of the Republic—then Obi-Wan will feel ashamed long after he passes into the Force. He’s sure of it.

But he will do his duty with a calm face and an air of serenity.

He will.

… If Yoda cackles one more time, Obi-Wan will Force push him off that hover chair of his.

Chapter Text

“Newly-elected Chancellor Kenobi leaving the Jedi Order?”

“What does the gold and sapphire on the Jedi robes mean?”

“A complete analysis of Chancellor Kenobi’s inauguration clothing.”

Obi-Wan can’t believe what he’s seeing. He stares at the many headlines on the holonet with horror.

The journalists of the holonet have truly gone out of their way to make the most elaborate conclusions based on what Obi-Wan was wearing during his inauguration. He didn’t even want to wear those clothes!

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply as he counts to ten. What is this? Is this his life now? Will the people of the holonet do their absolute best to drive him insane with made up theories and pointless gossip based on the flimsiest of evidence?

Is someone going to start conspiracy theories about this? “The Jedi are planning a power grab! Look at what Kenobi was wearing when he was sworn in! Gold on Jedi robes. Clearly this is a sign!”

Are they going to go back though any and all recording from his time before and during the war and try to start some rumour that he’s actually a Sith in disguise?

If Obi-Wan had known this is what would happen, he might have chosen to go naked after all… Well, no. But he would have gone back to his rooms in the Temple, gotten some of his own spare clothes and been late.

A media circus… over his clothing. What is the galaxy coming to? It’s absolutely ridiculous.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Ignore Yoda’s cackling.

Don’t look Mace in the eyes.

Ignore Anakin’s snickers.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Everything is fine. This is fine. You can do this, Kenobi. You’ve put up with the holonet and its ridiculous tendencies before. If the memes about “Master Kenobi’s sculpted abs” didn’t get you, this certainly won’t.

You’ve made it through worse, Obi-Wan. You can do this.

Besides, Obi-Wan isn’t even sure that “sapphire” is the right name for the blue colour on the trims of his beige inauguration overtunic…

Chapter Text

Anakin likes to think that he’s good at letting his Padawan has privacy. That he’s not snooping or anything. But he’s really starting to wonder what she’s laughing about. What is it on her datapad that makes her choke down giggles time and time again?

He shouldn’t ask. If she wants to tell him, she will. He just needs to be patient.

Patient.

Hmm…

Fuck it.

“What are you laughing about, Snips?” Screw patience. That’s Obi-Wan’s forte anyway.

Ahsoka looks up at him and for a short moment tries to look serious—the glint in her eyes betrays her—before she grins widely.

“Master Obi-Wan is blowing up social media again.”

Anakin groans. He remembers last time, the whole “Master Kenobi’s sculpted abs” thing and the appreciation posts for it going around. It was funny at first, watching Obi-Wan deliberately and carefully not flail but still go red in the face if you so much hinted towards it. However, the amount of flirting the locals started up with soon got annoying.

At least it finally died down months ago.

“What is it this time?” He moves over to sit down next to her on the couch.

“Read this!” Ahsoka hands over her datapad.

It’s one of those forums she hangs out on when she has the spare time. The more he reads, the bigger his eyes becomes and he has to start choking down his own giggles. Oh Force.

Anakin has to stop reading. He’ll start crying from keeping the laughter in if he doesn’t.

“The holonet never forgets,” he manages to choke out.

Ahsoka’s only answer is another round of giggling.

Chapter Text

Anakin makes his way to Padmé’s office. It’s been a while since he last saw her. Everything with the Senate just… yeah, he’s mostly tried to help Cody keep Obi-Wan from going completely without sleep lately. It’s lucky that he hasn’t needed to leave the Temple for missions recently, though he’s not exactly sure what has caused the lull.

Besides, it’s ridiculous that Obi-Wan is in this mess in the first place. As if his Master doesn’t have enough to do even without this whole Chancellor nonsense.

“Senator Amidala, are you free?” It’s hard to remember to use formal address when speaking in the Senate building, but it is important so he does his best. One single slip could be enough to expose them, and he can’t allow that to happen. He can’t.

“Ah, Knight Skywalker, do come in.”

Wait a minute, that’s not Padmé.

He steps into Padmé’s office and finds himself face to face with Senator Mandai. Padmé’s there too of course, but... he’s kind of distracted.

The senator looked very large on all the holovids that went around, but in person she’s even larger than Anakin thought she’d be. Thank god Naangni are pacifists… Or maybe not, they could probably be really useful on a battlefield…

“Knight Skywalker, it is a pleasure to see you. Senator Mandai and I were just going over some legislation that passed recently—before Chancellor Kenobi took office,” Padmé says. She flashes a small sympathetic smile, she knows Anakin doesn’t care much for legislation and Senate talk, before her face returns to the neutral state it was in before.

“I see. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Senator Mandai,” he says to the other senator with a small bow.

“You were Chancellor Kenobi’s padawan, yes?”

“Uh, yeah, I was. He, uh, he taught me a lot.” He wants to smile, because that’s generally what you do when you’re being polite, but he distinctly remembers Obi-Wan telling him never to smile to a Naangni because they find it rude. He can’t help the twitching in the sides of his mouth.

There’s a clicking noise that seems to emanate from Senator Mandai. It takes him a second to realise that it’s the Naangni’s version of a laugh.

Anakin isn’t sure if he should be insulted or not. Why is she laughing at him?

“You do not quite have your former master’s way with words, I see.” Her tone is warm as she speaks, and Anakin can feel no mocking or ill-intent in her words.

“That’s more Obi-Wan’s area. Padawans don’t always take up their Master’s vocation, though Master Jinn did teach Obi-Wan to negotiate, I never really had the head for it…” Anakin shrugs slightly. It isn’t something he’s ever been very worried about.

“He was not always so skilled himself. He was still a youngling when he visited my planet, headstrong and brave, but a mere fledgling negotiator. He’s learned well.” She sounds nostalgic, as if she’s remembering good times past, but in the Force Anakin can also feel… pain. As if the memories bring her both joy and pain, are both good and bad.

Anakin doesn’t often hear stories about Obi-Wan’s youth. His master never liked talking about it much… like with a lot of things, really. Definitely one of Obi-Wan’s worst traits.

“I first met Mas—Chancellor Kenobi when he was already twenty year sold and an experienced Padawan, just as he was Knighted, in fact. I would be delighted to hear more about this mission he had to your planet, Senator Mandai, if you would indulge me,” Padmé says from behind Senator Mandai.

Thank the Force for Padmé.

“I would be delighted. It is a wonderful story, though it is also painful,” Senator Mandai says, turning and making her way over to Padmé’s office sofas.

Anakin takes a seat and waits for the story that quite possibly is one of the reasons, if not the reason, Obi-Wan got voted in as Supreme Chancellor.

Chapter Text

The Senate tried to argue that Obi-Wan should stay in some special apartment close to the senate building. More of the whole “traditional” things that the Senate apparently thrives on.

Obi-Wan is having none of it. He is a Jedi, he will stay in his rooms in the Temple as long as he is on Coruscant—where he seems to be stranded for some time until this whole Supreme Chancellor appointment is over… Unless he can somehow convince the Council, and Cody, and the 212th, and Anakin, and the Senate… Okay, he’s most likely not leaving Coruscant in a long while. He’s mostly stuck as a General working from afar. It galls a bit, but it is his duty now.

He’s staying in his own Jedi apartments, it’s most likely the safest place on Coruscant, maybe the whole Galaxy, anyway. That was the argument that convinced the Senate, in the end. You’re a lot more likely to succeed in negotiations if you know how your opponent thinks and if you can twist what they want into what you want.

One benefit to staying in his own rooms is the fact that he’s managed to dump his “ceremonial” Jedi robes. He really is much more comfortable in unaltered robes.

Obi-Wan swears that Yoda still laughs at him behind his back. The side of Mace’s mouth twitched upward once. Obi-Wan saw it, even if Mace claims he imagined it.

He’s sure many of the Senators are less than pleased when he shows up for his first senate session dressed in regular robes—the feeling of petulance and annoyance in the Force suggests as much. However, if they ever believed he’d wear something even marginally expensive looking on a regular basis, they’re deluded. He’s a Jedi, he has no interest nor need for riches and splendour.

The session itself is… interesting.

Seven pieces of legislation are brought up and discussed, six of them devolve into arguments consisting of screaming-matches across the chamber.

The longer the session goes on, the closer to his hairline Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rise. It’s like they’re deliberately being ineffective and useless. They’re supposed to be rational adults, but are acting worse than the Temple younglings; the five year-olds.

He looks at Senator Ha'han-ash, temporarily acting as Vice Chancellor while Obi-Wan makes a preliminary investigation regarding whether or not there’s any reason to start an corruption investigation against Mas Amedda and Palpatine. She looks back at him with an expression that’s perfectly calm, but he can see the annoyance in her eyes. What wouldn’t Obi-Wan give to be back at his office, preparing for the session about the corruption investigation instead of this circus. Senator Ha’han-ash looks like she wishes the same.

Deep breaths. Serenity. Obi-Wan’s face becomes a placid mask again.

“Calm yourselves, Senators. We will shelve this discussion for the time being.” If Obi-Wan has to listen to more arguing about legislation about inner-Coruscant parking he might actually lose his temper in a very un-Jedi like fashion.

Both Senators who has been shouting at each other through translation devices pause, but both also look like they want to argue with Obi-Wan’s decision to end their “debate”.

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to the side just slightly, waiting.

Seconds tick by.

Finally both Senators back down, grumbling to themselves and straightening their robes with great dignity. As if there’s any dignity left when you’ve been screaming at someone for over ten minutes over parking spaces.

Absolutely ridiculous. No wonder the war has dragged on as long as it has, when the Senate is this inefficient.

No, there is some cleaning up to do. Obi-Wan has to look over the Senate protocols again. Something must be done.

Chapter Text

Sheev Palpatine allows the rage to flood through his body and spark in the Force. Here on Naboo there’s no risk some blasted Jedi will feel it and come investigate. Not that they haven’t been blinded even on Coruscant, near their own blasted Temple, but better safe than sorry.

The Sith haven’t endured for generations due to being sloppy and careless.

He’s better than that, smarter than that! He’s more competent a politician, better a negotiator, and smarter a manipulator than any other could ever hope to be.

How dares Senator Mandai interrupt his plans? While she certainly can’t have known anything about them, it’s still exactly what she’s doing. And to dare call him incompetent? Turn the majority of the Senate against him? Ensure that that blasted scum-sucking always-in-the-way of an absolute horror of a Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi elected in his stead?

Palpatine would rip her head clean off her shoulders if it wasn’t for the fact that her murder would most likely make all eyes turn on him with scrutiny.

He cannot touch Senator Mandai. Not that it would be useful for anything beyond revenge, anyway. She’s only one among 135. Kill her and there are 134, and probably more, willing to take her place. She was smart, there, bringing it up as a group, a movement, not as an individual senator. By making herself the face and head of a group—one that will likely grow in numbers—she gives herself more power, more sway, at the same time as she creates herself a shield.

He grinds his teeth together. Ousted from his seat as Chancellor. Humiliating. He has tried to legislate to make it nary-impossible. Unfortunately, the Vote of No-Confidence is part of the very foundation of the Republic and as such, there was no way for him to just remove it. Not yet. He had had most Senators either convinced he was the only thing standing between the Republic and utter desolation, or made them believe he was malleable to their interests.

He thought he’d achieved the perfect blend.

Unfortunately, it seems that was not the case.

Haa’ndu has always been a pain to deal with. Staunchly anti-war, the whole planet has disapproved of him since the creation of the GAR. It has been annoying, but ultimately unavoidable. Besides, Haa’ndu has limited sway in the Senate.

Had.

They had limited sway in the Senate. Clearly Mandai is far more skilled than her predecessor.

That a predator species of the Naangni’s level would be such staunch pacifists is laughable. Like some snake species on Naboo they can easily crush their prey by wrapping their long body around them and squeezing. Of course, Naangni, considering their size and relative strength, could possibly even crush a Krayt dragon. Very much unlike Naboo snakes.

Mandai is untouchable. Even if he’d known what she would do, he couldn’t have swayed her. Naangni are one of the highly infuriating races completely immune to Force suggestions.

Honestly, Palpatine wants to blow the entire planet up in retaliation.

But no. Mandai and Haa’ndu are forgettable. He needs to focus on the real threat.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

His mere name sets Palpatine’s teeth on edge.

Ludicrously stable in the Light and somehow manages to inspire loyalty despite his extensive list of flaws. Palpatine has spent years molding Skywalker, and still the boy is loyal to his former Master. He will Fall, Palpatine will make sure of it. But as long as Kenobi is alive and around, he’ll be an obstacle simply by existing.

Die. He must die.

Palpatine would most of all like to strangle him until his lips turns blue and his eyes pops out of their sockets, wants to watch the man’s life slowly fade from his eyes. A quick death is too good for such ridiculous rot.

Palpatine would love to be the one to kill Kenobi, to give in to the rage and end his life. However, if he wants to reclaim his throne, he’ll need to be subtle and hire someone.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is far from pleased. Several senatorial aides and Senators and even his own men have said it’s important he bring guards with him wherever he goes. Apparently, since he’s the Supreme Chancellor, he simply must have guards.

He may be the Supreme Chancellor, but he is also a kriffing Jedi Master. He knows how to protect himself! He’s survived in catastrophic zones when he was 13 years old. Sure, he was mostly there by accident, but he sure had to survive them once he was there! If he didn’t need a protective guard then, he certainly doesn’t now. Then again, that does depend on if you count his Master as a protective guard or not, because he always were with Qui-Gon when something went awry and missions that should have been calm and fine blew up in their faces—sometimes literally.

Regardless, he can very well take care of himself!

But no, Cody had insisted. Which, frankly, all things considered was a bit of a relief. If he has to have someone following him around, then he wants it to be men he trusts with his back already.

“Chancellor Kenobi! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Senator Mandai coils her lower body several times to be closer to Obi-Wan’s own eye-level. Her face isn’t capable of smiling, but if it was, such an expression would only showcase her many many sharp fangs.

Really, it’s such a good thing the Naangni are pacifists unless actively forced into battle. Willing to defend themselves and others, but unwilling to strike the first blow or seek out battle.

“Likewise, Senator Mandai.” Obi-Wan doesn’t smile either, the Naangni consider it rude and he is ever a trained diplomat. “I must say I was surprised by your rather impassioned speech to the Senate.”

“The Naangni have long memories, Chancellor. We remember the help you and Master Jinn—may his essence ever spread across the universe—gave us some 20 years ago.” Her large clawed hand makes a sweeping motion over and across her face as she mentions Qui-Gon, a Naangni’s way of expressing grief and respect.

“I see.” There will always be an ache in his chest when memories of his Master surfaces. The mission to Haa’ndu had be challenging, but rewarding. He hadn’t expected something like this to come from it, however.

“Of course, we’ve also seen all your efforts during the war.” She straightens slightly, temporarily towering over Obi-Wan, before she relaxes again. “You will work toward ending this war. We of the Naangni have no powers with the Force, but the legislation enacted under Palpatine has worried us. You’d do well to look it over.”

She refused to say more, stating her wish to have him look it over with unclouded eyes. Perhaps the Naangni see things that aren’t there.

“Well then, Senator, I believe it’s time for me to make my departure.” Obi-Wan bows and receives a bow in return.

He doesn’t get far before more Senators try to swarm him. Their distance had clearly only been out of respect for Senator Mandai. That or fear, she is a rather awe inspiring presence.

It’s a sudden bright flash in the Force, as if it were shouting “WARNING!” at him, that has him dropping to the floor and with some assistance from the Force get out from between the Senators and reach a wall.

There’s screaming and shouting all around as Senator Biiiz of Hirunth is only barely missed by the blaster shot when Obi-Wan avoids it.

If he hadn’t… Obi-Wan tracks the likely trajectory. It most likely would have gone through the back of his head. He looks towards the higher floors, but in the midst of the chaos, whoever attacked has likely disappeared already.

Cody is at his side, barking orders at the other troopers coming closer and spreading out to both give him cover and search for the attacker.

Five days on the job and there’s already been an assassination attempt.

Interesting.

Chapter Text

“Obi-Wan, are you free?” Padmé steps into the Chancellor’s offices with Bail, both of them having been carefully vetted by the clone troopers outside—she idly wonders where Dar Wac is, but presumes that the clones have taken over as a security measure and puts it out of her mind—and looks around the room.

The official desk is empty, not a trace of Obi-Wan. In fact, the terminal and everything on it has been moved. She blinks in surprise.

That’s odd.

“Obi-Wan? Are you in here?“ She looks around again before she shares a confused look with Bail.

“Ah, Padmé, Bail. How nice of you to join me.”

They both startle slightly when Obi-Wan’s voice rings out from the corner of the room. Turning toward the sound, Padme finds him at a much smaller desk in a secluded corner of the room.

“Obi-Wan? Why aren’t you at the Chancellor’s desk?” Bail sounds about as confused as Padmé feels.

Obi-Wan lets out a rather loud huff and turns an intense gaze at them.

“I’m not about to sit with my back to a very large window. I wasn’t planning on doing so even before the attempt at assassination the other day.” He chuckles.

Padmé stares at him in horror. How can he chuckle about an attempt at his life? The war and all his responsibilities must be weighing heavy on him indeed if he manages to find humour in an attempt at his life.

“To be quite honest with you,” he continues as if he hasn’t done anything odd at all, “I wanted a different office entirely. These offices are absolutely ridiculous. Far too large and elaborately decorated for my taste.” He looks toward one of the other rooms. “Palpatine certainly has interesting taste in decorations.”

“What? You still have Palpatine’s belongings here?” Bail is just barely managing to avoid gaping, Padmé can tell.

“Of course. He was relieved of his duties with claims of incompetence, and since there has been discussion of corruption… As you know, Mas Amedda has been temporarily relieved of his role as Vice Chancellor and both of their terminals and belonging have been temporarily confiscated.” He pauses and gives them an inscrutable look. “I have some people looking everything over to ensure that nothing has been erased. If my duty is to rule the Republic and ensure the end of the war, then I will do it to the utmost of my ability. And as a High General, I know I need as much information as possible, anything less can lead to heavy losses on the battlefield, losses that could have been prevented.”

“How… efficient.” Padmé can’t help the way her heart picks up speed just a bit. Perhaps Senator Mandai is right. Perhaps having Obi-Wan Kenobi as Supreme Chancellor is exactly what the Republic, the Galaxy, needs.

“The more I look through recently passed legislation, the more I look over the legislation Palpatine has passed using the emergency powers he was given…” Obi-Wan trails off and stares at the door.

“What is it, Obi-Wan?” Padmé moves ever closer to him.

“It’s like I’ve been playing Corellian chess on Hoth with half the board covered in snow, and only now has the snow been cleared from it.” He strokes his beard in contemplation. “Count Dooku once told me that the Senate was under the sway of a Sith Lord and I should join him to help burn away the rot, so to speak. We—the Jedi—thought it likely to only have been an attempt at making the Jedi lose faith in the Senate. However…”

The hairs on the back of Padmé’s neck stands on end. Obi-Wan can’t be implying what he is, can he? Has he found something in the legislation and Palpatine’s computers and belongings that point to Count Dooku having told the truth?

She doesn’t want to believe it, but she knows that she has worried at times if the Republic she’s wanted to serve had already died.

“Enough about that, for now.” He motions for them to sit down.

Padmé presses her lips together. She wants to press him on the issue, but he most likely has a reason for staying his tongue. Bail seems to be battling with the same urge but he too remains silent.

They take their seats in unison.

“I must say it’s not very nice to vote a friend into a political office they do not want.” Obi-Wan’s voice is deceptively mild, but his eyes are sharp and he’s doing that terrible thing where he raises one of his eyebrows and looks just so unimpressed with you. Padmé hates that expression.

“Well, my friend, if you had been less of an excellent choice for the job, perhaps we wouldn’t have,” Bail says smugly, a smirk clearly visible on his face.

Padmé puts a hand over her mouth, trying to hide her smile and the giggles that want to escape her. She’s made peace with her choice and it seems Obi-Wan has already forgiven them for it.

Obi-Wan gives the The Look again, before he asks them what they came for. Time to get to work.

Obi-Wan stares out the ridiculously large panorama windows in his new office. The whole thing still leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but if what he’s just found out is true…

He closes his eyes and walks deeper into the rooms instead, away from the windows and the door to the outside. Palpatine’s belongings are spread around the rooms and for the first time in a long while, Obi-Wan really looks at them.

There are things he believes might be hiding terrible secrets, secrets he’ll have to wait a bit with unveiling. He’s certain he’s close to finding information about Palpatine’s corruption and that must take precedence. There are records of meetings with Senators very closely before a new piece of troubling legislation is brought before the Senate.

He’s doubting the entire narrative of extra power and extra time as Chancellor being pushed onto Palpatine. Obi-Wan hasn’t slept much since he took office, which is… perhaps not very good, so he’ll have to go over his notes after he’s rested enough to think straight. But for now, he has the niggling suspicion that Palpatine has manipulated events to keep himself in power while making it look like he’s shouldering a burden others wish for him to carry.

Most troubling of all… the chips. The inhibitor chips inside all of the clones. There has been no information so far in any of Palpatine’s systems about what, exactly, the chips are for. But their mere presence is disquieting and the fact that Palpatine—and seemingly no one else—knows about them is even more so.

He shouldn’t have said anything to Padmé or Bail yet. Unfortunately, he’s tired and overworked. He should know better than bring up speculation and theories. He wasn’t even really talking to them, more… thinking out loud.

What has been, has been. He cannot change it now. At least Padmé and Bail are among the truly few trustworthy politicians out there. It could have been worse.

He closes his eyes and sits down on the floor to prepare for meditation. Sleep will have to wait, but he needs some rest, he needs to regain his center and gather his thoughts. Time is of the essence right now.

Palpatine is already pushing for Obi-Wan to return his belongings to him. There’s only so long Obi-Wan can stall for time. Unless he finds proof quickly, he could fast end up in trouble with the part of the Senate who are still in Palpatine’s pocket.

There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
There is no death, there is the Force.

He repeats the meditation mantra to himself as he breathes in and out slowly, releasing the tension and worry he’s carrying.

He will find what he need, he will have the time to test the objects he’s worried about. He will find the truth.

Even so, he has a Council meeting tomorrow—oh how he loathes having to be there by holo, sitting in these gaudy rooms instead—and then he needs to work with Cody and some of the other Generals to formulate their next plan of attack.

His duties are many, and they are heavy. However, Obi-Wan has carried heavy burdens since childhood, he will not falter. He will find a way to end this war and return peace and stability to the Galaxy and the Republic.

It is his duty as a Jedi.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and takes long, deep breaths. Breathe out negativity, breathe in the Force. Out negativity, in the Force.

The information he’s gathered so far should be enough to convince the Senate to start an investigation into Palpatine and Amedda’s dealings. Obi-Wan isn’t especially worried about that. No, what worries him, what causes emotions he needs to deal with and acknowledge, is Anakin.

Obi-Wan knows Anakin won’t take this well. Not at all. He’ll most likely see it as Obi-Wan launching an unjustified attack on Palpatine simply because he doesn’t trust politicians.

Part of Obi-Wan wonders if Anakin would be correct in that assessment. It’s just… Obi-Wan has always felt uncomfortable in Palpatine’s presence. There’s always been something niggling in the back of his mind. Nothing substantial, nothing he could point at and go “See, this is why I do not trust this man.” Just a bad feeling.

If this causes a rift between him and Anakin… So be it. Obi-Wan has his duty, to the Republic and the Galaxy, and he cannot put himself and his relationship with the people closest to him before that—even though he wants to.

“Members of the Senate, I understand and appreciate your patience. Today I will present the information I have gathered so far from the computers, datapads and offices belonging to Vice-Chancellor Mas Amedda and former Chancellor Palpatine.”

Mumbles rises from the many repulsorpods. The Senators are impatient. Obi-Wan keeps his head high and his back straight; a posture of strength and confidence.

“Once I’ve presented the information, we’ll have a short intermission for everyone to gather their thoughts, and after that we’ll have a vote on whether or not a formal corruption investigation will take place.”

More mumbles rumble across the floor, but Obi-Wan keeps his face placid. It’s for the best if he’s a neutral presenter of facts, and nothing more. His own feelings and bias must not affect the rest of the Senate.

“A question, Chancellor Kenobi!”

Obi-Wan blinks, and looks at the data screen in front of him to see what Senator activated their voice amplifier.

“Yes, Senator Baran?”

“Regarding this… investigation, of yours. I assume it would be placed in the hands of the Jedi,” Senator Baran nearly spits out the last word, his disdain obvious.

Murmurs, and some shouting, breaks out in the Chamber. Many Senators appear displeased with the thought of the Jedi being in charge of such an investigation. Considering the ever increasing anti-Jedi sentiment, Obi-Wan is unsurprised, if understandably displeased.

He presses his lips together briefly before his face smoothes out again.

“It would be a joint investigation between the Senate, the Jedi, and the Coruscant Security Forces, Senator Baran, to avoid any risk of someone tampering with the results of the investigation.” Besides, Obi-Wan thinks, a more diverse group of investigators is more likely to be able to view the facts and evidence from all different angles than a homogenous group is.

The unrest settles down again, and Obi-Wan prepares himself to present the information he’s gathered. The point of no return has arrived.

“… Twenty of the opposing Senators met with former Chancellor Palpatine during the three weeks before the vote, and once the vote finally took place, fifteen of them changed their position to follow the former Chancellor’s.”

“… Met with Vice-Chancellor Amedda to discuss policy—according to the official meeting log—and a week later presented new legislation RB-566-C supporting the 34-KTB-9 bill, which was voted down, that Vice-Chancellor Amedda introduced a month earlier. After the RB-566-C passed, 34-KTB-9 was brought up to the Senate again, and this time it passed into Republic law.”

“… bill 56-KCL-8 was rejected by the Senate. Two months later, with the use of his emergency powers, former Chancellor Palpatine signed 56-KCL-8 into Republic law anyway.”

“… met with fifty of the undecided. Later, during the vote, forty-two of them followed his line.”

“… accepted numerous gifts from Senator Habenathe, and later supported his proposal to enact bill 34-KLT-3, which restricted the use of Bacta treatment for non-Republic citizens.”

The intermission is over and Obi-Wan takes his place, ready for the start the second half of the Senate session.

“All members of the Senate, vote yay, nay—or you may abstain from voting entirely—on whether we should open a corruption investigation for Vice-Chancellor Mas Amedda and former Chancellor Palpatine or not,” Senator Ha’han-ash’s voice rings out clearly across the chamber.

Obi-Wan pauses slightly and strokes his beard once. There is something he should say, before the vote takes place. He makes a small hand gesture toward Ha’han-ash who nods her head in understanding.

“Senators, I will not be participating in the vote, and will instead remain a neutral party.” He glances around the chamber briefly. “Senators, I hereby declare the vote open.”

Mas Amedda shifts nervously where he stands on Obi-Wan’s left side. He may have been temporarily relieved of his duties, but his presence during this particular session is important. Obi-Wan finds it rather unsurprising to see him squirm. The Chagrian most likely never believed anyone would find anything on him, and had Palpatine remained in office, it’s very likely no one would have gone looking.

Obi-Wan returns his attention to the numbers as they start appearing on the holoscreens around the chamber.

In the end it is, just as Obi-Wan had hoped, a victory for the side of looking into the corruption.

Yay: 58% Nay: 37% Abstain: 5%

“Well then, Senators of the Galactic Republic, the vote has been cast and the result is in. As the investigation will begin immediately, Vice-Chancellor Mas Amedda will stay removed from his post until the investigation has finished. As such, Senator Ha’han-Ash will remain as temporary Vice-Chancellor until then.”

Obi-Wan looks to his left and sees defeat in every line of Mas Amedda’s body, though he tries to hide it.

Senator Ha’han-ash, on the other hand, straightens and raises her chin slightly. Proud and strong. “With this, I declare this session meeting ended,” she says, casting a brief glance toward Obi-Wan.

The session has ended, but this is only the beginning. Obi-Wan is sure of it.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan moves around the Chancellor’s offices, looking at the various artefacts, paintings, and statues Palpatine has decorated them with. The rooms are so ostentatious it makes Obi-Wan feel on edge. He sees no point in this kind of revelry in wealth, the Temple has always provided him with what he’s needed to live and thrive, but without owning for the sake of owning. This sort of… wasteful spending of money makes Obi-Wan deeply uncomfortable in a way he cannot properly articulate.

He pushes the thoughts of the wasteful use of money aside and continues with his small investigation. He moves from room to room at a sedate pace without any fear or interruptions—Cody and his chosen troopers are still stationed right outside as well as in the working office for the Chancellor’s guards and have taken upon themselves to provide him with some solitude.

Really, Obi-Wan is very grateful for it. He’s had more than enough of Senators “swinging by” to “offer their congratulations” on his election—he knows they’re really there to gain his favour. Of course, he’s a Jedi Master elected into office to be a neutral party, so they are—as Anakin would put it—shit out of luck. Especially since many of them also seem to be gleaning for ideas for “gifts” in further hopes of gaining favour—he wonders how many of them realise that as a Jedi, Obi-Wan has very little need for material belongings.

As he pauses and looks closer at some of the pieces, he feels a sense of unease wash over him.

These artefacts and art pieces… He’s looked at most of them before—of course he has, it’s hardly the first time he’s in the Chancellor’s offices—but he feels as if he’s never really seen them before.

The Great Hyperspace War Bas-Relief. It portrays an ancient battle between the Jedi and the Sith, both sides falling. It’s a grotesque scene, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, though he does understand the necessity of capturing historic events in art. It is, after all one of the best ways of leaving behind history.

It’s placement here, in these offices... It could be a sign of Palpatine’s respect for the Jedi Order. He knows many of his fellow Jedi and quite a few Senators perceive it as such. However, Obi-Wan thinks with a wry smile, it could also be a sign of his disrespect. After all, not only Jedi are depicted in the scene…

Useless speculation.

Obi-Wan turns his eyes away and moves on. He stops in front of a metal chalice of some sort, quite prominently on display despite the fact that there seems to be little special about it besides its apparent age. It doesn’t appear to be especially valuable and Obi-Wan doesn’t recognise it as any artefact of historical worth, the metal certainly isn’t especially precious, and if it’s something that has an actual use, he cannot tell what it is for.

To have it placed the way it does denotes some form of significance. Perhaps it’s a precious family heirloom?

Obi-Wan reaches out and strokes the rounded body with his fingertips. It feels… cold. Not just the metal against his skin, something about its very essence seems cold. He pauses and places his whole hand against it as he stretches his senses toward it through the Force.

Cold.

Something about this chalice makes it feel cold, even in the Force. However, the feeling is elusive and slips through his fingers like grains of fine sand—impossible to hold on to—before he can truly grasp what it means.

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows knit together and his lips turn down. There’s certainly something about this chalice… Perhaps he should try to open it.

Later, he decides, and moves on again.

He looks at the bronzium statue in the small antechamber—Sistros of the Four Sages of Dwartii. Every time he looks at this statue the Force whispers to him. Take heed, it seems to say. He’s had it checked by multiple security scans, but they’ve all come up empty. Still, the niggling feeling won’t leave. There is something about this statue, just like there is something about the chalice.

He moves back into the public office and heads to one of the bronzium statues by the side of the large panorama window behind the “official” desk.

Just as large and ugly as the one in the antechamber, however, this one depicts Braata of the Four Sages of Dwartii. Obi-Wan knows his history, knows that Braata is known to have encouraged studies of the Dark Side of the Force.

All the Sages would be considered controversial figures these days, but Braata in particular is perhaps not someone who’s statue a Jedi would enjoy having in his office. Not to mention, her statue looks rather top heavy. Obi-Wan wonders what would happen if he tipped it over on top of someone. How heavy is it?

Even though one might think the statue of someone who encouraged Dark Side studies should be more concerning for a Jedi than that of someone mostly known for being selfish… There’s nothing in the Force when he looks at Braata’s statue, not like there is when he looks at the one of Sistros just outside the door to the private offices. In fact, the other Sistros statue doesn’t set off that reaction either. Meaning that it isn’t even about the person depicted, but something about the very statue itself.

He sighs and drags a hand over his eyes. Perhaps he should ask another for another Jedi to come and look at the objects. Perhaps he’s already spent too much time around them and has been desensitised to them.

He sighs again and sweeps his gaze over the rooms. He has his work cut out for him even if he doesn’t spend time looking at Palpatine’s interior decoration choices. And yet, something tells him that looking at it is still very much important.

How very peculiar.

Chapter Text

Senator Mandai is pleased, very pleased. Not so much for the numerous congratulations she’s received so far for her “ingenious” move to install Chancellor Kenobi. No, she is not pleased for her own sake.

Ten separatist worlds asking to rejoin the Republic.

It is a victory far beyond what she could have dreamt, especially so close in time to the election. They even said it was precisely because of Chancellor Kenobi that they wished to return. As long as the negotiations go well—and how can they not when someone as skilled at negotiations as Master Kenobi at the helm—then a small victory has finally happened in this dreadful war.

It seems the Naangni are not the only people with long memories of help given.

Anakin is straight up baffled. Actually, he feels a bit sick, if he’s being honest. Ten separatist worlds rejoining the Republic because they “know Chancellor Kenobi will root out the corruption and return the Republic to its former glory”.

He was angry, furious, when Obi-Wan accused both Chan—Former Chancellor Palpatine and Mas Amedda of corruption. It felt like a betrayal at the time. He knows that the Council never trusted Palpatine and he knows Obi-Wan has always disliked politicians, but to go that far…

And then he presented enough proof to spark a Jedi-Senate-Security Forces joint investigation. A clear majority of the Senate voted in favour of it.

It was like having the rug pulled out from under his feet and Anakin felt himself floundering in the wake of it. He trusted—trusts—Palpatine. The man has always treated him with respect and…

Anakin feels so confused. Part of him wants to go visit his friend, talk to him, but there’s also another part of him that seems to scream in horror at the very thought. Until Anakin can figure out what exactly that part of him is worried about, it’s best if he keeps his distance.

Instead, he takes missions with his Padawan in tow, visits his wife, visits Obi-Wan, and tries not to think too much about anything.

It hurts, somewhere deep inside.

Padmé is baffled. How in all the core worlds has Obi-Wan managed to bring back worlds that have left the Republic simply by existing?

How is that even possible?

But… Perhaps…

It’s true that he made clear immediately upon his election that he was opening up for peace talks. There were mutters and Senators complaining, but Obi-Wan had simply given the whole senatorial chamber The Look.

“We want to end this war, and that means peace talks. I was explicitly elected to end this war, so that is what I’ll be doing. Until you can give me a good reason, based on logic, facts and is a sound political and military strategy for why we should not allow peace talks with any part of the Separatist confederation that so wishes, this plan will continue.”

No one had anything to say to that, she remembers.

Besides, Obi-Wan could negotiate the hide off a Krayt dragon. She’s certain she’s not the only Senator who had that exact thought.

Cody is staring at the news feed. He’s not actually sure what he’s feeling right now.

How? What?

“Commander… How did—”

“I have no idea.” Cody can’t even look at anyone right now.

He knows his general is good at what he does, but this time he hasn’t actually done anything yet. Except survive an assassination attempt. He slaps a hand across his eyes and breathes in deeply through his nose.

Oh no.

There are going to be a lot more and a lot more fervent assassination attempts now, aren’t there.

Cody let’s out a string of Mando'a curses before he heads back toward General Kenobi’s office. He needs to discuss his general’s new 24-hour protection squad.

Mace Windu is having a pretty good day. Likely one of the best ever since this blasted war started.

If he had known how many worlds would remember the… adventures of the Jinn-Kenobi team fondly, he might have felt a lot better when Kenobi was elected as Chancellor.

It’s still ridiculous. Not without precedence, but still ridiculous. Elect a man who hates politics and politicians to the highest political office in the Galaxy? Absolutely ridiculous.

Master Yoda hasn’t stopped cackling since the news of ten worlds rejoining came in. In these grim times, they need all the amusement they can get.

Idly, Mace wonders what Dooku’s face looked like when he found out.

Dooku is, in fact, having a very bad day. He’s lost ten worlds to the Republic, simply because Kenobi had been voted into office, ousting Darth Sidious from his seat as Supreme Chancellor.

This certainly wasn’t part of the plan. The corruption accusations even less so.

The way of the Sith is the path of betrayal. As Darth Sidious is no longer useful to him, Count Dooku turns his back to him in turn. He lost his seat in the Senate by his own hands, he’ll have to regain it himself.

Dooku has other things to worry about. Like keeping more of the worlds of his confederation from simply leaving because they like Obi-Wan Kenobi a whole lot.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan is taking a sip of his glass of water when he first notices the way his vision has grown fuzzy. A headache has been growing in the back of his head, but he’d assumed that it was due to the inane discussion currently taking place during the head table of the Senatorial dinner and too many late nights with too little sleep.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a headache from overworking himself, certainly, but his troopers have made sure to keep him fed and hydrated far better than they can in the field, and the talk of the table is no different from the many negotiation dinners he’s been to during his time as a Jedi, so he should have suspected something earlier.

He really isn’t prone to headaches, they usually require him to neglect himself quite severely before he gets to that point. If he had been prone to headaches, however, Anakin’s apprenticeship would probably have been far worse than it was.

Regardless of all of that, however, here he is. His vision grows worse, the throbbing increases and with a jolt he realises that his hearing is affected too.

Breathing starts to become a chore and if not for his Jedi training he would most likely be gasping for breath already. There’s a burning in his chest and a churning in his gut.

’I’ve been poisoned.’

Obi-Wan calls on the Force, pulls it into himself as healing energy and breathes.

In. Out. In. Out.

The Force washes over him in waves. He takes a few moments to strengthen himself before he brings his hand up to signal Cody with a Mandalorian field sign.

“—es, Ge—al?” Cody keeping his voice low really doesn’t help when Obi-Wan’s hearing is going. At least the man is close enough to his ear that Obi-Wan heard him say anything at all.

He idly wonders if he should try to whisper to minimise chaos, but time is of the essence and if he wants to live through this he needs to go into a healing trance quickly. If he can slow down his metabolism, it’ll lower the spread rate of the poison and increase his chances of survival.

Needs must.

“It appears that I’ve been poisoned. I’ll be going into a healing stasis trance, so I trust you to bring me to the Temple healers, Commander.”

From the way the blurry blobs around him started moving around and from the very very muffled screaming, he probably said that a lot louder than he intended. Oh well.

He closes his eyes and draws himself deeper into the Force. It is ever a powerful ally and right now he needs it.

“Master Kenobi?” A voice calls out for him, breaking through his healing trance, bringing him back to the present.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings. A room in the Halls of Healing, Master Che herself at his side.

“Master Che.” If they brought in the head healer herself, he must have been pretty bad off.

She fiddles with the controls at the side of the bed to get him into a seated position, keeping a careful eye on him all the while.

“It’s good to have you back with us. You really had your Commander—and your troops, former Padawan, your Grandpadawan, and most of the Senate—worried,” she says archly before she moves away from the bedside. Obi-Wan feels too tired to try and see what she does. He closes his eyes instead.

“What’s my status, Master Che?” Better to get it over with.

“You did a good job with the healing trance, Master Kenobi. I think you could teach several of your peers a thing or two in that regard,” she says as she comes back to his side. “We were able to reverse all the damage caused, and within a day or two you should be completely recovered. I wouldn’t recommend a second dose, however.”

Obi-Wan snorts at opens his eyes again. Master Che holds out a glass of water to him.

“I doubt Cody or Anakin will let me eat or drink anything before they’ve tried it from now on. Though I doubt the assassin, or assassins, will go for the same method again.” He takes a sip and looks around the empty room. “I see you’ve managed to convince them to leave my side.”

This time it was Vokara’s turn to snort.

“They’re right outside. Even I couldn’t convince them to go any farther.”

“Well, this is the second time an attempt has been made on my life, on Coruscant, since the…. vote. It’s actually rather impressive that they’ve managed two attempts already.”

Obi-Wan strokes his beard in contemplation. Master Che mutters something that sounds awfully like “I wouldn’t call it impressive”, but she refuses to admit to having said anything at all.

“Though I must say, I’m surprised they aren’t out there trying to catch the culprit.” He pauses. “Or have they been caught already?”

“No, the investigation is still ongoing. They’re trading off between standing guard outside and investigating.”

Obi-Wan nods slightly.

“Well, would you let them inside? I do believe I might have some valuable insights.”

Vokara gives him a hard look.

“You won’t be leaving the halls for two days, Master Kenobi. Not even the Supreme Chancellor stand above healer orders.”

Obi-Wan simply rolls his eyes with a grumble. Maybe some time off would be nice, even if it’s spent in the Halls.

Chapter Text

Anakin practically runs in the the door when Master Che opens it and says that Obi-Wan can receive a few visitors.

“Master!” Anakin’s heart is almost in his throat.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says with a tired smile. It’s good to see him awake and sitting up. He was so pale and still when Cody called for him. Even if Anakin knows that he was still and unresponsive because he was in a healing stasis trance, but it was so uncomfortably similar to him being dead and Cody said he was poisoned and—!

“Breathe, Anakin.” The feeling of Obi-Wan’s hand squeezing his wrist brings Anakin out of his panicked fog.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“You were worried. I understand, Anakin,” Obi-Wan interrupts and smiles slightly. It’s comforting, but also a bit frustration.

“Yeah, but how aren’t you worried?! They’ve tried to kill you twice already!” Anakin bites back any further words. Obi-Wan’s calmness has galled Anakin since he was a padawan.

Obi-Wan sighs. Anakin kriffin hates that sigh.

“Anakin, it’s hardly the first time someone has tried to kill me,” he says, as if that makes it less horrible.

“That’s usually on a battlefield! This is way different!”

It is. It really is different. He’s gone into battle hundreds of times with Obi-Wan at his side, knowing that maybe this time only one of them will come back. It sucks and makes him feel sick and has always made him feel grateful that Padmé is a senator who usually only moves between Coruscant and Naboo… He has too many people he care about in constant crossfire without adding her to that score.

However, Obi-Wan is… Obi-Wan is Obi-Wan. The man has taught him everything he knows of the Force and has been one of the most important people in his life for more than a decade.

The fact that someone—or maybe even multiple someones—are gunning for him to the point where they’re willing to send assassins… At least Ventress, Dooku, and Grievous will meet Obi-Wan in a fight. Assassins… hired bounty hunters… that’s both cowardly and weirdly personal at the same time as it’s really fucking impersonal. Unless it’s the culprit themselves doing it? Ugh.

“I suppose you’re right. It’s a bit disconcerting to be sure.” Obi-Wan strokes his beard with a pensive look on his face.

Something in Anakin’s chest squeezes, he feels like he can hardly breathe. He hates trying to talk to Obi-Wan about stuff like this, he’s always too busy being a perfect Jedi to even contemplate being scared or at least worried for his life.

“Anakin? What’s wrong?”

Obi-Wan won’t understand. Even if Anakin tells him, Obi-Wan will just… make light of his possible death and tell Anakin that some things happens and cannot be changed. Sometimes you have to accept the bad things that happen and focus on the good. That he should meditate and sort through his feelings. As if that would help anyone. Sometimes Anakin really doesn’t like Obi-Wan Kenobi, even though he loves him. Which really kriffin sucks.

He should talk to Padmé and get his feelings sorted out. That’s always been far more helpful than meditation. Or… maybe he should go and visit Palpatine. Even if he’s under a Jedi-Senate-CSF joint investigation, that should still be okay, right? Anakin isn’t part of that investigation anyway.

“It’s nothing.” Nothing worth trying to talk to Obi-Wan about, anyway.

“Are you sure? You look upset…” Obi-Wan frowns, looks worried even. But no. Even if Obi-Wan would understand, he has enough on his plate right now anyway. Anakin shouldn’t bother him with his over abundant emotions.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Anakin is definitely hiding something, Obi-Wan is sure of it. Not that that’s anything new, the older he’s gotten the less and less Anakin has been willing to talk to Obi-Wan about just about anything.

It… hurts, but he’s not sure what he can do about it except give Anakin chances to talk to him, chances to open up. You cannot force someone to talk to you, only give them the choice and hope that they take it.

The door opens again and Cody, Rex and Ahsoka step inside. They look worried, and Obi-Wan idly wonders if he looks as tired as he feels. Fighting off poison will run a body ragged, especially if it was already in a fairly sorry state.

“General,” Cody says, his face taut and drawn.

“Cody, I must apologise for putting you in such an… uncomfortable situation.” It’s a bit weak, but Obi-Wan isn’t quite sure what to say, he’s a bit too tired, perhaps. Cody just gives him a tired glare, his lips pressed together.

“Knight Muln is heading up the investigation into the attempts on your life, General,” Rex says, glancing at Anakin. Obi-Wan follows his line of sight and is unsurprised to see a dark and angry look on his face.

“Garen? I would have assumed…” Obi-Wan trails off, and looks at the four people gathered by his bedside. He assumed they would be leading it. Apparently not.

“The Council forbid us to. They said we have other duties to attend to,” Ahsoka says, eyes trained on her Master.

Obi-Wan sighs, he isn’t actually surprised. Of course the Council would think them all too close to the issue to handle it properly and without letting their emotions get the better of them. Garen, while one of Obi-Wan’s oldest friends, has far more experience with setting his emotions aside to do his job. Not to mention he’s not an active war general, unlike Anakin.

“I see. Well, could one of you bring word to Garen then? I have some idea how they poisoned me.”

“How? One of us checked every single thing you ate! We made sure to check everything, we didn’t want to let what happened happen…” Cody crosses his arms across his chest and his eyebrows knit together.

“Well, I’d assume it was a two-part poison. The type of poison that’s actually two different substances that get toxic when mixed together. That way, they could for example sprinkle the main course with the first part and the side-dish with the second. Unless the same person ingested both dishes, they wouldn’t get poisoned at all.” Obi-Wan shrugs one shoulder. It’s only a theory, but a logical one. He knows Cody and the rest of the troopers in the “protection squad” takes their duties extremely serious.

“I see.” Cody’s shoulders slump and he refuses to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“I’ll tell Knight Muln, Master Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka says.

Obi-Wan smiles and gives her a nod. “Thank you, Ahsoka.”

Before he can say anything else, however…

“Unfortunately, I must cut this visit short. Master Kenobi has only recently come out of the stasis trance, he needs more rest. Unless he wants to stay longer than the two days I told him is the absolute minimum?” Master Che gives them an arch look.

Obi-Wan sighs and closes his eyes. Darn fussy healers.

Chapter Text

Again! Again the blasted Jedi survived. Palpatine throws his glass of Corellian brandy and watches as the crystal glass shatters against the wall. He’s seen the tapes of the Senatorial dinner, and not even the pleasure of watching Kenobi’s eyes lose focus, seeing the way he was forced to draw on his Jedi training to keep his breathing steady, seeing the small tremors of his hand as he called for the clone, is enough to stop the utter rage that floods Palpatine’s system. How dares the man survive again?

In the chaos after the Jedi explained himself to the clone—quite loudly—it would have been the perfect opportunity for an assassin to slip a knife between his ribs. The thought of Kenobi choking to death on his own blood… now that is a nice idea, a very nice idea indeed.

If Palpatine fails to kill the man before he takes the throne of his empire—he has not lost yet, he still has options—he will keep the man in a cell and take utmost pleasure in watching him be tortured to the brink of death over and over and over.

Few things are as beautifully pleasing to the eye as someone writhing in utter agony.

The sight of Kenobi suffering would be more pleasing than most because of all the trouble the man has caused. He’s taken over the role of Chancellor, he’s started an investigation of corruption—how dares he?!—and taken several of Palpatine’s belongings hostage. Some of which are, unfortunately, Sith artefacts.

Palpatine curses his overconfidence. Everything was going perfectly, he should have known better than to keep anything important in his office spaces. But no, he’d enjoyed mocking the Jedi, keeping Sith objects in their vicinity and watched how their gazes swept over them without even noticing.

Luckily, he could claim most objects as gifts and thus claim complete ignorance of their true nature—if Kenobi ever even realises what they are.

Palpatine doesn’t think much of the Jedi in general, complacent and stupid, easily led into ruin by their own ignorance, keeping to the Light and weakening themselves… Palpatine will relish in their destruction.

It’s very unfortunate, and most likely Kenobi’s fault, that young Skywalker hasn’t paid him a visit recently. How can Palpatine continue to groom the boy and lure him to the Dark if he’s away too long?

The war is certainly doing its job in destabilising Skywalker’s personality and emotions. The Jedi have dealt with the boy perfectly—for Palpatine’s sake, if not so much for their own.

They have lost much of their ways over the last century, Sidious, like Plagueis before him, has worked hard to ensure it. He snorts. The Jedi are too blind to see it, and combined with their complacency it will spell their doom.

The situation with Kenobi has caused ripples. Dooku has turned his back on Palpatine.

‘Without your political power, former master of mine, you are useless. This is the end of our working relationship… Unless you should once more prove useful to me.’

An apprentice casting off his master like this? Unheard of. Palpatine will gut Dooku like a fish and string his entrails across the Geonosian desert.

Dooku will pay for his treachery. The way of the Sith may be the way of betrayal, but it has always been Palpatine’s. He’s never before been betrayed himself, and he will not take it lying down. Dooku will come to regret his words and actions. Palpatine will make sure of it.

Back on the subject of Kenobi it has become clear that Palpatine can’t trust bounty hunters and assassins to get rid of him; they’ve already failed twice. Security will be so high they won’t get to him again.

Palpatine will have to arrange things himself.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to worry about the investigation that’s no doubt undergoing. It will find nothing but corpses.

After all, three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.

Chapter Text

There is a part of Dooku—the part that is still the Jedi Master he once was—that is proud to see what his grandpadawan has become. There’s an almost fierce smugness in the core of his being surrounding the accomplishments of Kenobi.

Oh how inconvenient it is that Obi-Wan refused to join him. They would have made an excellent team, at the very least on par with the team Kenobi once was with Qui-Gon Jinn. Alas, it seems Obi-Wan is incorruptible; thoroughly anchored in the Light. Pity.

Bringing Kenobi to the Dark would almost certainly bring Skywalker with him. Not that Sidious had ever realised that. No, the old fool had focused all his attention on young Skywalker, dead set on having him as his next apprentice due to his raw power.

Really, raw power is great, but skill and finesse is far more important. Unless Skywalker can learn to use his overwhelming Force connection effectively, he’ll never amount to more than a top-tier Jedi, which one can become without a ridiculously high midichlorian count.

Considering Sidious temper and nature… Well. Dooku is quite certain about how Plagueis the Wise met his end.

However, Dooku is the apprentice. Unless he can defeat his Master, he will only be the apprentice. He is sure he hasn’t been told the full extent of his Master’s plan, and seeing the man’s obsession with Skywalker… Well, Dooku has his suspicions about what his end will be if Sidious feels that he’s outlived his usefulness.

However, Dooku finds that enough is enough. Sidious was a useful Master while his plan was still on track. They would burn out the corruption from the Senate, punish the Jedi for their complacency, and bring true peace to the Galaxy.

It’s still what Dooku intends to do, but Sidious is not longer useful. He lost to Kenobi, in more ways than one.

The worst thing, Dooku thinks, is that the man never even saw it coming. Too arrogantly assured of his power, he failed to see the threat Kenobi truly is.

Oh, Dooku has heard several angry rants about how Kenobi is in Sidious’s way, how his presence interferes with Sidious’s plans for Skywalker. But Sidious has never, ever, considered Kenobi a real threat beyond that. Only ever an inconvenient insect.

No, Dooku is well aware that Kenobi is a much stronger opponent than that. Sidious has set up two failed assassination attempts already. Truly, the man must be absolutely livid.

For sure, getting rid of Kenobi is important. But not important enough that Dooku would stick his neck out for his ma—former Master. He’s already left Sidious behind, chosen the Sith way of betrayal.

Sidious will just have to salvage his mess on his own. Dooku has his own worries, for example making sure no more star systems decide to rejoin the Republic. He’s already employed several bounty hunters to ensure he gets copies of every single mission Kenobi has ever taken, both with Jinn and with Skywalker.

If he goes over those, he will know what star systems he will need to keep his eye on.

Knowledge is power.

Chapter Text

Anakin stays cooped up in his own little room on the ship. They’re all heading out again, another mission on another battle field… Except Obi-Wan is going to stay on Coruscant. Because he can’t leave the Senate; so he’s basically chained to the planet, forced to make plans from afar.

In other words, Obi-Wan is doing the exact thing Anakin has always disliked in quite a few other Council members: staying behind in the Temple, safe and sound, and making decisions that affect those out in the field.

It feels disrespectful to think something like that about Obi-Wan, but… Palpatine agreed with him! He agreed that it was quite unusual for Obi-Wan to do something like that! That of course Anakin must feel betrayed.

Anakin finally went to see him; it was nice. He really should have gone earlier, because Palpatine has always been there for him and Anakin has missed talking to someone about his problems, and even though Palpatine certainly has his own fair share, he was still sympathetic and willing to lend Anakin his ear.

“Master Ken—I’m sorry, Chancellor Kenobi will be staying on Coruscant for the time being, then? He won’t go out into the field anymore?” Palpatine looked surprised.

“Yeah,” Anakin said, looking down into his cup of caff. “He’s supposed to be better than that! How can he be a general—a high general!—if he isn’t out in the field with the men? Seeing the way the battles go and the… how? I thought he was better than that.”

“I understand that you feel betrayed, my boy,” Palpatine said, putting his cup of tea back on the lounge table, “But sometimes, politicians feel the need to compromise their beliefs for the sake of… stability, I suppose you could call it.”

Anakin felt anger bubble up in his chest.

“But Obi-Wan isn’t supposed to be a politician! He always complains about it and says that he hates politics! Or, well, he says he dislikes it, because Jedi don’t hate, but… how could he do this!” He ground his teeth together, fingers clutching the cup.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any answers for you, Anakin. Just like I don’t understand why he agreed to the position at all, if he truly does not want power, as you’ve told me over the years.”

“He doesn’t! He always says he doesn’t! He just wants the war to be over and for the Jedi to go back to doing what we’re supposed to do!”

Frustration threatened to boil over, and Anakin forced himself to stop and breathe. The way Obi-Wan—kriff that. He didn’t want to do what Obi-Wan told him to do. He lied. He lied a lot, didn’t he? Anakin’s head hurt… and his heart.

“Sometimes, my friend, people lie. Even to people they say the trust and care about.”

Anakin thought he’d feel better, but he just feels worse. Everything is just tangled up inside. Not for the first time, he wishes he was twelve again. Twelve and still Obi-Wan’s padawan, not yet sure of himself in the ways of the Force, but in a good and comfortable place with his Master.

Why have they lost that? Why can’t Anakin trust Obi-Wan anymore? Well… he does trust him. Every time there’s a part screaming at him that surely Obi-Wan is lying, lying about everything just like he’s holding Anakin back from reaching his full potential, there’s always been that part of him…

Remnants of a twelve year old boy who remembers a man who taught him how to read basic, was willing to learn huttese from Anakin in turn. A man who listened, who allowed Anakin to crawl into his bed when it was cold or Anakin had a nightmare.

Where has that man gone? Why can’t he be here anymore? Where did everything go wrong?

Chapter Text

Blast it. May the Jedi burn in the deepest lava of Mustafar for eternity!

How is it possible for Kenobi to be such an obstacle without doing anything at all? Simply by existing? Simply by being an average Jedi? What is it about the man that inspires loyalty from others? Loyalty he certainly doesn’t deserve.

Skywalker has finally paid Palpatine a visit again. Far too late—considering how long he’s been on Coruscant—in Palpatine’s opinion.

Skywalker came, but they spent only only the barest of minutes talking about what happened in the senate, after that he went on a rant about the two assassination attempts. Oh, Palpatine is certain he managed to drive some daggers of rage into the young man’s soul, sow doubt in Kenobi’s character before the topic switched. Oh certainly the man cannot be as unwilling to hold power as he’s always claimed considering how much power he has amassed over the years?

Anakin, as always, ate it up. The boy longed for a father figure, certainly saw Kenobi as one for some time, or tried to. But Kenobi… too young, too weak, was only ever capable of being a brother. Incapable of being the father, the parent, Skywalker sought after.

Palpatine used that weakness, drew Anakin to himself instead. See me as a father, young one. I am worthy of your respect, trust me with your emotions. Listen to my words, my opinions. Surely, I know how the world works, I know what is normal, what is acceptable, what makes a person. I will mould you into the man you should be, the man your power gives you the potential to be, not what the Jedi would have you be. Come to me…

So yes, Palpatine has widened that distance further, but he’s also come to a galling realisation: he must kill Kenobi, but his future apprentice can never know that he did it.

Listening to his future apprentice rage about how cowardly it is to send bounty hunters and assassins rather than do it yourself… Oh it sent fires of rage down Palpatine’s spine. He’s certain even the Jedi would be impressed with his emotional control.

Listening to Skywalker be worried and afraid for his master, complain that he has to leave to the battle field again where he can’t watch his master’s back…

Palpatine has spent years trying to fully detach the boy from his Master, but to no avail. Anakin’s emotions run deep, and unless Palpatine can find someone who trumps Kenobi, he will not succeed to turn the boy against him. Not even Amidala is enough. She’s certainly played her part well enough, her actions and reactions have been just as Palpatine has wished them.

In fact, Palpatine’s plot to push the two to truly live out their emotions certainly worked, their secret marriage tears at their souls every moment of the day. But even so, it’s not enough. He’s skilled enough that he’s kept Anakin from confiding in Kenobi, he’s been lucky enough that Kenobi is the kind of idiot who waits for someone to come to him. Palpatine knows that he knows about the Skywalker-Amidala “love story”, but he hasn’t told either of them… yet.

Any moment, that luck can run out. If Kenobi becomes worried enough about Skywalker, he might tell him that he knows, ask him if that’s what worries him, bridge the gap that Palpatine has fought tooth and nail to create.

The man must die, and quickly.

The longer he stays in office—which keeps Palpatine from being able to play the “the council doesn’t trust me, they’re planning something” card on Skywalker—the more time he has to undo years of legislation, years of work, and to bridge the gap with his former Padawan.

It cannot happen. It must not happen. Palpatine will take care of Kenobi. The man will not breathe much longer.

And Anakin… Anakin will never know who it was that killed his master.

Chapter Text

The negotiations for ten worlds seceding from the Confederacy and rejoining the Republic has gone on and on. Obi-Wan has watched over the process and stopped any arguments before they could take place—he’s a trained negotiator. This at least, is what he’s trained to do as a Jedi. This at least is the path he chose for his life.

However, he’s rather displeased with the Senate and the Senators of the Republic. The current session, discussing demands and limitations to set for the ten, is an excellent example of why.

He lets the Senators talk and discuss amongst themselves, occasionally trading glances with Senator Ha’han-ash. He’s come to enjoy her presence; she has a steadfast way and a quick mind—not to mention that she’s about as tired with the Senate as he is.

It doesn’t hurt that their humour is startlingly similar—as he learned one evening when they sat bent over legislation.

If there’s one good thing about the whole mess of him becoming the Supreme Chancellor, it’s coming into contact with the Senators who have a good head on their shoulders. The few that do not bend for money or power. The steadfast few.

Obi-Wan is forced to admit that there are good people and good politicians among the crowd, however… The discussion has gone on long enough. He’s had enough of this charade.

When the last Senator finishes with their argument, Obi-Wan nods to Senator Ha’han-ash and takes his turn to speak.

“Senators. We have heard many opinions and many arguments. We’ve had many propositions discussed and presented. I believe it is time for me to present my thoughts.”

Murmurs, but a generally agreeable atmosphere. Obi-Wan can’t sense any unusual resentment—though there’s always some lingering, most likely from Palpatine’s staunchest supporters. The same people Obi-Wan suspects are behind the more… unreasonable demands.

“While I understand that many feel that there should be some form of consequences, shall we say, for trying to secede from the Republic, that these star systems should be somewhat punished—as they have been at war with us up until these peace talks—I must remind you that this is a display of very short-term thinking.

It is not irrational to want there to be consequences, however, most of the suggestions are far too much. There will be no lasting peace with them—all we would do is build in tension into the very peace we seek and most likely things will erupt in chaos and war anew.

Furthermore, we only have this one chance. If the Republic proves that we cannot be reasonable during peace talks, any chance of a peaceful resolution with the Confederacy as a whole becomes very small if not nonexistent.

The economic and social consequences of many of these suggestions would leave these ten star systems on their knees, unable to fend for themselves. They would lose the capability to sustain themselves and their population without Republic aid.

Demanding such a thing would mean the peace talks end now, most likely to never be brought up again.”

Obi-Wan pauses and lets the silence hang in the air, heavy and chilling. Let them feel shame, let them reconsider. They will not speak until he is finished, the floor is his. At least he demands enough respect that they do not yell at him the way the do each other.

Small mercies.

“I was elected for one purpose: to be a neutral party who gains nothing from the war and would seek to end it. As such, I will not allow these peace talks to fall through for the sake of revenge. Especially as revenge is not the Jedi way and first and foremost, I am and always will be a Jedi.

I have tried to limit my use of the emergency powers—the powers which have been established in the role of Supreme Chancellor through legislation since Palpatine took office—as much as possible because I am not here to be a dictator, nor am I here to usurp power in favour of the Jedi.

However, I will veto any peace offering that threatens the long-term stability of the Republic and the Galaxy as a whole. It is my duty as a Jedi—a peacekeeper of this galaxy—and as Supreme Chancellor to see to the long-term benefits to the whole Republic, not the short-term benefits of the few.”

Obi-Wan looks around the room, his expression grave rather than the serene mask he usually wears to the sessions.

“We will return to the drawing board, Senators. This time I must ask that you consider the long-term consequences of your proposals. We will also form several committees that will formulate one suggestion for a peace treaty each.”

‘And please, don’t do worse than the initiates taking their first course on negotiation,’ Obi-Wan thinks with the mental equivalent to a sigh.

Chapter Text

Cody knows his general and his tells. He’s been by his side long enough to have developed a keen eye for all of the—almost invisible—signs that General Kenobi is exhausted.

It’s the small twitch in his eyebrows when he needs to read, the way his fingers twitch while his hands stay clasped behind his back, the way he’ll cover his mouth—pretending to stroke his beard—to keep in a yawn…

A million small signs, not that General Kenobi would ever admit to them.

Yeah, Cody has seen his general exhausted before. Usually, they manage to find some time for him to catch up on sleep and rest—even in the middle of active war zones. So why is it that his general seems to be the most exhausted he’s ever been?

If you ignore the assassination attempts—which Cody absolutely does not, though the general is, as always, frustratingly blazé about them—Coruscant is in general a lot safer than anywhere else they’ve been the last couple of months.

And still, the exhaustion signs don’t go away, in fact, they only grow worse. When Cody catches General Kenobi almost nodding off at his desk, he knows things are really bad.

They’ve seen him lie on the couch through the surveillance monitors, but if he’s this tired, then there’s no way he’s actually sleeping or resting.

They try to make their presence more obvious, to make it clear that he can relax because they’re there; they have his back.

It doesn’t work.

The general keeps working, taking meditation breaks and heading back to the Temple during most nights, but the exhaustion doesn’t let up.

It’s Waxer who comes up with the idea of talking to General Yoda about it. It feels like going behind General Kenobi’s back, but Cody knows they have to do something. It can’t go on like this.

Cody tries to calm his conscience with the knowledge that in Jedi terms, General Yoda is a bit like General Kenobi’s great-grandfather, family. Cody doesn’t know a lot of Jedi lineage, but he understands it as being the closest thing Jedi have to family—aside from their whole community.

Going to General Yoda isn’t going behind General Kenobi’s back, it’s their way of helping—by asking family for help. Their only other option would be General Skywalker, but they know that’s a bad idea.

Even though Cody knows that it needs to be done, even though he’s justified it to himself, setting up a meeting with General Yoda still leaves a bit of a lump in Cody’s stomach. It still kind of feels like betraying the General’s trust even though they haven’t been bound to secrecy… they haven’t even talked about it.

The General really is way too good at changing the subject.

Walking through the Jedi Temple alone feels vaguely uncomfortable, weird. But Cody knows that his general trusts him to watch his back, so Cody will do so, even if this is in a different way than usual.

“Tired, he is?”

Surprised by this, Yoda is not. Carried heavy burdens Obi-Wan has always done. Some of his own undertaking, many by others to him given. Refused to complain he has always.

Important to Obi-Wan duty has always been.

“Signs of exhaustion remain constant, General.” Cody glances off to the side before back to Yoda he turns. “We don’t think General Kenobi is sleeping, or if he is then not well.”

“Surprised, I am not. Speak with him, will I.” Taps his cane against the floor, Yoda does. “Thank you, I do. Care for your general, you do. Grateful for your loyalty, we Jedi are.”

“Thank you, General.” Embarrassed, the commander seems. Flushed and embarrassed he is. A good heart, has he. Pleased, Yoda is, that surrounded by good men, his great-grandpadawan is.

A whisper in the Force, Yoda feels and smile he does.

“Bring a pillow, I will. Blanket, has he?”

“Yes, General, he does.“

They say their goodbyes, and the commander leaves. Much to do now, Yoda has. To the quartermaster office first, he will go.

Much experience with unruly crèchelings who cannot sleep, he has. Older, perhaps, but still young, his great-grandpadawan is. Much different, it should not be.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan has had to give up his small desk in the corner of the huge Chancellor rooms, instead he has a huge desk in the corner of the rooms. He adamantly refuses to sit with his back to those huge windows, even after he managed to convince the staff to let him set up thick curtains to cover them. It means that there’s no natural light in the rooms, but it also means that no sniper has a free shot straight into the rooms.

How in the core worlds did Palpatine and all previous Chancellors survive years sitting at that desk? Obi-Wan is certain that if he tried he’d get shot in the neck by a sniper blaster within a week. Especially considering how his time as a Chancellor has gone so far.

He would have preferred to change rooms entirely, and have no one actually know where his real rooms are—Cody would like that idea too—but the Senate got obstinate and absolute refused him the idea. So blackout curtains it is.

He feels on edge every moment he spends in his office. The two assassination attempts have gotten to him, not matter how much he likes to pretend otherwise. If he worries, then Anakin will worry, and Ahsoka will worry, and just about everyone he knows will worry and he’d rather not burden them with it. Cody will worry regardless of what Obi-Wan does or say, and has upped the security.

Obi-Wan pretends to be annoyed, but at the same time, it feels good not to be alone. He’d much rather be out in the field. Dodging blasters and fighting for his life is preferable to sitting in this stuffy rooms, working through flimsi after flimsi, datapad after datapad of information. It needs to be done and it is his job now, but combined with his duties as Councillor and General…

His eyes sting, exhaustion seems to have settled in his very bones, and it’s a wonder that the text isn’t blurred together. He needs sleep, soon, but he can’t. Some deep meditation will have to do.

He’s not sure how much longer he can meditate instead of sleep before he crashes, but he needs to keep it together a while longer yet.

Legislation 3-BKL-PT needs to be repealed as quickly as possible. Obi-Wan will have to send it out to a committee with his opinion on the matter.

He leans back in his chair with a tired sigh. He’s finding more and more legislation that restricts bacta production and he cannot for the life of him understand why. He absolutely agrees with the older legislation that concern quality and standards, but the newer? It merely works to limit who can do it and where. Why has Palpatine worked to limit the bacta supply in the midst of war?

There’s more of that type of legislation that worries him, a lot deal with limiting the Jedi’s capabilities to act, tying them more and more to a Senate that’s inefficient. That too, he believes, has to do with more recent legislation. Both the Jedi’s ties to the Senate and the senate’s own inefficiency.

Oh, it’s been coming for years, corruption seeping into the Senate. He’s found older legislation, from Valorum’s time, and the man’s ability to do anything as Chancellor was absolutely hampered, everything tied up in endless procedure. Legislation that was repealed almost as soon as Palpatine took office...

Someone crippled Valorum’s power as Chancellor before the Battle of Naboo ever happened. The fact that Valorum had dispatched Jedi to help negotiate… That hadn’t been officially sanctioned. It had been a personal request from the Chancellor to the Jedi.

Which means that someone, most likely the Sith who’s been controlling the Senate—Obi-Wan has become more and more certain that Dooku’s words back then weren’t actually a lie. Vague enough that he wouldn’t out his master, strong enough to sow doubt, but ultimately true—wanted Valorum out of office, and Palpatine in.

Which means… What does that mean? There are several possibilities…

Palpatine is working with the Sith.

Palpatine is manipulated by the Sith.

Palpatine’s own opinions made him an ideal figurehead while the Sith manipulated the rest of the Senators.

Palpatine is the Sith.

Obi-Wan nearly laughs at the last one. Palpatine has never had any noteworthy Force presence, nor shown any understanding of how the Force works. It’s a preposterous thought.

Leave no stone unturned, Obi-Wan. Consider every angle, Padawan mine.

Force, Qui-Gon would say that, wouldn’t he? Obi-Wan can almost hear his voice. Regardless, it is sound advice. However unlikely, it’s far better if Obi-Wan keeps all possibilities in mind. He’s too tired to sort it out now, anyway.

Obi-Wan rubs a hand over his eyes and sighs.

“Tired, you are.”

Obi-Wan nearly jumps out of his skin. Yoda sits in the visitor’s chair on the opposite side of Obi-Wan’s desk, large ears drooping.

“Master Yoda! When did you…” Obi-Wan trails off. He didn’t even hear Yoda come in. He must be more tired than he thought.

“Sleep you should, Obi-Wan,” Yoda says, staring intently Obi-Wan who simply sighs.

“I know I should, but I can’t.” He looks away. “I lie down with full intent to sleep, but I can’t. Thoughts just keep spinning and I remember more and more things I need to do.” He sighs again. “I’ve been meditating. I’m fine.”

“Fine, you are not. Sleep, you must.” Yoda whacks his stick down on Obi-Wan’s desk, making Obi-Wan jump a bit in his chair. “Large couch, you have. Thick blanket, you have. Nice pillow, I brought. Sleep, you will.”

Yoda hops down from the chair and starts making his way over to the almost ridiculously large couch. It certainly is a comfortable couch, it has just never helped Obi-Wan sleep before.

Nevertheless, Master Yoda wants him to try—actually, he wants him to do, there is no try—so he might as well follow the advice for now.

He follows Yoda over to the couch and stops by it, staring. Yoda actually did bring one of the soft Temple pillows, the exact model Obi-Wan favours. What in the world? How did Yoda—?

“Come to me, your troopers have. Loyal, they are. Worried, they are.”

Oh. If he’s starting to worry the troops stationed here, and Cody… then he must be pretty bad off. They’ve certainly seen him in terrible shape before, so for them to go to Master Yoda…

Obi-Wan sits down on the couch and removes his boots, setting them off to the side. He’s still in most of his clothing, but he’s only going to try to take a nap at most. Master Yoda will see how useless it is soon enough.

He lies down and drapes the blanket over himself, closing his eyes and deepens his breathing.

Breathe slowly and methodical, empty your mind. Let the Force cradle you in sleep.

Of course, Padmé was attacked in her sleep right before the start of the wars. She lives because she had two guardians attuned to the Force just outside. If Obi-Wan just keeps some awareness to the Force around him, it should be fine. He should sense something before it comes too close.

“Afraid you are. Unable to fall into true sleep, you are.” Master Yoda’s voice brings Obi-Wan out of his thoughts. He opens his eyes and looks at the small green master still standing by the side of the couch.

“… Yes, Master. I rarely feel safe outside of the Temple walls.” And only barely within them. He will not share that thought with Master Yoda, however.

Yoda harrumphs and hops up on the couch, getting himself comfortable in the blanket covering Obi-Wan.

“Master?” This is a rather surprising turn of events.

“Sleep, you must. Watch over you, I will.”

Oh.

Master Yoda reaches out with one small clawed hand and places it on Obi-Wan’s forehead. Obi-Wan’s mouth twitches into a shadow of a smile and he closes his eyes, accepting the offered help.

“Sleep, you will.”

The Force suggestion is mild enough that Obi-Wan could easily throw it off if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He wants to sleep, and if Master Yoda is right there watching over him…

Obi-Wan falls easily into the mindless oblivion of sleep, the Force cradling him in its warmth.

Lived for a long time has Yoda. See the end of his road yet, he does not. Cover the future, Shadows still do. Hard to see it is. More so than long before. Since Obi-Wan took office, lightened, some clouds have.

A heavy burden, it is, resting on Yoda’s great-grandpadawan’s shoulders. More than one heavy burden, there is. The heaviest of burdens, responsible usage of power is. And more power than any other, Obi-Wan has now.

Looks younger in sleep, Obi-Wan does. Make him seem older, the beard does. Deliberate, Yoda knows that is. The usually thoughtful expression too ages him, but smoothed out in sleep, it is. Hide the youth even the beard cannot.

“Feel safe, he does not. Even at home, he is in peril. Need you, he does,” into the Force, Yoda whispers the words.

A flicker in the Force there is, and stray locks of hair brushed away from Obi-Wan’s forehead are.

“Teach him, I will. Need help, does he.”

The actions taken now, determine the future, they will. See it, Yoda cannot, but feel it in the Force, he can.

The coming months, most important they are.

Chapter Text

It’s very common—tradition almost—for the Supreme Chancellor to accept gifts from Senators who wish to show their appreciation. It’s not meant to gain the Senators any favours—officially, at any rate. If done as a gift to the office of the Supreme Chancellor, rather than the specific sitting Chancellor, the gifting Senator has all the plausible deniability in the world.

Former Chancellor Palpatine was easy to please. The man had a taste for old artefacts with history tied to them—especially if there were rumours of Sith or Jedi in said history. If one did not have something like that, anything expensive in gold would do superbly.

Chancellor Kenobi, however, is a mystery. All Senators know that the Jedi do not, as a rule, accept outright gifts, even as a thank you for services rendered. They will occasionally accept a gift—if the giver is insistent enough or if it would be considered an insult to refuse—but not always happily.

When the very point of giving gifts to the Chancellor is to make them happy and if said Chancellor insists on being a Jedi before the Chancellor… It gets a bit tricky.

Most Senators study the Chancellor suite whenever they have reasons to visit—generally a meeting of some kind—but there is little change from how the rooms looked during Palpatine’s reign. In fact, there are hardly any personal touches whatsoever. Unless one counts the large desk hidden away in the corner of the room and that one plant.

So life in the Senate continues, though slightly different from before. More and more committees are called, more and more Senators find themselves looking over legislation passed in the last few years, and they are horrified.

In fact, most committees find themselves completely stupefied upon reading Chancellor Kenobi’s long essay-like—with sources and links made to other legislation—regarding why this latest piece of legislation should be brought up for the Senate to vote for a repeal.

Many Senators were startled to see how much power they’ve lost since the start of the war and even a few years further back. Instead, power has accumulated and consolidated with the Chancellor.

Quite a few are troubled. Some want to get in Chancellor Kenobi’s good graces in hopes of preferential treatment—as had been possible under Palpatine— while some simply want to thank the Chancellor for his hard work.

In the end, it’s Senator Mandai who solves this conundrum as well.

Obi-Wan is so tired of looking at the Chancellor offices’ red walls. He’s never considered what an ugly shade of red they are before, but now that he’s been forced to spend days upon days looking at them…

He brought his cutting of Qui-Gon’s murgröna rose with him and put it on his desk, it’s the only green and natural thing in the rooms—possibly even the entire building.

It has never been harder to pay attention to the Living Force than it is now, in this almost Sith-red set of rooms, ostentatiously decorated with gold and bronzium.

Quite honestly, Obi-Wan thinks Palpatine has a terrible sense of interior design. If he didn’t have so much else to put his energy and effort into, he might actually have gone so far as to have the rooms at the very least repainted.

This much red really cannot be good for a person’s peace of mind.

And then Senator Mandai—it must be her, even though it was sent completely anonymously—sent him a very large bush of blue bloomed Haa’nduni hydrangea.

It’s absolutely massive and the Living Force practically sings around it. Obi-Wan is not generally one for flights of fancy, but in a way, it is a bit… magical.

He places it in the corner by the window, in front of one of the absolutely dreadful bronzium statues—why Palpatine likes bronzium statues of members of the Four Sages of Dwartii, Obi-Wan can only begin to guess—and smiles as it seems to almost drown the room in green and blue.

Soothing.

Quite a few Senators notice the new addition to the rooms and quite a few of them correctly concludes that plants might be a good gift for a Jedi.

Not that Obi-Wan actually accepts any gifts, only the ones that come anonymously—which he therefore cannot refuse—are kept.

Soon enough the rooms become covered in the most wondrous plants from all over the galaxy, the wide variety of colours coupled with how much of the Living Force they brought with them certainly did a lot for Obi-Wan’s mood.

Only when the red is finally mostly hidden—at least as far as the walls go—does he realise how oppressive it was.

He brings a cutting of the Haa’nduni hydrangea back to his rooms in the Temple. They could certainly use such a bush in the Room of a Thousand Fountains when the time comes.

Chapter Text

Garen sighs and scrubs a hand across his face. The WeatherNet just had to have today scheduled for rain, didn’t it? As if today wasn’t bad enough without pouring rain.

He glances over toward where Knight En Castu, a Nautolan Jedi, crouches by the body.

“Is it Darb?” he asks, begging the Force that it’s not. Because if it is…

“Sorry, Muln, it is. The appearance matches, as does the blood group. We’ll have to do a DNA scan to make absolutely sure, but… It seems like our last lead is another dead end… literally.” Castu stands back up and wipes her purple hand off on her coat.

“Sith spit,” he snarls. “I’ll comm the Security Forces and have them escort the body to the Temple.”

“Seems wise. We’ll have to report our findings—or rather, lack thereof—to the Council.”

“Both assassins, the first identified as bounty hunter Elon Darb and the second as assassin Mida Murr, have been found dead. We’ve gone through their recent work history, delved into the comm information and any and all tech we’ve been able to find, however…” Castu trails off.

“Whoever hired them has cleaned their tracks up well. All their computers were wiped clean, their comms utterly destroyed and the comm numbers have somehow been wiped and given to someone else—despite the mandatory three month waiting period,” Garen finishes, making sure not to sound as dejected as he feels.

Someone has tried to have one of his best friends killed and it was his job to find them… but he failed. It stings, and even though he knows Obi-Wan would never blame him… Well. Perhaps it would’ve been better if Skywalker had gotten the job after all?

Force knows the man is like a derma dog after a bone when it comes to things like that.

“Troubling, is this.” Master Yoda’s ears droop.

“An unfortunate turn of events most certainly.” Master Koth’s face is grave. “Knight Muln, Knight Castu, thank you for your hard work. The investigation will remain open, in case any new leads pop up. In the meantime, you will return to your regular duties.”

“Yes, Master,” the say in chorus.

At least Garen won’t be the one to tell Skywalker the news. He rubs a hand over tired eyes and sighs.

Who has the kind of power and connections on Coruscant to pull something like this off?

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan goes over the newest missions that Palpatine handled. The ones that he has had in his desk and which have yet to be sent out to the Jedi.

He is horrified to realise that these files are opening a new can of Bordellian worms in the already convoluted mess that is the Galactic Republic politics.

There are notes made by Palpatine on most of them: “direct request—Master Kenobi”. It’s not unheard of for such a thing to happen; Obi-Wan has taken many such missions over the years, missions where he was specifically requested. Quite often these missions forced him to leave Anakin behind in the Temple as his Padawan was still too young to come with him at the time.

By themselves, the notes are of little importance. However, there is nothing whatsoever in the mission that actually specifically names him. There is no direct request for his presence.

Which likely means that Palpatine was planning to alter the mission specs before sending them to the Jedi. For some reason, Palpatine wants Obi-Wan to take these particular missions. There’s nothing special about them, just stationed far out and likely to take more than a little bit of time to complete. Nothing more dangerous than usual, but it would take him away from Coruscant and the Temple, as well as Anakin and Ahsoka… Oh.

There’s a terrible suspicion taking root in the back of Obi-Wan’s mind.

He’s known for a long time that his mission schedule, even before the war, was busier than most. He hasn’t thought much about it one way or another, he mostly assumed the Council had no one else to send.

However, if Palpatine deliberately alters mission parameters to demand Obi-Wan’s presence now, who’s to say he hasn’t done that exact same thing in the past?

Obi-Wan strokes his beard in contemplation. He needs to discuss this with someone else before he makes any moves. He could be jumping at shadows, finding conspiracies where there are none. But he finds it highly likely that whoever he speaks to will advise him to have someone go through his mission history and cross reference the missions as they were given to the Jedi and the missions as they were before they crossed Palpatine’s desk.

Not that every single mission the Jedi take should go by the Chancellor…

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrow. He needs to run background checks on every single person who works with Jedi missions. Though it is entirely possible that Palpatine is the only one who’s done anything, it’s better to make sure to look where you’re leaping.

Better safe than sorry.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan meditates for hours. He should try to sleep, but… No, he needs to clear his mind first. At least he’s been able to sleep for a few hours when he’s in the Temple ever since Master Yoda visited the Chancellor’s office.

Obi-Wan knows he needs to talk to someone about what his next move should be regarding the disconcerting matter of his mission schedule, but he’s not sure who he should go to.

Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex and Cody are all back in the field—reluctant as they were to leave him behind, even with trusted clones for bodyguards—so he can’t take it up with them… Well, he probably wouldn’t have gone to Anakin or Ahsoka anyway.

He feels a bit bad about it, but… Ahsoka’s too young. She doesn’t need the burden of this possibility hanging over her, especially as he would have to ask her to keep it a secret from her Master and that’s… He doesn’t want to cause problems in the relationship.

As for Anakin…

Obi-Wan sighs and runs his hand across his eyes, feeling more than just tired. He’s exhausted, emotionally and mentally. He needs a break, he should have taken some form of break weeks ago, but now… Impossible.

His thoughts return to Anakin. He would have gone to him to talk about this, because in general there is no one he trusts more, but when the topic is Palpatine, Obi-Wan knows that he cannot trust Anakin to take Obi-Wan’s side.

It’s a sickening feeling, a roiling in his gut, but he knows it to be true. Palpatine was there for Anakin when he was growing up in a way that Obi-Wan failed to be. It was part his busy schedule, taking him from his young Padawan’s side for far longer than he should’ve been away, but… Part of it was likely Obi-Wan’s own inexperience and youth.

Palpatine was a father figure, the kind Anakin sought at the time. Not to mention he has an outsider’s perspective. Whenever Anakin felt constrained within the Order or something clashed with him… he most likely felt that he got more empathy and understanding from Palpatine than Obi-Wan.

Was he a bad Master? How much did he fail Anakin back then? Perhaps he never should have demanded to be allowed to train him, perhaps he should have taken his vow to mean “ensure someone qualified trains the boy” rather than “train the boy yourself”… Has he failed Qui-Gon as well?

No. No, he shouldn’t think like this.

Anakin has grown into a splendid Jedi Knight, even if he does let his emotions get the better of him occasionally. Arrogance is not only Anakin’s fault, it’s common enough among the Senior Padawans and new Knights.

Besides, Obi-Wan has seen Anakin work with Ahsoka. He really is so proud of him.

Even so… He cannot take this matter to Anakin, even should Anakin return to the Temple tomorrow. It would only cause strife and resentment, better to discuss it with someone more neutral.

Unfortunately, most Jedi distrust the Senate, and Palpatine, and the Senators Obi-Wan trusts also appear to be distrustful of Palpatine, especially since the investigation started to bear fruit.

Sleep, Kenobi. Talk to Mace and Yoda tomorrow. If you’re vague enough, maybe you can spin it so they don’t know that it’s specifically Palpatine who’s made the changes, and then you can get a more neutral view of the matter.

Obi-Wan gets up from his meditation pose on the floor and heads for the bedroom, starting to disrobe on the way.

When he finally crawls into bed, he lets out a tired sigh. Sleep, Kenobi. You need the rest, actual rest. If you don’t, odds are the troops will go to Master Yoda again. Once was enough, again and you’ll never live down the embarrassment.

He closes his eyes and falls into a light doze. Just before it turns into true sleep, Obi-Wan could swear he feels a shift in the Force: a gentle hand brushing hair from his forehead and an oh-so-familiar voice whispering:

‘Sleep, Padawan mine.’

“As such, it’s possible that this same person—or even a smaller group—has been altering mission parameters even before the war started.”

Obi-Wan takes a sip of his tea, and closes his eyes.

“Troubling news is this, hmmmm.” Master Yoda’s ears wiggle and he squints at Obi-Wan over the rim of his own cup of tea.

“Even more troubling is the question of why. You were a new Knight and not in a position of power or responsibility, aside from your Padawan. Why would they ensure an especially heavy workload for you? How did they even know you existed?” Mace drums his fingers against the small table and rests his head against his hand as he stares out the window intently—almost as if he expects the Coruscanti sky to hold all the answers they seek.

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Obi-Wan sighs and opens his eyes again.

“Investigate, we must. Find the answers we seek, we may.”

“We’ll need help from within the Senate as well. The Jedi don’t have access to those records on our own, and if we request access…” Obi-Wan frowns, his mouth twisting downward.

“You’re the Supreme Chancellor, can’t you just give us permission?” Mace raises an eyebrow.

“If only, Mace. If only. If I do, I need to make a paper trail, partly because I don’t know how to grant someone access, and partly because me granting someone outside the Senate access must be done officially or anything we found would be completely inadmissible. Better to have someone who already has access go through it and provide us with the information.”

Mace frowns in consternation and rubs his chin.

“Know of someone, do you?”

Obi-Wan huffs a small laugh and shakes his head.

“Both Senator Amidala and Senator Organa are trustworthy. I will ask them if they—or someone they trust completely and utterly—can do it. I would do it myself, but I simply do not have the time.”

“Trust you in this, we shall.” Master Yoda nods resolutely.

“In the meantime, I will ask Master Namun to head the investigation on our side. She’s on sick-leave and cannot leave the Temple anyway.” Mace casts a sly glance at Obi-Wan. “Besides, she dislikes being idle for too long and is one of our best researchers.”

The three nod at each other. Time to set things in motion.

Chapter Text

“Well, these offices certainly look different now,” Bail says over the rim of his cup of caff.

Obi-Wan says nothing and instead takes a long drink of his tea—he does raise an eyebrow instead.

“Truly, it’s rather remarkable what a bit of greenery can do.” Obi-Wan lets his gaze sweep across the room, plants of varying colours and various shades of green, covering most of the walls and surfaces. It was a bit like being on a jungle planet—like Haa’ndu.

It was also intensely nostalgic, so similar to his and Qui-Gon’s shared rooms in the later years, and exactly what he’d been searching for when he took a cutting of the murgröna rose in the first place.

Apparently wishes do come true, occasionally. Even if, perhaps, in rather unconventional ways.

“You look more relaxed now than you have in quite some time, my friend,” Bail says as he puts his cup down on the small table.

Obi-Wan considers the statement. It’s true enough, he does feel more relaxed and settled.

“Indeed, I believe being surrounded by greenery like this has been good for me.” The constant small ache in the base of his skull that had been almost always present since he moved into the offices is gone. Not a trace of it left.

“To think, when I’m stressed and need to relax I bake. When you’re stressed and need to relax you spend time with plants. And on that note—” Bail bends down down and opens the small bag he brought with him, taking out a container with two pieces of cake in it— “I made some the other day. Would you like some?”

Obi-Wan stares at the cake pieces, feeling slightly conflicted. On one hand, this could be seen as a bribe, on the other hand, the cake looks really good.

“What kind of cake is it?” He looks it over, and is rather amused to see that someone has already cut off a small piece from each of them—clearly his troopers are leaving nothing to chance, especially considering…

“Alderaanian kärleksmums,” Bail says and looks around the room, possibly for a napkin or some sort of plate. In the end he shrugs a shoulder and puts one of the pieces on the upturned container lid instead. “It’s a chocolate cake with an icing made from—among other things—caff and chocolate, topped with Alderaanian coconut flakes.”

It really does look delicious. Oh kriff it.

“I’ll take a piece,” Obi-Wan says and takes the cake piece still in the container, completely ignoring Bail’s smug grin.

They spend the rest of their “meeting” eating cake, discussing cake recipes and how to best care for several different types of plants, including a murgröna rose and an Alderaanian rose bush.

It’s a really good afternoon.

Chapter Text

Master Anck'Su Namun looks up from her datapad at the sound of footsteps and the telltale sound of a cane made of gimer. Her orange lekku twitches—the only outward signs of her surprise—at the sight of Master Yoda and Master Windu heading toward her.

A quick glance around the room confirms her thoughts: there is no one else in the reading hall at the moment, so they must be heading her way. However, she cannot for the life of her think of a reason for why the two Masters would want to speak with her.

“Master Namun,” Master Windu says and inclines his head in greeting. He pulls out a chair and sits down at her table, Master Yoda not far behind.

“Master Windu, Master Yoda.” She bows her head slightly. “What can I help you with?”

“A mission for you, have we.”

She blinks in surprise. What? But…

“I beg your pardon, Master Yoda?” She must have heard wrong. She glances at the crutches resting against the table. She still can’t move around without them and the healers have her on sick-leave. They cannot possibly have a mission for her.

No, she must have heard it wrong, born from her wish to be able to work again. Do her part for the Galaxy.

“A mission for you, have we.” Master Yoda’ sounds amused as he repeats those exact same words.

“I’m sorry, Masters, but you are aware that I am on sick-leave, are you not? I cannot leave Coruscant and am discouraged from leaving the Temple for long stretches of time…” She trails off. What use can she be?

“Don’t worry, Master Namun, we’re well aware. It’s more of a… research mission, I suppose you could say. You won’t even have to leave the archives,” Master Windu says kindly.

The Force sings in her ears and she smiles.

“Please tell me, Master Windu. I will gladly take a mission.”

Anck’su nearly loses herself in the archives. It is no small job to make a list and collect the data for every single mission the Jedi has taken during the last 25 years where a specific Jedi was requested.

It’s not the kind of job she usually takes as a researcher, as it’s more slogging through information than actually researching, but she’s willing to do it. Especially when Master Windu and Master Yoda explained why they want it done.

Someone in the Senate is altering mission parameters before the missions get sent to the Jedi? Outrageous and dangerous.

She understands the importance of keeping it secret and so she won’t let anyone come close to her datapads and flimsi. She hoards and protects them like a Krayt dragon from Tatooine.

While she might have previously thought it was ridiculous that Master Kenobi was voted in as Supreme Chancellor, she now sees that perhaps it’s the best thing that could have happened to the Order.

In her investigation she does find something quite surprising: she’s finding far more missions where Master Kenobi was specifically requested than she would have ever imagined. Many of them before he was even ranked master and many requiring him to leave his still-too-young Padawan at the Temple.

“Im, stop it!”

The sound of a young voice being far louder than it should in a library breaks her out of her thoughts.

She looks up to see two initiates—a Mon Calamari and a Devaronian—pushing each other and laughing.

She smiles, perhaps it’s time for her to take another Padawan? She has missed it ever since Ji-han was Knighted.

Obi-Wan stares at the list Master Namun gave him. It’s long, very long. The most worrisome thing, however, is how disproportionately often Obi-Wan’s own name shows up on the list. Time and time again his presence has been requested, no other name on the list even comes close.

“This is… disquieting,” he murmurs and strokes his beard. There is no way that he has this many specialities. There cannot possibly be a reason for him to have been requested on most of these missions, it simply does not make any sense.

“I must agree, Master Kenobi.” Master Namu’s face is grave, her lips pressed tightly together.

“Thank you, Master Namun. This must have been an incredible undertaking.” He smiles at her, gentling his grip on the datapad and breathing out, releasing his negative emotions and their hold on him, pulling on the Force to find serenity.

“Oh, I was most grateful to have something proper to do again. Being on sick-leave is… quite boring. I enjoyed doing something of use.” Her lips curve into a smile and she looks at him from beneath her lashes.

“I can imagine. I’d far rather be out in the field than stuck working from this desk, undertaking all my duties from afar.”

She snorts out a laugh and he grins at her.

“All the more reason to get this war ended quickly, wouldn’t you say?” she says, lekku twitching in amusement.

After Master Namun leaves, and truly she was a breath of fresh air from his recent string of senatorial meetings, Obi-Wan returns his attention to the datapad with the list.

The evidence is pointing towards Palpatine having deliberately gotten involved with Obi-Wan’s mission schedule, so far. But there’s no definite proof that the missions were altered yet.

All he has is Palpatine’s files with notes, not anything actually implemented. It could still just be a coincidence, Palpatine thinking that Obi-Wan would be a good fit for those missions rather than anything else.

He strokes his beard and lets out a deep sigh. If Palpatine truly is guilty of this… It would break Anakin’s heart. If he believes what Obi-Wan says at all.

For now, he needs to call for Padmé and Bail. Someone needs to compare the missions as sent to the Jedi with the Senate originals. Part of Obi-Wan wants to do it himself, however… he simply doesn’t have the time.

A wise man knows when to ask for help.

“So you need someone to compare these missions with the Senate originals,” Bail surmises, eyes scanning the list on the datapad.

“Yes. It has to stay secret for now as we only have suspicions that could prove completely unfounded. However, we can’t risk that someone finds out and possibly destroys the evidence.” Obi-Wan pauses and strokes his beard slowly. “I trust the two of you to keep this quiet, hence why I’m asking you for help.”

Padmé looks at her own datapad and nods slowly.

“One of my handmaidens, Ellé, is very skilled with computers of all kinds and I trust her both with my life and the fate of the Republic. She could definitely be trusted to gather and compare the data.”

“Good idea, Padmé. Your handmaidens can easily be ‘unseen’ for longer stretches of time than any of us three can,” Bail says and puts his datapad down on the table.

Obi-Wan takes a sip of his tea. “Just make sure she keep jammers running whenever she works on it, and don’t save the data in any place that can be accessed by someone other than yourselves.”

Padmé huffs.

“I’ve survived this Senate far longer than you have, Master Kenobi. I know how to handle myself.” She arches an eyebrow, but soon breaks into a smile.

“Of course, Padmé,” Obi-Wan laughs. “This whole thing just has me a bit on edge. Especially with everything else to take into consideration.”

“If it does turn out that your suspicion is correct, that casts quite a bit of shadows on Senate dealings in general.” Bail pauses. “Perhaps the corruption in the Senate is worse than I ever imagined.”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and keeps his teacup just by his lips, breathing in the aroma.

“As soon as I’m out of office, I’m not setting my foot in the Senate again for the rest of my life,” he grumbles before he drinks another long, slow mouthful of tea.

Padmé laughs and gets up from the couch, datapad in her hand.

“I’ll take this back to my office so I can get Ellé started. The sooner we know, the better.” Her smile is sharp, like a Dror shark smelling blood.

“Thank you, Padmé.”

“No need for thanks, Obi-Wan. We’ll get this Galaxy in order, what better place to start than the ruling body?”

With those words she leaves the area, her skirts fluttering behind her—every inch of her a Queen still.

Chapter Text

Palpatine throws a glass of Corellian brandy and watches it crash against a shelf, splintering into bits and pieces. A thousand small shards, falling down in a glittering rain as the liquid splashes everywhere. He stares at the stain and the way the brandy slides down the shelf as he tries to regain control of his breathing.

He isn’t beaten yet, far from it, even though his plans are unravelling at an alarming rate. He has to speed up his plans for Kenobi’s demise. How has the man managed to do so much damage in such a short amount of time?!

His intra-system virus, planted to destroy any evidence of file tampering and similar things, was neutralised before it could finish its job. Many files are sure to have been altered but not all of them and therefore not nearly enough. Especially since whoever Kenobi had given the job to had found access to the Senate’s server and file copies.

They found his virus, recognised it for what it was, and went to the unaltered backup files.

There is nothing about it that can be traced back to Palpatine himself—of course—but the fact that it will even be possible for the investigators to find something galls him. There should be nothing to find, the virus would have overwritten everything and stopped whatever nosiness in its tracks.

What sent Kenobi looking in the first place? What did he find in Palpatine’s office that sent him tampering with old mission files? What is he hoping to find among them?

Palpatine has a list of every single mission he altered, locked safely in a Sith holocron, perhaps he should go through them to see if he can find what made Kenobi suspicious in the first place.

How is it even possible for Kenobi to turn one of Palpatine’s schemes to separate him from his Padawan and begin the end of the Order and the Republic into something that helps him? What is it about that man that allows such ridiculous things to happen?

Out of the ten star systems that are working to rejoin the Republic, 4 of them are from missions Palpatine himself set up for Kenobi to go on; out of the 135 worlds that set off the Vote of No-Confidence, 56 were worlds Kenobi might never have visited if Palpatine hadn’t altered the mission specifications.

Somehow, in order to achieve as much time as possible with his future apprentice, Palpatine has managed to shoot himself in the foot.

Kenobi…

Death is too good for him.

Palpatine needs to get rid of him as quickly as possible and stop this absolute farce or repealed laws and numerous investigations, but what he would want most of all… Oh, how Palpatine would love to make the Jedi suffer.

Have him hanging in chains, beaten and bloody, in his throne room. A reminder to all who might try to cross him what will happen to them should they try.

Watch him grieve as Skywalker betrays him and Falls, as he joins the Dark. Oh, the tears would be a most magnificent sight. Grief and tears and blood and agony, constant soul-rending agony.

Like the most exquisite of paintings.

Palpatine allows himself to fall into fantasy of Kenobi’s utter destruction. Just for a few moments and then he will go back to plot the man’s demise.

Chapter Text

Anakin is tired. So so tired. Another campaign successfully pulled off and this time he didn’t even get a reprimand from the Council regarding his conduct! Still, he’s tired; fighting a war will do that to you. At least they have some off time on Coruscant in between the battles.

Any and all time off is a blessing and a gift worth hoarding.

The downside to being back on Coruscant is that he might run into Obi-Wan; especially in the Temple. Usually, he wants to be around him, but now… He’s tried to think about how he feels, he’s even tried to meditate on his feelings, but… but…

He hasn’t been able to sort himself out. He does trust Obi-Wan, but he also trusts Palpatine and Obi-Wan has always distrusted the man and disapproved of Anakin seeing him. Is that why he’s investigating him? Some sort of revenge?

It seems so out of character, though. Not just because Jedi don’t crave revenge, but also because it’s Obi-Wan.

But every time he tries to dismiss the doubts, there’s that voice in the back of his head: “But he’s always kept things from you, hasn’t he? He doesn’t trust you.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t trust Anakin, it has to be true. Just like the man only ever saw him as a burden during his days as a Padawan. Why else would he leave on solo missions so often? Leave him behind in the Temple—in the hands of the Council members and teachers, with no friends and no one to really talk to—as often as he did back then?

Was there any wonder why Anakin had happily accepted the invitations to meet with Palpatine, even though Obi-Wan and the other Jedi disapproved? He wasn’t a slave anymore and he wasn’t doing anything illegal or against Temple rules, so they couldn’t forbid him from seeing Palpatine.

It’s so unfair that they would be so suspicious of the man when for many years he was the only support Anakin could really count on to be consistent. Palpatine often took time out of his busy schedule to talk to Anakin, help soothe his fears and insecurities.

Obi-Wan would ask if something was wrong, but he never… he never pushed. He might have asked “are you sure” when Anakin said nothing was wrong, but he always let it go after that. Clearly he didn’t actually want to hear what Anakin had to say… right?

Over the years, Anakin has wondered if perhaps Obi-Wan… just… wanted Anakin to come to him? Didn’t want to push him beyond what he was comfortable with? But Palpatine… well, he’s always gotten the impression that Palpatine didn’t think so, that he disapproved a lot with how Obi-Wan raised Anakin.

In Anakin’s darker moments, when he doubted his place at his Master’s side, he’d loved that. It had made him feel better knowing that there was someone out there who didn’t think Obi-Wan was a shining beacon of Light and perfection.

But he remembers so clearly being small and wrapped in Obi-Wan’s arms after a nightmare. Remembers burying his face in Obi-Wan’s sleep tunics and breathing in the scent of security and home.

Only two people have ever been home to Anakin: mom and Obi-Wan.

He’s already lost his mother, he fears and worries about what he did when it happened. He wishes he could have talked to Obi-Wan about it, but he didn’t dare. He still doesn’t dare. He can’t even explain the extreme explosion of anger that came, that wiped out everything, even the grief.

So even though Obi-Wan is home in a way Anakin can’t really explain, he can’t trust him either, can he?

Palpatine was right after all: even though Obi-Wan has always complained about politics he’s both taken a seat on the Jedi High Council—which obviously deals with Jedi politics—and has somehow gotten voted in as Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. And he didn’t turn it down! He could have said no, couldn’t he?

Anakin sighs and buries his face in his hands.

He can’t seem to work this out on his own, he needs to talk to someone else about it, have someone help him clear his thoughts. Palpatine… No, no. He shouldn’t bother him with his worries, he probably has enough to deal with on his own with the investigations and all.

Anakin already feels guilty for unloading on the man before he went on this string of missions on the war front. He hadn’t even talked much about what happened to Palpatine. He should make it up to the man. Later.

So if he can’t go to Palpatine, then there’s only one person. Anakin nods to himself. Padmé. Of course he’ll go see Padmé.

“Anakin! You’re back!”

Anakin pulls Padmé into a hug and breathes in the scent of her hair. He’s missed her so much.

“Yeah, we came back a few hours ago. We briefed the Council and got our things settled in our rooms. Ahsoka’s talking with friends, I think.”

It’s not what he wants to talk about right now, but odds are that if he doesn’t say anything about it, Padmé will ask about it anyway.

He rests his cheek against the top of her head and tries to internalise the peace of this moment.

Tries.

It’s not working. His stomach is still churning, he’s still worried and he really needs to talk about this or he’ll blow up. He hates it when his emotions finally explode on him, it’s exhausting and he knows Obi-Wan gets disappointed every time it happens… or would be if he knew about it.

“Are you free to talk?”

Padmé pulls back from where she rested against his chest and their eyes meet. She must see something because her hand comes up to rest against the side of his face.

“Anakin, what’s wrong?” She blinks and seems to finally process his question. “Oh, yes. Actually, I was heading over to Obi-Wan’s office for a meeting, but I can definitely put that off for a while.”

She pulls out of his arm and her small hand wraps around his wrist.

“Come, sit with me on the couch.”

Obi-Wan. Padmé was going to talk to Obi-Wan.

Anakin would love to just suggest they go together, but he still can’t bear to face the man. Not until he’s sure what he’s feeling.

He follows her to the couch and sits down. There are datapads and flimsi spread out over the table, that’s not like Padmé at all. She usually keeps her office clean, especially when she’s going somewhere and she said she was going to Obi-Wan…

“What’s all this?” Anakin says and sweeps his hand over the table. It’s not what Anakin wanted to talk about, but something tells him it’s important. A fluttering in the Force that begs him to ask and listen.

“What?” Padmé looks confused for a second before she catches on. “Oh, it’s… it’s some of the research I had Ellé do for Obi-Wan. It’s a good thing you came, otherwise I might have left it all in the open like this, I’ve been a bit out of sorts since I read them…” She smooths a lock of hair behind her ear.

It’s almost disorienting to see her so out of sorts.

“Obi-Wan asked you to do research for him?”

What is it now? Is he asking Padmé to dig up dirt on Palpatine? Is he trying to discredit the man further? Is the whole thing just some weird form of revenge wrapped up in propriety and ‘it’s for the good of the Republic’ bullshit?

Anger stirs in Anakin’s gut and he finds himself clenching his teeth together. How kriffin dares he?!

“Oh, yes. Anakin, what I tell you now I tell you in utmost confidence, alright? You can’t tell anyone, it’s top secret. I only tell you because I trust you. Promise me, Ani.”

His anger dissolves as if in a bath of acid. He lets his breath out in a hiss and tries to regain his centre. Where did that anger even come from? He doesn’t even know what it’s about yet!

“I promise, Padmé. No one at all.”

If Padmé asks him not to tell anyone… well, okay. He won’t. Not a single soul. Not Palpatine, not the Council. No one.

Padmé smiles at him and squeezes his hand.

“Obi-Wan noticed that there seemed to be… discrepancies between mission specifications as they were sent to the Order and as they were when written down by the Senate.” She frowns and worries her bottom lip with her teeth briefly. “He had the horrible suspicion that maybe someone in the Senate was changing the specs before they were sent to the Order.”

Anakin stares at her. What?! If that’s true, isn’t it possible that Jedi have gone on missions that have ended in death simply because the mission specs didn’t match the reality?

“What?” he croaks, a lump forming in his throat. “Who did it?” Dread sits like a lump of ice in the pit of his stomach.

Padmé shakes her head and says, “We don’t know yet. We’re still looking into it. But…” She looks away for a moment, draws a deep breath and seems to steel herself. “I received a long list of missions from the Jedi where a specific Jedi had been requested, and they asked me and Bail to confirm that the original mission really did request that specific Jedi.”

“Right? Okay, that happens a lot. I know Master went on a lot of missions alone because he was requested… at least that’s what he said.” Anakin can’t help the note of bitterness that seeps into his tone.

“Anakin…” Padmé squeezes his hand again, she looks sad. “There were a lot of missions, and Ellé… When she accessed the files she realised there was a virus rewriting files! She neutralised it and managed to copy the virus code before she eradicated it from the Senate systems… but its mere presence made her go into the backup files instead. It’s very lucky the Senate has a lot of backups. Not to mention that several groups of systems occasionally get together and create their own backups. Like Naboo has with others.”

“So someone definitely has done something then? If they wrote a virus that would rewrite files if someone tried to access them?” Anakin swallows and struggles to keep his breathing even.

She nods, “Yes. but that’s not all, Anakin… A lot of the missions checked out, the specific Jedi was requested. However… Oh, Anakin, out of the many many missions that specifically requested Obi-Wan about 90 percent of them were changed. Someone deliberately made Obi-Wan’s mission schedule far busier than it should have been during your apprenticeship.”

He can’t breathe.

The air is molasses, he’s under water, there’s water in his lungs and he’s drowning.

He can’t breathe.

Someone deliberately got his Master sent out on missions. Someone deliberately took Obi-Wan away from him for long stretches of time. Someone deliberately sent Obi-Wan on missions where he could have died and been gone forever just like mom. Just like her.

He’s always complained that his Master was busy too often, gone too long too often, left him behind more than he should have, with just a small hug in private and well wishes on his classes…

Someone set that up. Someone kept Obi-Wan from being around as much as he should have been.

Anakin can’t breathe.

Chapter Text

Padmé watches, and for a brief moment feels utterly helpless, as Anakin curls in on himself, gasping for breath. She knew he wouldn’t take the news well, but this is far more than she ever expected.

“Anakin? Anakin, please, you need to breathe.”

She scoots closer to him on the couch and squeezes the hand she still holds in her own again.

“C-can’t… breathe…” he gasps out, and pulls his hand away from her, pressing both of them flat against his chest. He’s shaking and his breath is still coming out in gasps as he bends over even further.

Padmé’s hands hover uselessly in front of her, she’s almost afraid to touch him. He pulled back from her, so clearly he must not want her to touch him right now, right?

She bites her lower lip and tries to gather her thoughts. What should she do? What can she do to help?

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. First of all, she needs to stay calm. If she panics right now she’ll most likely only send Anakin further out of sorts.

“Anakin, is there anything I can do to help?” She tries to keep the fretting, the worry, out of her voice, but she’s not sure she actually succeeds.

“Comm… Obi-Wan…”

Right. Okay. She can comm Obi-Wan and get him here. Anakin clearly wants to talk to him and it was clearly the revelation regarding Obi-Wan’s mission schedule that set this whole reaction off. Not to mention it’s fully possible that Obi-Wan has dealt with something like this before. She hasn’t, not even after he lost his mother has she seen him like this.

“Alright. I’ll comm Obi-Wan immediately, Ani, okay?”

He doesn’t reply, but she forces herself to move away and do as he asked anyway.

Anakin’s heart is pounding so hard in his chest he can practically hear his own pulse. He tries to breathe normally, but it almost feels like the world is spinning.

He presses his palms harder against his chest. It hurts and his hands are shaking so badly and he doesn’t want Padmé to see it. He can hear that she’s worried, can feel that she’s scared. He doesn’t want to make her scared… Is he losing it?

Like with mom…

He chokes on his breath. Mom. It’s not like with mom. He didn’t feel like this with mom. So he’s not losing control, he isn’t.

His thoughts are spinning, he can’t breathe. Is he going to die?

“Anakin, it’s me.” Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s here. Everything should be alright because Obi-Wan came.

“Obi-Wan—” He can’t catch his breath and he can’t finish his sentence. He wants… he wants…

“Anakin, may I touch you?” Obi-Wan tries to keep his voice calm and soothing. He speaks slowly and waits for Anakin to reply.

He pushes down his own anxiety shields it from leaking into the Force and focuses on his trembling friend, wondering what in the Core worlds set such a reaction off.

“Ye—yes,” Anakin gasps out, but doesn’t look up at all. Obi-Wan frowns but moves closer, his hands out in front of him and clearly visible.

“You’re going to be okay, Anakin. You’re going to get through this, I know you will,” he murmurs as he gently grasps Anakin’s right shoulder and left elbow.

Obi-Wan watches as Anakin struggles to get his breathing under control. They can both sense Padmé standing off to the side, leaking anxiety into the Force and it’s feeding Anakin’s own. Obi-Wan takes a deep breath and ignores her, carefully raises a minor shield around Anakin to keep him cut off from her emotions instead.

“Anakin, try to listen to my breathing. I’ll breathe with you, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Obi-Wan keeps his breathing slow and steady, occasionally murmuring encouragements for Anakin, who slowly uncurls himself and starts breathing more evenly.

When the tremors lessen, Anakin moves his hands from where they were pressed against his chest and instead clutches Obi-Wan’s arms as if he’s trying to ground himself.

“Would you like me to help you release your negative emotions and shield them off from the Force, Anakin? I think you may have entered a negative feedback loop.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds before Anakin nods and Obi-Wan let’s his own mind gently reach out for Anakin’s.

He creates a stronger shield to the Force, only a small one for now directly surrounding Anakin, and starts speaking gently to Anakin, leading him through breathing exercises and conscious meditation. If he wants Anakin to stop the feedback loop, then Obi-Wan will need to keep the shielding up until Anakin no longer leaks anxiety and fear everywhere.

Slowly, surely, Anakin starts to take over the flow of his emotions outwards, gently slowing it before his halts, until finally he stops shaking and the only thing Obi-Wan can feel from him when he lowers the shield is exhaustion.

He pulls back from Anakin, slowly and gently, and looks at his face intently. Anakin smiles tiredly—it looks more relieved than happy—seemingly wrung out and utterly exhausted physically, emotionally and mentally.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan.” His voice is a croak and Obi-Wan feels it like a gut punch, but he manages to smile back. He keeps his worry behind tight mental shields, careful to not let Anakin sense even the slightest trace of it—for now.

What in all the core worlds happened?

Chapter Text

“How are you feeling, Anakin?” Obi-Wan sits next to him on the couch and allows Anakin to keep a tight grip on his hands. They’re still breathing in tandem, though Obi-Wan doesn’t think Anakin actually needs it anymore—more likely, Anakin finds it comforting.

“… Tired. Really tired.”

Unsurprising, in Obi-Wan’s opinion. That kind of emotional upheaval is bound to leave anyone feeling exhausted and wrung out.

“How about this: you come back to my office and take a nap on my couch?”

Taking a nap, surrounded by so many plants and so much Living Force, is bound to make Anakin feel at least a little bit better.

Anakin looks at him then, eyes wide and doe-like. Obi-Wan’s heart lurches in his chest and he’s reminded of the small child Anakin once was; the little boy who’d come to him in the middle of the night, shivering and sad, asking if he could sleep with Obi-Wan—just that one night!

“Is that okay?”

“Of course it is. Besides, I’ve already had my holo-meetings for the day and the only other meeting I have is with Padmé, which I suppose we’ll have to reschedule, so I’ll only be doing paperwork. It will be rather quiet in my office.” Obi-Wan smiles, hopefully in a way Anakin will find encouragingly, and squeezes his hands.

Anakin nods. “Then I want to come with you.” There’s a slight pause, but before the silence can quite settle, Anakin speaks up again, “I want to wash my face first. I—I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan says with a nod. “I’ll collect the data Padmé and Ellé collected for me in the meantime and we can head over to my office together.”

“Good… good…” Anakin mumbles and gets to his feet, slowly letting go of Obi-Wan’s hands before he heads off to the bathroom. Obi-Wan raises his eyebrow, if he didn’t already know that Anakin and Padmé are closer than they pretend to be, it would be rather suspicious that Anakin knows exactly where the bathroom is in Padmé’s office.

The hand Anakin strokes over Padmé’s shoulder as he passes her would also be a dead give-away. Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and wonders if they really think they’re being subtle or if perhaps they want him to call them out on it. Considering the circumstances, however, this isn’t the time for that.

“I’ll help you gather the files, Obi-Wan,” Padmé says even as she casts a long glance after Anakin’s retreating form.

It doesn’t take them long to gather the flimsi and datapads into a small bag, and as Anakin hasn’t come back yet, Obi-Wan seizes the opportunity.

“Padmé, what happened?”

She flinches slightly and won’t meet his eyes. She sighs and sits down on the couch.

“Well, I… I told Anakin about what Ellé found out regarding the missions and… Anakin didn’t take it well.” She smooths some hair back and still won’t meet his eyes.

Obi-Wan deliberately keeps his face placid, though he wants to press his lips together and outright frown. She did what?

She deliberately told someone outside of the investigation about the results, despite the fact that Obi-Wan mentioned that it was of utmost importance that it be kept secret? She deliberately leaked information that he implored her to keep secret from everyone except the Handmaiden she gave the task to...

Obi-Wan stifles the urge to sigh, pinch his nose, and rub his temples in frustration. He trusts Anakin as much as she does, but Anakin… Anakin trusts Palpatine, and if Palpatine finds out…

Obi-Wan wanted to be the one to tell Anakin, so he could impress on him how utterly important it is that no one who’s worked in the Senate in the last few years—beyond those already brought in on it—find out. He wanted to ensure that Anakin heard it from him, so that he knew that Obi-Wan was trusting him with the information in the first place… Trust has sometimes been a contentious point between them, especially since the war started and information needed to be kept secret to a far greater degree than it ever had before.

Besides, these news opens a can of Bordellian worms.

If Padmé will tell Anakin things she should not, then has Anakin done the same over the years?

Oh, he’s sure that Padmé keeps jammers up when she knows something important will be discussed… but does she always keep jammer up? Or has secret mission details—or Senate secrets for that matter—possibly been leaked because these two feel the need to share things they shouldn’t, simply because they happen to trust each other?

That’s...

Later.

He’ll have to think about this later. For now, he needs to read what Ellé found and make sure Anakin gets some rest. The hard conversations will have to wait a bit.

Chapter Text

Anakin looks around the public office. His shoulders are slumped and Obi-Wan can tell that he’s exhausted.

“Wow… It looks really different. Like a greenhouse,” Anakin finally says, his voice slightly raspy. He’s washed his face, but Obi-Wan can still see traces of the strain he felt. He decides not to mention it, it’s no doubt kinder to Anakin to let him be the one to bring it up if he wants to.

“Yes, I think the plants have done wonders for these rooms. There really was too much red before.” Obi-Wan gently steers Anakin through the public office and the following antechamber until they reach the private office.

Anakin looks at the large couch and the pillow and blanket thrown haphazardly on it.

“Wait… Wait a minute here. Palpatine has mentioned these offices has a private room with a bed so he could still get some sleep when he was so busy he needed to stay the entire night at the office. Why have you been using the couch?”

Ah. Obi-Wan was hoping Anakin wouldn’t know that; he would rather prefer not to explain himself.

“Well… I find the thought of sleeping in Palpatine’s bed uncomfortable. As I haven’t had the time nor the inclination to ask for a new bed… Well. Besides, the couch has worked excellently for me so far. It’s very comfortable, so I don’t need a bed here, really.”

Anakin squints at him but seemingly chooses not to say anything; instead he sits down on the couch and bounces a little—probably testing the softness.

“Take off your boots before you lie down, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says as he continues over to his desk.

“I know, I know,” Anakin grumbles and proceeds to do just that.

The Living Force is practically singing in Anakin’s ears. He’s never felt this at ease in the Chancellor’s offices before. It’s only now he notices how tense he usually feels when he’s in them. It must be because of all the plants, he supposes. It reminds him a bit of some of the rooms in the Temple, so it must be because of that. It can’t be because of the company—since he’s here with Obi-Wan rather than Palpatine—but aside from that, the only other thing that’s different is all the plants.

He ponders that thought—anything to keep other, more distressing thoughts at bay—as he makes himself comfortable on the couch.

Obi-Wan was right, it really is a comfortable couch. The pillow—definitely from the Temple, though Anakin is slightly surprised Obi-Wan would have taken Temple property out of it—isn’t Anakin’s preferred type, but it’s good enough since he’s used to sleeping on this type too. It’s the one Obi-Wan favours, after all.

The blanket is soft and warm, but somehow light. It kind of reminds Anakin of a cloud. Not that Anakin actually knows what a cloud feels like, but that’s not really the point. It feels like how Anakin thinks touching a cloud must be like. Though an actual cloud would probably be a lot more wet, all things considered.

Anakin closes his eyes and lets the quiet sounds of the office wash over him: Obi-Wan’s breathing, the rustle of flimsi, the occasional clicking on a datapad.

He counts Obi-Wan’s calm and steady breathing, unconsciously mirrors it with his own, and soon falls asleep.

The data Ellé has gathered is horrifying in its implications.

So many missions have been altered—and these are only the ones regarding specific Jedi. This denigun hole could go so much deeper than just “requesting a specific Jedi”.

For what purpose has Palpatine done this? And why has he done it so extremely often with Obi-Wan in particular? Why did Palpatine—and Obi-Wan has little doubt that it is, in fact, Palpatine who’s behind it—want Obi-Wan off Coruscant so often?

What could Palpatine gain from Obi-Wan being off-planet and having to leave his padawan… behind…

Obi-Wan stares at the sleeping form on his couch, his heartbeat thundering in his ears and his mouth going dry.

Anakin went to visit Palpatine a lot on his own, when Obi-Wan was on a mission. If Obi-Wan was on Coruscant, he’d chaperone the meetings because of course he would. Why would he allow his underaged charge just go off on his own? He never saw anything suspicious… But why would Palpatine want to see Anakin alone so much? And enough so that he would deliberately ensure it happened?

There are several possibilities and none of the ones he can think of are good or benign. If it had merely been the man wanting to show his gratitude to the boy who saved his planet, there would be absolutely no need to separate said boy from his guardian.

Obi-Wan feels ill.

He breathes through it. Tries to think.

There is a problem still, of course: even if Obi-Wan is sure that Palpatine is the one who’s done it, he has no actual proof of that fact. There is no evidence of who it is who have done it, all Obi-Wan has is the fact that there were reports Palpatine wrote his name on.

Plausible deniability is a powerful thing.

Anakin feels a lot better when he wakes up. There’s a lingering sense of unease he tries to let go of, move away from the front of his mind almost… Use the Force to send it away in a wave of the warmth of the Force—but it keeps coming back, he cannot seem to succeed. But aside from that, he really does feel a lot better.

Maybe he should have taken a nap before he went to see Padmé, but… He’d been so keyed up with his need to talk to her about—

Oh.

He never did talk to her about Obi-Wan, did he?

Anakin sits up and stretches his arms a bit, looking around the office. Obi-Wan is still sitting by his desk, but he’s not working anymore. Anakin’s eyebrows raise before they knit together and he stops the small smile that almost formed on his lips. Why is Obi-Wan sitting at his desk stroking the leaves of a plant and looking a hundred light years away?

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin says, voice almost echoing in the empty room.

Obi-Wan startles and turns to him, blinking rapidly.

“Oh! Anakin, you’re awake.” He stands up and heads over the couch, sitting down next to Anakin. “Did you sleep well?”

There’s that tone of voice. The one Obi-Wan would use the mornings after Anakin snuck into bed with him because of a nightmare. Home, it whispers. If it wasn’t so comforting, he would probably be insulted that Obi-Wan’s speaking to him like he’s a twelve-year-old padawan.

He nods. He did sleep well, and all things considered, he kinda wants Obi-Wan to use that soft and warm and comforting tone of voice. How long has it been since he last heard it anyway? When was the last time Obi-Wan’s presence was this comforting? Without any hints of reprimand or disapproval?

“Yeah… Yeah, I did.”

“I’m glad, you looked like you needed it.” It could be insulting, but Obi-Wan’s voice is still just warm, and the expression on his face is kind. He really does look like he’s just pleased to hear that Anakin has slept well because he looked tired.

It’s quiet for a while, but it’s a comfortable silence. Just Anakin and Obi-Wan, sitting on the couch. Anakin can feel the heat of Obi-Wan’s body, they’re almost touching…

Part of him just wants to fall in Obi-Wan’s arms and bury his face in his chest like he did when he was a kid, when he thought Obi-Wan could do anything and make any danger go away. Back when Obi-Wan seemed entirely larger than life, utterly all-powerful and always with a solution to any problem in the back of his mind.

Part of Anakin wants to be twelve again.

“Do you need to talk, Anakin?”

Need to? Probably, yeah. Want to?

“… No. I’m fine.” He’s not fine, not really. But… He kinda… Ugh, he doesn’t really know how to talk to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s so frustrating because he never… he never tries, does he?

“Are you sure?” Obi-Wan’s eyebrows knit together and his mouth twitches downwards. Which… Well, of course he’s frowning! Obi-Wan doesn’t want Anakin to need to talk to him. That’s definitely what that face means. It has to be. He always makes that face when Anakin says he’s fine and doesn’t need to talk; since forever.

“I’m sure.” He isn’t. Anakin wants Obi-Wan to push, to wheedle the answer out of him. Palpatine always does when Anakin doesn’t feel like talking. That’s what you do when someone you care about clearly needs to talk but says they don’t. You make them tell you

Obi-Wan just nods slowly and turns his head so he looks away from Anakin; his mouth is pressed tightly together.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t care.

Anger flares in Anakin’s gut. Why doesn’t he care? Why is it only Anakin who cares between the two of them? Why must Obi-Wan be a perfect kriffin’ Jedi with no feelings all the damn time?

“You always do that!” The scream tears out of his throat before he can stop it. There’s a loud crash in the background, but Anakin barely hears it.

Obi-Wan flinches away, his eyes wide as they stare at Anakin again.

How dare he not care?

One of the smaller potted plants flies off a table and crashes onto the floor as Anakin screams. Obi-Wan’s heart jumps and starts pounding in his chest as he instinctively puts some space between himself and Anakin. He has no idea what prompted the outburst. What did he do to make Anakin so angry all of a sudden?

“Anakin…” He moves away from the couch carefully, eyes not leaving his friend for a second, one hand raised palm up in a laughable attempt at a calming gesture.

He takes a single step back, which sets Anakin into motion. Soon he finds himself backed against the wall, Anakin’s hands painfully tight on his upper arms, and their faces so close together their breaths mingle.

He winces in pain, struggling to make his facial expression smooth out. He needs to remain calm and project a calm air, he needs to. It’s likely the best way for him to help Anakin calm back down.

“Why don’t you care?” Anakin’s voice breaks on the last word, and it’s not just anger Obi-Wan senses in the Force, it’s sadness—almost grief.

“Anakin? What—?” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“You never care. You never push. You just… You don’t want to know, so you’re just happy and content when I say I’m fine!”

The accusation hits Obi-Wan like a lightsaber to the sternum—and the ache of the memory that simile brings to mind hurts, but not even that as much as the implications of it. Is this how Anakin has interpreted Obi-Wan giving him space and the freedom of his own mind for all these years?

‘Oh sweet Force, help me.’

How Obi-Wan has failed him.

“General!” The panicked shout of one of his men—Obi-Wan is too rattled to take in who it is, it could be Jar Jar Binks for all the attention he can pay to anyone but Anakin right now—cuts through the tension and breaks the moment.

Anakin stumbles back, eyes going wide and mouth open already to try and stumble his way through apologies and excuses. The Force swirls around him, anger, shock and fear like a heavy, dark cloud.

Obi-Wan reaches out—resolutely ignoring Anakin’s flinch—and puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, making eye-contact.

“I’m fine, it was just a minor disagreement. A pot fell over. You don’t need to worry. It’s just me and Anakin here.”

He can feel the doubt and unease coming off the man, but he can’t take his eyes off Anakin.

“General…” The man moves, Obi-Wan would wager that he salutes, and leaves the room to go back to the guard room.

As soon as they’re alone, Obi-Wan speaks up again.

“It seems we truly do need to talk, Anakin. About a lot of things.”

Anakin flinches slightly once more and can’t seem to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes.

‘Oh, Anakin.’

Why did he do that? Why did he let his anger get the better of him like that? And in front of Obi-Wan… Not just in front of him, at him. Obi-Wan must be so disappointed.

Anakin lets Obi-Wan lead him back to the couch and they sit down again. He swallows harshly and squeezes his eyes shut.

It was so nice and now… now he’s ruined it. Obi-Wan’s disappointed, and he’s gonna sigh, and lecture Anakin about the code and letting go of his feelings and—

“I’m sorry, Anakin.”

Anakin’s whole brain just freezes in its tracks. His head snaps up and he stares at his former Master. He can’t even think and instead just gapes at him, at his slightly hunched shoulders and sad expression. It’s like Anakin’s brain has shut down in every way, he’s not even really feeling anything.

What?

Why would he—? What?

“Wh—at?” His voice breaks. Why is Obi-Wan apologising? Anakin was the one who… who… who threw a potted plant with the Force in anger, who screamed, who pushed Obi-Wan into the wall and, and… Why would Obi-Wan apologise?

“I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan pauses and looks away briefly. “I… I assumed you knew why I never push you to tell me anything. And now I see that you don’t, and you’ve clearly been carrying this anger and sadness for a long time, thinking that I don’t care.”

Obi-Wan looks upset, there’s an almost shine to his eyes—Obi-Wan wouldn’t cry, he doesn’t do that—and he takes Anakin’s hands in his own.

Anakin’s brain is still stalling. He can’t believe this is happening. His throat feels thick and it’s hard to swallow.

“Anakin. No one, no one, has the right to demand you tell them everything that goes on in your mind. Everything that worries you.” He closes his eyes and sighs. “When you didn’t want to talk about something you worried about, I assumed you wanted time to try and work through it on your own. I have no right to demand you share your mind with me, Anakin. Your mind, your thoughts… they are yours.”

What? But… No… That’s… that’s not what you do. You push and you wheedle. People you love should tell you everything. If you love someone, of course you want to know everything they think. That’s why… That’s why Anakin and Padmé have no secrets from each other.

It’s how they prove beyond any shadow of doubt that they truly love each other because they trust each other with everything. There’s nothing they won’t share with each other, because they love each other. They’re married, and they must keep that secret from everyone else… So of course they can’t keep secrets from each other. It would just be too heavy.

And… and Palpatine would always coax his thoughts out of him to be discussed. Always. He always says it’s because he cares and wants to help.

“That’s… that’s not. You’re lying.” Anakin knows that he has to be. It can’t be that simple. Anakin can’t have been worried and sad for years over a misunderstanding. That’s… that’s just too big.

Obi-Wan sighs and looks so sad, shoulders hunching further and head bowing.

“I understand if you don’t believe… can’t trust what I’m saying.” He looks away to the side.

Obi-Wan wants to convince Anakin, he does… but it wouldn’t solve the underlying problem: they don’t talk to each other.

Obi-Wan assumed Anakin knew that he could always come to him with anything, that Obi-Wan would always be willing—happy—to listen and do his very best to help Anakin with anything he struggles with.

Anakin, on the other hand, assumed that Obi-Wan’s willingness to let his mind be his own, let him have freedom of thought, and unwillingness to pry… was because he didn’t care and didn’t want to know. Does he think that Obi-Wan considered—considers—him a burden?

The silence is heavy between them; neither knows how to bridge the gap after so many years. But… it’s Obi-Wan’s duty, isn’t it? He was the Master, so clearly he must have failed his student for things to be this way.

The knowledge stings and burns. He failed him and in a way is still failing him.

“We… we talked a lot, when you—when we—were young and you first became my padawan. Do you remember?” Obi-Wan feels far away. He expects the voice in his head, the one that sounds so much like Qui-Gon, to chide him for dwelling on the past, but it does not. Perhaps the past is too important right now.

“… Yeah.” Anakin’s voice is soft and hoarse.

They’d talked about what was expected of them, both regarding the Order and each other, about what a Jedi means when they say “Master”, about the Code… About a million other small things.

They’d talked so much back then and now… Now, they hardly ever talk. Oh, they chat, they speak with each other. But talk? No.

“You were shy at first, unwilling to express wishes, needs and desires.” It had come, no doubt, from a life of slavery. “As soon as you really understood what your situation as my padawan meant, though…” Obi-Wan huffs out a watery laugh. “Oh, there was no trace of shyness left. You spoke your wishes and desires clearly. It wasn’t that you never worried about being rejected or turned down, but… You were so bold about asking.”

Anakin doesn’t say anything, and Obi-Wan can’t be sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. It simply is, for now, and he must forge ahead. There’s naught he can do but bear his heart and hope it will reach across the gap and reach his friend on the other side.

“You used to crawl into my bed sometimes. You’d say you had a nightmare, or you were cold… Sometimes you said you felt lonely.”

He pauses and stares at the potted plant, still on the floor, dirt spilling across the carpet.

“I don’t think I ever mentioned, but we used to sleep in piles in the crèche, and sometimes we shared beds when in the padawan dorms. The pile sleeping is probably what I missed the most when I left the crèche. The comfort of another being so close, someone safe and warm next to you when you’re as vulnerable as you are in sleep.” He turns back to Anakin and catches his eyes. “I was always so honoured and humbled that you trusted me enough to come to me for such comfort.”

Anakin stares at Obi-Wan. His chest hurts as he listens to his Master speak, voice so sentimental and filled with so much nostalgia and warmth. He sounds so fond, in a way Anakin never expected from him.

But then… he’s believed for years that Obi-Wan left him behind willingly, and that wasn’t true. And if that, a cornerstone of Anakin’s teenage years, wasn’t true, then what else is he wrong about?

His hands shake as he slowly reaches out toward Obi-Wan. He’s nervous. Before he can change his mind, he grabs a hold of Obi-Wan’s beige overtunic and pulls him into his arms.

Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder, wraps himself tightly around him and breathes deeply. He’d forgotten what Obi-Wan smells like years ago, just like he’d forgotten the smell of his mother and their shared space on Tatooine. He’ll never have his mother back, she’s gone and never again will Anakin know what she smelled like. But Obi-Wan… he remembers now and the memory—comforting and soothing like a warm blanket on a cold Coruscanti night—has him crying.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. I’m so sorry,” he whispers before he loses himself in crying on his brother-father-best-friend’s shoulder. He bunches Obi-Wan’s tunics in his hands as he clutches the man close. If Obi-Wan pulls away now, Anakin fears it might break him.

But Obi-Wan’s arms are firm when they wrap around Anakin, whose breath hitches in relief.

“You were gone so much and you were always so calm and I just… I thought you didn’t care and you couldn’t understand my overflowing emotions anyway so you couldn’t help. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he says when the tears finally start to slow.

“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice is hoarse. Did he cry too? “I have a temper and I had a lot of trouble with my temper when I was young. I’ve learned to stay calm through years of hard work. I tried to teach you the same…” He trails off into mumbles that Anakin can’t make out.

Obi-Wan has a temper? Obi-Wan? That’s… that’s so different from everything Anakin knows of the man. He’s always been frustratingly calm!

“Perhaps I should have spoken more about that with you, when I tried to help you come to grips with your temper.” His voice is low and sad.

“Maybe, but too late now, Master. I’m a Knight now, you’re not responsible for my temper anymore.” Anakin let’s out a small, watery laugh, a laugh that Obi-Wan mirrors.

It’s a fragile peace between them as they separate slowly. But Anakin feels lighter than he has in years. Still, the silence is comfortable again and the Force is humming in Anakin’s ears.

All his worries about Obi-Wan’s character, that he would actually be out to gain power… Oh, he should ask. Obi-Wan will answer. They can talk again.

“Obi-Wan… can I ask you something?”

“I… Of course, Anakin. But first, there’s something I must tell you. It’s very important.” Obi-Wan’s eyes are red and puffy—he did cry before—but his face is grave. Right. Important. Okay.

“Yeah, okay. But I really need to ask you later, okay?” He needs to know; they need to talk about it. He can’t have it hanging over him anymore.

“Of course, Anakin.” Obi-Wan nods.

“Alright then. What did you need to tell me?” Anakin feels wrung out again. He should probably take another nap after this. What happened with Padmé feels so long ago already but he knows it can’t be more than a few hours ago at most.

“It’s about what Padmé told you about the altered mission specifications.”

Anakin feels his breathing pick up. He tries to stay calm and keep steady, but just remembering it all is—Obi-Wan’s hand is warm where it closes over Anakin’s own, grounding him. He lets out a shuddering breath.

“I don’t think you’re quite ready to discuss all of the… implications… of Ellé’s report. What I want to tell you is simply that you can’t tell anyone. And I mean anyone. It’s paramount that it remains secret.”

Anakin nods, relieved that they’re not going in on the details now. He… he just can’t.

“Someone has been changing mission parameters. So far, we only have confirmation that it’s on missions for which a specific Jedi was requested, but it could go much deeper than that.”

It’s a frightening thought, that someone might have sent Jedi on missions they were unprepared to handle deliberately. He squeezes Obi-Wan’s hand.

“Especially, Anakin, it must be kept secret from anyone who has worked in the Senate in the last twenty years at least.”

But… wait. That means…

“But… Oh. Are you accusing Palpatine of—!” Before Anakin can even finish, Obi-Wan interrupts him.

“Anakin.”

They stare at each other in silence.

“I am not suggesting that Palpatine is behind it. Ellé certainly found nothing pointing in that direction. However, Palpatine is not alone. He has aides and people working around him. It’s entirely possible that someone among them is capable of overhearing even his most secret conversations.

“For my sake, Anakin, please. No one. You can talk about it with Padmé or Bail if you’re certain you have jammers running and there are no bugs. You can talk to me about it, and you can speak with both Master Yoda and Master Windu—as long as you’re in a place where a jammer is running. Right now, we’re the only ones who know about this. Please, Anakin.”

Oh. That… that does make sense. Even if Palpatine is trustworthy, that doesn’t mean his staff is. Sure, Palpatine probably trusts them, but there could still be a frietchel bug hiding in the sand.

“Right. Of course. I—I didn’t think about his aides. I won’t say anything, not to anyone. I promise. Jedi can have died because of this, I—I won’t jeopardise the investigation.” Anakin will keep quiet, for Obi-Wan’s sake and for the sake of anyone who might have gotten hurt or died because of it.

Besides, if he tells Palpatine, then that could put him under suspicion even if he’s innocent.

Having Anakin promise not to tell Palpatine is such a relief that Obi-Wan only barely manages to refrain from sighing and slumping his shoulders.

While he hates having to keep his suspicions about Palpatine from Anakin, he has no proof yet. And if he’s wrong, he doesn’t want to damage his own or Palpatine’s relationship with Anakin. No, he needs to be sure before he says anything.

“Thank you, Anakin. I know I can trust you.” The investigation will remain secret, for now. Part of Obi-Wan doesn’t even want to know how deep the denigun hole goes, but it is his duty to find out.

He will have to speak with Anakin and Padmé about keeping important information secret and on a need-to-know basis later. Bringing it up now, directly after everything else, would be a disaster waiting to happen. But it still needs to be done. He cannot allow them to risk so much by sharing confidential information with each other.

“Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?” He wonders what it could possibly be.

“You, uh… I mean… You don’t want to be the Supreme Chancellor… right?”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows raise toward his hairline. Want to be? It’s like one of his worst nightmares. But if Anakin even has to ask, then that just goes to show what a sorry state their relationship is in.

“No, Anakin, I don’t. If I could have turned down the position without betraying my duty to the Jedi and to the Republic—to the galaxy—I would have.” He sighs and finally lets his shoulders slump.

“So… You didn’t refuse the role of Chancellor because it’s your duty?” Anakin says, his face scrunched up with suspicion. Obi-Wan sighs again.

“Do you remember what happened just after Senator Mandai called for the Vote of No-Confidence against Palpatine?” he says, in lieu of an answer.

“Uh? What? Do you mean when you locked yourself in your rooms and refused to come out?” Anakin looks confused with the sudden change in topic.

“Indeed. I spent all of that time trying to distract myself as well as come to terms with the fact that for some reason, there were people who wanted me to fill yet another role of high power.” Obi-Wan looks away from Anakin and stares out over the office. “It’s utterly unreasonable for one person to hold this many roles of power, Anakin. I’m frankly surprised the Council hasn’t asked me to rescind my seat, at least temporarily.”

He turns back to Anakin, who nods and frowns.

“Yeah… it’s also a lot of pressure, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan almost wants to burst out into hysteric laughter. A lot of pressure is the least he would call the amount of expectations and responsibilities he carries now. He’s almost shocked he hasn’t buckled under the weight yet.

“Anakin… When the war is over and I can finally step down from being Chancellor, from being a general… I’m going to spend a minimum of two weeks in my rooms doing nothing but meditating, practicing katas, and taking care of my plants. Nothing else. The Council will have to drag me out of my rooms for anything short of an emergency.”

Anakin blinks in surprise.

“Oh, uh. Two weeks of vacation, huh?” he says and tries for a grin.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “After that, I’m going to spend at least a month in the crèche, with the babies, and just… just bask. Bask in their Light. Bask in being surrounded by beings who want nothing more from me than food, a toy, or a warm body to cuddle up with or sleep on. I don’t know much of anything about taking care of crèchelings, not really, but… I would learn. I would take the time to learn.” He smiles a bit at the thought. He suspects it’s why Master Yoda enjoys being on crèche duty. Obi-Wan never really minded it himself, even back when he was a teenager.

“Wait, what? You want to go on crèche duty?” Anakin sounds utterly incredulous. Obi-Wan had almost forgotten that he used to put Anakin on crèche duty as punishment, back in the day. He’d hoped it would help integrate Anakin in the Order, but… Perhaps some things just aren’t meant to be.

“Yes, I do. It’s still a responsibility, but… In far less dire circumstances, wouldn’t you say?”

They share a smile.

“After that, I’m going to work on all of my research projects. The ones I kept having to put to the side because of missions or, more lately, the war. That might take me a year or two. After that, maybe, I would be willing to take on more responsibility than an initiate again.” He laughs. It is a rather silly thought. A Master Jedi with less responsibility than an initiate? But really, it’s what he wants; he knows that’s what he wants.

“Yeah… I see,” Anakin says and nods, a small smile on his face.

The silence that descends is comfortable and Obi-Wan closes his eyes and allows himself to fantasize of the end of the war, just for a little while.

Anakin watches his former Master for a bit. He doesn’t think Obi-Wan realises how much he gave away when he described his hopes for the end of the war. It’s obvious that Obi-Wan is tired, exhausted even.

Anakin feels a bit ashamed for having ever even considered the thought that Obi-Wan might actually be seeking out power. It’s true that it seems to have landed in his lap, again and again. But when Anakin really thinks about it, all of it was appointed to him without his say.

He was made a General because he’s a Jedi. He was offered a place on the Council—and considering his feelings on duty, he wouldn’t have turned that down—by the other Council members and being a Council member automatically bumped him up to High General. And this last bit, being voted in as Supreme Chancellor… Naangni are immune to Force suggestion so he couldn’t have made Senator Mandai do it even if he wanted to. So again power and responsibility landed in his lap through no action of his.

Anakin really should have known better than to doubt Obi-Wan. Now it seems obvious that he hasn’t been secretly plotting to gain power, but when Palpatine brought it up it seemed so reasonable.

Anakin frowns. It’s really weird, that. A lot of things Palpatine tells him sound reasonable when he says them, but less so much later when Anakin thinks about it in Obi-Wan’s presence.

Nah, that’s probably just Anakin’s imagination getting the better of him.

This talk has made Anakin wonder though… what will he do when the war is over?

Chapter Text

“—Move the troops in position on the north-west side of the mountain region. Should the separatist gain a foothold in the north, move further west and try to bring down any structures you leave behind. As we’re facing a droid army, don’t bother with salting and burning the earth, that will only leave unnecessary damage for once the war is over and the civilian population moves back into the area.”

“Duly noted, General.” Cody’s hologram nodded consideringly. Next to him, Admiral Yularen was frowning slightly, but not saying anything.

“Any concerns, Admiral?”

He starts slightly, and blinks a few times. “No. Oh, no no. Not at all, General.”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, sceptical. “Are you certain?”

Silence, both figures squirm a bit and then Cody visibly steels himself.

“It’s a good plan, General. It’s just… quite different from the strategies you usually employ.”

Ah. Well. Obi-Wan is not surprised they noticed.

“Usually, Commander, I’m in the field with you. When I am, I can depend on my own observations as well as the observations others have made to formulate my plans.” Obi-Wan looks away from the comm briefly and strokes his beard. “If something changes the situation, I can make split second decisions and help the troops retreat if necessary.”

He sighs heavily. He doesn’t like this, he doesn’t like this at all.

“Now, when I have to make all plans and strategies from afar, thus relying entirely on second-hand information, I must be more conservative. I also cannot rely on myself to help the troops anymore. Until you’re assigned a new Jedi General, there is no Force user with you. That means I have to plan everything while keeping that in mind.”

“I… see, General. Thank you for explaining,” Cody says. Obi-Wan knows he won’t take offence, there’s nothing about this that is about a lack of faith in Cody or his men.

“Very good, General. We’ll get back in contact once we’ve employed the strategy, or in case the situation changes,” Yularen says with a nod.

“Very well, thank you, Admiral. I have full faith in you and your men, Commander. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

“Thank you, General.”

Obi-Wan is tired. So, so, tired. He rubs a hand over his tired eyes, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep and not wake up until the war is over.

“Cup of tea, General?”

Obi-Wan startles out of his distraction and looks up. Waxers stands there with a steaming cup in his hand. Obi-Wan blinks at it.

“It’s Gatalentan,” Waxer says and holds the cup out. Obi-Wan blinks again before gingerly taking the cup from Waxer’s hand.

He brings the cup beneath his nose and breathes in the aroma. Absolutely perfect. He takes a long drink.

“Thank you, Waxer,” he murmurs once he’s lowered the cup from his lips again.

“You’re welcome, General. I’ll go back to the surveillance room now.” Waxer salutes and heads off before Obi-Wan can say anything more.

Hah. Good men, his troops. Obi-Wan allows a small smile and takes another drink.

Chapter Text

“Oh! Chancellor Kenobi, I must say—”

Obi-Wan tunes RK-2S out before it finishes the sentence. It’s been in his office far more and far longer than should be allowed. He knows that many Senators believes he needs an assistant, but this droid…

It’s a security risk, and it’s an annoyance. It’s not fair to the droid, it’s not doing anything wrong—though its constant complaints about how the plants are in the way is starting to really get on his nerves—but he can’t help the annoyance he feels.

Breathe in the Force, breathe out negativity.

Of course, it’s hard to do so when the source of your negative feelings is right in front of you and continues to natter on and on.

“RK-2S.” Obi-Wan rubs his forehead with a sigh. He needs to find something for the droid to do, something that will get it out of his hair and his office.

“Yes, Chancellor Kenobi?” The droid turns to him and Obi-Wan just looks at it, mind working as hard as it possibly can to try and come up with some form of job it can perform without being around him.

“The… entrance area to my Office suite needs to be redone,” he chokes out, and almost immediately regrets every single life decision he’s made to end up here. Redecorating? He’s going to make RK-2S redecorate?

“May I ask what the problem is, Chancellor?” RK-2S looks attentive and ready for anything. Oh Force.

“That much red can have a negative impact on, at the very least, most humans. As such, I would suggest a colour theme change.” The smile on Obi-Wan’s face feels brittle. “Beige, browns and greens, perhaps?“

“Certainly, Chancellor. I can see to it that the entrance hall is repainted. I shall go acquire paint swatches for you to—”

“No!” Obi-Wan doesn’t yell the word, but he definitely says it a bit too eagerly. He clears his throat awkwardly. “No, it’s better if you ask the troops stationed there. They’re the ones who work there.”

“If you say so, Chancellor.”

RK-2S finally leaves and Obi-Wan breathes out a sigh of relief. Maybe now he can get some actual work done without worrying about infiltrators at the same time as a droid chatters his ears off.

Palpatine is, along with several Senators, going to pay his respects to Chancellor Kenobi. Oh how it rankles to call him that. Oh how it rankles for Palpatine to have to come to his own offices that he ensured were built for him to offer his support to someone else. Someone undeserving.

The corruption investigation is still ongoing. It’s unlikely they will find anything that will cost him more than a slap on the wrist and some fines, so it’s absolutely paramount that he appears to harbour no ill-feelings toward Kenobi.

After all, when his plan finalises and the blasted Jedi finally gets what he deserves, it’s best if he appears to lack a motive.

Of course, what Kenobi truly deserves is wearing a Sith torture mask, hidden away in a dungeon somewhere until Palpatine has completed his plan. Hidden away where no one but Palpatine can find him. Hidden away somewhere Palpatine can watch him suffer. Oh, Kenobi’s suffering must be a beautiful thing to behold, Palpatine is sure of it.

When the Jedi are finally dead, exterminated as the vermin they are, Kenobi deserves to have the mask removed so Palpatine can watch horror and anguish form on Kenobi’s face as he reaches out for bright life forces that have been there his whole life to find them gone.

Kenobi deserves to be utterly and completely destroyed.

This would have been a lot easier to make into reality if Kenobi was still running around on the battlefields and actively fighting in the war. Now… Now, Palpatine might just have to make do with the man’s death. A shame, but better than nothing.

He walks the tightrope of moving quickly without being sloppy. He cannot risk to be found out, but the longer it takes the more damage Kenobi will have time to cause.

Leaving those thoughts aside, Palpatine chatters amicably with the other Senators, keeping up the same careful facade he has had for years right under the Jedi’s noses. Kenobi has never suspected anything before, he certainly will not now either.

Besides, this opportunity will give Palpatine a chance to see what Kenobi has done with the offices so far, if he’s changed anything Palpatine will need to know before he makes his move. Know your terrain before you strike.

Stepping out of the turbo-lift, and into the security airlock area, Palpatine carefully keeps his face blank as the clones comes into the room to search all of the visitors. Clones.

That Kenobi willingly surrounds himself with them is both incomprehensible and possibly useful. Why anyone would be surrounded by created things like clones is beyond Palpatine. They’re useful means to an end, but no more than that.

However, if Palpatine can manage to engage the chips and enact Order 66, even without holding the position of Commander-in-Chief of the GAR, it would be of utmost use to have Kenobi surrounded by them.

After all, if a small group of clones go rogue and kill Supreme Chancellor Kenobi… well, that would just be tragic, wouldn’t it?

The inspection clears them not a second too soon, in Palpatine’s opinion. Honestly, the clones were overly meticulous in their search for anything nefarious. As if anyone with any intelligence aiming to kill the Supreme Chancellor would have anything to be found, surely they would be more subtle and well prepared than that?

He steps into the hallway, and stops. Quite frankly, he freezes in his tracks.

Browns, greens, beige, white… plants. Gone is the steel, red and black, replaced by earthy Jedi colours. Plants.

Realising he’s fallen behind the rest of the group, Palpatine forces himself to keep moving forward. The clone manning the reception—where is Dar Wac?—looks at him suspiciously.

How dare it look at him like that? It’s a clone, how dare it look at him with anything less than complete and utter respect.

Oh, most of the galaxy would be impressed with his ability to keep a straight and placid facial expression despite how rage courses through him.

“You can enter the office, Senators, Sir.” The clone gestures towards the door.

It never gets less galling to be spoken to without a title. A constant reminder of what Kenobi has robbed him off. No longer Chancellor, no longer even Senator; merely Mister or Sir Palpatine.

Of course, entering the public office is just another source of complete and utter ragehateIwillkillyouIwillstrikeyoudownwhereyoustandKENOBI.

Plants. The entire public office is covered with plants—the Sith red walls and much of the carpet are drowned out by greens and browns and blues and pinks and yellows and the entire spectrum of colours.

The Living Force, Light and disgusting, is practically humming all around the office. There’s a humongous Haa’nduni hydrangea completely covering the bronzium statue of Braata of Dwartii.

There’s a humongous Haa’nduni hydrangea completely covering the bronzium statue of Braata of Dwartii.

Once Palpatine has his Empire, one of the first things he will order is the public execution of Mandai. No. No, he will imprison her, utterly destroy Haa’ndu and make her watch every moment and then have her executed… Or maybe kill her himself. He’ll have to see.

“Ah, gentlebeings. Please, do sit down.” Kenobi comes into the public office. His plain Jedi robes are an affront to the office he holds. How dares he act as Supreme Chancellor while looking and acting exactly as a Jedi?

Palpatine will use it against him. He will destroy him.

The meeting goes by quickly—clones skulking around in the background the entire time—with Kenobi talking circles around the admittedly rather dim-witted Senators Palpatine came to the office with. It’s interesting to see how Kenobi subtly avoids engaging Palpatine himself in both debate and conversation.

“Mister Palpatine,” Kenobi says, face placid and voice unfailingly polite.

“Chancellor Kenobi.” Palpatine wonders what Kenobi is playing at. Does he suspect something? He cannot possibly. Or has he found something in the files? It must have been Kenobi who went looking, it cannot have been anyone else.

“It was nice to see you drop by. I’m glad to see there are no hard feelings between us regarding this whole… situation.”

For the briefest of moments, Palpatine almost thinks Kenobi is being genuine, that he genuinely thinks Palpatine harbours no resentment. But then he sees the sharp glint in his eyes.

“Of course not, Chancellor Kenobi. It’s your job to do what’s in the Republic’s best interests, so you certainly must consider every angle.”

It appears Kenobi is a stronger opponent than Palpatine first believed, but no matter, Palpatine will still win in the end.

Kenobi will be destroyed. Completely and utterly.

Chapter Text

“Ah, Anakin, my boy. Welcome!” Palpatine comes toward Anakin with open arms. It’s good to see him, Anakin thinks, especially since he looks in better spirits than last time they met. Perhaps the investigation finished and found him cleared of wrongdoing?

“Cha—Mister Palpatine, it’s good to see you,” Anakin says with a smile. He, Rex, and Ahsoka are heading out again soon, so he really wants to see as many of his friends as possible during this down-time.

He can’t wait to tell Palpatine the good news, that he and Obi-Wan have talked and really made up. The man has been like a mentor to him since he was a child, surely he’ll be happy for Anakin’s sake.

“Likewise, my friend. Come, I have some biscuits in the sitting room. Would you like some? And perhaps a cup or tea? Or caf?” Palpatine says and motions toward one of the many doors in the hall.

Huh. Looking around, Anakin realises that Palpatine’s apartment looks a lot like the Chancellor’s offices… well, before Obi-Wan redecorated, at least.

Oh yeah, Palpatine asked a question.

“Uhh, caf would be good, thank you.” Anakin scratches his head and follows Palpatine into the lounge, where a spread of many types of biscuits are laid out on a table surrounded by soft looking couches.

The couches are, in fact, even softer than they look. Anakin only barely refrains from sighing in contentment when he sits down. When Palpatine sits down on the couch on the opposite side of the table, Anakin gives him a smile.

“How have you been, Cha—Sir?” Anakin mentally curses himself for his second slip up in just a few minutes. He’s been calling Palpatine ‘Chancellor’ since he was a child, it’s a hard habit to break.

“I’ve been well, Anakin. Of course, I wish they would finish the investigation already. But since Master Kenobi took on the role of Chancellor, I’ve really had more time to relax. I’m an old man, it does me good, I’d say.”

Yeah, that makes sense. The investigation might not be finished yet, but Palpatine has always said that the extra powers and all the work from the war has been weary.

“I’m glad to hear you’ve had a chance to rest, sir.” Now if only Obi-Wan could too—by way of an end to the war—things would be great.

“As am I.” Palpatine accepts a cup of… something, from a droid, before it moves over to Anakin and offers him a hot cup of caf. They both drink and a silence descends over the table. The only things Anakin can hear is vague traffic sounds from outside and Palpatine’s droid moving around, doing something or other.

“I went to see Master Kenobi the other day, actually,” Palpatine says suddenly, breaking the quiet.

What? Anakin almost drops his cup.

“Uh… you did?” He’s always been under the impression that Palpatine and Obi-Wan… don’t really get along. Weird.

“Oh yes. I believe it’s important that I show that I harbour no ill-feelings towards him because of the investigation.” Palpatine calmly takes another sip of whatever is in his cup. “After all, Master Kenobi is only thinking about the good of the Republic, I’m sure.”

“Yeah! Between you and me, I think Master would be way happier if he’d never been made Chancellor at all.” Anakin is so glad that he knows that know. That they talked. Obi-Wan trusted him with his feelings and hopes for the future. There’s a part of Anakin that just glows with the knowledge.

“I… see.” There’s an odd expression on Palpatine’s face.

“Sir?” Anakin frowns, his fingers tightening on his cup of caf.

“Oh my. Sorry, my boy. It’s just that last time we talked, I remember you questioning whether or not perhaps Master Kenobi wanted the power. This sudden change was simply a bit of a surprise.”

“Oh.” Anakin relaxes again. “Yeah, uh… Obi-Wan and I had a talk! I was really upset and got angry with him and… well, we had a really good talk.” He looks down in his cup and smiles. “I feel like we’re closer than we’ve been in years.”

“I see… I’m glad to hear it, my boy. The distance between you and Master Kenobi has always been a worry of mine. I know he’s very important to you, so the way he keeps you at arm’s reach has always… Well, like I said, I’ve been worried.”

This is why Anakin trusts Palpatine. He cares so much, and he’s so open about it. And he’s right, Obi-Wan has kept Anakin at bay, and created distance between them. Anakin’s just glad that’s over with, now. Surely Obi-Wan knows better now.

“Yeah. I’m really glad he’s letting me in.”

“But I must ask you, my young friend… You said you were upset. Tell me, what were you upset about?” Soft, cajoling words. So familiar.

Anakin opens his mouth to tell Palpatine about Ellé’s discoveries, but freezes before the words leave his mouth.

‘What I want to tell you is simply that you can’t tell anyone. And I mean anyone. It’s paramount that it remains secret. … For my sake, Anakin, please. No one. … Please, Anakin.’

He promised Obi-Wan. He can’t. He can’t tell Palpatine. It hurts, because he trusts Palpatine… but the droid is still nearby, and there could be an aide he hasn’t seen… He just can’t.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Palpatine…’

“Well, uh… It was about how I didn’t know if he wanted the power or not… And I haven’t been sure Obi-Wan cares about me for a long time… So it all just kinda… came to a head, you know?” He’s a terrible liar, but this isn’t a lie. It’s true… it’s just not the whole truth.

He’ll apologise properly to Palpatine later, when the investigation is finished. He’ll understand, Anakin is sure of it.

“I see. I’m glad it wasn’t something else.” Palpatine smiles that kind smile, the one that bunches the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.

“Yeah. Nothing else… and we’ve gotten that sorted out now, so I’m feeling a lot better. You don’t have to worry about me, sir.” The smile on Anakin’s face feels slightly forced, he hates lying to someone he cares about, but he promised.

Palpatine nods and takes a long sip from his cup.

“Are you shipping out soon? I was hoping to perhaps see you again before you do. We see each other so rarely, my friend.”

Anakin is so relieved by the change of topic he almost slumps in his seat.

“Yeah, uh… I’m shipping out in three days, actually. Me, Ahsoka, and Rex. So I don’t think I’ll have time, unfortunately. I have to prep.”

“I see, that is a shame, my boy. Do send my regards to Padawan Tano.”

“I will, sir. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the thought.”

So Kenobi has started to mend his relationship with young Skywalker, has he? No matter. It means nothing more than that the deadline for his death will move up, but since Skywalker is leaving Coruscant in three days…

Palpatine laughs and takes a sip of his Corellian brandy.

Loose lips sink ships.

That Skywalker trusts him so much is truly a gift. All of this would be a lot harder to facilitate if he didn’t know so much about Kenobi through his former padawan’s stories and through the information the young man will willing give him if he just asks.

Of course, it’s a trait he will have to get rid of, once Skywalker finally takes his place as Palpatine’s apprentice… but for now, it’s so very useful.

He’s planted the idea that he harbours no ill-will toward Kenobi in Skywalker. That will most likely go a long way once the man meets his final end. Oh, it will be less than he deserves, unfortunately, but it will still be sweet to have his presence wiped away from the galaxy.

So he will never have the pleasure of feeling Kenobi’s throat convulse beneath his hands, feel him claw at them in a feeble attempt to regain the ability to breathe, watch his eyes roll back into his head…

No, he will never feel Kenobi die at his hand, as is his due. While he should have everything he wants, it’s simply too risky. If he could wait to set it up, he would, but Kenobi simply cannot be allowed to live any longer.

Chapter Text

Hiring Darb and Murr had clearly been mistakes. If there is one thing Palpatine is good at, beyond all others, it’s learning from his mistakes.

He avoided hiring assassins belonging to guilds because getting involved with a guild is generally bad business when you have no intention to let the assassin live once they’ve finished the job. However, all the best belong to one guild or another, so for the sake of finally being rid of Kenobi, Palpatine will simply have to risk gaining some enemies. More of them, at any rate.

He’s kept his true identity secret from the entire Republic for decades. No one has found out his true involvement in the war. Keeping an assassin’s guild from knowing that it was he who killed one of their members cannot possibly be harder than that.

Palpatine goes over his options, one after another, listing the pros and cons before he makes his decision.

The Hissleet Endai—an all-female assassin’s guild known for their superior skills at espionage and staying untraceable—will do just fine.

Just fine indeed.

“So you want me to take out the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic?” The hologram of a female Twi'lek crosses her arms and cocks her hip slightly.

“Correct. However, there are a few more requirements for this assignment.” Palpatine stretches his senses out with the Force—no other life signatures around, good—as he speaks. This apartment, far away from Palpatine’s own and belonging to a fake person, is the best place for this to take place. Even should the signal get traced, there is nothing that leads back to him.

Palpatine has ensured it.

“Oh? Do tell. Extra demands might up the price.” The assassin seems unimpressed. No matter.

“I want collateral damage. Specifically, I want it to seem like the Chancellor is collateral damage, rather than the intended target.”

“In other words, you don’t mind if a few other Senators get caught in the crossfire?”

Palpatine lets out a dry chuckle.

“Mind? Oh, certainly not, you might even say I would look forward to it. However, how you do it is up to you. Stage an accident, make it seem like it’s a hit on a Senator… I don’t particularly care, as long as Kenobi dies and there are reasonable doubts regarding whether or not he was the intended target.”

The woman makes a thoughtful noise.

“Very well.” She pauses for a brief moment, cocking her head to the side. “I believe we can strike a deal. I will get back to you regarding the price, as soon as I’ve done some preliminary research.”

“Good.”

Palpatine shuts his comm off unceremoniously.

Excellent.

In the basement of the Senate, in one of the many data rooms, a lone Twi’lek sits. She glances around every now and then, to assure herself of her solitude. On the table before her, datapads upon datapads lie spread out.

Her eyes narrow at the text on the datapad she holds, and she makes a note on her flimsi—in code, illegible to anyone but her.

There are a few senators who might be… valid options. She looks at her list so far.

Bail Organa of Alderaan

Ach’ki Mandai of Haa’ndu

Padmé Amidala of Naboo

Mon Mothma of Chandrila

Ha’han-ash of Mirwu

Iie Biiiz of Hirunth

Lai Mer of Sherdana

Con Ban of Waa

Considering the amount of senators in the Senate, it’s a meager amount. But, perhaps, this will help her choose all the better. The fewer the options the easier the choice. It gives her more time to really dig deep into each possible choice.

She nods to herself, lekku twitching, and continues to read on in silence.

Chapter Text

“Disturbing, these findings are.” Master Yoda’s ears droop slightly, as his clawed hand gently lays the datapad he held back on the table.

“That’s the least you can call it.” Mace massages his temples and breathes deeply and evenly. The sheer magnitude of the discovery is enough to stop one’s breath. “How have we missed this?”

Obi-Wan can only shake his head. He’s been right in the middle of it, and he never suspected a thing. He hadn’t even realised there was anything suspicious to be found before he saw Palpatine’s notes.

“Stretched too thin, we have been. Before the war ever began, such it was.” Master Yoda’s eyes a far away and his ears droop further.

“We cannot let this go. We have to make an ever deeper search. If they’ve altered missions to include a request for specific Jedi… Who knows how deep the denigun hole goes?” Mace presses his lips together in displeasure.

“It’s worse than that. We’ve only scratched the surface, Mace. A few of the missions—some of which I went on and which I remember blowing up in my face rather spectacularly—had other specs changed as well,” Obi-Wan says gravelly, watching his companions closely.

Mace freezes and nearly drops his datapad, before he lets out a string of explicit curses—with a rather fascinating variety in both origins and meaning.

“Possibly attempting to have you killed, they were, hmmm?” Yoda’s gaze turns sharp, but all Obi-Wan can do is shrug his shoulders.

“Possibly, Master. However, it might not have been quite that targeted, it happened on some of the other missions too.”

“You mean it might have been a general plot to ensure Jedi casualties, rather than a specific attempt on you?”

“Quite so.” Obi-Wan busies himself with a cup of tea. The other two are watching him a bit too closely for comfort. Obi-Wan may have strong suspicions about the culprit, and possibly part of the motive, but he cannot let anyone else know. He cannot tell them who he suspects or why. Until there is proof to be found, it’s merely speculation on Obi-Wan’s part. Better that everyone else have open minds; that may well uncover things Obi-Wan himself would miss.

“Well,” Mace sighs, “we should contact Master Namun and see if she’s willing to continue the mission on a deeper level.” He steeples his fingers together.

“Yes, I’ll ask Senator Amidala if she can spare Handmaiden Ellé so they can work together rather than make lists to compare.” Obi-Wan strokes his beard in contemplation. “I’ll make sure that it’s an official request from the Chancellor’s office, but with the highest level of security so no one but me can gain access to the files.”

“A good idea, that is. Bring more people into this yet, we should not.”

Obi-Wan freezes in his seat. Oh.

“… Kenobi?” Of course Mace would use his last name now, as if he were a misbehaving padawan rather than his friend and fellow Master.

“Anakin knows,” Obi-Wan says, and closes his eyes. He sighs deeply and clutches his teacup in both hands to ground himself.

“Told him, did you?” Master Yoda taps his gimer stick against the floor sharply.

“No. No, I didn’t.” At this point, Obi-Wan wishes that the truth is that he had. He had certainly planned to… But in the end, he didn’t.

“If you didn’t tell him, then how does he know?”

Sharp eyes and quick minds. Even if Obi-Wan says nothing, they’ll figure it out soon enough. And yet… he knows he should. Perhaps it is his duty to inform, rather than confirm.

“Senator Amidala told him.” The words fall from his lips, heavy like a boulder, and leave the room in an almost oppressive silence. Mace’s eyes widen and Yoda’s ears fly up in surprise.

Minutes pass by without a spoken word. Obi-Wan nurses his cup of tea and draws on the Force.

“I am surprised.” Mace is looking out the window, off toward the Coruscanti skyline. “I truly believed that regardless of how close their relationship is, she would keep the secret you asked of her.”

“As did I.”

Silence again, broken only by Yoda softly humming in thought.

“I’ve spoken with Anakin already, he won’t tell anyone. Senator Amidala commed me almost immediately after she told him, he… reacted poorly to the news.” An understatement if there ever were one.

Mace huffs. “That I have no trouble believing. He never did like it when you were gone.” Mace shakes his head. “I suppose, in a way, he has the right to know you didn’t go willingly. Even though I’m displeased with who told him.”

Obi-Wan nods his head slightly.

“In a way, it might be a good thing. Coming from us, it might have sounded like excuses. Coming from an independent source he trusts…” Obi-Wan doesn’t like thinking about it, but he knows that Anakin’s trust in Obi-Wan at the very least is shaken. He cannot hide the truth from himself, it would serve no purpose.

“Sabotaged, his padawanship was.” Yoda closes his eyes and his ears twitch downward. “Why so, we must discover. Heal those wounds, we must.”

Yes. Yes, they must. Something tells Obi-Wan that this might be the key to everything, though he can’t be sure why. It’s indistinct, like his occasional feelings of foreboding; his gift of prescience.

“We must also speak with both of them regarding keeping confidential information secret and on a need-to-know basis. Speaking too freely on these matters can have devastating consequences.” Mace’s face is grave. “I cannot believe that they would share information between them like this. I truly believed they both knew better.”

“I know, Mace.” Obi-Wan sighs. “Once Anakin returns—I don’t think I’ll have the time before he’s being deployed in two days—I plan to speak with both of them.”

Mace nods slightly and Yoda simply hums in acknowledgement. They spend the rest of their meeting in silence, drinking tea and basking in the peace of the Force—just for a few brief moments before duty calls once more.

She has narrowed her list down to four now:

Bail Organa of Alderaan

Ach’ki Mandai of Haa’ndu

Mon Mothma of Chandrila

Ha’han-ash of Mirwu

She goes through documents after documents, weighs the pros and cons of each choice, before she takes her pen and circles a single name. She looks around, to ensure there’s no one else there, that no one has seen her.

Her decision made, she moves to put away all the datapads and holorecords she’s used before anyone has time to notice that they’ve been missing at all.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka takes a small break from her battle against a training droid just as the doors to the training salles open.

“Master Obi-Wan!” she says, extinguishing her lightsabers and heading over to him.

“Ah, Ahsoka. Doing a bit of saber practice before shipping out?” Master Obi-Wan strokes his beard and smiles at her.

“Yes, Master. I wanted to practice my Jar’kai with the training droids before I’m back in the field again.” Ahsoka finds herself returning the smile. It’s weird seeing him out of the pieces of armour he used to wear in the field, but it’s good to see him at all. He’s been so busy that the last time she saw him in person he was in a bed in the Halls of Healing recuperating from being poisoned—pale and tired.

“How is your Jar’kai coming along?” He eyes the two lightsabers she’s still holding.

“I’m improving! Unfortunately, I can’t get as much battle practice down when I’m in the field as I’d like…” she trails off and looks away. “I don’t feel quite ready to start using it in real battle yet.”

Master Obi-Wan hums in acknowledgement and nods slightly, arms crossed against his chest. He looks at her steadily, and she can only wonder what he’s thinking.

“Yes, Anakin doesn’t favour Jar’Kai. As with most Jedi, he has enough training to utilise it, but he’s generally more confident with one blade than he is with two.”

She knows that. She doesn’t think there’s anyone in her age-group who hasn’t heard about how Anakin Skywalker lost his arm while utilising Jar’Kai against Count Dooku. It’s never been spoken about officially, of course, but everyone has heard the rumours. It is known as a gamble, an attempt to throw Dooku off, but one that had ultimately cost Anakin dearly.

“I know, Master. I was hoping maybe I could catch one of the saber instructors before we head out, but they seem to be busy with classes.” A training droid was better than nothing, even if Ahsoka had hoped for a bit of proper instruction.

“A wise goal. What a shame none of them were available to you today.” He strokes his beard again and he’s definitely contemplating something. She can tell. He always does that beard stroking gesture when he’s thinking, or perhaps more accurately: plotting.

“I might be flattering myself now, but I have been told I am a rather effective Jar’kai user. Perhaps I could give you some instruction?”

Hope and excitement flares in Ahsoka’s chest. “Yes!” she says, before she can stop herself. Who would turn down private teaching in saber forms from one of the most skilled swordsmen in the entire Order? No one, that’s who!

Master Kenobi coughs a laugh into his fist and she can see the upturn of his mouth.

That’s when her brain catches up with her and her excitement dies a quick death. Master Obi-Wan has been so busy lately, how can he possibly have time to teach her? She’s not his padawan or anything…

Deep breaths.

“Thank you very much for the offer, Master, but…” she trails off, slightly uncertain how to word it, before she decides to just press on, “but are you sure you have the time? Aren’t you very busy?”

He hasn’t been in the field, with her and Master Anakin or without them—in fact, as far as she knows he hasn’t left Coruscant at all since the vote—because he’s been so busy with everything. Can he really take time to train someone who isn’t even his Padawan?

“Don’t worry about that, Ahsoka. In fact, today is the day of the week allotted to my post as Council member, which means I’m stationed in the Temple, rather than the Chancellor’s offices.”

O… kay? That didn’t really explain anything.

“But… Shouldn’t you be with the Council then?”

He smiles at her.

“When I joined the Council this morning for today’s session I was told that there is no session to be had and my only duty for the day is to relax. While they technically have no authority to order me to do so—it is a cruel twist of fate that I somehow outrank all of them now—the way Master Yoda waved his stick around promised lots of bruised shins in my future unless I actually took the day off.” He huffs out small laugh. “So here I am.” He waves a hand vaguely across the salles with a roll of his twinkling eyes.

Ahsoka tries to stop the grin and the giggle before they form, but she’s not quite fast enough. She can perfectly imagine just the waving motion Master Yoda must have done with his gimer stick.

“Well then, Master Kenobi, I would be honoured to have you teach me.”

Ahsoka watches Master Obi-Wan work his way through warm-up katas; she doesn’t recognise them, because they’re clearly Jar’kai katas, but she studies them carefully and tries to commit as many of them to memory as possible.

He starts slowly but soon his movements pick up speed. Every single one is graceful and controlled—beautiful but deadly—and yet it looks so effortless. One day… one day Ahsoka wants to be able to move like that. One day she will move like that.

She moves occasionally in gentle stretches to keep her muscles warm and pliant. She has a feeling she’s going to need it.

Master Obi-Wan comes to a halt.

“Well then, Ahsoka, are you ready?”

“Yes!” Her eyes sharpen in determination and she enters a wide, half-crouched stance, one leg forward with most of her weight on her back leg. She raises her arms, one up across her chest and the other over her head, but she doesn’t turn on either lightsaber yet.

Master Kenobi surveys her form for a short moment before he hums to himself.

“I think you should begin with using the standard grip, rather than your customary reverse one,” he says as he takes up the same opening stance, though not quite mirroring her.

“But I always use the reverse grip!” she says, pursing her lips and squinting her eyes in displeasure.

“Ah.” He looks at her, face placid. “Tell me, Ahsoka, how long have you been using a lightsaber?”

She blinks in and tilts her head to the side. Where did that question come from?

“Since I was five, like all Jedi… I mean, it was only practice sabers back then, but the principle is the same.”

“Mmmhmm,” he nods to himself. “And how long have you been using the reverse grip?”

She pauses.

“Oh.” She closes her eyes and sighs, letting her arms fall as she leaves the opening stance and instead relaxes. “So you’re saying… I should start with the standard, and when I have the basics down, switch to the reverse grip?”

“Exactly. You already had the basics for one saber combat when you started using the reverse grip. Give yourself the same time with dual sabers.” He smiles at her and she feels a small burst of pride and hope in her chest.

“Go too fast, and you’ll only suffer in the long run. Patience, young one.”

“Yes, Master.” She smiles despite her slight embarrassment. Maybe… maybe she was struggling because she’s demanding too much of herself right now? She nods at him and slides back into the stance, this time with the regular grip on her lightsabers.

“Good,” Master Obi-Wan says with a nod, “now follow me and I’ll show you the first few forms you should know.”

He moves slowly, but fluidly, and she does her best to follow his movements.

Her muscles are screaming and she’s sweating profusely as she moves to block a slash from Master Kenobi. They’ve been fighting for so long, how can his breathing still be so calm when she’s been panting for breath for what feels like an eternity?

That moment of distraction costs her, and she finds one of his blades at her throat.

Time freezes, neither move. Ahsoka’s chest heaves with pants and she swallows harshly.

“Solah,” she says in what is almost a whisper, and slowly lowers her sabers and deactivates them. Immediately Master Obi-Wan follows, clipping his own saber to his belt, holding the borrowed one loosely in his left hand.

“Well done, Ahsoka. Very well done indeed.”

Her heart thumps in her chest and a wide grin spreads on her face. She feels like she’s advanced so much in just a few hours with a teacher. Her muscles are aching and she’s exhausted but at the same time, she feels so alive.

“Come on, let’s go sit down and have a drink of water. You’ve certainly earned it,” Master Obi-Wan says and moves toward one of the benches. She follows him and just about collapses on the bench, still panting for breath. She takes the offered bottle of water and downs roughly half of it before she pours the rest on her face.

A chuckle makes her turn to look at Master Kenobi—who’s drinking from his own bottle with his typical refinery—and give him an arch look. He simply shakes his head at her and keeps drinking.

“How are you not tired, Master? I’m exhausted!” She’s not whining like a youngling, not at all, but she can’t help the small sting in her pride. She knows better, because he’s one of the best swordsmen in the Order, of course she isn’t going to be on his level, but the sting remains.

“You forget, young one, that I am a Master of Soresu, the form of defence and endurance.” His face is serene but there’s a glimmer in his eyes, she can tell. “One of the chief strategies of Soresu is to outlast your opponent; I would be a poor excuse of a master if I could not outlast a Padawan, even one as skilled as you.”

She fakes an annoyed huff, but takes it for the compliment she knows it is and he outright smiles at her again.

It’s weird, really, to think of him as her grandmaster. He doesn’t seem old enough for the title, even though she knows that he is her grandmaster from a lineage perspective. Then again, their lineage also technically has Dooku in it, so perhaps thinking about it too much is a bad idea.

Still…

“You’re reckless, little one. You never would have made it as Obi-Wan’s Padawan… but you might make it as mine.”

The words feel so long ago now, but they echo in her head nevertheless. Why is she even thinking about it? It’s not like she’d ever want to change masters even if she could!

There’s no point in asking… Then again… Better to know and be able to lay it to rest rather than keep wondering.

“Master Obi-Wan…” she trails off. Should she really do this? Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t. Ahsoka nearly sighs at her own indecision. Where’s her recklessness now?

“Hmm? What is it, Ahsoka?” He turns to her and rests his water bottle against his knee, face calm but attentive.

“… Master once said that I was too reckless to be able to make it as your Padawan… do you think so too?”

There’s a brief moment of silence, before Master Kenobi starts laughing. Ahsoka leans back and blinks in surprise, it might not be a full on belly-laugh or anything, but this might just be the first time she’s ever heard Master Obi-Wan laugh so fully at all, not just a dry chuckle or smiles that speak volumes.

“Master?” Is the thought of her succeeding as his Padawan that preposterous?

“Oh, Anakin,” Master Obi-Wan says, to her surprise. He shakes his head. “I’m afraid your master must have forgotten most of his own time as a Padawan if he said that to you. After all, he made it as my Padawan, and you are no more reckless than he is. Quite a bit less so, I must admit.”

To hear those words is more relieving that she thought it would be. They’re such a relief, in fact, that she lets out a sound that’s a horrible mix between a snort and a giggle, and quickly covers her mouth and nose with her hands, eyes wide in horror at the noise.

“I think you would have done just fine as my Padawan, Ahsoka.” He pauses then and gives her a small conspiratorial smile. “Though I don’t believe you would like to trade masters, would you?”

“Not on my life!” she laughs and lets her hands fall to her lap.

No, she wouldn’t change her Master for anything in the world. He might not teach her Jar’kai, but he’s the best master she could ask for anyway.

“One more thing, Ahsoka.”

She turns to him, surprised.

“Once you start using Jar’kai as your primary form, take care not to let your skills with a single saber degrade. One of the dangers of being a Jar’kai user is becoming too reliant on the second blade.” He looks serious, and she considers the thought. She had planned to go over to Jar’kai completely, but if Master Obi-Wan says she should keep her one-saber skills honed, then he’s likely right.

“I will. Thank you for the lesson, Master.” She bows her head to him. “I think it’s time for me to head to the freshers and then finish preparing. We ship out tomorrow, after all.” Ahsoka gets to her feet with a small grunt. She’s still slightly buzzing with adrenalin, but she knows it’ll go away soon. She’ll sleep well tonight, as she always does when she’s physically exhausted.

“Mmm, yes, sounds like a good idea. I should be heading off too, I believe,” he says as he hangs his borrowed saber on the wall among the other practice sabers, before he too gets off the bench.

They leave the salles together in a comfortable silence, but just outside the doors, Ahsoka stops.

“Master Obi-Wan…” she hesitates for a brief moment, “maybe, when I return to Coruscant the next time, you could give me another lesson?” Maybe if she smiles hopefully enough, he’ll agree to it?

“I’d be delighted to, Ahsoka.” His warm hand closes over her shoulder and gives it a small squeeze, before he gives her a slight wave and a smile, striding swiftly but unhurried down the hall.

She looks after him for a few moments, unsure why the sight of his back walking farther and farther away seems to unsettle her. Like a squirming sensation in the back of her mind, a cold lump in her stomach.

It’s nothing, she thinks and shakes her head. With a determined nod she heads off to her and Master Anakin’s apartments to get clean.

Chapter Text

Padmé stares at the clock on her bedside table. She knows it’s time to get up and get ready to face the day, but she… she doesn’t want to. She wants to stay in bed and just pull her duvet over her head and not leave her room until at least tomorrow.

The room is still dark, the blinds drawn with not a bit of outside light allowed inside.

She’s tired, she’s sad… She’s angry. Angry with herself for allowing things to go this far.

She’s resentful of her own marriage. She resents that she got married… and she hates herself for it. She doesn’t regret or resent Anakin, how could she? She loves him so, so much.

But the marriage?

It’s a big, dark secret that tears at their souls constantly because they have to hide it from the rest of the galaxy. Anakin broke his oaths to the Order to marry her and so they’re trapped in secrecy…

Anakin has said that after the war is over, maybe he’ll resign from the Order and they can finally be together in the open. She can finally tell her friends and trusted confidants—her handmaidens—and her family. Anakin can finally tell Obi-Wan, his family.

It’s a dream. A lovely rose-coloured dream, where everything is perfect and they’re so happy.

But now, now she knows the reality of what will come. Anakin will lose his adopted culture, will leave his calling behind. What will he do, if he’s not a Jedi helping people?

Perhaps, he’ll be a mechanic, he likes that. He might be happy with that.

Padmé… Padmé will lose her standing. She will lose her role as senator, and her ability to affect change and help people in the galaxy. Can she be happy despite that?

She doesn’t think so, even with Anakin at her side. Once upon a time, yes, but she’s been in politics too long now, it’s one of the things that define her as a person. What is she without it?

Should their marriage be brought out into the open, she will lose all of it.

A secret relationship is nothing, it can be explained and understood. But a secret marriage? Sworn before the gods of Naboo?

Oh, even if her yearly approval ratings don’t fall enough to cause a re-election, the reigning monarch of Naboo can still unseat its Senator. It will all come down to the monarch currently ruling when the truth comes out. Or perhaps even the monarch after that. It is a mark against her that will never fade away.

Perhaps it is more fair if they both lose what they have, aside from each other. But even so…

Resentment…

The secret of their marriage weighs heavy on them. Because they have to hide it from everyone else, they swore never to keep anything at all from each other and so… And so they’ve endangered the secrets of the Republic. They’ve told each other military or political secrets they should not have, because they swore not to keep anything from each other. They promised each other complete honesty in all things.

How can they keep secrets from each other, when one of the most important aspects of their lives must stay secret from everyone else?

Oh, Padmé knows she can trust her handmaidens with it, but if Anakin has no one to tell, how can she tell someone? It would be so gravely unfair to her husband if she can lighten the burden of their secret while he cannot.

So she doesn’t. She holds it in—even as it burns and rips her apart from the inside, claws at the very foundations of her faith and culture. You do not keep a marriage a secret on Naboo, not unless you are ashamed, and if you feel shame about your spouse, why would you swear yourself to them before the gods?

She rolls over, buries her face in her pillow, and screams. She’s exhausted.

If only they had waited. Not with being together, not with their love, but with their marriage.

They’ve endangered information that needed to stay secret and she… she broke a friend’s trust. She promised Obi-Wan she wouldn’t tell anyone but Ellé, but she did. Without even a second thought, she did.

She’s done it before too. She’s discussed Senate secrets with Anakin without a second thought. She has never had an actual reason to, he’s not actually interested for the most part. But… no secrets means no secrets. He’s told her about his own missions for the same reason.

It breaks her heart.

How did it come to this? She let this happen. They had agreed not to, and then just before they entered the arena on Geonosis… She could have died knowing she rejected him and in that final moment, she couldn’t bear the thought.

So they crossed the line… and she didn’t know where to stop. They married in secret as soon as Anakin was released from the hospital with his prosthetic arm.

Even worse still than everything else, all the secrets she’s kept from others or revealed to Anakin, all the trust she’s broken… she has not spoken of her doubts with Anakin. Despite all their promises, she is hiding something from him. How can she explain what she feels without hurting him?

The door to her bedroom slides open. “My lady?” Sabé’s voice rings out, hushed but clear.

She doesn’t answer. How can she, when tears threaten to thicken her voice.

Movement, the rustling of Sabé’s dress and the feeling of the mattress giving under added weight, and then Sabé’s warmth at her back, strong arms pulling her into her best friend’s arms.

Padmé clutches Sabé’s arm. She’s always known so well what Padmé needs.

“Should I cancel your commitments for the day, Padmé?” A sweet whisper. Only in these quiet, intimate moments will Sabé call her by her first name.

“No…” Padmé croaks. “But let me just stay here for a while longer… just a while longer.”

Sabé pulls her in closer and squeezes her for a moment. “Do you want me to leave?”

“… No…” Padmé feels like a child, small and sad. She should be stronger than this, but… she allows herself the momentary weakness. No one can be strong all the time.

She closes her eyes and counts Sabé’s breaths, finding some small comfort in her best friend’s arms.

“It’ll be alright, Padmé. You’ll see,” Sabé whispers and presses a small kiss to her cheek.

Padmé falls back asleep knowing Sabé will wake her up when the time comes.

A Twi’lek stands inside the Senate Office building’s lobby, steeling herself. Her eyes are sharp as she looks around, careful to appear unassuming. She blends well into the background, she’s had years to hone that particular talent.

Her lekku twitches briefly and she takes a deep breath, smoothing her dress out. Show time.

She walks through the Senate Office Building and no eyes fall on her; she has long since learned how to move unseen as well—hidden in plain sight. Face placid, but with a small smile. A Twi’lek woman without a smile on her face draws attention. It has always galled her, probably always will, but it is beyond her power to change.

She carries her bag casually, regardless of its contents. She focuses on her breathing to keep it slow, despite the slight uptick of her heart rate.

Click, click, click.

Heels against the polished floors until finally she reaches her destination.

The secretary at the desk confirms her appointment before he sends a message on a comm, no doubt to the Senator inside.

She waits. Time ticks by slowly and she deliberately does not clench her hand around the bag’s shoulder straps.

“You can go inside.”

She says her thanks with a smile and moves on. Almost there, she’s so close to her goal now. The door opens with a swoosh, and she’s greeted by the sight of a grand office and the person she’s meeting looks up from his desk.

“Ah, welcome!” Senator Organa says with a kind smile on his face.

“Thank you, Senator, and thank you for meeting with me.”

She walks farther into the room, and the human leaves his desk. He shakes her hand with a strong and sturdy grip.

“Now, ab—” before he can finish his sentence, the door swishes open behind her.

“Senator! I apologise for interrupting, but you have an urgent comm from Queen Breha!” the Togrutan secretary calls, wringing his hands.

“Pardon me, I have to take this. Do sit down, I’ll be right back.”

“No worries, Senator. Take you time.”

She watches him leave the office with his secretary, and then she’s all alone.

Chapter Text

Having said his goodbyes to Ahsoka, Obi-Wan heads toward the Room of a Thousand Fountains—after having cleaned up in the fresher and put on a new set of clothes, of course—to enjoy some meditation; some time alone with peace and quiet.

He sits down in a secluded spot—surrounded by plants and flowers—next to one of the smaller fountains. He takes off his boots and sets them aside, pulls his socks off and folds them, before he sits down with crossed legs and his hands lying limply on his knees. He closes his eyes.

Flowing water, falling drops hitting a smooth water surface, a bowl that continuously overflows, the rustle of leaves, soft grass beneath him—stroking and not quite tickling his bare feet—the gentle scent of Jarandian Jasmine, warm sunlight on his face.

The essence of the Living Force.

He hasn’t always enjoyed meditation. In his teens he was too filled with energy—sitting still for so long trying to grasp the Force had been… difficult. He was better at connecting with it when moving, during katas or similar physical activity. His connection, however, was always the strongest when his need for it was the greatest—during times of danger.

He was eighteen when his Master finally managed to show him what meditation could be. A mission gone wrong—a sharp feeling of wonder, of worry, lances through him. Had the mission specs been altered? Were they supposed to die?

The mission had them separated and fighting their way out of a revolution gone wrong. At the end, when they had finally found each other and escaped in the back of a cattle shuttle, Obi-Wan had been both utterly exhausted and too keyed up on adrenaline to even consider sleeping.

“You must rest, Padawan,” Qui-Gon murmured gently, pulling Obi-Wan down to sit next to him.

“I know, Master, I just… I just…” Obi-Wan trailed off; unsure how to express himself, too tired to think properly.

“I see. I believe some meditation would do you good right now.” Qui-Gon’s face was calm, almost placid, but Obi-Wan was sure he was amused by this—now that they were finally safe.

“Meditation is the last thing I need,” Obi-Wan muttered, not petulantly at all, mind you.

Qui-Gon huffed out a laugh. “You would say that, Padawan mine. However, as I believe it is, I will lead you through it.” He tucked his feet in and straightened his back, now towering over Obi-Wan.

With a sigh Obi-Wan copied his Master’s position, their knees now pressed together. A large warm hand wrapped around Obi-Wan’s just as he closed his eyes, and he let himself smile. His master hadn’t led him through meditation like this in years, it was comforting, in a way—familiar and nostalgic.

It started like it always did, just Obi-Wan and his thoughts. Slowly, slowly, with the warm hand anchoring him, he felt his master’s presence on more than the physical plane. He felt the warmth of his Light, and the hint of growth and life that he carried within him, the depth of his connection to the Living Force.

Bouncing off his Master’s presence, Obi-Wan suddenly felt everything. Every single animal on the ship—slow and peaceful energy. Every single sentient—buzzing, more frenetic, thoughts and emotions whirling… He stretched himself out and let the Force sweep his mind away. He felt the stars, the worlds, the very cosmic vastness of the Force itself, and it was beautiful.

‘Come back now, Obi-Wan. Ground yourself, Padawan mine.’

His Master’s voice echoed in Obi-Wan’s head, warm and amused. Obi-Wan pulled back from the Force, regretful to leave its embrace and centered himself, returned to being simply Obi-Wan again.

Qui-Gon’s warm hand was like an anchor, so very real. Obi-Wan opened his eyes and turned to meet his Master’s kind eyes.

“I’m tired,” Obi-Wan whispered. His mind was finally quiet, just as tired as his exhausted body, but so filled with peace; everything else seemingly washed away by the Force.

“You should sleep, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon moved them around, barely struggling at all despite Obi-Wan’s exhausted deadweight, until Obi-Wan found himself curled in his lap, head resting against Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

“It was beautiful, Master,” Obi-Wan mumbled, eyelids drooping. He fell asleep then, nestled in his Master’s embrace, warm and safe, with the feeling of a large hand stroking his hair.

For a long time, Obi-Wan was unable to think of his Master without grief. It speared through him so completely he sometimes couldn’t breathe with it.

He spoke with Master Yoda often during those early days, whenever Anakin was in class and the old master could spare a moment.

“Grieve for those no longer with us, you should not. One with the Force, they are. Accept your grief, you should, look into the Force, you should. Miss them, do not, for one with the Force, they are.”

It didn’t help, not at first. Not missing Qui-Gon seemed like an impossibility. Obi-Wan had been at his side for a decade, the man was in many ways like his father and Obi-Wan loves him. How could he possibly not grieve?

“Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter.”

It took time, but he found his answers. The feeling of his Master’s presence clinging stubbornly to one of his plants as Obi-Wan planted them in the Temple gardens or the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Memories evoked by the scent of his Master’s favourite tea. Calling upon his memories with the Force and almost reliving them again, his Master’s presence present and warm, the moment so clear as if it were happening right then and there.

A life remembered is a life never truly lost, merely one returned to the Force.

The Force is always with him and so, his Master too is always with him.

It’s not a perfect solution. What possibly could be with the loss of a life? But it is enough to help him deal with the grief, give it less hold over him, and it allowed him to move on. Live his life and do his duty as best he can. Isn’t that what his Master would have wanted?

The Force is always there, and he can find peace in it so it diminishes his grief until he’s ready to let it go. He feels lighter when he does, as if a heavy burden has been lifted. It’s not gone forever; the grief comes again, the sadness occasionally sweeps over him, but Obi-Wan knows how to deal with it… and how to live with it.

It’s no longer the very center of his life, as it was at first, and he can instead focus on the lives that are still there, still around him. Like his former Padawan, his friends and his Great-Grandmaster, who has lived long enough to lose more than his fair share of people.

Obi-Wan surfaces from his meditations briefly. A Cirdulian hawk butterfly has landed on a knuckle on his right hand, its startlingly blue wings held open—almost as if on display. He smiles briefly, and the wind—artificial perhaps, but still real enough—rustles his hair.

Obi-Wan could almost swear it feels like fingers brushing his fringe away from his forehead.

He closes his eyes and reaches for the Force once more.

Chapter Text

“Barefoot, Master Kenobi?”

The amused voice cuts through Obi-Wan’s meditation, and he surfaces quickly. He opens his eyes and finds himself face-to-face with Depa Billaba, a faint smile on her face.

“Master Billaba,” he says as a way of greeting, keeping his face placid, Depa’s face soon matching his. “Grass against bare feet is excellent for meditation, I’ll have you know. It helps ground me when I stretch my mind out… and it tickles quite comfortably.”

They look at each other for a long moment, both faces serene. It’s Depa who breaks out into a smile and lets out a chortle first, though Obi-Wan quickly follows.

“As you say,” she says, voice full of mirth, before she too removes boots and socks to sit down next to him.

They don’t say anything for a few moments, instead basking in the peace of the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

It’s Depa who breaks the silence. “You’ve been busy, or so I’ve heard, Chancellor Kenobi. How many committees to investigate and possibly repeal laws have you instigated now?”

Obi-Wan looks at her and winces at her choice of title. He far prefers it when his fellow Jedi call him by his name or his Jedi titles. She just gives him a wry smile and raises an eyebrow.

“… Twenty-three,” he admits with a sigh. It’s been quite a few already, and most likely more to come. It feels like every day he finds more and more worrisome legislation.

“Out of those twenty-three, in how many cases have you failed to convince the committee to bring it up for a repeal vote?”

“… None.” Obi-Wan looks away. The Negotiator indeed.

“And on that note, how many have failed the vote to repeal the law?”

“One.”

Depa looks genuinely surprised. “Oh really? What was that one about?”

“It was an utterly ridiculous law that allows members of the Republic Senate to break any traffic law on any Republic world without consequence.” Obi-Wan sighs again and runs a hand through his hair. “Why would you ever legislate such a thing?” Legislations that allow Senators to circumvent Republic laws… No, he doesn’t like it at all.

“That’s ridiculous.” Depa pushes some hair out of her face, eyebrows knitting together and mouth turning down. “Though I’ll admit I’m not surprised they didn’t repeal it.”

“Neither am I. Disappointed? Absolutely. Surprised? Not at all.” Obi-Wan shakes his head. There is no doubt that there is corruption in the Senate. It is so very clear that it no longer serves the people of the Republic, but rather the Senators themselves.

Change will be slow in the coming, but he will work for it. Things must change if there’s to be any hope for peace in the galaxy and a functional Republic. And, unfortunately, the only viable path to change that Obi-Wan can see is from the inside of the Republic. Obi-Wan knows his duty.

“So, what does your schedule look like for the next week, Chancellor,” Depa says, breaking Obi-Wan’s train of thought, with a small smirk on her lips.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes at her, but cannot stop the way his mouth twitches towards a smile.

“Tomorrow I have almost nothing scheduled except for paperwork, paperwork, and some more paperwork. I’ll spend the day at the Chancellor’s office, unless an emergency comes in.” He falls silent for a brief moment, then looks at Depa slyly. “Considering Anakin doesn’t ship out until tomorrow, that looks unlikely.”

Depa throws her head back and laughs, hand coming up to cover her mouth. She gently shoves him in jest as they laugh.

“To return to your question” he continues, the smile refusing to leave his lips, “I also have a meeting with the committee looking over Republic Legislation 34-X5-32DL—it’s about fuel standards in public freight ships—because they had some questions for me regarding the report I wrote on it. Then on Centaxday it’s more paperwork and negotiations with the forty-five planets who wish to return to the republic.”

“Wait,” Depa stops him, “you mean another forty-five beyond the first ten?”

Obi-Wan nods. “Yes, exactly. Since the negotiations with the first ten were ultimately successful, another forty-five have shown interest in returning.”

“Your work, I suppose?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Now, I wouldn’t say that—”

“So it was.” She nods resolutely. “Good to know. Do go on, Obi-Wan.”

He huffs a small laugh and shakes his head at her. If she wants to think so… well, he can’t stop her. He doesn’t think it’s really thanks to him, though he might have held the Senate’s more… disagreeable Senators in check during the negotiations. Honestly, squabbling like children and only looking at the short-term will not benefit anyone.

“Taungsday is dedicated to the war effort, and in trying to end the war in general. Which means trying to organise the fleets and getting an update from Anakin and Ahsoka, as well as from Cody and Admiral Yularen… And I’ll be reaching out to the Separatist Senate again in hopes of starting a peace process.” He pauses and considers that for a second. “You know, Depa? I rather think someone is trying to deliberately stop that from happening. I mean, besides Dooku.”

She looks at him gravely. “Likely someone who benefits from the war, then.”

“Likely,” he agrees with a nod.

They sit in silence for a while before Obi-Wan gently shakes his head.

“On Zhellday I have a meeting with a group of Senators who wish to discuss some of their ’worries’ about my work ethic, apparently,” he continues. “After that it’s the last day of the week, so more Council work, unless they cancel it again,” he says with a smile and a small shrug.

“The following week is much of the same. Many meetings, Council work combined and work as a General in between the large piles of paperwork I must get through…” He strokes his beard in contemplation. “I do have a meeting with Senators Biwa, Himesh, Ha’han-ash and Chuchi before lunch and a meeting with Senator Organa during the afternoon of the following Zhellday.

“Occasionally I have meetings booked in without actually knowing what they’re about. They get booked in long in advance since the meeting spots are limited, and I assume the Senators hope they’ll think of something before the meeting.” He rolls his eyes. Either the Senators are trying to catch him out, which doesn’t sound like Chuchi, Ha’han-ash or Bail, or they don’t know what they want to speak with him about… though that doesn’t sound like them either.

It is possible that it’s something important and possibly in need of secrecy, of course. That is the most likely option, from what Obi-Wan knows of the Senators in question.

“Sounds like you have quite the busy schedule.” Depa’s voice brings him out of his thoughts once more. He really does need to stop getting distracted with his own train of thought. It’s rather rude of him.

Obi-Wan doesn’t look at her, but he’s rather sure she’s wearing the same expression he’s caught on Mace and Yoda’s faces a few times: worry.

“Well, let’s just say I wasn’t wholly surprised that the Council decided to do this little coup of getting me a day off for nothing but meditation, saberwork, and relaxing.”

They share another smile, before a comfortable silence descends.

Obi-Wan returns to his meditation, clears his head and reaches for the Force. It wraps around him like a blanket. It’s not as warm or as easy as he remembers from his childhood—the Force has grown darker and harder to connect to as deeply as he used to over the years—especially since the war started.

When Obi-Wan surfaces from meditation, he finds that Depa is no longer meditating either. She looks troubled, and her shoulders slump.

“How are you, Depa?” He doesn’t want to pry; if she doesn’t want to talk, he won’t push her. But perhaps it would do her good to talk to someone besides the mind healers.

“I’m… better.” She sighs and bites her lip momentarily before she lets her face smooth out again. “I’m having trouble accepting what happened. Or… no, not accepting. I have trouble forgiving myself for it.”

Obi-Wan says nothing, but gently places a hand on her shoulder, lightly enough that she could easily shake it off. She leans into him instead, and he wraps his arm around her shoulders.

“We speak of Falling as if it’s so easy. An accident, almost. But I know… I know it’s a choice.”

Obi-Wan can feel tension practically radiating off her.

“I was losing my men at such a rapid rate, and I felt powerless to stop it. I thought… I thought if I was just stronger, if I just had more power, I could stop Grievous, and save them. So I made my choice: I stepped into the Dark, channeled the Force through my fear and my wish to protect my men, and I Fell.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I chose to Fall, I chose to turn my back on the Light completely. That power, Obi-Wan, it was overwhelming. It was like stepping right into the middle of the rushing river.” She takes another deep breath and releases it slowly. “I understand why the Jedi have chosen to not channel the Force through emotions, even though we could channel the Light through joy, love, or other positive ones. If you start channeling through one emotion, it is so easy to slide into channeling through another. Like Master Yoda says, fear leads to anger…”

She opens her eyes again and her face hardens for a brief moment. “I lost myself in a feedback loop. The more powerful I became, the stronger my anger became, and the stronger my anger was… You understand.”

“I do,” he whispers.

“I lost my sister on Geonosis, right when the war started.” Depa stares at the water. “She was the last of my blood family. But Mace has long been like a father to me, and I love him…” She pauses for a moment, collecting herself. “But there on Harun Kal, on his home planet… It didn’t matter. I lost myself to my anger and fear, not to mention that seeing him made me feel ashamed. So I… I tried to prove myself. Prove how strong the Darkside made me.”

She laughs, watery and bitter. Obi-Wan gently squeezes her shoulder, and she leans further into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

“There is no denying that he’s a more skilled duellist than I am. I was overpowering him only because of the strength the Dark gave me, and because he was on the defensive. He was trying not to hurt me, you know… But I was trying to hurt him.”

“Depa…” Obi-Wan isn’t sure what to say. It’s too sincere, too raw.

“It’s alright. I’m still talking to the mind healers. I’m… getting better. And they always remind me that I stopped, that I chose to come back.” She snorts. “That’s what caused the coma, you know? Mace was getting desperate, I was pressing the advantage and he knew the longer the fight wore on, the greater the risk either one of us would get killed. So he… He Force pushed me. He was just planning to get some distance between us.”

“So what went wrong?” Obi-Wan glances down at her.

“I stopped. Mid-attack. I stopped because I chose differently. I reigned myself in, and stopped, just as the Force push came. So I went flying into a cliffside.” She closes her eyes. “You know the rest.”

As a Councillor, Obi-Wan does know what happened. Mace brought Depa back to Coruscant, hurt and unconscious. The knowledge that she Fell is private, known only by the Council and the mind healers she started seeing after she woke up from her coma. It is not something that needs to be widely known.

“He feels guilty, you know. That he pushed you, I mean,” Obi-Wan murmurs.

“I know he does. He shouldn’t. What choice did he have? What choice did I give him?”

“You didn’t give him a choice. But he still faced one very similar to the one you faced on Harun Kal: he could keep faith in that he would hold out long enough for you to come back to him, or he could try to change the situation to his advantage.”

“Oh…” Depa says softly. “I did know help was coming, but I… lost faith that it would reach us quickly enough. So I acted—to defend my men.”

“Yes, you did.” Obi-Wan squeezes her shoulder gently and rests his cheek against her hair. “The one most hurt by your actions was Mace. He’s already forgiven you, and carries his own guilt. Perhaps… Perhaps you’ll find it in you to forgive yourself, if you can make him do the same?”

Silence descends. Obi-Wan wonders if he crossed a line, said something he should not have. He’s no mind healer, this is not his area of expertise.

“Perhaps you’re right. Thank you, Obi-Wan,” Depa finally says.

“You’re welcome, Depa.”

A comfortable silence takes over for a brief moment, before Depa lets out a watery chuckle and straightens. Obi-Wan lets his arm fall from her shoulder and places both his hands in his lap instead.

“You’ve grown so wise. What ever did happen to that fiery little Padawan who rushed into things before he thought them through, hmm?” Mirth has returned to Depa’s voice.

Obi-Wan huffs out a laugh. “He grew up, as all children do—sooner or later.”

“I believe Qui-Gon would be very proud of you, you know…” She pauses and turns to him with a smile on her lips. “Even if you are on the High Council.”

They share a laugh at the thought. Oh yes, Qui-Gon would most likely have a thing or two to say about that. There was a reason he turned them down every single time he was offered a position himself, after all.

“Thank you, Depa…”

They share a smile, and peace and calm reign in the Room of a Thousand Fountains once more.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan idly watches as Anakin paces back and forth while muttering to himself.

“Where is she? I can’t believe she’s late,” Anakin finally huffs before he stops and crosses his arms over his chest, and instead starts tapping his foot against the floor. It’s nearing third hour and Anakin, Ahsoka and the troops are supposed to be heading out in ten minutes. The rest of the troops on the Resolute are waiting.

Obi-Wan sends him an amused look, only barely containing the smile that wants to break out on his face. “I seem to remember a young Padawan who often ran late for missions, showing up last minute with oil stains on his robes.”

“Wha—Master! I didn’t—” Anakin starts spluttering, an aghast expression on his face. It makes Obi-Wan’s struggle not to smile even harder.

Ultimately Obi-Wan gives up and chuckles, sending Anakin an indulgent smile as the latter’s splutters die down into a fond smile and he bumps his shoulder into Obi-Wan’s.

The moment is quickly interrupted by loud, fast footsteps—no doubt someone running as fast as they can down the hangar. Glancing around, Obi-Wan and Anakin both quickly spot Ahsoka heading toward them at full speed.

“I’m here! I’m here! I’m not late!” Ahsoka pants out as she finally reaches them. Obi-Wan spies a second lightsaber on her belt but says nothing, he simply smiles at her.

“Cutting it pretty close there, dontcha think, Snips?” Anakin grouses, drawing himself up to his full height and raising an eyebrow—the very picture of a displeased Master.

The look of it nearly sends Obi-Wan into a fit of laughter, because he knows Anakin knows that look well, having seen it on Obi-Wan more than a few times. Just like Obi-Wan saw it on Qui-Gon often enough. It’s just the way things go between Masters and Padawans, Obi-Wan thinks and ultimately he can’t help himself.

“Like Master, like Padawan,” he chuckles into his fist. Oh, how he wishes he had a holocam to immortalise the twin looks of disbelief and betrayal he receives.

Ahsoka snaps out of the slight stupor faster than Anakin, and huffs slightly, but then shakes her head, clearly deciding to not comment on it. “You came to see us off, Master Obi-Wan? I thought you would be busy at the senate all day today…” She squints at him suspiciously.

“Oh, I was, but then someone—” he glances in Anakin’s direction—“Decided that I should come see you off.” Obi-Wan makes sure to keep the smile off his face, but he knows amusement bled into his voice.

Oh, Anakin.

Anakin can’t really keep the grin off his face. He’d been mostly sure that if he just went and got him, Obi-Wan would come. Just a few weeks ago he would never have thought so, but ever since they had that talk… Well… He knows now. Obi-Wan cares.

He made token protests about paperwork when Anakin showed up with no appointment and told him to come see them off as they left for their mission, but he still followed. He told Waxer and Boil he’d be back in an hour, and came with Anakin to the Temple hangars.

There’s this giddy feeling in Anakin’s chest. The knowledge that Obi-Wan used to leave because someone was making him, not because he wanted to… That Obi-Wan wanted to let Anakin keep his mind to himself is… It’s weird. That’s not what you do when you care, but… Obi-Wan is weird. He’s always been weird, so Anakin should have known. He didn’t then, but he does now, because he felt it, felt it in the Force. Obi-Wan does care.

Back when Obi-Wan had talked about getting a Padawan…. it had been a betrayal, because Anakin still needs him, still needs his friendship and guidance. Anakin had still been sure Obi-Wan didn’t really want him, as friend or Padawan, but to be replaced… The anger and resentment he felt toward his replacement had bubbled inside him, but he’d managed to keep his outside reaction to logical if slightly disgruntled—not at all petulant though!

But there was no replacement, instead there was Ahsoka, Anakin’s Padawan. Similar in temper, eager to learn, and so very precious to him now. He never imagined having a Padawan, never really saw himself as the teaching type, but now he can’t imagine having not had her. The thought of not having Ahsoka in his life is… It’s awful. Maybe he should thank Master Yoda for meddling…

Later.

The old Master really doesn’t need encouragement to meddle. Not that he’d stop if he didn’t get encouragement, so getting it would probably just make him worse and that’s a scary thought… Anakin thinks back on stories of Master Qui-Gon and his way of “following the will of the Force”. Did he get it from Master Yoda? Because that kinda seems like a Master Yoda thing…

“I see you’ve brought a second lightsaber, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan’s voice brings Anakin out of his thoughts. He blinks in surprise and looks closer at his Padawan. Huh, Obi-Wan’s right, there is a second lightsaber on Ahsoka’s belt.

“Oh, yeah.” Ahsoka scratches her cheek and stubs the toe of her boot against the floor. “I might not be quite ready for Jar’Kai in the field yet, but having a spare lightsaber could still be useful… And it means I can practice the katas you showed me, Master!”

Wait, what? He hasn’t—oh, she’s talking to Obi-Wan. That does make more sense, but…

“Obi-Wan showed you some Jar’Kai katas?” Anakin blinks at her before he glances at Obi-Wan briefly. He didn’t know that. When did they—?

“Oh yeah, just yesterday, actually! He found me in the training halls and offered to give me some instruction, and…” With that, Ahsoka is off, describing the events. Anakin finds himself smiling, because that… Yeah, that’s Obi-Wan’s way of caring: teaching.

Which of course means that Obi-Wan cares about Ahsoka too. Knowing that is… it’s good. It’s really good. Anakin feels the grin on his face return with a vengeance.

“You’re gonna have to show me what you learned then,” he says, breaking into Ahsoka’s explanation, “Perhaps in a spar?”

She blinks in surprise at him before her big eyes widen in glee and her mouth spreads in a big toothy smile.

“You’re on, Skyguy!”

In the corner of his eye, Anakin sees Obi-Wan shake his head at them, most likely in exasperation. But that’s fine, it’s all fine.

This is all Anakin wants from life, being happy and surrounded by the people he loves. The only piece missing is Padmé.

Still, Anakin feels on top of the world. Nothing can bring his good mood down now.

Chapter Text

Palpatine absently swirls the deep red wine in his glass with a calm expression on his face. He’s gone through his datapads, his messages, his flimsi, and every report he still has, every bit of information he’s managed to keep away from the nosy corruption investigators.

There is something missing. He knows there was one report from Kamino that references the inhibitor chips inside the clones. No details, of course not, but the mere reference… He grits his teeth and just barely refrains from snarling. It must have been at his office, which means Kenobi has most likely found it.

Is that why he went looking in the systems?

Unfortunately, Palpatine cannot see what file triggered the virus fail-safe, nor who neutralised it. So perhaps it was the mention of the chips that sent Kenobi into sensitive data looking for more clues.

If so, it’s a potential disaster in the making. There is nothing overt in the Senate systems and reports—it would have been the height of sloppiness to allow such a thing—but there is just enough information to send Kenobi to Kamino to find out more. If he gets a spy to the Kaminoans who goes through their systems… Well, he’d find out that there is more to the chips than “regulating clone personalities”.

Palpatine takes a deep breath and calms the burning rage by imagining many new ways for Kenobi to suffer—imagines him living just long enough to see the fall of the entire Order. How lovely the anguish on his face would be. Palpatine allows himself to idly ponder how the assassin will set up Kenobi’s death… He hopes it will be painful. He hopes Kenobi suffers in his last moments. Ah, what a sight it would make.

Calmer, he turns his attention back to his dilemma. Has Kenobi found information about the clone chips? Or… He glances at the pile of information idly. He had been going over mission reports, just before the whole debacle went down. There were reports he did not finish altering.

Has Kenobi found those? Did he go looking in the system to try and find other reports that have been changed?

Palpatine takes a sip from his glass. Not good, but preferable. Even if Kenobi and his fellow Jedi find out that missions across the decades have… changed, just slightly, between the Senate setting them up and them being sent over to the Jedi… well. There’s not much they can do about it, is there?

Systems have been unsettled as planned, the most important missions have failed as needed, and key Jedi players have already been taken out—though Kenobi has proven frustratingly incapable of dying as he is supposed to. There’s nothing specific linking Palpatine to the edits, so he has little to fear in that area. He didn’t do it on his own terminals, he didn’t do it with his own log-in for the Senate systems, and even if he did attach notes to those particular files which were still unchanged in his office… Well, that’s no real proof.

It’s an easy spin.

“Oh, I just thought Master Kenobi would be a good fit for the mission, I was merely planning to take it up with the Council when discussing the mission with them.”

Plausible deniability.

He cannot move too hastily or he risks setting all his plans aflame himself. No, he must stay calm. Kenobi will be dealt with, the investigation will not find enough to send Palpatine to prison or anything even close to that. At most it will be a fine. After all, Palpatine smirks, he ensured that most of the truly illegal things were dealt with by Mas Amedda.

So easily led, all weaklings who hunger for power are. Those who seek it without truly understanding what real power is… So easily swayed, so easily moved across the Corellian chess board that is this galaxy.

Kenobi has proven himself to be a far better player than Palpatine had anticipated, holding a keener mind than Palpatine would have assumed, all things considered. No wonder Dooku, the Dagobah slime worm, always spoke highly of him.

Soon enough, however, Kenobi’s skills and sharp mind will not matter. Palpatine has made his move and Kenobi will not see the knife before it meets its target. And then…

Game over.

Obi-Wan rubs his eyes, staring blankly at the datapad before him without really seeing it. Exhaustion is creeping up on him and he knows he needs to stop for now. Stop, go back to the Temple, catch up on some sleep, and start over tomorrow. He won’t make any progress if he’s too tired to think straight anyway.

He puts the pad down on his desk and leans back in his chair, sighing deeply.

He’s used every free moment he’s had to go through Palpatine’s papers, documents, notes… anything he can gain access too, to find more information about those “inhibitor chips” mentioned in a correspondence with Kamino. Despite weeks of looking, he has come up empty.

There is nothing in the files at all. Or, if there is, it’s well hidden and beyond his skill to find them.

He pushes away from the desk and stands up. He needs sleep. He’s not at his best right now; perhaps he’s missing something, perhaps there is some sort of clue that he’s just not seeing right now.

Shaking his head he moves away from the desk, heading toward the security room. He’ll let the troops know he’s going back to the Temple for the night. It’s possible one of them will demand to see him back to the Temple, likely citing Commander’s orders or something.

He opens the door and steps inside, mind made up. The troopers look up at him, and as soon as Obi-Wan is sure he has all of their attention he says, “I’ll be going to the Temple for the night. I won’t be back in the office until tomorrow morning.”

“Understood, General. I will accompany you to the Temple then,” Blast—head of the night shift—says with a nod. He glances to the rest of the troopers, who all nod in understanding, before he gets up and leaves his station, running one hand over his mohawk as he moves to Obi-Wan’s side.

“Very good, Captain.” The prospect of sleep is too tantalising, and Obi-Wan’s simply too wrung out to even consider arguing. He might as well take Blast up on the offer, he won’t have to fly the speeder if he does. Of course, Obi-Wan giving in so easily makes Blast and the other troops on the night shift look suspiciously at him.

He pays it no heed and simply makes his way out of the office, Blast just half a step behind him.

The fresh air, as fresh as it ever gets on Coruscant, is soothing. The coolness of the night washes over Obi-Wan as he steps outside and heads to the speeders.

Still… There’s a feeling of disquiet that refuses to leave. A constant small humming, like an electric charge in the air, disturbing his thoughts and any chance of a lasting sense of peace.

Something is coming. Something very important. Something that, depending on its outcome and the actions taken, will determine the fate of the galaxy. Obi-Wan can feel it in his very bones, his prescience all but screaming it at him.

Any time he reaches for the feeling in the Force, however, it slips away like a dartha eel. The Force is still too muddled, too… darkened for him to truly be able to See clearly.

The feeling of hurtling ever closer to a crash without being able to see what he will crash into is disconcerting; it disturbs his sleep and throws him off balance. Oh, what a tempting thing sleep is right now, but Obi-Wan knows it will continue to elude him. At the very least until this feeling abates.

He gets into the passenger seat and relaxes as Blast starts the motor and flies off, heading towards the Temple immediately. Obi-Wan allows himself a few minutes of closed eyes without thought, before he opens his eyes and takes his commlink out of his pocket.

He stares idly at it and ponders. Should he?

“We should reach the Temple in three minutes, General,” Blast says, never taking his eyes off the flight lanes despite the late hour and the mild traffic. Well, mild for Coruscant, anyway. The core city never truly sleeps after all.

“Thank you, Blast.”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, before punching in a number sequence he’s known by heart for years. It’s late, he knows as much, but perhaps—

“Yoda, this is.” Of course Master Yoda isn’t asleep yet, Obi-Wan had expected—hoped?—as much.

“Master Yoda, it’s Obi-Wan. I’m heading back to the Temple for the night.” He pauses, biting his lip, and considers once more if he should really… Yes. “I was wondering if perhaps you’d join me for a cup of tea once I arrive.”

Yoda lets out a dismissive snorting noise, almost grating with its loudness.

“Tea, you do not need. Sleep, you do,” Master Yoda grumbles, his words punctuated with the sound of his gimer stick rapping against the floor.

“I… Yes, Master, but—” Obi-Wan starts. He knows he needs sleep, but it’s frustratingly out of his reach. He hoped that perhaps a cup of tea with Yoda could have soothed his nerves, but if Master Yoda isn’t willing, then…

Before he can finish his sentence, however, Master Yoda interrupts him, “Meet in your chambers, we will. Tea, I will bring. Share it, we will. And then sleep, you will.”

Obi-Wan only barely chokes down the relieved laugh bubbling in his chest.

“Yes, Master. Thank you.”

They say their goodbyes—Obi-Wan is certain he hears Master Yoda mutter something about unruly crèchelings—and close the connection. Obi-Wan opens his eyes and stares ahead. In the corner of his eyes Obi-Wan can see Blast glance at him, and the Force around him seems almost pleased.

Obi-Wan allows himself a small smile, and relaxes into his seat.

The rest of the trip back to the Temple passes swiftly. Blast is a far better flier than Anakin—far less speeding and acrobatics that make Obi-Wan’s stomach turn.

Obi-Wan says his goodbyes to Blast at the Temple entrance, but he’s very aware that the speeder doesn’t take off again until he’s inside the Temple itself. He huffs and smiles slightly, shaking his head. If nothing else, it’s good to know that there are people who will have his back.

He stops once he’s inside, just for the briefest of moments. There’s a special feeling inside the Temple, perhaps owing to generation upon generation of Force sensitives walking its halls, living within them. It is home in a way no other place in the galaxy could possibly be.

It’s late, so there are few Jedi still awake. The younglings will be asleep in the crèche, draped on top of each other in piles, the knights and masters in their rooms, either in bed or preparing for it. Still, he passes a few Jedi still awake—the Temple, much like Coruscant, never truly sleeps.

He smiles as he passes by the gates to the gardens; there is something in the very essence of them that speaks of joy. Many happy childhood memories are made there—Obi-Wan knows that for a fact—and that joy lives on in the leaves of every plant and in every single blade of grass.

It’s amazing what can be retained in the Force, even without an active attempt to do so.

Were he to be forced to leave this place behind, Obi-Wan knows he would miss it dearly. He would accept its loss, for accepting change—even if you cannot embrace it—is the way of the Jedi. But he would miss it for the rest of his life nevertheless.

It’s a silly thought, one most likely brought on by exhaustion and stress coupled with his current situation—what reason could there possibly be that would force him to leave the Temple behind?

Obi-Wan shakes his head at his own line of thinking. He may be Supreme Chancellor, but it’s only temporary. He will not become a full time politician. Beyond Obi-Wan deciding to leave the Order on his own, there really is little chance—if any—he would be forced from its halls.

He continues through familiar hallways and turbolifts until he finally reaches his rooms. Once he places his hand on the scanner panel, the door slides open, and the scent of wallian tea washes over him like a fragrant wave. He smiles at the nostalgia of it all, and steps inside to greet Master Yoda.

Sleep well, Yoda’s Great-Grandpadawan still does not. See it, Yoda can. Something on Obi-Wan’s mind there must be, if help, he asks for.

Sit down he does with a smile.

“I haven’t had Wallian tea since I left the crèche, Master Yoda,” says Obi-Wan. Takes the cup, he still does. Grew up too soon, this little one did. Carried the galaxy on his shoulders he has always.

“Help sleep, this tea does. Help prescient younglings, does it. Need it, I think you do,” says Yoda and own tea sips on.

Nothing Obi-Wan says and his tea sips he. Speak first Yoda will not, let Obi-Wan gather his thoughts he must. Uncomfortable, silence is not; lived long enough to not be bothered by it Yoda has.

“Something is coming, Master. The outcome of which will determine the fate of the Galaxy. I feel it in every atom, and yet I cannot glean anything more detailed.” A long drink, he takes. “I don’t know how, I don’t know what, I don’t know when. I just know it’s coming. It’s a constant buzzing in the back of my head, and it disturbs my sleep and ability to concentrate.” A pause. “I’m worried.”

If worried he admits to, afraid he likely is, Yoda concludes. A burden, prescience can be—without or with visions.

“Feel it, I do,” murmurs Yoda. “Meditated on it much have I, but found answers, I have not.” Similar, their situations are.

Spread, silence does again. Gather their thoughts, they do.

“Remain vigilant, we must. But fear it, we must not. Sleep and rest, we must. Your sleep I will guard tonight. Like when crècheling you were.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Later it is, sitting next to his finally sleeping Great-Grandpadawan, that Yoda allows the worries to come to the forefront of his mind.

Right, young Obi-Wan is. Coming, something is. If two who have noticed they are, then warn others they must. Speak with the Council tomorrow, Yoda will.

Clouded, the Force is. See clearly, he cannot. The Sith, it likely involves. How, Yoda cannot say. Vigilant they must be, but fear it they must not—or lost they already have.

A meditative trance, Yoda enters. In the shroud of the Force, the night passes.

The buzzing sound of lightsabers moving through the air and clashing together, coupled with panting breaths and two sets of footsteps, are the only things that can be heard in the emptied mess hall. The troopers were more than willing to help move the tables out of the way to create a large enough empty space for Anakin and Ahsoka to duel. Now they watch in fascination as the two Jedi move around each other, parrying blows and avoiding strikes.

Anakin grins widely as they spar, pride like a burning flame in his chest. Ahsoka is getting good. Where two blades sets Anakin slightly off balance, leaving one arm awkwardly swinging without proper aim or real intent, two blades give Ahsoka extra balance and a sharpness to her technique she lacked before.

Her twirls are tighter with fewer openings and both blades become extensions of her arms. She’s not quite there yet with her technique and her moveset is still too limited to use in real battle, but he can see the skill she’ll one day have.

One day… one day she might even overtake him and Obi-Wan both.

But not yet.

With one swift moment he breaks her guard and stops his blade at her chest, arm still bent and able to thrust forward. Had he been an enemy, her chest would be pierced now.

“Solah,” she says through panting breaths and retracts her blades; Anakin follows suit and settles into a relaxed stance. There is some scattered applause from the gathered troopers, but Anakin deliberately puts it out of his mind.

“You’re getting good, Snips.”

“Thank you, Master!” Her grin is wide and infectious, and together they head to one of the tables to sit down for a bit.

The water is blessedly cool as it slides down his parched throat.

“Ugh, I want a nap,” Ahsoka grumbles into her glass of water, prompting a snort from Rex.

“Aren’t you a little old for that, Commander?” Rex looks like bantha butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, but Anakin can see the spark of mischief in his eyes. Considering Ahsoka’s put-out look, she can too.

“I haven’t taken naps since I was in the crèche, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost the appreciation for a good nap, Captain.” And theeere’s the snippiness in Ahsoka that had Anakin dub her Snips in the first place.

Rex, of course, only rolls his eyes with a smile.

Naps in the crèche, huh…

“Obi-Wan mentioned that when he was in the crèche, they used to sleep in piles. Did you do that too?” Anakin asks, thinking back to when he and Obi-Wan, uh, cleared the air between them, while looking at Ahsoka. She blinks in surprise.

“Oh, yeah, we did. I kinda miss it. Sleeping in one big cuddle pile was pretty great, actually,” she says with a nod. She looks a bit far away and nostalgic, perhaps remembering some nice naps.

“You and your agemates didn’t sleep in piles, General?” Fives asks, picking up on some of what Anakin isn’t saying.

Feeling everyone’s eyes on him Anakin scratches the back of his head a bit, self conscious.

“Well, actually, I was never in the crèche at all.” He was prepared for the surprised looks, but it still makes him feel slightly awkward.

“You weren’t in the crèche, Master?” Ahsoka says, her eyes huge. Consider the occasional rumours going through the Temple, Anakin would actually have assumed that she knew that, but apparently not.

“No, I came to the Temple late under… uh… unusual circumstances. So I actually became Obi-Wan’s in-Temple Padawan immediately, rather than go to the crèche first.” Anakin pauses and thinks back to those early days. Sometimes he missed them, though he had never liked that Obi-Wan was gone so much. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he continues, “So I either stayed with Master in our rooms or in the Initiate dorms.”

“Wait, so what’s the difference between the crèche and the Initiate dorms?” Jesse asks, scratching his bald head. Anakin glances at Ahsoka and gives her a small nod, she’d know way better than he would.

“Oh, uh, well,” she begins, “The crèche is where all the younglings live; they’re the youngest of the Jedi order. There are several small ‘clans’ as we call them—groupings of younglings who take classes together and such. They usually sleep on these big soft mats with lots of pillows and blankets… and usually really close together, so almost in piles, like I said.” She pauses. “You don’t have to sleep in the piles, of course, the mats are really big so some tend to gravitate to the edges because they like sleeping more solitarily. Also, there are younglings whose species require slightly different room humidity or temperature to be fully healthy—like Mon Calamari or Nautolans—usually they all sleep together, regardless of what clans they belong to.”

Huh, yeah, that makes sense. Master used to say that Bant was his crèchemate, but her rooms were always much… uh… wetter? Than the ones he shared with Obi-Wan at the time.

“The Initiate dorm though, that’s more like… Well, several rooms with bunk beds, really,” Anakin says, recalling his time in the dorms. “They’re large enough that a few people can share them if they want to, though, but it’s not quite conducive to pile sleeping.”

“I assume they don’t want you to go straight from constant closeness to being completely shut off from physical contact?” Kix remarks, just now looking up from the datapad he was writing something on.

“Yeah, I think so! Some species need physical contact to thrive, so… At least that’s what Créche Master An-harang used to say,” Ahsoka says between gulps of water.

Scattered mumbles of ‘yeah, makes sense’ and ‘sounds about right’ fill the room for a moment, and Anakin relaxes. They’ll probably leave the topic behind now.

Just as Anakin thinks this, however, Ahsoka speaks up again, “Master… what’s an in-Temple Padawan? I mean, how does it differ from a regular Padawan?”

Oh. Right. Anakin leans his head on his fist, elbow on the table, and considers it. Ahsoka is probably too young to remember. After all, there never were many, and ever since the war, the Order has been forced to change things around to be able to spread as thinly as they’ve had to.

He sees the troopers’ confusion. Considering that it’s a Jedi thing, they probably expected her to know too.

“Right, I… I guess you’re too young to know, huh. They’re… not really a thing anymore because of the war and they were never especially common even before it.”

Ugh, Obi-Wan would probably explain this so much better. Theoretical explanations aren’t really Anakin’s forte—unless it’s about mechanics and electronics—since he’s more of a hands on type of guy.

“So what is it, General?”

“Well, uh… The age-limit to become a padawan used to be the species equivalent to a fifteen-year-old human before the war. That’s why I questioned you if you were really old enough back on Christophsis, Ahsoka.” Anakin scratches the back of his head. “Sometimes though there could be circumstances that made someone younger than their fifteen-equivalent become a Padawan, but since they’d be too young, they wouldn’t really leave the Temple. So when their Masters were in the Temple—and they would usually stay for long stretches of time because of their Temple-bound Padawan—the in-Temple Padawan would live with their Master but go to classes with the Initiates. When their Master was on missions they couldn’t go on, they’d stay in the Initiate dorms. It’s not really a complicated concept; it was to keep the young members of the Order safe, you know?”

Anakin squirms in the silence that started spreading the more he talked. And yeah, he knows it sucks that kids are on the front lines now. It sucks a lot but he doesn’t really know what they can do about it, short of just… stop being commanders and Generals. And they can’t do that, can they?

Ugh, he’ll have to ask Obi-Wan about that, or someone else on the Council. Though Obi-Wan is probably a safer bet if he wants a straightforward answer.

“So uh… they didn’t go on missions?” Ahsoka looks like she can’t quite wrap her head around the thought. Considering how her own Padawanship has gone, that probably isn’t weird.

“I mean, I started being allowed to go on missions with no expected danger when I was twelve. And yeah, sometimes unforeseen circumstances would mean we’d end up in some danger anyway, but that was usually not the point. I mean, my first mission was to… uhh… I don’t remember the name, but it was some planet that holds a fertility festival every five years.”

“What?” someone hisses through coughs, as if their drink went down wrong.

Anakin looks around to see huge eyes and slack jaws. Wait, what are they—?

“No—! Not like sexual fertility! Plant fertility! They had a festival with a ritual to have good crops! They wouldn’t have let me go near it if it was a sex thing! I was twelve!” The words start tumbling out of Anakin’s mouth as fast as he can make them because by the Force, the mental images. Going to a sex fertility festival with his Master when he was twelve would’ve been a straight up nightmare of awkward.

“Oh. Uhm. Right.” Ahsoka squirms a bit in her seat, looking a bit like she’s choking down giggles; Anakin probably looks about as awkward as he feels. “So what was the mission?”

“Oh, uh. The ritual is really old, and contains having someone use the Force to lift a cup from a pedestal, hold it in the air for a few minutes while some shaman chants, and then set it down again. So the Jedi have been doing that for centuries. Like I said, it wasn’t a dangerous mission. That was mostly the kind of mission any in-Temple Padawan was allowed to go on.”

“Oh… That’s… different,” Ahsoka says with a wince.

“It was boring,” Anakin says and laughs when Ahsoka gives him a sheepish smile. Yeah, there was no hiding how boring that mission was. The planet itself was pretty and all, and the locals were really nice, but the mission? Ugh.

“So you don’t do in-Temple Padawans anymore?” There’s a sharp look in Rex’s eyes.

Anakin shakes his head. “No. With how spread thin we are, we need all the hands on deck we can get. You used to become Padawan at fifteen and have a Padawanship for about eight to ten years, but with how everything is now, we get put out in the field earlier and subsequently get more experience quicker and Knighted earlier.”

Anakin takes a long drink of water.

“If you asked Obi-Wan, he could probably tell you even more traditions and ways of doing things that we’ve lost since the war. He knows better than I do.”

No one says it, but Anakin is pretty sure they’re all thinking the same thing: Obi-Wan isn’t really around to be asked these days.

Another thing they’ve lost to the war.

Chapter Text

“I’ll be heading out for my next assignment in three days,” Mace tells the gathered Council members as they look over the galactic holomap, all current ongoing skirmishes marked out in red and all Republic fleets and troops in green.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit behind with the updates regarding other battles than those of my own fleet. What system will you be heading towards?” Plo Koon asks, eyes on the holomap, one finger idly and gently tapping against the map frame.

“I—” Mace gets no further.

The Force seems to wail. It shudders through him, startling in its clarity—he hasn’t felt something like it in years. It disappears as quickly as it came, but leaves him feeling wrung out and as if there is a thick lump of ice in the pit of his stomach.

All the gathered Jedi masters freeze and stare at each other, just briefly, before they shake themselves out of the stupor.

What was that?

“Happen, something did. Cry out, the Force did.” Master Yoda’s ears droop.

“Yes, I think we all felt it. But what was it?” Master Fisto looks troubled, his hand scratching his chin distractedly.

“Know that, I do not. Muddled, the Force still is. Drawn somewhere, I feel.” Master Yoda closes his eyes and tilts his head to the side—as if he’s trying to listen for something.

Mace closes his eyes, and reaches out for the Force. It’s twisting in turmoil, but too shadowed for Mace to truly make out what it is that has it in such disarray.

The Senate…

Like a whisper—sounding almost horrifically similar to Qui-Gon Jinn—reaches him through the Force. His eyes snap open and he finds himself staring straight into Master Yoda’s now open eyes.

“To the Council chambers, we must!” Stabbing his gimer stick in the floor, making a loud noise that makes everyone flinch, Master Yoda sets off. Mace follows him without hesitation, and the other Masters soon follow.

Rarely would one find the Masters of the Council running in a large cluster like this. But this is not the time for calm walks filled with contemplation and discussion, as is their norm, this is an emergency.

The Chambers are highly situated in a tower; from its windows they can see far across Coruscant. Mace knows they’ll be able to ascertain the truth of the whisper from the Force from there.

It doesn’t take long to reach the rooms, but Mace still feels almost out of breath when he reaches them, as if the air around them is heavier than usual. As if he’s not capable of drawing enough air into his lungs. He glances around to find the right direction, temporarily disoriented. He turns around almost a complete turn, and there it is, the Senate district.

Dark smoke is billowing toward the clear Coruscanti sky.

“On fire, something is, in the direction of the Senate.” Master Yoda’s ears droop and the Force in the room seems to grow almost stale and cold. They’re all almost certainly thinking the same thing.

It’s Master Tiin who voices the thought, “Master Kenobi.”

“Hurry, we must!”

“—and that’s when Master tripped on his robe and fell over straight into the mud!” Ahsoka laughs uproariously, and the troops listening to her story soon follow. The noise echoes through the mess hall and Anakin rolls his eyes and crosses his arms across his chest.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up, Snips,” he mutters. “How about the time you got your boot stuck in that vent, huh? You had to leave it behind and run around with only one boot for the rest of the mission because you also forgot to pack a spare pair!”

More laughter; Ahsoka looks at Anakin with a betrayed expression. The smugness of his face seems to radiate a feeling of ‘that’s right, two can play this game!’ She narrows his eyes at him.

“You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

Master Anakin looks even more smug now. “No, I promised I wouldn’t tell Obi-Wan, and he’s not here, is he?”

Ahsoka mutters into her cup as she takes a drink. That’s definitely cheating. Just for that, she’s gonna tell everyone about Anakin and the time he blew off the entire back of his robes and his pants.

“Well, what about—” she starts to say, but stops suddenly, breath caught in her throat. A cold feeling washes over her, the Force wails. Her eyes widen and she draws a sharp, shuddering breath. She looks at her Master and gets an identical look back, wide-eyed and worried.

Something is wrong.

Their troops immediately sober, they can tell something has happened. They cannot sense it themselves, but they recognise the signs in her and Master Anakin. She sees it in their ramrod straight backs and the subtle glances they cast around the room—as if they’re searching for danger.

“Is something wrong, Commander?” Rex says to Ahsoka, eyeing her and Anakin both with open worry. She opens her mouth to answer, but gets no sound out. She closes it again and wraps her arms around herself.

“Yeah, something is wrong, Rex. I don’t know what, but something is very wrong,” Anakin croaks.

He’s right. He is. She can feel it in her very bones. The Force is still now; cold. But the lingering feeling of something being wrong makes her stomach churn with dread.

“It felt like the Force screamed… and now it’s cold,” Ahsoka whispers and closes her eyes.

She trembles.

Padmé’s reading a piece of legislation when it happens.

The explosion seems to rock the entire building; the sound is deafening and everything shakes. Her plants fall over, her datapads and flimsi become a huge mess and her handmaidens soon form a tight cluster around her, even as the shaking dies down. One of her favourite vases has fallen to the floor and is now in a million pieces.

She stares at it, uncomprehending of what has just happened.

“We must leave the building, my lady!” Motée’s voice cuts through her stupor. She gets to her feet when the loudspeakers in the hall crackle to life.

“There is a fire in sector 23B-42H. All building occupants are requested to leave the building immediately.” The speaker repeats the message over and over as sirens begin to wail.

The Explosion.

A fire.

An attack on the Senate office building.

But why…?

Padmé considers the events even as she and her handmaidens hurry towards the outside, Motée’s hand clutching Padmé’s in an almost sweaty grip. These clothes were not made for running.

Padmé has never really considered the distance between her office and the nearest exit before, but now as they run, it feels as if it takes forever. The crowd of panicked beings pushing and struggling against each other all around her is almost claustrophobic, and she’s thankful for the barrier her handmaidens form around her.

“To the left, my Lady!” Dormée takes Padmé’s free hand and starts steering the group toward the exit.

As the cool air of a cloudy Coruscanti day washes over her, Padmé is struck by a sudden thought and a feeling of dread spreads through her stomach.

Obi-Wan…

Close enough as he is, Palpatine hears the explosion. He steps out on his balcony and watches the smoke rise from the Senate office building.

He smiles.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan thinks back to the previous night. He slept well, knowing that Master Yoda was watching over him, though he cannot help the feeling of shame that washes over him. He shouldn’t need Master Yoda’s help like this. He’s dealt with his prescience since he was a child, he should be used to it by now.

He tries to accept the feeling and let it go. He knows that Master Yoda would likely smack his shin with the gimer stick and say something about there being no shame in needing help, and how asking for it shows greater wisdom than breaking your back trying to carry all burdens on your own. Obi-Wan knows that Master Yoda would be appalled at the idea that asking for help is something to be ashamed of, that having limits is something to be embarrassed about.

The thought almost makes him feel a phantom ache in his shin, and he smiles. Yes, Master Yoda would likely find such nonsense from an adult Jedi worthy of a rap of the shin to remind him to be kinder to himself. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Obi-Wan turns back to the matter at hand.

The feeling of ever approaching danger has yet to leave, which means that whatever it is he’s being warned about, it has yet to happen. He stares at his planner and frowns slightly, tapping a finger softly against his desk. It’s difficult, to say the least, to plan for something when you don’t know what that something is.

Perhaps he should bring some troopers with him when he leaves his office for today’s meetings. Having a few extra pairs of eyes to search for danger would be beneficial. Not to mention that should something happen, having them around could very well help save lives.

He has a meeting with Senators Biwa, Himesh, Chuchi, and acting Vice-Chancellor Ha’han-ash regarding a treaty between Cyllian III and Illi-hian starting the ninth hour and set to end thirty minutes before lunch at twelfth hour. At the thirteenth hour his meeting with Bail Organa regarding a bill concerning the relocation of war refugees will start.

Obi-Wan rubs his beard and considers his predicament again. He cannot bring all his troopers. Some must remain to guard his offices—he has too many important documents and notes in them to risk leaving them unattended. Besides, bringing too many guards could be taken as an insult; the Senators could see it as Obi-Wan implying that they’re untrustworthy or that he suspects some sort of foul play.

Any other day, Obi-Wan would go to the meeting alone; he generally hasn’t been bringing guards to meetings where he doesn’t leave the upper floors of the Senate office building, but with the way the Force is—constantly sending out warning signals…

Well. Obi-Wan simply cannot risk it. He’s not one to play fast and loose with people’s lives. Not to mention the potential for political fallout from accidental perceived slights or favouritism…

Obi-Wan shakes his head again. He’ll bring Waxer and Boil with him for the day, the rest of the troopers will stay in the guard room to make sure no one gets into the office, or stationed around the Office building.

Decision made, Obi-Wan glances to the clock again, nodding to himself. He’ll have to leave soon unless he wants to arrive late, which means discussing his plans with the men immediately.

He puts his planner down and gets to his feet. Politics wait for no man.

Obi-Wan glances at the clock discreetly. The meeting was supposed to end thirty minutes before lunch hour, but now it is already fifteen minutes past lunch hour. Senator Biwa has gone over the set meeting time by almost forty-five minutes already. Lunch hour has started and if Obi-Wan wants to have time to eat anything besides rations bar from his office before his next meeting, this one must wrap up quickly.

“All in all, I think it’s clear that Cyllian III has broken the treaty with Illi-hian and as Senator of Illi-hian I cannot allow it to stand. I’m sure you understand, Chancellor,” Senator Biwa says, his nasal voice picking up a few octaves toward the end of the sentence.

“I understand your position, Senator, and I appreciate that you called for a private meeting with a few neutral parties present—including myself—before you brought this before the Senate as a whole,” Obi-Wan says smoothly. If he wants this meeting to end, he will need to play his cards right. “At the same time, I also understand Senator Himesh’s position, and I believe that further investigation into the treaty and the situation is warranted before any decisions are made.”

Senator Chuchi nods her head. “I much agree with Chancellor Kenobi.” She casts a glance toward the other senators before she continues, “And I’m very pleased to see that you are both willing to negotiate and discuss the situation with diplomacy before any drastic measures are taken.”

Her words very much go in line with the sort of person Obi-Wan has come to understand that she is. Her experiences on Orto Plutonia seem to have shaped much of her views regarding battle and diplomacy. She shows a controlled temper and a calm personality, with the timidity she had during that time now gone, she’s grown into her role.

She would likely have made a good Jedi, Obi-Wan thinks to himself with a small smile.

“Agreed,” Senator Ha'han-ash says, tilting her head to the side. “I must ask that this meeting draws to a close now, as I’m afraid it’s already past lunch hour and I will soon have other duties that demands my attention; as, I’m sure, do you all as well.”

Senator Biwa momentarily looks as if he wishes to argue, but finds himself without anything to say. He nods and murmurs an agreement instead. Senator Himesh glances at him, and follows suit.

Obi-Wan looks at Boil and Waxer, standing on each side of his chair, though just one step behind, before he returns his attention to the gathered politicians.

“I must thank you for the meeting, gentlebeings. I will ensure an independent and neutral investigation is conducted, and once it finishes, I will call you all for another meeting.” Obi-Wan smiles blandly at the gathered group.

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Senator Biwa says, “I will leave it in your capable hands.”

Obi-Wan gets to his feet and makes a customary Jedi bow, years of habit from diplomatic missions hard to curb. He may be the person with the greatest power, both physically and politically, in this room, but it would be truly gauche to remind the others of it.

The Force is all but screaming in Obi-Wan’s head, like warning sirens going off in a failing spaceship. It’s a rising crescendo in the back of his mind and soon it becomes an almost physical itch. The sensation as a whole is much as if every passing moment takes him closer and closer to whatever it is the Force has been warning him about—as if he’s a hair’s breadth from impact.

Senator Chuchi and Vice-Chancellor Ha’han-ash step up to him as Senators Biwa and Himesh draw away from the group—away from the meeting table toward Senator Biwa’s personal desk—to discuss something in low voices. Normally, Obi-Wan would be able to listen in on their conversation, but with the constant warnings from the Force and his need to pay attention to other things he finds it too much effort. Not to mention rude.

He can only hope that they’re not going to get into an argument regarding the treaty and will instead keep level heads as they already have. Obi-Wan really would hate it if they were to stop being so reasonable.

Senator Chuchi brushing a strand of hair out of her face catches his attention, and he turns his attention to her more fully.

“What is your schedule for the rest of the day, Chancellor?” she says and graces him with a small smile.

“In the immediate, I will have lunch. After lunch hour has passed, I have a meeting with Senator Organa. Said meeting is expected to take up the rest of my afternoon,” he says and smiles in return.

“I see,” she says and pauses briefly before she continues, “I was wondering if, perhaps, you and Vice-Chancellor Ha'han-ash might be willing to join me for lunch?”

Obi-Wan blinks in surprise. Unexpected, but not unpleasant.

“I would be delighted to.” He turns to Ha’han-ash. “What do you say, Vice-Chancellor?”

She inclines her head again, her large horns making the movement seem more exaggerated than it actually is. “I believe that would be a lovely way to pass the lunch hour,” she says and makes her people’s customary gesture of thanks with her left hand—signalling her appreciation of having been invited. “Do lead the way, Senator Chuchi.”

Obi-Wan nods and turns to the other two senators to bid his farewell. “Well then, Senator Himesh, Senator Biwa, we will take our leave first. May the Force be with you,” he says and bows slightly again.

The two nod, bow a bit, and give their own farewells in return. Senator Himesh’s long neck sways slightly—the movement is slightly reminiscent of the Kaminoans.

Kaminoans… Kamino… the Inhibitor Chips… No mention of them beyond that one memo in the databases… as far as he could find… Oh!

The virus! Of course! It was rewriting files when Ellée neutralised it, so who’s to say that it didn’t have time to alter a few other files before she noticed? Which means that there is a possibility of unaltered records in the back-up files, just as there were with the mission reports!

Of course there was something he was missing last night!

He’ll have to contact Ellée for access to one of the backup drives immediately. Senator Chuchi and Vice Chancellor Ha'han-ash won’t begrudge him a single comm. Or perhaps he should—!

The Force screams at Obi-Wan. The ghost sensation of fire washes over him and suddenly he knows.

He flinches backwards, bumping into Boil and Waxer, and gathers the Force around everyone close enough for him to reach in an instant—

The explosions tear through the room.

Riyo Chuchi cries out in pain as she’s thrown across the room and slams straight into the wall, banging her head before she crashes to the floor, her head smashing against it.

Her ears ring and hurt and she feels dizzy. There’s an ache in her arm, there are black spots in her vision, and she wants to scream with the pain. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to breathe through it, tries to calm down.

What in the Core Worlds happened?

She opens her eyes to take in her surroundings and is met with complete chaos.

There is debris everywhere, something is spewing smoke, and—! Before she can properly catalogue everything there’s a loud crashing sound and she’s moving against her will, rolling down something.

She cries out, her injured arm slamming against the ground with every rotation, before she comes to a stop, smashing into something hard and full of sharp edges.

More rumbling, the sound of a siren, the crackle of fire and then further agony. Her leg is burning and she finally screams.

By the Fates Above, she can barely breathe through the pain as she tries to roll away, tries to move, but the agony is threatening to tear her apart.

Her left arm will not move, but with a surge of adrenaline she moves into a sitting position without using it to support herself.

With the edge of her thick cloak she pats out the fire on her skirt, regardless of the pain each pat against the injured flesh causes.

“Fates preserve me,” she breathes, chest heaving and tears overflowing her eyes.

“There is a fire in sector 23B-42H. All building occupants are requested to leave the building immediately.” The robotic voice from the speakers startles her, muffled and almost drowned out by the ringing in her ears.

She looks away from the terrible sight of her burned leg to take in her surroundings instead.

The burning debris is so hot. She slowly inches away from it further, both to get away from the heat and to avoid breathing in the hot air or the smoke.

Above her is a large hole, though smoke is obscuring most of what is above. The floor of Senator Biwa’s office giving way due to the structural instability caused by the explosion must have been what set her rolling.

Senator Biwa… That’s right, she wasn’t alone. She starts scanning her surroundings more closely, where are the others?

She has to find someone else. She looks around, she can either move to the left, or to the right. She closes her eyes, swallows heavily, and then chooses to go right.

Crawling with an injured leg and a useless arm is harder than Riyo could have ever imagined, but she needs to find someone else. She can’t bear the thought that she might be the only survivor. Not to mention, she wants to get as far away from the source of the fire and the billowing smoke as possible. She knows that if she inhales that hot air…

The ringing in her ears hasn’t let up, but she can still hear other things—the groaning of duracrete and durasteel, the sparking of broken wires, the crackle of fire, the constant repetitive robotic message telling everyone to evacuate the building…

As she moves her left arm hangs uselessly at her side, and she knows that without it she has no chance of climbing back up the piece of flooring she rolled down. No, she needs to find a way out—a door, anything—on this floor level.

That, or someone who can help her.

It likely doesn’t take her long to hear the sound of coughing in front of her, though every moment feels like an eternity. She continues her slow crawl and rounds a corner.

“Vice-Chancellor Ha'han-ash!” she exclaims loudly, flooded with relief at finally seeing another living soul.

Ha'han-ash is sitting against the wall, holding her hands over the lower part of her face, obscuring it from view.

“Senator Chuchi!” Ha'han-ash says, though it comes out slightly muffled by her hands. In the low light, Riyo can see a trickle of blood sliding down her forehead and onto one of her hands.

“Are you… are you terribly injured, Senator?” Riyo asks, crawling closer.

Ha'han-ash shakes her head, but keeps her hands firmly covering the lower half of her face.

“Not as such, no. I think I might have some damaged ribs, possibly some damage to my airways, but my people are hardy and with thick skin.” Her voice is hoarse and strained. “However, I believe the Chancellor must have done… something to lessen the effects of the blast. I saw him flinch and lift his hands just before the explosion occurred.”

Riyo frowns, and tries to think back. Had Chancellor Kenobi moved? She can’t remember. The one thing she does remember, however, is seeing is his face and the sudden pallor on it.

“Perhaps he… sensed something? Through the Force?” She finally manages to arrange herself in a mostly comfortable position, though her leg hurts more than she can truly bear. It’s hard to concentrate with the constant smarting of agony. She all but collapses against the wall, letting it hold her weight. “I will admit that I know nothing about how the Force works.”

Senator Ha'han-ash turns her head to the side slightly, the movement looks odd with the way she keeps her hands over her face. Why is she—?

“Your veil!” Riyo speaks her thought as soon as it pops into her head.

“It seems to have gotten lost in the blast, and I have nothing to replace it with unless I tear a bit from my dress. However…” she trails off and won’t meet Riyo’s eyes anymore.

Riyo’s eyebrows knit in confusion and her mouth turn downward, why is Senator Ha'han-ash suddenly not looking at her? She knows she’s covering her face with her hands because her veil is missing but—!

Oh. Of course. If her veil is missing, then she must use something else to cover the lower half of her face in front of others, as is the custom of her people.

“I assume I arrived before you could do so,” Riyo concludes, nodding to herself. “I will look away, and you can tear a bit from my dress, Vice-Chancellor, it’s already ruined,” she offers, before she closes her eyes and turns her face away.

“Thank you, Senator Chuchi.” The words are heartfelt, and Riyo smiles despite the situation at hand.

Boil has seen his fair share of explosions as a soldier, but he’s never been actively caught in one before. He’s certain the General did something—since Boil’s not dead—and the only thing he can think of that could possibly allow you to survive being in the middle of an explosion would be some kind of Jedi Force thing.

His armour seems to have shielded him from the worst of it too. Cataloguing his injuries, he knows he’s a little banged up—his elbow is hurting like a fucking gundark has been gnawing on it and something seems to be dribbling out of his left ear—but in a mostly good condition.

Ugh, ear dribble.

He shakes his head to clear it, resolutely ignoring the slight dizziness he feels and starts taking in his surroundings. He needs to find Waxer, the General, and the senators. Any potential health issues can wait until he’s made sure that they aren’t worse off than he is.

The surrounding area is a fucking mess, not that Boil expected anything else considering the explosion. He appears to be on one of the last pieces of floor in his vicinity that hasn’t crumbled down into the room beneath the office. There’s a gaping crater, more or less, with smoke billowing out of it and there are glass shards from the utterly demolished windows everywhere.

He should call for backup and definitely healers too.

He checks his comm. No lights. No response. Fuck. It’s completely fried. The shock wave of the explosion must have taken it out. Boil rubs a hand over his helmet visor and hopes that Waxer’s comm survived.

So. If comming for help is going to have to wait, then the next step is finding survivors and ensuring the General and Waxer’s safety… And the other Senators’ as well, but Boil can acknowledge his priorities in his own head.

Glancing back to where he knew two senators had been standing when the blast rocked the room, he sees two crumbled bodies, one of them half buried in debris.

Shit.

He gets to his feet, knowing he needs to check the bodies first, before he goes down the hole—otherwise he risks not being able to get back up.

He moves slowly, almost like he’s sneaking, as he makes his way over, occasionally testing the floor first, unwilling to risk making more flooring fall and possibly land on someone.

The floor, despite its condition, seems mostly stable. He doesn’t hear any cracking noises or the like. In fact, Boil’s surprised with how quiet everything is. Shouldn’t some sort of alarm system have gone off considering there was an explosion?

Perhaps the alarm system got taken out by whoever planted the bombs?

Shaking his head, Boil decides that speculation will have to wait. Right now he needs to check up on everyone else and comm for help. With a resolute nod to himself, Boil continues on his way to the two bodies.

Senator Himesh—who looked a bit like a cross between a Mon Calamari and a lothcat but with a long neck—is the closest. Half his body is covered beneath the remains of what was probably a desk once.

He isn’t moving. At all. In fact, Boil can’t even see any rise and fall of his chest.

Fuck. Shit. Sithspit. May the waters of Kamino swallow the bomber whole.

Boil removes his left glove and puts his hand around the nose area. No breaths. He presses his fingers to Himesh’s neck instead, looking for a pulse. However, he quickly realises the futility of it as he has no idea where he should be feeling it—he’s not a medic, and he’s certainly never seen anyone of Himesh’s species before—and he decides to test the wrist instead.

No luck. As far as Boil can tell, the senator is as dead as a Kaminoan seeeel fish on Tatooine.

Boil shakes his head and gets to his feet, tucking his glove into his belt for now, and moves on. There’s nothing to be gained by staying with the dead.

He walks around the desk and heads over to the second slumped body.

Body turns out to be the right word too, because Senator Biwa is definitely dead. There’s blood coming from his nose and ears, and there’s…

Boil gets back to his feet and puts his glove back on, no need to check for a pulse. He might not be a medic, but there’s no way Biwa survived that.

Both bodies confirm Boil’s suspicions about how the General must have used the Force to somehow shield the people who were close to him, because he’s in too good shape compared to these two. He was close enough to the blast that the shock wave should have fucked his lungs up at the very least, but they seem to be just fine.

Shaking his head and sighing, Boil returns to the large hole. He’ll need to get down there to see if he can find someone else. The rest of them should be okay, though—aside from possibly Waxer—not in as good shape as Boil, considering their lack of armour.

Getting down the hole is easy, the floor has collapsed in a way that’s more or less created a slide. It seems to be mostly dark down the hole—was it a storage room without windows beneath Biwa’s office?—at least partly because of the smoke rising from it.

Carefully sliding down the floor piece, Boil wonders if the lights were turned off in the room below or if simply no lights survived the explosion.

He can see a bit of fire, but the smoke is thankfully rising and being swept out the broken windows in the office above—less chance of anyone getting issues with smoke inhalation then.

Reaching the bottom, he looks around; once at the bottom he can see that it’s slightly dim from many broken lights, but not so much that he can’t see—some still work and the fire is pretty much a light source, as are the sparks from broken wires.

Boil finds himself at a crossroad: either he goes left or he goes right, and he has no way of knowing which way would be the most beneficial.

He starts to go to the right, but changes his mind quickly. He’s not sure why, but he feels like he should go left first—maybe the General and his ‘feelings’ have started to rub off on Boil. Turning on his heel swiftly, ignoring the way his elbow smarts and the black spots that appear in his vision from the abrupt movement, Boil sets off to the left—hopefully to find Waxer.

Walking around the huge slabs of duracrete and durasteel, Boil catches sight of Waxer almost immediately. Looks like the Force is with him, as the General would say. It’s also now that Boil realises that his hearing must be out, because Waxer has removed his helmet and is clearly cursing up a storm, but Boil can’t hear it at all.

Shit.

“Waxer!” He can’t even hear himself. Fuck fuck fuck.

Boil hurries over and sees quickly why Waxer is cursing: one of his legs is trapped beneath a heavy looking slab of debris.

Waxer turns to him and starts talking, gesturing towards his leg and the mess holding him in place. He’s speaking so swiftly that Boil doesn’t have a chance to read his lips, and wouldn’t even if he’d been trained for it.

“Waxer, Waxer!” Boil has no idea how loudly he’s saying it, but by the way it seems to give Waxer pause, it’s likely way louder than normal. “I can’t hear shit, I think the blast has deafened me.”

Waxer pales, presses his lips together, and nods resolutely in understanding.

“Does your comm work? Mine doesn’t, and we need to call for backup and healers.” Boil shakes his arm a bit to show the lack of lights coming from the comm.

Waxer immediately starts digging into his pocket—so he wasn’t wearing it when the blast hit?—and brings up his comm. Unlike Boil’s, this one’s lights are glowing. Waxer messes with it for a bit then gives Boil a thumbs-up.

He moves through a rapid series of field signs, [Will comm for backup and healers. Find the General,] before he turns to his comm and starts to enter a number sequence, likely for the Jedi Temple or the brothers still in the General’s office.

“Senator Biwa and Himesh are both dead, I haven’t found anyone else besides you yet.”

[Understood.] Waxer’s face is set in grim determination.

Nodding resolutely to himself, Boil gets to his feet. Waxer is fine, mostly, and now Boil needs to find their general.

Obi-Wan stares blankly into nothing and tries very hard to keep breathing, despite the utter agony of it.

He can’t move, even the tiniest of movement sends shocks of pain through him, worse than the constant throbbing of his chest. Breathing hurts and he takes slow, shallow breaths.

He’s not getting enough air, he knows as much, but any attempt to draw deeper breaths sends a wave of pain through his systems. Better to try and minimise the pain felt and hopefully be able to keep his wits about him longer.

What happened?

He swallows and blinks a few times, trying to make his vision stop spinning. The dizziness is worse than any he can remember in recent history. It’s much like the time when he contracted a rather bad concussion as a Padawan.

He closes his eyes and swallows again, trying to keep his breathing even if shallow, trying to stay calm despite it all.

They had finished the meeting. And then… What happened?

The senators.

Waxer and Boil.

Where is everyone? Where is he?

He looks around without moving his head, the disarray and destruction around him indicates some sort of explosion. No one else is here… What if they’re all dead? What if he’s the only one still alive?

The Force is silent. It seems… it seems this explosion was what it was trying to warn him about. However, he… He walked straight into it. He brought Waxer and Boil into it. If he’d gone alone, then at least they would have been safe.

Now…

Now he doesn’t… he doesn’t know if they’re even…

He blinks his eyes open. The pain is constant, and the worst of it is in his chest. He should… he should catalogue his injuries. Try to focus and see if there’s anything he can do something about.

He should be trying to move, trying to find the others and…

What was he thinking about? He tries to focus, tries to remember, but his head is spinning and he’s in so much pain.

Pain.

Injuries.

He was supposed to catalogue his injuries. He opens his eyes resolutely.

Sitting up is a far greater challenge than Obi-Wan could have ever imagined. He’s barely lifted his head a millimeter off the ground before he must stop, the strain on his chest too painful.

So, no sitting up to catalogue his injuries; he’ll have to do it lying down.

Obi-Wan relaxes his facial muscles, keeps his eyes closed, and tries to even out his erratic and painful breathing once more. If he can’t sit up and look, he’ll have to catalogue his injuries by what sort of pain he feels and where he feels it.

The pain in his chest is similar to being stabbed—he recognises the feeling well enough. His time as a Jedi has been fairly tumultuous, in great part due to the war, so he’s been stabbed a few times before. However, those injuries were likely not as severe as the stab injury currently afflicting his chest. If there is such a thing as a stab injury that isn’t severe.

Clenching his eyes shut harder, Obi-Wan tries to focus on his breathing properly. He feels not just dizzy, but also light-headed, as if he’s not getting enough air. The horrifying thought feels familiar, somehow.

He pushes that away; he shouldn’t get side-tracked. He needs to determine the severity of his stab wound beyond the obvious “to the chest” and “very painful when breathing”. He moves his left hand slowly, sliding it across his chest to try and find the wound.

It doesn’t take him long, and his hand closes around a long, round thing sticking out of his chest. The shock makes Obi-Wan stop breathing for what feels like an eternity.

The feeling of having been stabbed, trouble breathing, this durasteel rod… Oh.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes and angles his head—moving his chin toward his chest without lifting his head from the floor, ignoring the almost painful way his scalp scrapes against it.

The angle is bad, the light is dim, and his vision is swimming, but Obi-Wan can still see the durasteel rebar—which must be piercing straight through his chest—quite clearly. Blood gleams on its surface and Obi-Wan has to swallow down panic.

He’s dying, isn’t he? He hasn’t heard anyone move, hasn’t heard anyone so much as call for him, so help doesn’t seem to be coming, and unless he gets help quickly… Even if the reinforcement bar is stopping the worst of the bleeding and hindering air from entering the chest cavity… He needs medical attention soon.

He’s dying. He’s dying and he’ll die alone.

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.

The mantra, familiar as it is, is no help here. Obi-Wan finds that he cannot find any peace or serenity in the uncertainty and pain of his situation. He’s known he could die at almost any moment for years due to the war, and yet…

He clenches his eyes shut again, finds that he cannot stand to keep looking at the blood covered piece of durasteel any longer. He feels ill. There’s a piece of durasteel rebar going straight through his chest.

The thought enters his head, panicked and unbidden; some of the last words he’ll ever say to Anakin and Ahsoka: “Like Master, like Padawan.”

Master Qui-Gon died by being pierced through the chest with a lightsaber, and now Obi-Wan will…

The hysterical giggle wheezes out of his mouth. The shortness of his breath is as terrifying as the knowledge that he will die alone.

“Obi-Wan. Little one. Please don’t despair. Help will come, you must only hold on long enough.”

Oh. That achingly familiar voice.

Obi-Wan gasps for breath, every single one rattling his chest and sending spikes of pain through him. So this is how it will go. If there is no real companionship to be had as he dies—what happened to the others? Waxer and Boil? The senators?—then it appears he will hallucinate some.

“Oh, Padawan mine, you cannot give up now,” Qui-Gon’s voice says, strain and worry apparent in a way it rarely was in life.

When Obi-Wan finally relents and opens his eyes, he’s met with a sight he didn’t expect. The illusion of his old, long-dead Master is glowing, faintly blue, and quite see-through—not solid and real looking as he would have expected.

Why would he hallucinate a ghost as his sole companion during his last moments?

“Please, Obi-Wan, try to focus,” the ghost says and kneels down, bringing its face that much closer to Obi-Wan’s own. One of its big hands brushes some stray hair out of Obi-Wan’s face—it feels like a gentle breeze.

“You will survive this, Padawan mine, because of your use of the Force.”

The Force? What…? He tries to remember.

They had just finished the meeting and were heading out to have lunch, and then… Nothing. It’s a blur. Why is he here? What happened? What did he do?

“W-what?” he croaks.

“You shielded yourself, and the others close to you, from the worst of the blast… Help will get here in time, Obi-Wan.”

The blast? The others? What others?

…

Oh. Oh, that’s right. The senators, Waxer and Boil. Yes, they were close to him. Where are they?

He’s alone, wherever he is. Hallucinations don’t count as company.

Oh…

He’ll die alone.

It’s now that Obi-Wan realises that for some reason, some reason he cannot quite understand, he always expected someone else to be there when he died.

Perhaps Anakin, during a mission gone wrong. Or Ahsoka during the same.

Perhaps Cody, in the midst of war and battle.

Perhaps surrounded by friends, old and finally at his end, in the Jedi Temple.

He’s never considered dying alone before.

That… that’s where he differs from his Master. At least… At least Master Qui-Gon didn’t die in solitude.

Pierced through the chest and definitely dying, Obi-Wan finds himself glad that he was there for his Master’s last moments—whatever little comfort he might have been, because he sorely wishes for the same now.

“Oh, Obi-Wan, please don’t despair. I am one with the Force, and the Force is always with you, and so, I am always with you. You must only hold on a little longer, and I am so very proud of you.”

Oh. Well.

“I was there…” Obi-Wan wheezes, “when you died… Perhaps it is… fitting… That I see you… now when I die…” It’s so hard to breathe, and so hard to speak. His eyelids feel heavy, like slabs of durasteel. Obi-Wan struggles to keep his eyes open, to keep looking at this mirage. Even if it’s not real, it’s a sight sorely missed.

The ghost of his Master looks so very sad, suddenly, but Obi-Wan simply smiles at the mirage. He wishes he could be held like when he was young, just one last time, but he knows it’s impossible. Hallucinations brought on by the spinning mind of a dying man cannot touch you.

Master Qui-Gon’s ghost says nothing more, simply leans over and kisses Obi-Wan’s forehead. Obi-Wan finally closes his eyes. The pain is immense, but perhaps there is peace to be found in his dying moments after all.

There is no death, there is the Force.

Chapter Text

Vokara Che is drinking a glass of water when it happens.

The Force shrieks, tearing through her, and in her shock her grip on the glass slips. It crashes against the floor of the Halls of Healing, splintering into a million pieces and splashing water everywhere. She pays it no attention, still lost in the feeling that washed over her through the Force.

Coming back to herself, Vokara looks around the Halls; all the other healers have stopped just as she did, looking around as if searching for danger—which means Vokara was not the only one who felt it. That is interesting, but also horrifying in its implications. What in the core worlds happened?

“Master Che?” Alana Kee, a Zabraki Jedi Knight specialised in burn injuries, calls for Vokara’s attention, her voice shaking. “W-what was that? You must have felt it too, Master…”

“I did.” She stares at the broken glass at her feet, uncomprehending. Slowly, oh so slowly, understanding dawns. “Whatever it was, it must have been what Master Yoda asked us to be vigilant of this morning…” she trails off, horrified at the implications.

“Everyone! Grab the kits I had you pack this morning! We could get a call at any moment and time could be of the essence!”

There’s a mad scramble in the Halls, all healers not occupied with patients rush to get their field kits.

Vokara stares at the main comm, hoping it will ring and that it won’t.

Minutes pass, slow and excruciating due to the ringing coldness of the Force. And then—!

Beep! Beep! Beep!

She reaches out for the comm, her hand shaking almost imperceptibly, and answers, “Halls of Healing, Master Healer Vokara Che speaking.”

“Yoda, this is.” The grandmaster sounds stressed, from the background she can hear the sounds of running. Her stomach turns, but she steels herself with a deep breath.

“Master Yoda. Is this about the Force crying out?” Her voice feels strained and sounds it, even to her own ears.

“Felt it, did you?”

“We all did.”

There’s a brief pause, the Grandmaster likely collecting his thoughts, slotting this new piece of information in with the others.

“An explosion at the Senate, there was. Commed for help, a trooper did. To the hanger, Master Che, you must come.”

An explosion. At the Senate.

“Is Master Kenobi…?” she trails off, unsure how to word her question.

“Know, we do not. Unable to move, the trooper was. Know Master Kenobi’s status, he did not. Injured, Master Kenobi could be.”

“We’ve already packed out field kits, I should be able to make it to the hanger with a few other healers in five minutes.”

“Good, that is. Hurry, we must.”

The comm ends. Vokara takes a short steadying breath, before she turns to the room at large, looking at her fellow healers.

“Kee, Malan, Brahaa, Mil, and Pulsarleap, with me. The rest of you, prepare beds and bacta tanks. There has been an explosion at the Senate, Master Kenobi could be injured, we do not know his status as of yet. There could also be other injured parties, so prepare as many as we can spare. Make haste!”

“Yes, Master Che!”

Padmé hugs herself as she stares at the smoke rising from the senate office building. Many senators and their entourages have already left the premises to return to their apartments, unwilling to stay close to the possible danger. Padmé, however, finds herself unwilling to leave. She hasn’t seen any signs of Obi-Wan, and that… that can only mean bad news.

“My lady, we really should return to the apartments. You’ll be much safer there,” Motée says, standing close to Padmé, a source of warmth and strength.

“No, Motée. Not until I know more about what happened.” She shakes her head. “Besides, the attack wasn’t against me.”

Motée looks like she wishes to argue, but ultimately relents with a soft ‘yes, my lady’ and returns to keeping a close eye to their surroundings.

“Padmé!” Bail Organa calls out from across the plaza, his large frame easily recognisable.

Relief washes over her as he hurries over to her. “Oh Bail, I’m so glad to see you safe. I have such a horrible feeling…”

He grasps her hands gently in his own. “I’m so relieved to see that you’re unharmed. While I knew the affected section was rather far from yours… Well, you can never know where someone is in the building, can you?” He smiles weakly, likely worrying about the same thing Padmé is.

“Do… do you know anything about Obi-Wan, Bail?” It’s a long shot, but if he knows, then…

Sabé’s hand is warm on the small of her back, a light grounding pressure.

Bail shakes his head sadly. “Unfortunately not. We had a meeting scheduled at thirteenth hour, but… I don’t know where he was to be before then. If he was in the Chancellor’s offices when the bombs went off he should be fine, but… Well, his schedule is only available to him, so I can’t know for sure.”

“Of course not.” Padmé concedes the point with a tilt of her head. If the senatorial schedules, the Supreme Chancellor’s especially, weren’t locked behind numerous firewalls to keep them safe, assassinations would be far easier to facilitate as bounty hunters or assassins could check in advance where their target is supposed to be.

There’s a brief pause. Padmé swallows and tries to gather her thoughts.

"Do you think…” she trails off, unsure how to finish her own sentence. Could Obi-Wan have been in the epicenter of the blast? What if he’s in there right now, dead on the ground, as they stand here unknowing?

“Calm yourself, Padmé. Don’t imagine the worst just yet, it’s fully possible his guards simply smuggled him out a different route to keep him hidden and safe. We don’t know that he’s been hurt, so we should keep our hopes up.”

Padmé chuckles, though it wavers and sounds rather shrill. “I would feel much better if the emergency response forces were here already and taking care of things, or at the very least the judicial forces.” She shakes her head. “This is the Senate Office building and yet the response from the judicial forces and medical emergency teams has been unforgivably slow!”

As she says the words, the sound of a ship landing draws her attention. It’s not one of the standard ships, in fact it—!

“A temple ship? What are the Jedi doing here? And how did they get here so quickly?” Bail sounds puzzled.

Padmé’s stomach drops to her feet and a lump forms in her throat.

“Wouldn’t the troopers guarding Obi-Wan have a comm-number to the Temple?” she rasps out and swallows thickly.

Bail stares at her, eyes wide, before he turns back to the smoking building.

“Oh no…”

“Go first, you should, Master Koon. With you, Master Che take. Stay here, Master Fisto and I will. Talk to the Judicial forces, someone must,” Master Yoda says just before the ship lands outside the building.

“Understood, Master Yoda,” Master Koon says, and nods to Vokara. She nods in return before she turns to the other Jedi waiting.

“We’ll be heading into a building that is currently on fire. Be alert, we do not know if there are more bombs waiting or not. A clone trooper called Waxer has informed us that there are huge slabs of debris we might have to move, so be prepared for anything. We do not know how many injured there are, so stay on your guard and search for survivors through the Force. Master Kenobi and the Senators may be our main priority, but we cannot be remiss with any other lives who might have been caught in the blast.”

“Yes, Master Che,” Master Mil says with a nod, the others around her nodding in agreement.

The ship doors open and Vokara and Koon step out into the light in tandem. The plaza is less crowded than she would have expected, but perhaps a lot of the senators have simply left. Unimportant at the moment. If they find any still inside, then it will be something to think about.

She nods at Koon, and with a short application of the Force they’re off running. There’s no time to waste—lives might depend on them getting there quickly.

Padmé stares as a group of Jedi sprint toward the office building. They’re too fast for her to make out many details, but she could swear it’s Master Koon of the High Council at the front of the group.

“Master Yoda!” Bail's voice rings out. Padmé turns her attention to him, and then follows his line of sight.

Standing by the transport is Master Yoda and a green-skinned nautolan Jedi Padmé is sure she recognises, but whose name she can’t seem to place at the moment. Behind them, moving inside of the transport, are a few other Jedi she doesn’t recognise.

Bail walks up towards them at a fast pace; Padmé quickly follows but has to jog to keep up with his large strides.

“Senator Organa, Senator Amidala. Good to see you well, it is,” Master Yoda says as a way of greeting.

“Master Yoda,” Padmé says slightly breathlessly, “What brings the Jedi to the Senate?” She glances back at her handmaidens, who’ve fallen back to allow some small privacy, while remaining close enough to protect her should anything occur.

“Called by a clone trooper, we were. Help with the aftermath of the explosion, we will. Healers, we have already sent in.”

Healers being on-site, Jedi healers at that, does ease Padmé’s worries somewhat. If there are injured people inside the building, they couldn’t be in better hands.

“We’ve remained behind to speak with the Coruscant emergency response teams and judicial forces once they arrive,” the Nautolan Jedi says and crosses his arms over his chest. “And one healer has remained to keep sick transport prepared for any injured people the search team come across.”

“That is comforting to hear, Master Fisto,” Bail says with a nod.

Oh, yes, Fisto. Master Kit Fisto of the Jedi High Council, that’s who the Nautolan Jedi is, now Padmé remembers. In fact, she’s a bit embarrassed that she forgot in the first place, but she forgives herself considering the circumstances.

“However, Master Jedi, is there perhaps anything you could tell me about Chancellor Kenobi? I’m… quite worried, I’m sure you understand,” Bail continues, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Tell you, we cannot. Have news for you, we do not. Remain silent on the topic, we must.” Master Yoda’s ears droop, and he looks older than Padmé has ever seen him before. Her stomach twists and she worries. That does not sound promising.

“There is a fire in sector 23B-42H. All building occupants are requested to leave the building immediately,” the mechanic voice drones on and on, as the Jedi move through the empty halls as fast as they can.

Stretching his senses out, Plo Koon finds some life forces ahead of them. They should be nearing the epicentre of the blast soon, which means they should soon come upon injured people—be it senators or administrative staff.

“Help! Please! Someone!” A voice, hoarse and strained, calls out. A survivor. One who likely has not had contact with anyone else yet. Boil likely did not find her during his investigation of the surroundings before meeting up with Waxer, then.

Rounding a corner, Plo skids to a halt. The destruction of the hallway is immense, and on the floor, covered in cuts and with pieces of plastisteel and durasteel embedded in their body is a female Chagrain.

“Help, someone please help me!” she calls out again, before she breaks down into sobs. He moves toward her, but Master Che is faster, with another Twi’lek hot on her heels.

He watches as they kneel down next to the injured woman, speaking to her in low voices, soothing. Then Master Che reaches out with one hand and gently touches the woman’s forehead and she falls asleep.

“Knight Malan, take her back to the ship and have them prepare her for surgery and bacta immersion,” Master Che says to the Twi’lek at her side.

“Yes, Master Che,” Knight Malan says with a nod, her lekku twitching, before they both get back to their feet.

Master Che’s eyes meet Plo’s. “We keep going,” she says resolutely.

“Do you hear something?” Ha'han-ash says, her head tilted to the side. There is… something, in the far away. A voice, she thinks, though indistinct.

“Do you mean besides the messaging system telling us to evacuate the building?” Senator Chuchi’s face is strained, and her blue skin has taken on a grey hue—almost ashen—and sweat gleams on her face. Ha'han-ash presumes the pain of her injuries must be immense; the damage to her leg looks awful.

“I think… someone might be coming for us,” Ha’han-ash says, though it strains her voice terribly. Unless they get help soon, she fears… Well… The trooper who found them said his partner is calling for backup, so they should be found soon.

Someone must come soon. If they don’t… Ha'han-ash would prefer not to think about it, but with the way Senator Chuchi looks and the way her own lungs feel—breathing is heavy, voice is strained, drawing breath hurts—she doesn’t think they can go much longer without medical attention.

Boil, as the clone trooper had introduced himself, had told them that his partner was calling for help, so the Jedi should be coming. She has great faith in them, they will be here soon, and their skills with healing is greater than almost any others in the galaxy. They will be fine.

If they can just hold out long enough.

She closes her eyes and lets herself slump back against the wall, much like Chuchi already has, and tries to focus on keeping her breathing steady. She… she wishes that Clone Trooper Boil had stayed, but she understands that he had to keep searching for the Chancellor—of course he did—but she simply would have felt more secure with him still here.

The ominous creaking of the roof above them and the crackle of fire from far away leaves her acutely aware of their situation.

Bombs. In Senator Biwa’s office… Why in the core worlds would anyone want to assassinate him? He’s of a mid-rim world of minimal influence in the senate at large. Of course, if Cyllian III really wished to get out of this whole dispute about the deal, then killing the senator would certainly be a working solution… for a time.

But… it doesn’t make sense. It’s a plausible explanation for sure, but why would they have set off the bombs on the same day as their own senator would be visiting Senator Biwa’s offices?

Unless they didn’t know… The senatorial schedules aren’t open to the public. They’re stored on Senate servers behind multiple firewalls… But…

She breaks off into harsh coughing that rattles her chest and leaves her heaving for breath. Her head spins and she presses one hand to her mouth, the other clenching in her dress.

She tries to keep calm, but panic is clawing at her with every laboured breath she takes. She might die here. Die here in an assassination attempt made towards someone else. Now. Now that she has finally reached an influential position. Now that she may finally start help burning out the rot at the heart of the Republic.

It cannot end like this. It cannot.

“I think… I think they’re coming,” Senator Chuchi suddenly whispers, her voice thin and shaky.

Ha'han-ash can’t answer as another round of coughs tears through her.

Footsteps, low voices speaking—arguing—and relief washes over Ha'han-ash like a tidal wave from the great sea.

Help has arrived.

Boil’s plan was to find the General, and depending on his condition either bring him and the senators in succession to Waxer to keep them all in one place. But once he finally found the General…

He gnashes his teeth together and pushes down the nausea that’s been present along with the dizziness ever since the blast.

He holds the General’s hand in a grip as hard as he dares, and makes sure he can see Boil at all times—Boil’s helmet now on the floor next to him.

Boil tried talking to him, but he too seems to have been deafened by the explosion so instead Boil just stays with him.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

When Boil gets his hand on this assassin he’s gonna beat the fucker to death for this. People can say what they will about the clones, but he and his brother are fucking loyal, and this is his General—his General who can barely breathe because of the huge durasteel rod piercing his chest, who seems utterly confused, whose eyes are unfocused, and who might be both bleeding out and dying from lack of oxygen at the same time right in front of Boil.

He knows Waxer called the Temple for backup, but he can only hope that they arrive in time, because General Kenobi doesn’t seem to have much longer—at least not without medical attention.

He’d like to keep an eye out for help, but he can’t look away from General Kenobi’s pale face, and the way it glistens from sweat in the dim light.

He’ll never forgive himself if Kenobi dies under his watch. He promised Cody he’d look after him, and he’s his General. And though Kenobi would never ever ask for it, would be horrified at the thought of it… Boil was made for him. Made to be under his command, and he has chosen to stay there.

The General squeezes his hand suddenly, bringing Boil out of his thoughts. There’s a weak smile on the General’s lips and he looks almost… grateful.

Then his lips move, he’s saying something. Boil looks at his lips intently, determined to not miss these words, because they might be the General’s last…

“I’m glad… I’m not alone… In the end…”

Boil’s heart breaks.

Vokara presses on ahead. Trooper Waxer is in good hands with Kee and Aldan, the senators will be fine in Master Mil’s capable hands, and she’s ascertained the direction Trooper Boil went in to find Master Kenobi.

Oh by the Force let them be in time.

Master Koon is at her side as they navigate the destroyed rooms carefully. How far was Master Kenobi thrown by the blast? He’s far removed from the others—or perhaps it only feels as such with how slow their progression is from fear of causing further structural instability.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she rounds the last corner.

She stops.

She stares.

She moves.

Master Kenobi may be impaled by a rod of durasteel, but they will not lose him. She is the Master Healer of the Jedi order, and she will not rest until she has ensured his survival.

The Force hums with approval. It is not attachment that drives her, nor is it the fear of loss, instead it is the bone-deep knowledge that they need Master Kenobi that moves her hands, sets her will, and helps her draw deeper on the Force then she normally would in a situation like this.

He must live until she can get him proper care.

Wrapping her hands in the healing Force, she places one on Master Kenobi’s forehead and the other on his chest. Diagnose and treat what you can in the field to stabilise the patient is the name of the game—a game Vokara Che will not lose.

Padmé draws closer to Bail’s side, her handmaidens a cluster around them, as the crowd and holonet reporters swarm the plaza, trying to get close enough for an interview with them or the Jedi.

She’s grateful the Judicial forces arrived before the bloodsuckers did, or else there might truly be chaos. She watches the door to the senate office building, the way there paved clear by walls of officers, desperate for the rest of the Jedi to return.

Two already have, a healer and a knight, carrying an injured chagrain with the Force, together loading her up in the ship to take her to the Temple’s healers.

Padmé is… slightly surprised. She would have assumed that they would only bring Obi-Wan to the Temple healers, and let the rest be taken to a regular emergency medcenter, but… No, it appears like they will take all victims they can find.

To keep them safe? To be able to ask questions? To ensure they get the best possible medical care? All of the above?

She’s not sure, and she’s hardly in a position to ask—especially since a conversation out here in the open could so easily be overheard.

Her musings get interrupted by Master Yoda’s comm beeping. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to appear unaffected and as if she’s not planning to listen in on whatever will be said.

“Yoda, this is.”

“Master Yoda, we’ll be bringing two injured troopers, two injured senators, another two injured aides, as well as Master Kenobi out shortly.” Master Koon’s deep voice sounds worried, Padmé thinks. It’s hard, sometimes, to tell with Jedi. They’re just too good to appear unaffected.

There’s a brief pause.

“Please make sure the way to the transport is clear, Master Yoda, it is… quite urgent.”

Oh. Oh no. Oh by the Gods.

Padmé’s stomach turns as she watches Master Yoda and Master Fisto talk with the head of the judicial forces to ensure the way be kept clear—reporters and civilians on both sides screaming questions and taking holopictures.

Shadows appear in the door, and she swallows harshly.

First are two Jedi carrying a zabraki woman and a selonian man with the Force.

Next, two Jedi carrying senators Ha’han-ash and Chuchi in much the same way.

After that, two clone troopers, one being supported by the other.

Last…

Oh…

Padmé breath catches in her throat.

Oh, Obi-Wan.

If it wasn’t for the Twi’lek Jedi walking next to him—floating on a piece of rubble as he is—clearly speaking with him, she would have thought him dead.

Pale and ashen skin, bloodied tunic, and pierced through the chest.

The noise of the crowd grows larger and larger until it reaches an almost unbearable level. Padmé leans heavily against Sabé and blinks rapidly to keep her tears at bay.

When the transport leaves, Master Fisto, Master Koon and two more Jedi stay behind.

Finally Padmé allows her handmaidens to lead her back to her apartment. Only once she’s finally in the safety of the privacy of her home does she cry.

Vokara Che stares at her hands, as she washes the blood off them. The dyed pink water flushes down the drain of the sink, and she keeps washing and washing until it turns clear. Her head is still ringing with the cry of the Force, despite hours having passed since it occurred. Exhaustion seems to settle in her bones, and as soon as her hands are clean, she leaves the bathroom to take a much needed nap in one of the designated sleep areas of the Halls of Healing.

For the moment, there is nothing more she can do. She’s done all she can, and now, all she can do is place her faith in the Force.

“Alana,” she says, as she passes the Zabraki Jedi, “If anything changes, wake me up. I’ll be in the blue sleeping area.”

“Yes, Master Che,” Alana says with a nod of her horned head, before she turns back to the datapad she was looking at.

Vokara casts one last glance at Master Kenobi, floating in the bacta tank as he is, before she leaves the room.

The walk to the blue sleeping room feels longer than ever, and Vokara doesn’t even bother to disrobe before she crawls on top of one of the beds—it’s just a nap, anyway.

The pillow is soft and of just her preferred model—it’s why she always goes to the blue room—but even that doesn’t help her stop her spinning thoughts.

When Master Yoda had come by during the morning, before heading to meet with the council, and asked her to keep the Halls ready for anything, she hadn’t expected something like this.

Two Jedi known for precognition sensing something common is rare, and worth preparing for as it will almost certainly come to fruition. And yet, Vokara had placed her hope in the small chance that Master Yoda and Master Kenobi were wrong.

Master Kenobi…

She presses a hand across her eyes.

‘Sleep, Vokara. There’s nothing more you can do for him right now, it all comes down to the will of the Force,’ she thinks, slowing her breathing.

Sleep.

Chapter Text

When Shaak Ti returned to Coruscant she had not expected anything remotely as dire as an explosion at the Senate—injuring several senators and staff, killing two, and leaving Master Kenobi in a critical condition—to happen. In fact, she had expected it to go much like usual: a standard in person Council meeting, sharing information that cannot be done over a channel—no matter how secure—and then ultimately returning to Kamino to keep training the troops.

She’s watching her peers, the tension in the room palpable, when her attention is drawn to the Council chamber doors opening.

“Returned, I see you have, Masters,” Master Yoda says as Kit Fisto and Plo Koon take their seats in the Council chamber.

“Yes, the knights investigating with the judicial forces have the situation at the Senate under control for now,” Koon says with a small nod before he smoothes out his tunics.

“Is there any news to be had about Master Kenobi?” Fisto says, his head tilted to the side, big eyes unblinking.

“Not yet,” Windu says with a shake of his head. “Master Che still has him in surgery. However, we must decide our next step quickly, before this explodes all over the holonet.”

Shaak has little doubt about what their next step needs to be. “We must alert our own before the news reaches them from any other source,” she says, twining her fingers in her lap.

The situation is delicate, but they cannot risk bad or incorrect information reaching the Jedi and troops in the field before they’ve heard the news from the Temple itself. Especially not Knight Skywalker.

“Agreed.” Koon leans back in his chair. “Incorrect information could cause a tremendous loss of morale, not to mention stir up fear and hurt. Master Kenobi is well liked among us.”

“There’s also the situation regarding Knight Skywalker.” No one has ever claimed that Shaak Ti shies away from difficult topics.

“Take the news well, he will not.” Master Yoda’s ears droop, and despite sitting down he leans heavily on his staff, looking far older than Shaak has ever seen him do before.

“Unsurprising, considering what has been uncovered about his padawanship,” Tiin says grimly, eyes dark and mouth turned down in an almost snarl. Shaak understands his feelings well. The knowledge that someone—possibly even multiple someones—was deliberately sabotaging at least one Jedi Youngling’s upbringing, disrupting Temple affairs, and possibly causing the death of an unknown amount of Jedi stirs anger in her gut.

She breathes deeply and let’s it go for now. It is in the past, and no amount of anger can change it. All they can do is move forward and work to prevent further damage to the Order, the current Younglings, and Knight Skywalker—as much as is possible.

“He’s done his duty as a Jedi well enough, despite the interference. He does not always act as we may expect or hope for, and he has always kept his own counsel, but he is not the only Jedi to be such. All things considered...” Allie looks pensive, stroking her chin and glancing around the room. “I believe he deserves extra consideration with the current happenings.”

Silence descends.

Shaak considers the thought. Extra consideration for a student of an injured Master is given during the padawanship, and—if possible—even the first years of knighthood. Skywalker has left those first years behind, and has a padawan on his own now. However, considering the circumstances surrounding Skywalker and Kenobi, Shaak is prepared to offer it to the man still, despite it all.

Of course, young Tano needs consideration as well. She too will be heavily impacted should Master Kenobi return to the Force. All padawanships are a community effort, though the master holds the ultimate responsibility; however, Master Kenobi has been more than just one member of the community to her. They all know it.

“I will speak to him directly,” Windu says resolutely. “We can send a recorded message to most of the stationed Jedi containing whatever information we decide is pertinent, but I believe it’s best if one of us delivers the news directly to Skywalker.”

It is not a bad idea, that. It would also allow them to gauge his reaction to the news.

“I can record a message for the Generals and Commanders,” she offers. The troopers know her well, many of them will likely find comfort in it being her delivering the news. What little comfort she can offer, she will.

“For young Skywalker… Spoken to directly, enough, it may not be,” Master Yoda says, his ears drooping.

Shaak considers the words. He’s not wrong at all. Receiving an actual comm instead of a recorded message is certainly extra consideration, but the pain caused by the situation may be more than what such a gesture can soothe.

“Will he be able to do his duty?” Kolar says, leaning forward in his seat, chin resting on his steepled hands.

This time, the silence that stretches is chilled, strained. Shaak closes her eyes and leans back with a sigh, mulling over Kolar’s question.

Can Skywalker do his duty knowing his former master might die? Will he be able to put it out of his mind, put the good of the galaxy above his own wish to be there should his master return to the Force?

She can’t say. She doesn’t know. She cannot predict Skywalker’s response.

“Know that, we do not.”

Master Yoda’s right. There’s no way for them to know if Knight Skywalker can do it, just like there’s no way for them to know when it comes to anyone beyond themselves. He’s been cleared for duty, and he’s done it well—with some hiccups—and that’s all they can base their decision on.

“So what do we do?” Fisto crosses his arms over his chest, having stated the million credit question.

“Give him the choice, perhaps we should.”

The choice? What choice? Shaak frowns and looks around at the others. In the Force she feels that she’s not the only one confused by the grandmaster’s words.

She mulls them over. “Perhaps we should give Skywalker the choice.” The choice. A specific choice. Regarding what?

It hits her like a runaway speeder and she barely refrains from smiling at the simplicity of Master Yoda’s solution.

“If we let Skywalker choose whether or not to continue his mission, depending on if he feels he can do his duty to the best of his ability under the circumstances, then we must have a backup plan should he decide to abort the mission and return to Coruscant.”

She sees comprehension dawn in the other faces around her, and murmurs and nods soon sweep through the group.

The silence that follows is contemplative, and it is Allie who breaks it, looking up from a datapad. “Master Unduli and her fleet are in a nearby system, awaiting new orders. If Knight Skywalker chooses to retreat, she would be close enough to take over without any significant delay. Especially if Knight Skywalker sends her his intel and battle plans.”

More murmurs, nods of agreement. The Force hums with what Shaak Ti would like to interpret as approval.

“All agreed then?” Windu finally says. “We’ll let Skywalker decide himself if he can complete his mission or if he needs to return to Coruscant.”

Nods, no voices of dissent.

“Learn to let go, young Skywalker has not yet. Learn it, he will, once the knighting of his padawan arrives. As all Jedi Masters must. For now, allow this, we will.”

“We missed the sabotage of his apprenticeship. Dealing with the fallout of it appropriately and with compassion is the least we can do,” Koon says.

Which is true. If an outsider is constantly involving themselves in ruining a padawanship—possibly even in ways they have not yet discovered—then how can the proper teachings take root? That Skywalker has learned as much as he has is a testament to his skill and dedication, and the dedication of his teacher.

It certainly doesn’t help that he came from a disadvantageous situation at an older age. She had long wondered if, perhaps, Skywalker’s personality was simply entirely unsuited to be a Jedi—she has seen his struggles with many of the teachings, after all. But perhaps it is not, perhaps the sabotage is the core reason.

She cannot know for certain. None of them can. After all, not everyone is suited to the life of a Jedi, sabotage or no sabotage. Perhaps the sabotage has simply enhanced an incompatibility that already existed.

They cannot know. But the kindest thing to do, is to move forward while treating Skywalker kindly, and laying the blame on the sabotage for now. Perhaps, once they’ve discovered the mastermind behind it all, perhaps they can move forward, and Skywalker can heal and find his place in the world calmly and securely—wherever that may be.

“As time is of the essence, I will excuse myself now to make the comm to Skywalker. Excuse me,” Windu bows shortly and swiftly leaves the room, likely heading for the communication center.

“I believe I should make the recording for the rest of us and our troops, then. What information should be included?”

A short discussion later, Shaak leaves the chamber with a sense of conviction. Even should they lose Master Kenobi now, all his hard work will not be for naught. They will not let the Order, the Republic, and the GAR fall apart.

They will not.

Chapter Text

“General Skywalker, we have an incoming transmission from Coruscant,” Rex says, standing straight and with his arms crossed behind his back—stiff and formal. Anakin’s eyes narrow; that kind of posture generally means a transmission from the Council…

There’s a churning in the pit of Anakin’s stomach and he still feels the echoes of the Force screaming. He’s tried not to think about it, but now he can’t help the thought that keeps spinning in his mind: has something terrible happened?

“I’ll come immediately, Captain.” He nods to Rex and turns to his Padawan. “Ahsoka, you take over the attack-coordination. I should be back soon.”

“Yes, Master,” she says and nods in return before she turns back to the holomaps of the star system and closest planets.

Anakin sets a fast pace toward the communication centre, but Rex, as always, keeps up.

“Rex, who can I expect?” He might as well make sure he has as much information as possible before he takes the comm. Preparation is key, as Obi-Wan likes to say.

“It’s General Windu, Sir. From how he looked it appears to be both very urgent and extremely important.”

Anakin blinks, and his stomach drops. Well, that doesn’t sound good. Master Windu being wound up enough to not be the picture of—sometimes grumpy—stoicism? Anakin can admit to himself that’s not entirely fair to Master Windu, but it’s true a lot of the time, especially for more serious or formal situations. So if this is a serious and-or formal situation and Master Windu is visibly disturbed? Something must be very wrong. Could it actually be something to do with the Force crying out?

The walk to the communication hub isn’t long and it barely takes them a minute to get there, but it still somehow feels as if it takes forever. The door slides open and Anakin immediately sees Master Windu’s holo, arms crossed and with a grave expression on his face; there seems to be an almost grim edge to his facial expression that Anakin has very rarely seen before—and only in the most serious situations.

“Master Windu, I came as fast as I could,” Anakin says with a nod as soon as he steps within holocam range. “Captain Rex said it was urgent.” He tilts his head slightly towards Rex on his right.

“Knight Skywalker,” Master Windu says, inclining his head. “The Captain is correct. We could not delay this comm and risk you hearing these news from any other source.”

Anakin’s stomach drops further. That… that can’t be good at all.

“Has something happened?” Anakin crosses his arms behind his back to make sure Master Windu can’t see the way his fingers clench on his arms, a nervous tic.

Master Windu’s eyes close and he nods. “Several bombs went off in the office of Senator Biwa of the moon Illi-hian.” He looks, if possible, even grimmer.

“There was an attack on the Senate? When—” Before Anakin can continue, Master Windu cuts him off—swiftly, but not rudely. In fact, he simply seems to want to stop Anakin from spiralling into asking questions he was already planning on answering.

“It happened just about one standard hour ago. So far, the only confirmed deaths are Senator Biwa himself and Senator Himesh of Cyllian III, beyond them, six people were injured. However...” Master Windu pauses briefly—Anakin’s thoughts are already running wild. What about Padmé? Is she safe? Has she been hurt? And what about Obi-Wan? He’s in the Senate Office Building a lot too, is he safe?

Master Windu seems to almost steel himself. “Master Kenobi—Obi-Wan—was in that office,” he says softly, gently.

Anakin’s thoughts grind to a halt. What?

No. No, he can’t have... he can’t be—! Only two confirmed casualties, neither of them Obi-Wan, he reminds himself.

“Is he… is he okay?” Anakin tries to keep the urgency out of his voice, tries to keep calm, but he can feel his heartbeat pick up. Obi-Wan is on Coruscant, he should be safe there.

“His condition is critical.” Master Windu’s words hit Anakin like a sledgehammer to the head. “The healers don’t know if he will make it or not yet, but they got to him quickly, thanks to the troopers he brought with him to the meeting.”

Breathe.

Breathe.

Anakin tries to keep it together, tries to remind himself to breathe, but it suddenly feels almost impossibly hard. He has to breathe. He has to calm down and breathe.

He gets jolted out of his fixating thoughts by Rex’s shoulder suddenly connecting with his, and he manages to draw a deep, shuddering breath in through his nose. He glances to his captain slightly, and nods his thanks. The panic is not gone, but it has abated slightly. He is not alone.

He quickly realises that Master Windu has been waiting—silent—while Anakin collected himself.

“What… what are my orders?” he chokes out. He wants to rush back to Coruscant immediately, he needs to be with Obi-Wan. He can’t lose him like this. He can’t. Not now.

But Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan would want him to at least ask what his orders are first. And what if they want him to investigate the attempt? And he fucks it up by rushing ahead and they never find out who did this? He can’t. He can’t.

“If you think you can keep your mind on the battle ahead of you without distraction, stay where you are and complete your mission. However, if you do not think you can do so, withdraw your troops and return to Coruscant. Either path is open to you.” Master Windu’s eyes open and stare into Anakin’s. “The only thing you absolutely may not do, is leave your troops behind and return to Coruscant alone.”

Is… is this a test?

“And… it’s… my choice?” If he returns to Coruscant, will he fail whatever test this is? Are they lying about what happened to test him? Is that what this is? Some form of test to see if he will let his attachments interfere with his missions? Palpatine has always said the Council doesn’t trust Anakin as they should…. have they decided to test him?

“The mission you’re on is not time sensitive enough that re-routing a different part of the army would be unfeasible. We would lose more if you fail because you pushed yourself than if you retreat and let someone else take over. Master Unduli and her troops are in a nearby system awaiting orders, moving them to your position would not cause a significant delay.”

Anakin nods slowly. That... that makes sense. But… What should he do? If Obi-Wan is… Is… Then Anakin should be there, shouldn’t he?

As if sensing Anakin’s hesitation, despite the incredible distance between them, Master Windu speaks up again, “You do not have to answer immediately. Take a few hours to gather your thoughts, and discuss the situation with your Padawan and Captain.” He pauses and sighs. “If there’s any change in the situation, we’ll get in contact with you again.”

Anakin nods mutely. Take time to think. Yes. Good.

“And… Anakin.” Master Windu’s tone is gentle, his face worried. “Consider your feelings and your state of mind carefully, but don’t forget to consider your Padawan’s situations as well.”

Anakin blinks. Breathes. Tries to remember the last time Master Windu called him by his first name.

The silence stretches, and Anakin realises with a twitch that Master Windu might be waiting for a vocal confirmation.

“I’ll get back to you within three hours, Master Windu,” he croaks and clears his throat. “May the Force be with you.”

Master Windu’s eyes look a million stars away. “May the Force be with us all, Knight Skywalker.”

His holo disappears, and Anakin stands there, staring where the hologram once was and tries to keep breathing.

Without Master Windu’s holo in front of him, Anakin finds himself anchorless. Obi-Wan might die. Anakin could lose him.

It’s not fair. He can’t lose Obi-Wan now. Not now when Anakin finally knows for sure that Obi-Wan cares, has always cared. If he didn’t know… he’d take it better. But now… now…

The air seems thick, hard to breathe. He recognises the feeling from another time he received news that turned everything upside down.

The sounds of the hub seem far away, or distorted, as if Anakin were underwater.

He clutches at his face and gasps for breath.

He feels uncountably vulnerable, with his back bare as it is. There’s no Obi-Wan to have his back, no Master to place a warm palm on his back and give a small smile. There’s no best friend-brother-father-everything to help him this time.

His back hits the wall, and he slides down to a sitting position.

He can’t breathe.

Obi-Wan isn’t here.

Obi-Wan can’t help.

Anakin can’t breathe.

The news hit like a blaster bolt to the chest, and Rex can see his general’s face drain of blood and turn almost ashen. Rex keeps a close eye on him the rest of the holocall, but luckily he only needs to get his mind back to the present with a gentle shoulder nudge once.

Cody.

Rex grits his teeth and tries to keep calm, but his thoughts keep turning to his brother, his brother who had to leave his Jedi behind and go into the field alone… and now said Jedi might die. Cody will be devastated, he’ll blame himself...

Rex closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He wishes he could be there when Cody gets the news, if only to be a shoulder for him to lean on, a grounding familiar presence.

Rex has seen many brothers lose their Jedi over the course of this war, has seen them get crushed in a way Rex can’t really explain. It’s as if they see their Jedi’s death as their personal failure and crack like the dry earth under the heat of an unforgiving sun.

But there’s more than just Cody, that weighs on Rex’s mind. It’s the knowledge that General Kenobi’s state will have far spread consequences on the troops, not just in the 212th, but throughout the whole army, and on Rex’s own General and Commander.

If General Kenobi dies…

Rex doesn’t want to consider it.

Cody isn’t here. Rex cannot be there for his brother. But he can be there for his General and his Commander… And knowing his General, he will need it. If only as a calming influence to keep him from flying off the handle to go hunting for whoever planted those bombs.

The call ends, and Rex awaits orders. No doubt will General Skywalker leap into action, either to find the Commander to tell her the news or to tell Rex about his decision...

To Rex's surprise, however, the General doesn't move at first. Instead, he stands still, his hands slowly creeping up toward his face—until they clutch at it with a grip so harsh the skin around his fingers turn white—as his breathing grows heavy and ragged.

Rex watches as he staggers backwards until his back hits the wall of the command centre, and he slides down to the floor.

What in all the Core Worlds...?

Rex has seen this behaviour before, in some brothers who suddenly couldn't cope with the battlefield before. It has been whispered through the army, because telling someone other than clone medics is unthinkable. If the Kaminoans ever heard of it... Well... Those brothers would be considered defective, and that's something no other trooper wants to even think about.

Rex moves slowly to his general's side, unwilling to startle him. He glances around the room, but the command centre had been mostly empty before Rex took his post, and none of the brothers working are looking this way, so at least the General has some privacy.

"General. Is there anything I can do to help?" he says, speaking softly enough that the words shouldn't carry across the room. Rex is pretty sure that the last thing General Skywalker needs is to be crowded right now.

General Skywalker shakes his head jerkily, almost as if he barely has control of the motion.

"Obi-Wan is... Obi-Wan is..." he gasps, breath hitching.

While Rex would have expected the news to hit hard, he hadn't expected this. He'd expected his general's anger to search for a fitting target. He'd expected his general’s fierce determination to search for whoever was responsible.

But he hadn't expected a panic attack.

“Is there anything I can do, General?” Rex murmurs again, deliberately keeping his face smooth to avoid wincing in sympathy for his general’s harsh, fitful breaths. Rex wishes Kix was here; the medic would probably know what to do, how to help.

“B-breathe,” the General gasps, one hand now clawing at his chest, the other still clutching at his face with a white-knuckled grip.

Breathe? Rex isn’t sure what that means. He can tell that the general’s breathing is harsh and erratic, that much is obvious, but in the context of if there’s something Rex can do for him…?

“Yes, General, I can see you’re having trouble breathing,” Rex says, creeping slightly closer to his General.

For a brief moment, Rex wishes the Commander was here. Maybe she would know what to do, and maybe she’s seen the General like this before—!

His train of thought is cut off as General Skywalker’s hand, the one that isn’t clutching at his face, reaches out and almost slaps against his chestplate in a movement so fast Rex’s eyes can’t track it. He looks down at the hand lying flat against his chest—fingers splayed—as it twitches slightly, before he looks back at General Skywalker.

However… he isn’t looking at Rex at all. In fact, his eyes seem fixed on his own hand. Rex frowns and makes an aborted attempt to scratch his head, deciding instead that perhaps it’s best if he remains still and exactly where he is.

The general’s breathing starts slowing down, and the whites around his eyes become less prominent. Slowly his fingers relax and stop gouging into his cheek.

That’s when it clicks. Rex looks down at the hand on his chest again, and the slight way it moves with Rex’s own breathing. Is the general using his hand as a focus to match his breathing to Rex’s own?

Deciding to test his theory, Rex allows his own breathing to slow and deepen—making the slight movement of his chestplate more pronounced. The general’s breathing patterns start to follow.

So that was what he was trying to ask of Rex when he said “breathe” before. He wanted to create a focus to help him calm his breathing—which makes Rex wonder if the General has previous experience with this… And why he hasn’t told Rex about it.

While he respects his general’s need for privacy, this is the kind of important information that could be the difference between life and death on a battlefield.

Rex purses his lips and decides he’ll talk to General Skywalker about it later. Right now, there are other things that require their immediate attention.

However, as soon as General Skywalker has calmed down and made his decision regarding the mission...

Chapter Text

The alley is dark and secluded, far down in the bowels of Coruscant's lower districts. It's the perfect meeting place for something like this—two people, neither of whom wishes to be recognised, conducting a less-than-legal business transaction.

Palpatine has his hood up, and shrouds himself further using the Force. Truly, the Jedi know little of the Force. There are many abilities one can make use of once one lets go of pesky notions like the “do no harm”, “ the greater good” and “beneficial for all”. Ridiculous concepts and the reason why the Jedi will never truly prosper.

There is no such thing as "the greater good", there is only Power, and those too weak to wield it—or even understand it.

He finds the door at the end of the alley and heads inside the dimly lit building. It’s run down and possibly even off the grid. He’s been leaving a trail of signal scramblers behind, if his “friend” is coming with a tracker, its signal will have been thrown all over Coruscant. He heads back outside into the alley, no point in getting ahead of himself.

He waits, his senses spread out to ensure that he’s not being watched. The trouble with assassin guilds is that they're very keen on staying together and having each others’ backs. Truly a foreign concept for a Sith. Why help someone else unless you benefit from it yourself? What use is someone who isn’t strong enough to keep themselves alive?

No more use than any other pawn. Certainly not worth expending energy on.

The sound of boots against gravel reaches his ears, and Palpatine allows a small smile appear on his lips. So she's finally deigned to arrive.

She’s late, but perhaps she sensed that her life is nearing its end, and wished to savour her last moments.

"It is a fine morning," she says, using the first line of their agreed upon code phrase.

"In the center of the Galaxy, it is always a fine morning," he answers.

Palpatine watches the Twi'lek woman in front of him nod in acknowledgement, her lekku twitching slightly. It's too dim in the alley to see for sure, but he has little interest in her mood or her appearance. She won't walk away with her life, so cataloguing her is of little importance.

She gestures for him to follow. He keeps his distance, cataloguing their surroundings and reaching out with the Force to see if she’s brought back up. If she has, they’re not in the immediate vicinity. Interesting. Either she’s foolish, or very confident. Possibly both. Likely they were further back and have been thrown off by the scramblers Palpatine has placed in the vicinity.

Once they’re finally inside an abandoned warehouse, she starts a scrambler to keep their conversation hidden from anyone who might try to listen in. For someone naive enough to think she has any chance to leave this meeting alive, she truly is clever. However, Palpatine has not spent decades perfecting a plan to take control of the galaxy for nothing. With a simple flick of the Force, he starts several more of his own scramblers, hidden in his robes. If she carries recording devices or comms created to get through her own scramblers—likely for an assassin of her calibre—then his own scramblers will shut them down.

"The target?" he asks, already knowing the answer. Kenobi still lives, his presence remains in the Force, though it was certainly a close shave. In fact, it is still up in the air whether or not he’ll survive—his presence wavering and kept stable by outside forces. Oh, if only...

It is... unfortunate... that the Temple healers made it to the Senate as quickly as they did. In fact, they did so suspiciously quickly, almost as if they were prepared...

It’s a thought Palpatine has mulled over for hours now. How did the Jedi arrive at the scene so quickly?

The Line of Bane have worked for centuries to slowly darken the Force, muddle it, all to blind the Jedi—the rising corruption in many parts of the Republic has helped with it. The more corruption that seeps into the galaxy, the more suffering, the more evil flourishes, the darker the Force becomes, the more unbalanced. The Jedi have tried to stem the flow, reverse the course, bring balance back to the Force—ludicrous, who cares about balance? All there is, is power—but to no avail.

False visions in their strongest visionaries, stolen information from their "Great Library", the attempts at a slow corruption of their values and ideals… The Line of Bane have worked hard and well to finally rid themselves of the Jedi pests. And, in one way, the Jedi themselves even helped. By binding themselves to the Senate, as a show of trust and as a promise to the Galaxy at large that they hold no aspirations for power, they themselves created the trap that will ultimately spell their doom.

Of course, without an army of their own, they needed to bind themselves to the Republic to have any sort of formal power. How can you negotiate a treaty if you have no one backing you? Without being an extension of the Republic, the Jedi could not ensure that anyone would bind themselves to agreements they broker.

Certainly, due to how the Jedi operate, it was their only option. But it was still a mistake, and one that will lead to their doom. The Jedi may care about the Republic and the beings within it… but the Republic and its citizens do not care about the Jedi.

Palpatine smiles.

The Line of Bane have worked at it for centuries, each apprentice listening to their Master, finding any flaws in their plan until the time for the betrayal came and they themselves became the Master and then worked to improve it further.

Sidious and Plagueis were no different from this established pattern. Plagueis chose his position well and was certain he could use it to ultimately get rid of the Jedi—with his Power and his complete mastery of the arts of the Sith, it wasn't even a hopeless dream. However, Palpatine saw a better way. He saw how he could use the money and political power amassed by his Master for his own ends, and not long after he'd manipulated Plagueis to help ensure that he was instated as Senator of Naboo, Plagueis had played out his part and Palpatine's plan could truly begin.

Oh, it was right on track. Every piece of the puzzle had fallen into place beautifully... until Senator Mandai decided to throw a hydrospanner in the works and upset everything. When she spoke, Palpatine felt the universe almost rearrange itself around her, as if suddenly, the inevitable end they had been headed towards was suddenly no longer inevitable.

He will kill her for it.

Oh, it was not just her. One force-blind entity alone does not hold so much sway over the fate of the galaxy—only those with control of the Force ever could—but she certainly contributed to the change of the galaxy's trajectory.

He will change it back. Kenobi is the lynchpin that holds it all together; Palpatine can sense as much through the stolen gift of Foresight he has. Without Kenobi in his current position, the Jedi and consequently the Republic, stand no chance against the revenge of the Sith.

He grits his teeth briefly, before he relaxes to ensure that the assassin does not see any trace of his train of thought. He must appear like a buyer pleased with a job well done.

“Unfortunately, the current status of the mission is… uncertain. The Jedi brought the target to the Temple—I’m sure you’ve seen the images all over the holonet—and no word has been heard since.” She pauses, crosses her arms over her chest and juts her hip out. He considers the two blasters, one on each side—so at least she was not stupid enough to come unarmed—before he turns his attention back to what she’s saying. “I’m one of the best, but breaking into the Jedi Temple during an ongoing emergency, when they’re all ready and expecting an attack? No one is that good.”

Palpatine has to admit that she’s not incorrect in her belief. While getting into the Temple on a regular day is far from an impressive feat, right now it’s more than what someone Force-blind can handle. Especially if they have to get to the Halls of Healing.

“I… see,” Palpatine says, crossing his own arms over his chest. “That is far from ideal, and from the deal we made.”

“I know,” she says harshly. The whole debacle has likely been a blow to her pride. Palpatine knows the feeling well, he’s failed to kill Kenobi—the blasted scum sucker—enough times himself to recognise it.

She paces for a few seconds, before she visibly forces herself to relax and face him again.

“I will have to lay low for a while. I’m looking into the possibility of shorting out the Temple’s power supply to stop any life support the target is currently on. However…” She growls under her breath. “If he’s in a bacta tank that won’t work. They all have internal power backups to last a few hours at least, and I’m sure the Jedi would manage to get the power back before they run out.”

Impressive. She’s already looked that far into her next step. It’s almost a shame she won’t get to see this through. Palpatine cannot risk having her around any longer, she had the one strike, and now it’s over. However… Before he disposes of this loose end, he has some details to go over with her.

“How have you ensured that the true target of your assignment won’t be discovered? I trust you at least ensured success with that?”

Her face turns smug, her arms fall from her chest and brace themselves on her hips—complete confidence.

“Simple. Using Senator Biwa’s office as the location was only the first step. Illi-hian is currently in a dispute with Cyllian III regarding a trade deal. It will look like angry cyllians decided to get rid of what could be considered the root of the problem.”

Palpatine hums to himself, compelling, but not near foolproof.

“Cyllian III’s own Senator also died in that explosion. I’d say that would make people disregard the possibility of the cyllian being responsible.”

Her smug smirk only grows. “All senatorial schedules are kept on heavily encrypted senate servers, not even other senators can see someone else’s schedule. Meaning that the cyllians would have no knowledge that their senator would be in the office with Biwa.” She pauses. “Besides, that’s not all I did to create the ruse.”

Palpatine’s eyebrow twitches. “Indeed?” How very interesting.

“Senator Biwa is well known for always going over the allotted time. If a meeting is set to end at the eight hour, he will keep going for about another fifteen minutes to half an hour.” She grins. “Senator Biwa also kept a copy of his schedule on a far less secure personal server, where anyone good enough could access it… Including me.”

She laughs, low and throaty, raising a fist to press against her mouth.

“You see, it doesn’t matter how good the Senate security is if an idiot works there.”

Palpatine allows himself a chuckle. He almost finds it a shame that he’ll have to kill her. She is… quite refreshing.

“All I had to do was alter the time his meeting with the Chancellor was set to end by half an hour, and then I detonated the bombs during the Senate lunch hour and changed his private schedule back to its previous state. This means that Senator Biwa should have been alone in his office, which suggests he was the intended target all along and everyone else merely… collateral damage.”

“Clever…”

However, if she detonated it with a remote control, wouldn’t that be apparent? And if so, wouldn’t there be a risk of the investigators assuming she could see who was in the office when she detonated the bombs? Palpatine cannot allow any mistakes. While he’s certain none of this can be traced back to him… Well, it’s simply prudent to ensure that he succeeds to put an end to Kenobi sooner rather than later. The more attempts on the damn man’s life, the more sympathy he’ll gather from the undecided.

People will start flocking to him, which is the opposite of Palpatine’s intended goal. They’re supposed to flock to him, see him as the only hope for the Galactic Republic, not Kenobi.

His carefully constructed plot to take control of the galaxy and annihilate the Jedi once and for all cannot be allowed to fall apart. Not now, not when it was so close to come to fruition. He’d almost been able to taste the blood of the Jedi on the back of his tongue, stolen foresight granting him such clarity of their fate. And now…

Now…

He breaks off the train of thought and continues to question the assassin in front of him. He keeps careful eyes on her as she answers his questions, certain that she suspects nothing. After all, she’s been keeping careful track of his hands this entire meeting, her own studiously hovering near the blasters at her hips—though she fakes a relaxed stance excellently.

If Palpatine were to try and draw out a blaster, no doubt would she shoot him long before he could shoot her. How truly unlucky she is that her opponent has no need for something as crude as a blaster. All he needs is the Force itself.

“So my next ste—!” she cuts off with a choking sound, both hands immediately at her neck as she starts to struggle to breathe.

“I’m afraid this is where we part ways. You had one chance, and I cannot risk any loose ends.” Palpatine watches her dispassionately as she struggles, she slaps an insignia on her chest—it flashes with a dull red light—before her hands start grasping at her throat again.

“I’m afraid that distress beacon will do you no good, my dear. I’m running my own scramblers, and nothing you’ve attempted to transmit during our entire meeting has been able to get outside this room. You played a good game, but I’m afraid this is the end for you.”

Plagueis used to say that Palpatine’s enjoyment of explaining things to his victims before they died would come back to haunt him one day, but the thought only makes Palpatine snort in amusement. As if there’s any risk to him, he’s covered his bases too well—!

Pain explodes in his side, quickly accompanied by the sound of the assassin’s neck snapping with the sudden power in his Force choke.

A blaster clatters against the floor as the now-dead assassin’s hand slackens, soon followed by her body as Palpatine releases his Force grip from around her throat.

She shot him. She shot him.

How dare such an insignificant little maggot injure him in any way?

Palpatine snarls and clenches his teeth together against the pain. His robes are heavy enough that what minimal amount of bleeding caused by the blaster wound will be soaked up by them. He doesn’t have time to stand around because of something as small as a blaster wound. He needs to destroy her comms, distress beacon, and files—and then leave the area immediately.

Alone in his apartment, Palpatine applies the largest bacta patch he owns to the wound in his side. It will likely scar, with how deep it is and the limited bacta in the patches, but he cannot risk going to get treated for the injury.

He’s too well known; former Supreme Chancellor Palpatine coming into a med center to get treatment for a blaster wound? It would make the holonews in no time, and it is simply something he cannot afford.

The robes will need to be incinerated, there’s no mending them, and the less traces left behind by this evening the better.

Blasted assassin guilds. Far better than the average bounty hunter, but also far more trouble to deal with in the end.

However, she’s dead, and the Hissleet Endai will never know who or what killed their operative; Palpatine made sure he left no traces behind. Not even the guild itself would know the true target of the attack, after all, real guilds only rely on manual transfers to avoid data being intercepted—which certainly worked in his favour this time.

Good riddance.

All that remains now is finishing off Kenobi for good.

Chapter Text

The past and the present blurs together, Anakin can hardly breathe through it. Too many thoughts crowd inside his head and the more he tries to sort himself out, the more of the past he remembers and the more fears for the future it brings up.

Obi-Wan could be dying right this second, far away without Anakin even getting to be there.

At least... At least when mom died Anakin was there, comforting her in her last moments. At least he got to see her one more time.

But Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan could die without Anakin never ever seeing him again.

"Try/Try to/to breathe/breathe, Padawan Skywalker/Anakin"

The familiar voices superimposed on each other makes him shudder. One gone since many years, and one possibly disappearing soon.

It isn't fair. Why does he have to lose everyone? Absolutely everyone important goes away. He's losing them one by one.

What if he loses Ahsoka or Padmé next?

"Now, be brave. Don't look back. Don't look back."

The thought, coupled with the memory of his mother, sends him spiralling, his breathing choking up as tears start forcing their way out of his clenched shut eyes, running down his cheeks even as he scrubs them away harshly.

"Do you need a moment, Padawan Skywalker?"

He shudders and tries to bring up training from long ago. Training he'd hoped he'd never need again.

He should be better. He should be fine. How can he be a Jedi if he cannot control himself?

"Is … other ... address you?"

His memories are fragmenting under the strain of his stress. He tries not to remember her. She's gone, lost, just like mom. Forever beyond his reach.

"Count your breaths, Anakin. It can help you focus."

One. Two. Three. Four.

He shudders.

Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

It's not helping. It's not helping. How is he supposed to do this? It isn't fair!

Suddenly rage explodes in his chest and Anakin finds himself on his feet, breaths rasping out of him in huffs as he starts hurling his datapads around the room with the Force.

It. Isn't. Fair.

Palpatine always agreed that it wasn't, that it was a shame that it always happened to be Anakin who lost people.

He can't stand it. It always felt like, after She died, no one else ever understood his grief. His loss. They just spoke of accepting change, understanding that nothing could ever bring those lost back.

"As long as you remember... They aren't truly lost."

Useless blathering, isn't it? His memories of his mother are not his mother. It doesn't matter if he remembers his mother, if he remembers Her, or if he remembers Obi-Wan... they'd still be gone, he still can't talk to them, still can’t have them close to him anymore.

It doesn’t matter how many good memories he has of them if he cannot make more good memories with them. They’re gone, taken from him.

Memories are nothing but pale imitations. Useless.

Padmé will understand. If he goes back home... If he does, she'll understand. It's why he loves her so much. She understands in a way the rest of the Jedi don't seem to anymore. They have their grief counselling and then they're just fine, as if nothing has changed. As if someone isn't gone, as if a hole hasn't been ripped into the world where they once used to be.

Palpatine mentioned once that it would be so nice if you could just... use the Force to stop death from happening. The Force is supposed to come from life, isn't it? So wouldn't it be better if no one died? If everyone just stayed? If no one ever had to lose anyone?

If no one ever died, that would just make the Force stronger, better wouldn’t it? If Life is the Force, then the Force is Life. Right?

"You cannot stop the flow of time, Anakin."

Mister Qui-Gon said Anakin was the Chosen One. He’s never believed it, especially since no one else has ever discussed it with him since. No one has ever put much stock in the prophecy Mister Qui-Gon spoke of, so Anakin never has either.

But what if Mister Qui-Gon was right? What if Anakin is the Chosen One? Maybe that means... Maybe he can do it? Maybe he's the only one who can? Maybe the Jedi have hidden away the knowledge of how to use the Force to save lives and stop death because they're all too weak to do it? But Anakin... Anakin is strong. Maybe he can?

He shudders again. He shouldn't be thinking like this. It won't help anyway. Even if there is a way, there's no doubt the Jedi would keep it under heavy guard for a reason. Perhaps there's some other explanation beyond a lack of sheer strength for why they wouldn't resurrect someone... or stop them from dying in the first place.

He knows the other Jedi grieve too, he's seen it. In Obi-Wan, in Her, he's even seen it in Master Yoda.

"Peace, Anakin, there's no shame in your emotions."

She used to say that. So why is it that he always feels like everyone else judges him for them? Even Palpatine noticed that early on! If even a Force blind person can tell that they're side-eyeing him for feeling so much, then they're being obvious about it!

They’ve been trying to shame him into feeling less. He just knows it. Palpatine has always worried about him because of it!

“Everyone feels, Anakin. It is as natural as the Force itself. But as a Jedi, you mustn't let your emotions control you, overwhelm you. You cannot control what you feel, but you can control how you react to what you’re feeling. That is the key. Do not be ashamed of your emotions, we all have them and we all live with them.”

That must have been a lie... or She was just wrong. He knows that can happen; Obi-Wan used to say that not even masters know everything. Not even Master Yoda.

Clearly some of them must not feel, because he's seen some of the masters She used to call her friends... And they never even seemed to be sad after She was gone.

No. Breathe. Get it together, Anakin. This isn't the time.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Obi-Wan could die. He could be gone from the Force, just... gone. Just like mom. Just like Her.

It doesn't seem real. Obi-Wan has always felt a bit larger than life, as if nothing could ever get him down. He was inside an exploding space port and came out of it with no injuries beyond ruined clothes, and that was only because he'd ruined them himself to help children.

How could an explosion do this to him? Is it a lie? Is it fake?

Is it really just a test? Will they fail him? Revoke his knighthood and take Ahsoka from him? Make her another Jedi's padawan?

They can't. That's not how it's done. He's just... he's just being paranoid.

"Oh my dear boy, it does hurt my heart to see how little they seem to trust in you and your abilities."

Anakin grinds his teeth together, anger surging in his chest again. His breathing turns harsh and a glass shatters somewhere to his left.

They would test him, if they thought they could get rid of him that way...

And with Obi-Wan hurt... and Palpatine no longer Chancellor... There's no one to stop them. They could throw him out. Make him leave his second home. Take everything he's worked for, everything he left his mother for, away from him in a moment.

... Is Obi-Wan in on it?

Obi-Wan is on the Council.

Maybe...

Before he can lose himself to the doubt and the rage, however, he remembers that time in the Chancellor's office, surrounded by plants and the Living Force singing around him. He remembers Obi-Wan's utter sincerity, he remembers the feeling of how upset he was to realise that Anakin thought he didn't care.

No. Obi-Wan wouldn't help the Council if they want to throw him out. He wouldn't.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

It can't be a test. The Council wouldn't do that to him, to Ahsoka, to the entire 501st. They wouldn't.

He wants to run back to the Temple. He doesn't want to lose Obi-Wan without at least having the chance to say goodbye, he's not sure he could handle it, and Ahsoka...

Ahsoka.

His padawan.

She's so young. They wouldn't do this to her. Sending her to war is beyond their ability to stop, he knows as much from what he's overheard Obi-Wan talk with other Council members about. They abhor the war, they find it an anathema to everything the Jedi stand for. But they cannot leave, both legally and morally.

If the Jedi leave their duty and sit on their hands, how many others will die in their stead?

He's heard the topic discussed in the halls of the Temple a million times. A moral dilemma with no real solution. Fight a war to stop systems with legitimate grievances from leaving the Republic or let innocents die in the same unstoppable war by doing nothing. How could they even do nothing, when they are under the Senate jurisdiction, and the Senate drafted them into the war?

In the end they suffer, carrying a burden too heavy for the few shoulders made to shoulder it.

Younger and younger shoulders.

Master Windu told him to consider Ahsoka when making his decision.

As her master, his duty is to her above everything else, that's what Obi-Wan used to say. And she will suffer when she gets the news, she will not be at her best... She will risk even further harm in the field, just like Anakin.

To himself he can admit that he's not at his best, he's not thinking clearly, or well. He can't centre himself.

If he takes them into battle like this, they may die.

In the end, there's no choice, is there?

He nearly cries from the rage and the relief the thought sends through him.

If it's a test and going back to Coruscant means failing, then his duty as Ahsoka's master requires him to fail.

It gives him a reason beyond wanting to see Obi-Wan, wanting to be there should he die.

They'll go back to Coruscant. There's nothing else they can do.

Ahsoka watches the holotable, making notes about their finalised plan of attack when Anakin finally returns. He's been gone for hours for something that shouldn't have taken that long. Or... Did the holocall really take several hours? If so, it must have been very important.

She taps her foot against the floor, nervous energy shooting through her body. It's as if every nerve is on edge, waiting for something, as if she subconsciously expects something to happen. Perhaps it's the Force?

"Ahsoka, I need to talk to you about the holocall."

Oh boy. That can't be good.

"Did something happen, Master?" In the back of Ahsoka's mind, she replays the incident with the Force crying out. The memory sends a shiver down her spine, she's never felt anything like it before and hopes she never will again.

"Come, we should have this conversation in private." Anakin nods to Rex before he heads off, certain Ahsoka will follow.

She has to half-jog to keep up with his long strides as he moves down the ship halls in a hurry. His hands are clasped behind his back, but his fingers are fidgeting. All of it makes anxiety churn in Ahsoka's stomach. This... this must be really bad.

He ushers her into a private meeting room and she takes a seat by the table unprompted. If he wants her in here, then he probably wants her to sit down too. He takes the seat next to her, rather than on the opposite side of the table.

Ahsoka swallows nervously and starts to fidget herself, though she keeps her breathing deep and even.

In, out.

Stable breathing means calm. Calm is good.

"The holocall came from Master Windu, on behalf of the Council."

Oh.

That really can't be good.

"So something did happen, then?" She bites her lip.

Anakin nods, his face grim.

"There was an explosion at the Senate." He doesn't meet her eyes. "Obi-Wan... was caught in the explosion." He almost chokes on the words.

The words don't make sense at first. She stares at Anakin, wordlessly, and waits.

Master Obi-Wan...?

Explosion...?

No...

No, that...

That can't be true.

"What?" she says, voice strained and breathy; it almost hurts to force the word out.

Anakin closes his eyes and draws a deep shuddering breath.

Oh no...

"They're not sure if he's... going to make it."

No.

That... That can't be! He's Master Obi-Wan!

She realises that she's shaking her head in denial as she stares at her master. It can't be true.

"That can't be... He can't..."

He was teaching her Jar'kai just recently! He was healthy, fine. How can he be...

An explosion...

“Master Windu asked if we would be continuing the mission, or return to Coruscant. I have decided that we'll be returning to Coruscant. It's best for yo—!"

"No! I'm fine! We don't have to abort the mission," she says, voice shrill and startled. She knows she can do it, she'll be fine. Yes, she's... she's upset... But she can do it!

Anakin's eyebrows draw together and his mouth turns down.

"I've already decided, Ahsoka." His tone is sharp. "Neither of us will be at our best and it's a bigger risk for us, our men, and the war effort to have us do it. Master Unduli is in a nearby system and will take over."

"But I'll be fine, Master!" She will be. She can do it, she knows she can! She doesn't... She doesn't want to go back to Coruscant. That would mean that she'd have nothing to do but think and... she doesn't want to think. Not about this.

"No." He finally meets her gaze, and he is angry. She can tell it by the look on his face and the feel of the Force around him... But he's also afraid. Very afraid.

She opens her mouth to argue, but finds that she has no words.

"Yes, Master," she concedes. If he's already decided... She swallows.

A warm hand hands on her shoulder and squeezes gently.

"I know this is hard, Ahsoka. But it's for the best. You'll see."

She nods, even though she's not sure if she believes him.

"Rex is telling the rest of the men, so if you want to be alone to uh... think about it, you can go to your room."

She stares at him, but slowly nods her head. She doesn't really want to be alone right now, but it might be for the best if she is, just so she can deal with it, think things through.

As she walks down the hall towards her room on the ship the memory of an uneasy feeling at seeing Master Obi-Wan walk away from her suddenly rears its ugly head within her, and a heavy lump forms in her throat.

She had... felt something. She stops in the middle of the hallway, luckily a deserted one, and tries to think.

She had felt something. An itch in the back of her head, a sense of unease, entirely focused on Master Obi-Wan. But she dismissed it. She'd thought it a flight of fancy, nothing to be bothered with. She disregarded what her feelings were telling her.

"Search your feelings."

"What do your emotions tell you?"

"Moves through us all, the Force does."

"Sensations, prescience can be."

"Sense the future, all Jedi have the potential to."

She blinks, hard, and feels tears start to gather.

Master Obi-Wan… he can’t be… He’s like Anakin, larger than life, seemingly untouchable. He can’t be…

This can't be real, and if it is... Is it her fault? She felt something but she ignored it, despite having been taught her entire life to trust her feelings... Would that make this her fault?

No, that's silly to think, isn't it?

Just because she felt someone and didn't tell anyone, not even Master Obi-Wan himself, doesn't make it her fault that no one did anything to stop it, right?

Her lack of preventative action isn't the same as being guilty of causing the action. Blaming her for it would be illogical, no one would do that, right?

But... if that's true... Why does guilt bubble in her gut? Why does it feel like it's her fault?

Maybe she could have stopped it. Maybe she could have saved Master Obi-Wan...

She trembles.

Chapter Text

Reality is still, unmoving.

Everything is silent except for the low humming of machines.

The stale air of the Negotiator tickles Cody's nose.

General Kenobi is...

Cody takes a seat, collapses into it really, and tries to piece himself together.

His general, his Jedi, is in critical condition. His general was injured and attacked when Cody wasn't there. The men he left behind as bodyguards did their best, but almost lost their lives as well.

Realistically Cody understands that there's nothing he could have done that would have changed the outcome. Boil and Waxer likely did everything they could, everything Cody would have thought of doing, and he knows Blast wouldn't have been sloppy with security. Besides, how could anyone have foreseen that an attempt would be made on a senator's life while General Kenobi just happened to be in the room?

Even though Cody knows all of this, he still feels like he's failed. Like he failed in what he was made to do and what he's chosen to do since first introduced to his Jedi.

Cody may not have a choice in whether or not to be in the republic army, but how he works with General Kenobi... that has been his choice. It could have been coolly professional, the way it is with almost anyone beside the Jedi, but it's not. General Kenobi cares. He does not send them into battle, he leads them there. He puts his own life on the line as much as he does anyone else's.

They may be clones, but he still sees them as people and individuals. Though Cody is uncomfortable aware that the Republic, just like the Kaminoans, does not. They're a commodity, not worth more than mass-produced droids with only basic reasoning functions.

The only reason General Kenobi is no longer with them out on the battlefield is due to the actions of others. He still takes the time to discuss tactics and plans with them. General Kenobi has never taken any duty he’s had easily… and now it’s almost killed him.

Cody feels as if he’s trying to breathe around shards of glass in his lungs.

"Commander," a shiny says to Cody's right, "What should we do?"

Cody breathes deeply, despite the pain, the way he's seen the General do a thousand times before making a difficult decision, and steels himself.

"I'll have to break the news to the men. It may harm morale, but we can't keep it hidden. If the General does die, then at least we were prepared. I cannot lie to them."

"Yes, sir! I'll start preparations immediately." The shiny hurries off, likely to send a message to ensure all free clones gather in the mess hall, and all working clones keep their comm-units active.

Cody rubs a hand across his face and sighs. He wishes Rex was here. Despite their different ranks, with the way General Skywalker has unofficially promoted him, they're equals. Rex can and will speak to him as an equal, not as a superior, and Cody finds that he really needs that right now.

He needs to be strong for the men, because with General Kenobi out of the picture, more responsibility than ever falls on Cody's shoulders.

He gets back to his feet and plants them spread apart in a power stance and breathes.

He'll bring Master Ti's message with him and play it for the brothers. Perhaps hearing it from her will make them feel better than if it's just Cody. While Cody is too old to have ever trained under Master Ti, he knows that many of his brothers have and that they all have a special feeling of respect for her.

Anything that can be done to lessen the impact of the message should be done.

The softer the hit, the better.

Chapter Text

Padmé both was and wasn’t surprised when she was told that Bail would be in charge of the crisis meeting in the Senate. Being not only an influential senator, but also from a core world, it puts him in a good position for being given such a task when both Obi-Wan and acting Vice Chancellor Ha’han-ash are out of commission.

No one can say that the core worlds do not have certain… privileges in the Republic in general.

She stares towards the center of the Senate chamber, where Bail is trying to calm the rest of the senators down. His voice is low, smooth, and soothing, and he has both his palms raised in a peaceful gesture. However... It’s easier said than done, considering the senate isn’t really calm on a good day, and it’s only been a day since… Since the bomb.

She smoothes out her dress and keeps her head high, Sabé and Motée reassuring presences behind her. She has her duty and she will fulfill it, even as she wishes Anakin was here… even as she wishes Obi-Wan wasn’t hurt.

Anakin… Does he even know what has happened? She’s been afraid to call him, what if she does before the Temple does? She doesn’t want to cause further strife between Anakin and the Jedi… Especially not because of her… she’s done enough already…

She takes a deep breath and only barely refrains from sighing. Keep your head in the game, Padmé. Personal concerns will have to wait until later.

“Please, Senators, we cannot lose our heads! Especially not during such dire times as now! An attack on the Senate Office Building itself is no small thing, certainly, but we must keep calm.” Bail’s voice seems to have an edge of frustration to it, but Padmé cannot be sure of it. It could just be the strain of the general chaos in the aftermath of the bombing.

Of course, Bail is hardly the only one feeling the strain. The talks have been going for two hours already, with no end in sight. Padmé feels the tension building in the back of her head and her temples, and rolls her shoulders to try and relieve it just a smidge.

The discussion continues, but Padmé remains silent. She has nothing to add to the discussion for now—there isn’t enough information yet for the senate to truly make a move, and unless someone makes a horrendously ill-conceived suggestion, she will continue to remain silent.

“Yes, Senator Halth, I will give you the word.” Bail gestures to his left, and a pod detaches from the wall to hover in the middle.

Padmé narrows her eyes, and watches Halth closely. He is one of Palpatine’s most fervent supporters and holds many extreme opinions regarding the war, Jedi, and clones that she finds distasteful. He bears close watching, especially now when they still don’t know what the situation is with the Supreme Chancellor—with Obi-Wan.

A twinge in her chest breaks off her train of thought. Oh, Obi-Wan. While the bombs were set and detonated in Senator Biwa’s office, she cannot help but wonder if it is a third attempt on Obi-Wan’s life. It just seems so convenient that it happened while Obi-Wan occupied the offices…

Two—possibly three—attempts already. Someone, or several someones, are desperate to get him out of office as quickly as possible by any available means, that much is clear. But why? It could be general anti-Jedi sentiment—and Obi-Wan has made it clear that Supreme Chancellor or not, he is still a Jedi—or it could be directly connected to Obi-Wan’s ongoing work of change…. or it could even be something personal. Though Padmé doesn’t know what anyone would have against Obi-Wan on a personal level.

She does sigh now. She’s having trouble focusing even during such an important occasion, she must get herself together. She’ll have time for these contemplations later.

“Thank you, Senator Organa,” Halth says, before letting out a terrible wet sounding cough. “We are in a terrible situation, my fellow Senators.” He raises his arms, trying to appeal with dramatics, perhaps. It’s a technique Padmé has seen before, it has been used to great effect many times—unfortunately. “Our Supreme Chancellor was caught up in a bombing at the Senate—a strike against all of us—and we do not yet know if he will survive at all!” Noise explodes in the hall, as always when someone says something controversial or highly dramatic.

It takes some time before the noise level lowers and Halth can continue, “We cannot be found floundering at a time such as now! We must be proactive! We must have a clear leadership. A strong leadership!”

Padmé’s eyebrows knit together, her mouth purses together and presses her hand gently over it. She does not like the direction this is taking.

“With Chancellor Kenobi out of commission, possibly even permanently, I suggest we reinstate former Chancellor Palpatine as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.”

Chapter Text

Yan Dooku looks out over the holotable, filled with recent battles against the Republic. Battles that have started to go increasingly well for the Republic, with the heightened morale from their new chancellor.

How is it possible for one man to have so much influence despite never before being in a true position of power? Then again, Dooku supposes, perhaps this is Qui-Gon’s legacy. One of the Order’s best negotiator’s very well trained apprentice…

He ignores the stab of pain at the memory of his former padawan. Now is not the time to indulge in nostalgia; he has work to do.

The buzzer on the door beeps suddenly, interrupting his thoughts, before the door slides open to reveal Asajj Ventress.

The Force around her swirls with glee, and there’s a confidence in her stride that has been slightly lacking lately due to their losses.

“Master, I have news from the Republic,” she says, hoarsely. Her eyes are almost luminous in her face, the hunger in them obvious.

He knows what she longs for: to be officially named his Sith apprentice, to finally be given the title of Sith. But for all her strength, all her proficiency in the Dark side… as long as Sidious still lives, Dooku cannot give her that title.

The Rule of Two was created by Darth Bane for a reason. He saw that what is the strength of the Jedi, is the weakness of the Sith. The more Sith there are, the more infighting and the more internal betrayal.

Too many Sith and they weaken. They fight amongst themselves as much as they do the Jedi, which gives the Jedi the advantage. But when there’s only two, not several competing lines or masters, only one master and one apprentice, they remain strong. And it is in solitude, isolation, that the Sith have endured.

Divide and conquer. However, if there’s nothing to be divided, there’s nothing that can be conquered. Unlike the Jedi, leaning on each other, depending on their community… Weak. Never standing on their own feet, always having half a mind on the wellbeing of the people around them.

Dooku knows them well, for he was once one of them.

Once.

No more.

A gentle breeze sweeps through the room, an imagined whisper of a voice missed, and with it comes an inexplicable sense of melancholy.

Dooku runs a hand over his beard and tries to dismiss the odd sensation. Useless sentimentality.

“What news?” Dooku knows that if she comes with it herself, then it’s important news indeed.

“There has been a bombing in the Republic Senate. Two senators are dead, two are injured…” she trails off, clearly for dramatic effect, as her grin widens, “and Master Kenobi is in critical condition.”

Dooku blinks slowly. Once. Twice.

“It was an assassination attempt on the Chancellor?”

Sidious. It must be Sidious. So he’s making his move then, finally. Dooku is… interested… in seeing what he will do. An assassination is it? Certainly useful for getting Kenobi out of the way, but with the risk of making him a martyr for his cause.

Well, it hardly matters to Dooku.

“Actually, my master, the bombs were placed in the office of the Senator of Illi-Hian. It appears that dear Obi-Wan was there for a meeting and caught in the blast by pure chance.”

How convenient.

Dooku strokes his beard again. Somehow, Sidious has facilitated this. There is no doubt in Dooku’s mind that the attempt was aimed at Kenobi, anything else is simply too convenient.

“Thank you, my dear, that is good news indeed.” Through the Force he feels the pride in her swell. Her hunger for power comes from her desire to be acknowledged.

“Was there something you had to show me?” He looks closer at Asajj, still so young, so fresh, and despite what she thinks, still so unknowing of true betrayal.

He’s heard her story, he knows how she became the queen of Rattatak, where he found her and took her on as his apprentice. But he’s done his own research, and he remembers the times before as well.

Ky Narec was believed dead and lost in a system quite far from Rattatak, far enough that no one would go to Rattatak to look for him without some form of distress signal… And as the Temple never received any from Ky Narec—he was considered dead and mourned years before he actually died, it turns out.

This is information Ventress does not have, and Dooku has no plans to give her. Her hatred of the Jedi Order is what keeps her blade sharp and makes her skills ever increase. Why would he hamper her growth and cripple her by removing the source of her hatred?

“Only one thing, my master.” She takes up a holo recorder from a hidden pocket in the holds of her skirt. “A recording of the Holonets news feed showing the rescue after the Senate bombing.”

Interesting.

“Show me.”

The hologram lights up, showing the large plaza outside the Senate office building, crowded with all manner of people. Dooku would wager that the noise level must have been immense, but it seems Asajj has turned the sound off, for now.

He watches the progression of Jedi carrying staff members, troopers and Senators through the crowd with little interest. He’s not quite sure why Asajj believes this to be of interest—though Dooku catches a glimpse of Yoda near the Jedi ship.

And then.

The recording zooms in as close as possible and it is unmistakably Master Kenobi who floats on a slab of duracrete, pinned like a Cirdulian hawk butterfly on a collector’s trophy board.

There’s an ache in Dooku’s chest, an odd screaming in the back of his head, and the past tries to superimpose itself on the present.

But Dooku’s control is as strong as Alderaanian steel and he doesn’t show even the slightest twitch of his face.

“Oh poor Obi-Wan,” Asajj says, seemingly amused, “what an unfitting end.”

“Indeed,” Dooku says, determined to keep any straying thoughts to himself. “Thank you for the update, we will have to speak more of it at a later time.”

A clear dismissal.

“Yes, my master.”

Ventress sweeps out of the room, in a flurry of long skirts and utmost confidence, leaving the holo recording behind.

Dooku sits by the large holotable, looking over the recent battles against the Republic and their outcomes. Well, it is what he should be doing, but in actuality, his mind is far away.

The news from the Republic, regarding the assassination attempt on a Senator and Chancellor Kenobi getting caught in the blast, should be good news. He should be pleased.

However.

He glances at the holorecorder still lying on the holotable. Whenever he sees that holo image—Obi-Wan Kenobi floating on a slab of duracrete with a durasteel rebar spearing him through the chest... Whenever Dooku's mind shows it to him again and again, he sees something different.

A larger stature.

Longer, darker hair with gray in it.

Whenever Dooku thinks of Master Kenobi, all he can see is Qui-Gon Jinn.

He's reminded of his padawan, pierced through the chest by a lightsaber.

Gone in an instant.

Disappeared from the Force long before his time.

Dead and burned on a pyre before Dooku could be there. He’d been on an important mission—too far away, too late—in service of the Republic. One he’d taken despite his withdrawal from the Jedi Order.

Ashes the only remains of what was once such a strong presence—physically and in the Force.

All of it directly caused by the corruption of the Senate, the tied hands of the Jedi, and Qui-Gon's preoccupation with Skywalker.

If the damn boy hadn't caused Qui-Gon's head to disappear into the Future, instead of staying in the Now despite his usual understanding of it, he would not have fallen to Maul's blade. There is no way Yan’s padawan would lose to Sidious’s little tool otherwise.

Grief stokes the familiar rage in Dooku's heart.

His teeth gnash together even as he tries to hold on to his composure. It is below him to get so visibly agitated, even if there is no one to bear witness to the shame of it.

His padawan was ripped away, senselessly and uselessly... And there was no justice to be found with the Republic. And the Jedi, chained down like akk dogs to the Senate's every whim, could not take it for their own.

Leaving was his only option.

How could he stay among the Jedi and continue to work for the good of the governing body that had failed them? That had caused the death of the man who was once Dooku's padawan? Even mostly withdrawn as he was, what choice did he have but to finally become one of the Lost?

He’d had talks with Sidious before leaving the order and these talks had continued after his leaving, though the man had not revealed his true identity until far later. They had extensively discussed the corruption of the Galactic Senate and the Galactic Republic. Sidious had understood in a way almost no one else had. And with Qui-Gon lost, well, having someone who understood Dooku’s reasoning had been so very refreshing.

Oh, some would argue that he should focus his rage on Maul. But why rage against a tool rather than the hand that wielded it? The Trade Federation caused the Naboo blockage and worked with Maul the entire way. Enabled by the Senate’s inaction and corruption. Corporations with representation in the Galactic Senate? Atrocious.

Not to mention that Maul is dead. What would be the point of focusing your anger on someone no longer living? They cannot feel it nor respond to it.

Of course, he's not blind to Sidious's involvement. Yan Dooku may be many things, but he is not a fool. Becoming the man's apprentice—learning the ways of the Sith and gaining that power—and being in charge of the Separatists is truly the only way for Dooku to have his revenge on all the people who caused Qui-Gon's death, Sidious included. The only way to return order to the Galaxy.

Qui-Gon would see that, were he still alive. He would have, no matter what Kenobi believes.

The Senate does not work for the people, and the Republic does not care for its individual members. If it did, how would Dooku have been able to so easily gather enough support for Sidious's civil war to come into fruition?

The Confederacy of Independent Systems could not exist if the Senate hadn’t given cause for its rise.

That Nute Gunray is on Dooku's side is both a blessing and a curse. He cannot rend the coward's flesh from his bones as long as he's a needed ally against the Republic. However, it does mean that as soon as the war is over, won, and order is restored, Dooku can easily do what he wishes with him. The pest feels safe in Dooku's presence and has no idea what Dooku holds in store for him.

Perhaps he will be made familiar with the slow death of a lightsaber through the chest, just as Qui-Gon was.

Dooku moves away from the holotable, leaving the holorecorder on it, and heads from the study to his bedroom instead.

He pours himself a glass of Corellian whiskey and knocks it back far faster than such a good drink deserves. He's tired of this war, of the feeling of somehow being trapped in Sidious's trap despite having thrown his former master aside.

Betrayal is the way of the Sith, it has always been such. Tradition has the apprentice betray and overthrow the master. But Sidious… Dooku has not been blind to Sidious’s interest in Skywalker. Dooku would not be surprised to find that Sidious was planning to replace him with Skywalker—if he could facilitate such a thing.

A preposterous idea, for all of Skywalker’s raw power, he cannot possibly hope to compete with Dooku.

He dismisses the thought and stares at his desk, there’s a small holorecorder on top of it. He knows exactly the image recorded within it—there is only one, despite all the memory storage on it—and the thought of it makes grief, quickly followed by rage and hatred, well up in his chest.

The Jedi control their emotions, lest their emotions control them. They do not draw power from rage or hatred. Rarely do they draw power from justified anger or fierce love when they connect to the Force.

Sith has no such constraints. Emotions are tools for greater power, the stronger your passion, the deeper your anger and hatred, the more powerful in the Dark side you become; the easier the Dark is to twist to suit your every need.

Dooku’s research into the Sith of old, older than Darth Bane of the Rule of Two, has made it clear that it is not unusual for a Sith Lord to find one specific emotion, feeling, or sensation, that spurs anger and hatred in them, that helps them draw ever deeper on the decay of the Dark.

Darth Nihilus, the Lord of Hunger. A being so twisted he became consumed by his own hunger, feasting on the life of others, drawing strength from their life until they died. His physical body twisted and decayed until he was little more than a malevolent spirit inhabiting a mask and an armour.

Darth Sion, the Lord of Pain. Struck down, and in his agony found the key to sustaining his life—almost resurrecting himself. His body decayed so fully it would be impossible to look at him without being able to see his corruption. Dooku has seen sketches and they are grotesque.

Both far from a fate Dooku would seek. Dependent on the Force to sustain their own life, their power the same as their weakness, ever dependent on the Force, incapable of standing on their own after the crippling decay caused by their own Force usage.

Finally, Darth Traya, the Lord of Betrayal. A Jedi, who after the betrayal of her apprentice, searched for meaning and found the way of the Sith. Raised two Sith apprentices, Nihilus and Sion, and was ultimately betrayed by them as well. Betrayed both as a Jedi and as a Sith, she sought for the end of the Force itself.

Her physical decay seems to have been lesser than that of the other two, but still readily apparent from the few texts he’s managed to find over his years of study. He wishes there was more to find, but detailed information from four thousand years ago is hard to come by, especially when it’s not information that would be contained within the Jedi Temple’s vast library.

Even so, contrasting these Sith of old with Sidious is… interesting. From what Dooku has been able to ascertain, there is no physical decay in Sidious despite how long he must have been a Sith. However, there is also no real sense of anything other, greater, than hatred in Sidious.

There’s no outside feeling that imbues him with rage and hatred, nothing outside hatred itself. Somehow… Somehow Sidious is so corrupt as a person that his hatred is self-sustaining. There’s nothing that drives it, it merely exists, ever reaching, ever deepening.

There could be greed, hunger for power… Sidious’s lust for taking control over the Galaxy would lend credence to the idea, however… There is something about that that does not fit. To Dooku it is as if the causation goes the other way around. It is Sidious’s hatred that makes him lust for power and greedy for material possessions.

Is it this lack of another emotional well that keeps Sidious’s appearance normal? Or has he found some way of stopping the decay of his physical form?

Considering the length of the Sith’s time hidden away from the galactic stage, it would not be unreasonable to assume that one of the long Line of Bane discovered a way to delay the decay—if not stop it entirely.

Dooku has not learned such a skill from Sidious, and so he wonders how his own decay will look.

How will his rage and hatred, his usage of the most decayed version of the Dark side present itself? How will it ravage his body, given enough time?

What will he look like, in the end?

What form will Darth Tyrannus, the Lord of Grief, take?

Chapter Text

Padmé’s gasp of horrified contrition is swept away in the sudden uproar from the senatorial pods all around the hall. Sound becomes almost muted in her shock, as if she was suddenly plunged underwater.

For all that she knows that Halth has always been one of Palpatine’s staunchest supporters—even if she’d always assumed he was doing so sycophantically rather than truly—she could never have guessed that he would go this far.

As the cacophony starts to die down to murmurs, Padmé waits. Someone must say something. There's no way this can go unchallenged… she listens, she waits, and she does not hear nearly enough dissenters among the senators.

Horror is an ice cold lump of metal in her gut, heavy and numbing the area around it. Is this what the Senate has become? A gathering of beings so focused on themselves and their own interests that they’ll seek whichever power is the most convenient to keep themselves safe and in power? She cannot see any other reason to reinstate Palpatine. He was already long past the end of his last term and ultimately the Senate voted for No-Confidence in him.

Barely any time has passed at all since the bombing, and Obi-Wan is not even dead. At least not yet. To move ahead on something like this, so soon… It would be foolish at best and downright devastating to their power structures and military and civilian morale at worst. It is not a valid course of action, Padmé is not even sure it is legal.

And yet…

And yet now she does not hear nearly enough complaints or dissent from the other senators. The senate is large, the representatives in the several thousands, and yet the noise level in the hall is not nearly as loud as it usually is during heated debates… As if a lot of them seem to agree. As if they think they should hollow out everything democracy means for the sake of this one man.

Sound becomes muted and she can suddenly feel her own pulse in her ears, the beating of her heart so hard and heavy in her chest it almost hurts. She tries to swallow around the sudden lump in her throat, and she starts to struggle for even breathing.

She wants Anakin. She wants to bury her face in his chest and pretend none of this is real. Pretend they’re back on Naboo, before everything truly and utterly went wrong…

A soft and warm hand on the back of her clammy neck startles Padmé out of her reverie. She looks over her shoulder at Sabé’s pale face and takes in the grim set of her mouth, but the glint of pride and determination in her eyes.

Sabé believes in her. Padmé knows she does.

Padmé is not a Core Senator. She does not have that inherent privilege. However, for a long time she was the Senator of the Supreme Chancellor’s home world, and she knows people believed he favoured her—he certainly acted the sweet old man and was a caring mentor to her for years, even if she’s now starting to doubt him and his motives…

Palpatine put her in a position of power within the Senate. And her own skills meant she rose in esteem enough that she was the head of the anti-army faction before... before everything.

She has a voice. She has power. And she knows she holds a lot of esteem. It’s part of why it surprised her that Senator Mandai did not ask for her support in calling for the Vote of No-Confidence against Palpatine. She would have lent her help to help draw the war to a close, bring back negotiations for peace… but perhaps she has not made her stance on that clear enough. Perhaps she has not been as clear in her wish for peace as she’s believed...

No matter.

If no one else will make their voice heard properly, then Padmé will. Bail cannot, as current moderator, so the responsibility falls to her.

She places her hand on the senatorial pod panel requesting speaking rights. It quickly lights up green—request granted.

The pod detaches from the wall and hovers towards the middle.

Padmé draws a deep breath.

Chin up, shoulders back, chest out, back straight.

“Senator Halth.”

Silence descends in the hall and Padmé can feel the oppressive feeling of having the attention of so many beings at the same time. She stands tall.

“Former Chancellor Palpatine’s two terms as Chancellor had long since ended, but were extended on Senate request until this Senate, this governing body of the Republic, voted for No-Confidence in his leadership. A grand majority of the senators around you, Senator Halth, lost confidence in Former Chancellor Palpatine’s ability to lead us.”

Breathe.

“To reinstate Former Chancellor Palpatine to office would go against a majority decision of this Senate, and it would need to ignore the fact that he is currently being investigated by this Senate and the Jedi together for corruption charges.” She takes a deep breath and forces her jaws to unclench before she continues speaking, “Until this investigation is completed, should Supreme Chancellor Kenobi pass away—” Gods forbid it—“it is Acting Vice-Chancellor Ha’han-ash who will act as head of state. Such is the nature of this government. Anything else would undermine our political system and make us look weak in the eyes of our people and the Separatists. Acting Vice-Chancellor Ha’han-ash is currently in the Temple recuperating from her injuries, but we know that she is merely mildly injured and will soon return to office.”

Padmé forces her hands to stay relaxed, to not clench into fists.

“It is the opinion of the Naboo system that your suggestion to reinstate Former Chancellor Palpatine is inappropriate and should be immediately disregarded.”

Silence reigns for a few moments until it becomes clear that she has finished speaking.

The noise level in the room immediately goes up again. Senators shouting back and forth, and for a brief terrifying moment Padmé fears that the Senate will ignore itself, will demand the reinstatement anyway, that Palpatine’s claws in many of the Senators is simply too strong.

She knows she’s been growing increasingly uncomfortable with Palpatine and his general situation in the Senate. It’s almost as if the longer she’s been away from him, the longer she’s had to think about it without seeing his kind face, the more dubious it all looks… and with the evidence Obi-Wan presented to get the corruption investigation going, it seems right to be suspicious.

She cannot let the Senate go back on its decision. If it does… truly it would be a symptom of corruption beyond her wildest dreams.

“I fully agree with Senator Amidala,” a voice calls out, clear and strong amidst the cacophony. Senator Mandai’s pod sidles up to the right of Padmé's, and she's once again reminded how large Naangni are. Behind Senator Mandai is a slightly smaller, more colourful Naangni, likely her attendant or perhaps a protégé.

“If we are to reinstate a former Chancellor who left his post due to No-Confidence, we might as well bring back Former Chancellor Valorum who, at least, hadn't gone over his term limit,” Senator Mandai continues, interrupting Padmé's train of thought.

Chancellor Valorum… Padmé hasn't thought of him in years now, but somehow… it feels like she's missing something. Like there's something important there she's forgetting. She makes a quick note on her datapad so she won't forget about it again, but it'll have to wait for now.

“Is this government body for the good of this republic and the star systems represented, or for the good of the senators representing them? Or… Are the Separatists right to leave the Republic?” She pauses, to a horrified silence in the hall, as if the other senators are too shocked to argue. “If the corruption in our system is so great that we reinstate an ousted head-of-state who’s currently under investigation for corruption, mere days after an attack on our capital while our current Chancellor is still receiving medical attention, well… Perhaps the Separatists have a point.” Senator Mandai’s face gives very little clues to her state of mind, Naangni faces are not expressive in a way Padmé can understand at least, but her voice is somehow…. bland. It’s deceptively bland, as if she’s waiting for something… What that something is, however, Padmé isn’t sure about, but it almost feels like a predator waiting for prey to step close enough to be caught.

“I once again speak for the Haa’ndu system as well as 134 other star systems when I say that we oppose the suggestion to reinstate former Chancellor Palpatine and fully back Senator Amidala’s demand to have it thrown out entirely.”

There is something almost unspeakably reassuring about having a predator of the Naangni’s calibre on your side.

The noise rises in the hall again, but Padmé can see that the majority has been swayed to her side. Had she been alone she would have let out a huge breath of relief, but as it is she must remain poised; the eyes of the senate are still upon her.

“Senator Mandai,” Padmé hurries to the other senator’s side as the Naangni politely waits for her, “I would like to thank you for your support during today’s session.” As much as Padmé has tried to build a stronger relationship with Haa’ndu since the Vote of No-Confidence was called, despite looking over legislation together, she feels as though it’s been far more slow going than she would have expected—despite how many of their political positions align.

“Absolutely, Senator Amidala. I am very grateful that you spoke up, while I was gathering the strength of my fellow Senators to stand behind me. Lending you than strength when you stood up for the good of the Republic is the least I could have done.”

Padmé nods, keeping her smile internal. So that’s why Senator Mandai did not protest immediately.

They move through the halls together, heading down towards the legislation library beneath the Senate. Just before Senator Mandai heads into a private reading room, she looks down at Padmé.

Something squirms in her chest and her heartbeat picks up speed, she can feel her pulse in her throat—the undivided attention of a predator is… unnerving, at times.

“So it seems that you can be trusted after all, Senator Amidala,” Senator Mandai says in a low rumbling voice.

Padmé startles, unsure what to say to such a proclamation.

“I… what?”

Has she… given off the impression that she’s not trustworthy?

“When I gathered Senators to stand with me when calling for the Vote of No-Confidence against Senator Palpatine, your name came up due to your staunch anti-war position and opposition of the creation of a Republic army.” She pauses and turns her head slightly to the side. “However, your close relationship with Former Chancellor Palpatine, his apparent fondness of you and the time you spent as his protégé made you a very untrustworthy person. But now I see that perhaps the two of you were not as close as you appeared.”

She moves inside, and as she closes the door, she says one final thing:

“You were under his influence since you were very young, ever since you were the Queen of Naboo. I am glad to see that you have stayed strong and outside of his influence and manipulations.”

The door closes.

Padmé feels the hairs at the back of her neck stand up and cold sweat on her skin. Sabé clasps her hand, sweaty and clammy as it is, and Padmé uses the familiar touch to ground herself to reality.

Something… Something about what Senator Mandai just said is very important.

“Sabé, we’re heading back to the apartment. I have much to think about.”

Chapter Text

Smoke curls slowly towards the ceiling, to join with the dim fog already descended over the bar's main hall. The many glowing ends of smokers glow eerily in the dimly lit room, like eyes in the dark.

Quinlan nurses his mug of aseet as he keeps scanning the room with sharp eyes, his sensitive ears working overtime to try and pick up the slightest bit of interesting conversation—preferably something to do with the Senate bombing; maybe a cocky bounty hunter bragging about their excellent work.

It's unlikely that anyone taking such a high-stake job and executing it as well as this would openly brag about it, but there's always room for hope. People tend to be stupider than you'd expect.

"Well then, stranger, haven't seen you here before," the barkeep suddenly says, two of his four arms wiping a glass clean as the other two cross over his chest. "Why are you here?"

Quinlan takes a long sip of aseet and wonders if he should even bother to reply, or if staying silent would be more suspicious than grunting some vague answer.

"Bounty hunting," he finally grunts, mouth still on the rim of his mug, muffling the sound.

"Must be new to Coruscant then," the barkeep concludes with an ugly snort.

Interesting.

"What makes you say that?" Quinlan knows it's not his clothes—he's tailored his disguise to look like most other bounty hunters: generic traveller's clothes with hidden body armour and two blasters on his belt. His lightsaber is expertly hidden in a pocket between his shoulder blades; easy for him to reach with the Force should he need it, but not obvious to any observer. In fact, Quinlan has even hidden his tattoos with makeup and dirt to keep his connection to his home planet secret, and he's styled his thick braid-locks into a lump up on his head, rather than letting them hang free as he usually does. So not only does he not look like a Kiffar, he certainly doesn't look like a Jedi. At all. He should look generic enough to pass unnoticed, so what is it that makes the barkeep think he's new?

"If you'd been here long, you'd know that work is scarce right now, ever since the Hissleet Endai sent out their warning."

The Hissleet Endai? The assassin's guild?

"What?" Quinlan barks, "What warning? For what?" He's not new on Coruscant, but he's been away on war missions for months, clearly he's missed more in Coruscant's underworld than he'd thought. He drums his fingers against the bar counter, playing up his agitation.

The barkeep lets out a rattling laugh, hoarse and wet, from the back of his throat.

"Apparently, one of theirs has gone missing. And until they find her, they're gonna keep an extra careful eye on every single assassin, scoundrel, thief, bounty hunter... you name it, on Coruscant."

Quinlan blinks from slight shock.

"Someone's gone after a Hissleet Endai?" Whoever did that must be suicidal. The Hissleet Endai are not to be trifled with, and if they're even issuing warnings before knowing who the culprit is, then it must be one of their more well-regarded and favoured members. By the Force, what a mess. Quinlan keeps his cursing to the privacy of his own mind, but can't help the darkening of his face. What shit fucking timing. Now of all times.

"Apparently the last idiot hasn't been born yet," the barkeep snorts. "Word is she didn't check in, and they haven't received a dead-drop, so they're certain she's either still alive or someone skilled enough to stop the dead-drop did it—which is why they're not fucking around right now."

Quinlan nods slowly. He wonders if there’s any way for him to get around this to get information on the things he wants, rather than some underworld squabble he doesn’t give one shit in the galaxy about.

He pauses as a thought strikes him and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

An H.E. assassin goes missing just around the time there's a senate bombing that manages to catch Kenobi in the blast... Isn’t just the most spectacular coincidence?

Fuck.

Some fucking maniac hired an H.E. assassin to get rid of Kenobi—no matter which office the bombs went off in, Quinlan is sure of it—and then killed said assassin. What a ballsy fucker. Quinlan almost has to respect them for it. Almost.

"What happens if someone stumbles upon the missing Hissleet Endai member?" Quinlan is an expert tracker, and now that he has a direction to go in... Well, this missing assassin will not elude him for long.

The barkeep shrugs slightly, putting away the glass and picking up a new one to clean, before he says "They didn't say. They did leave a comm-number for information. If you know anything, bounty hunter, I advise you to step carefully. The Hissleet Endai may be absolute professionals at the top of their field, but they're also completely crazy bitches."

Quinlan only barely refrains from rolling his eyes. "I don't know anything, but if I stumble upon a fucking assassin corpse in the underbelly of this damn planet, I don't wanna get fucking shanked for it, ya hear?" Slightly louder than usual speaking tone, just to make sure his words are overheard. If anyone's interested, they'll come up to him. If the Hissleet Endai are hiding somewhere nearby, they may actually refrain from trying to kill Quinlan once he finds the missing assassin.

The barkeep lets out that ugly laugh again. "You're a smart one, bounty hunter." He slaps a small piece of flimsi on the bar before picking up a new glass to clean with his second pair of arms. With that, the conversation is over and the barkeep turns away, six pairs of eyes scanning the crowd, likely looking for customers wanting to spend more money.

Quinlan taps a finger against the bar before he picks up the small piece of flimsi. It's almost empty, only has the words 'Hissleet Endai' and a comm-number on it.

So that's how it is, the barkeep wasn't just gossiping with a new face. He's likely working for the H.E. to get as many eyes and ears on Coruscant open and looking as possible.

He hides a grin in his mug. Smart.

Tracking when you don't know who you're tracking is hard. Actually, that's a fucking understatement; it's almost impossible. However, Quinlan is the best. He's not the only tracker in the Order, but he's by far the best one. He doesn’t need exact information to do this thing.

There's a reason he's generally the go-to guy for missions that deal with the criminal underworld and hunting down important criminals—too bad he was off-planet on a different mission when the investigation during the Senate bombing started.

Then again, they have Shiana on it, and she's good too.

Scratching the back of his neck, Quinlan looks at the flimsi piece again. He wonders who wrote it. If it was the barkeep, it's useless. If it was one of the H.E.s, then there's a chance he can find her instead, and use her as a starting point for his tracking.

He closes his eyes, draws upon the Force and focuses it on the flimsi in his hand.

A Togruta. Speckled montrals. Sharp teeth. Sturdy black boots. Typical bounty hunter clothing. A hidden nook of the bar, behind the orchestra.

Bullseye.

Quinlan cracks his knuckles and gulps down the rest of his aseet. He glances around, no one seems to have noticed anything. Good. Time to find himself an H.E. agent keeping track of the bounty hunters and general scoundrels in this bar to see if he can get anything out of her. Time will tell.

He heads off towards the hidden nook and weaves through the crowd and tables with confident steps. He catches a glimpse of the assassin quickly, and in the same instant he knows that she caught sight of him as well.

Not surprising, you don't get to join the Hissleet Endai unless you're good.

He's still a bit away from her table when she suddenly kicks one of the chairs away, it scrapes loudly against the floor, and stares him straight in the eyes, her hand gesturing towards the chair; an invitation. Her mouth falls open slightly, just to show off sharp teeth; a warning.

Quinlan takes the offered, in a manner of speaking, seat and sits down by her table. Her only response is the slight narrowing of her eyes and a tilt of her head. She's not talking first. Quinlan doesn't even attempt to hide his grin.

"So I’ve heard you're missing someone." As far as greetings go, this one would likely make Kenobi pinch the bridge of his nose and roll his eyes, but it's just the kind of greeting that fits the situation in Quinlan's opinion. There's no way the H.E. representative, if you can call her that, is going to want any polite chit-chat. Straight to the point is more likely to win him favours.

"Have you now." It's not a question.

"Yeah, the barkeep just told me and gave me this." He drops the flimsi on the table, text side up. Her eyes glance towards it, and the muscle over her left eye pulls upwards, the Togruta equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

"I don't see how that has anything to do with me."

Quinlan lets his grin take on a sharp edge. He's not surprised that she's playing dumb, but he knows he's right.

"Most probably wouldn't think so. But I'm the best tracker on this side of the galaxy, and I know you wrote that note, which means you're one of the H.E., which in turn means that unless the barkeep was lying to my face, you are in fact missing someone."

He would have preferred not to make contact at all, as odds are that she'll want to follow him. However, if he wants a starting point when looking for this assassin, then he’s just going to have to wear his big-boy underwear and do it anyway. And if she does tag along... Well, it'll be a pickle to deal with in regards to the Jedi investigation, because how the fuck does he stop her from trying anything without getting into a real inconvenient spot with the H.E.? Oh well, that's a concern for later. Priority right now is getting a starting point.

In the blink of an eye she whips out a vibroblade from her sleeve and aims it at Quinlan's throat.

"Who are you."

Quinlan meets her stare unflinchingly.

"Someone who can find your missing friend."

Her eyes are as cold as the ice of Illum and her mouth twists into a toothy snarl.

"Someone who went after her in the first place, perhaps."

Clumsy. If she suspected him of being the culprit, accusing him like this is... His grin widens further. Clever. So she's trying to appear wrong-footed and wound up, easy to manipulate, and in over her head, is she? Well, enough games. Quinlan doesn't have the patience for this. The longer it takes him to find the missing assassin, the longer it will take him to ascertain whether or not she has anything to do with the bombing, and the longer it will take him to collect evidence.

He laughs, low and throaty, but his mirth doesn't break through the tension at all; his would-be assailant is still vigilant.

"Enough games. You want to find your missing member, and so do I."

A glint of the blade, and Quinlan quickly dodges backwards in his chair to avoid the swipe of the assassin's blade.

"Easy now," he says, hands still not straying toward his blasters or his lightsaber.

"Why do you want to find her? What interest is her disappearance to you?" Her eyes catch Quinlan's in a staring match, and it's clear that she's still judging him, trying to test his mettle, waiting for him to slip up.

"I happen to think that she was involved in something related to a bounty of mine. So, finding her to find out whether or not my hunch is true is rather high on my list of priorities."

Bounty, Jedi Order duty... Eh, semantics.

"Is that so." The vibroblade doesn't waver the slightest. Quinlan is genuinely impressed with the strength of her arm to keep it level without shaking for so long.

"How about you give me some information, like from where she last made contact with you, and I'll put my skills to use and let you know when I find her?"

And if that's after he's made an official Jedi investigation of the place, she doesn't need to know that, does she?

She finally sheaths her vibroblade, but her eyes remain narrowed and focused on Quinlan.

"You may call me La."

Quinlan is actually impressed with himself for getting a name out of her, fake or not. He'd assumed she'd stay fully anonymous throughout their entire... acquaintance.

"Call me Van." He reaches his hand out for a handshake, ready to withdraw it at any moment. La is fast, but there's no way she's a match for the reflexes of a trained Jedi so if she tries anything dangerous, he’s ready.

She simply slaps his hand away. "I don't trust you and I'll be with you every step of the way. Don't for a second think you can fool me into giving you information and let you run off with it." Her face distorts into a snarling grimace. "Either we both go, and don't think I'm without backup for even the briefest of moments, bounty hunter, or we don't go at all. Got it?"

Quinlan makes a face. That's... less than ideal. He's going to have to be very creative if he wants to be able to get information to the Jedi without outing himself and without letting La take anything important.

What a fucking mess this is.

He groans, "Fine. But you're not gonna touch anything when I find her until I've found out what I need."

"You're not in charge here, bounty hunter." La bares her sharp teeth again, leaning forward in her chair.

"Actually—" Quinlan bares his teeth at her in turn, though admittedly his are less impressive—"I think you'll find that I am. You want to find her. I can find her for you. But either you do as I say, or I fuck off and find her without your information and without you getting anything out of me."

Hopefully she won't call his bluff on that, because Coruscant is big, he doesn't even know who he's looking for, and he'd rather not make an enemy of the entire Hissleet Endai.

"Fine. But I'll be watching you every step of the way, bounty hunter. If you try anything, it'll be the last thing you do."

Tracking with someone watching him, someone who isn't supposed to know he's a Jedi, is a very annoying experience. It means a lot more making up banthashit about faded footprints, fake data transfers—as if Quinlan can hack into that kind of system with that kind of ease and speed—to ensure his psychometric flashes and Force tracking looks like non-Force enhanced tracking.

It's a pain in the ass, and if Quinlan could dodge La without it coming back to bite him in the ass, he would. He knows the Hissleet Endai well enough that if he tries it, his face will be on H.E. bounties faster than he can finish the tracking, which will fuck up his future undercover work. So he has to play nice with La, no matter how much extra work it is.

Kenobi owes him for this. As soon as he recovers, Quinlan's gonna make him buy dinner or something. Or maybe Quinlan'll just take it out on his ass in the sparring ring. Whichever.

Kenobi will recover. Quinlan refuses to entertain anything else.

At least he’s been lucky enough to find an actual trail of scramblers. If he were a betting man—which he is on occasion, but not about things like this—he would wager that some of them have been removed or moved to new locations to obfuscate the trail. But Quinlan’s the best for a reason, and the Force is a stalwart ally.

He looks around the alley he's finally found his way to. It's really hidden away in the underbelly of the city. He's not surprised that someone wanting the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic—still the most hilarious thing to happen this century, holy shit Kenobi—dead would pick such an out-of-the-way place to meet up.

He comes to a stop in front of a derelict building at the end of it, all evidence pointing towards this being the meeting point.

"This is the place, then?" La's voice is low, hushed. She hasn't said much during Quinlan's tracking, neither to argue with his methods or to question how he knows shit. He's suspicious and on high alert, ready for when she decides to pull a blaster out... or maybe attempts to stab him with her vibroblade. Either or, really.

"Looks like it. Unless the trail continues out of it through some other door." He shrugs one shoulder and reaches out to touch the door gently.

A brief flash of the past rushes up to meet him.

A yellow-skinned Twi'lek woman heading inside, scramblers and automatic blasters, a dead-drop ready to go, multiple weapons on her body, and a sense of preparation and suspicion.

Quite the security net she'd set up. So how the hell did she end up dead? It makes Quinlan wonder who the fuck they're dealing with here.

He pushes the door open and steps inside, La close behind.

The sight greeting him both is and isn't a surprise.

He's not surprised to find the assassin's dead body, not at all. However, he is surprised to find her without any obvious signs of injury.

"Daesha!" La starts to rush forward towards the body, but Quinlan catches her by the upper arm in a strong grip.

"What did I set as terms before we started on this little expedition?"

La growls in frustration and rips her arm free from Quinlan's grip, but she stays put.

He moves around the body slowly, taking in the placement of her arms, the nearby blaster, and the utter lack of outside damage. How the fuck did her assailant manage to kill her with no blaster wounds, no stab wounds, and no bruising on the neck to indicate strangulation?

The level of decay is minimal, mostly due to the lack of nature on Coruscant. It's not far enough down for real life, so there aren't any maggots and the microbes would be limited to what was already inside her body at the time of death. Which is rather convenient, as grim as that is to say.

He kneels down and looks closer at the neck, there are faint hints of scratch marks on it. He looks at the hand that lies on the chest, a suspicion forming in his head. He reaches out and touches the body, to see if he can get a glimpse of—!

Darkness. Hatred. Decay. Danger.

Quinlan rips his hand back, choking on a gasp and pressing his lips together to keep it from leaving his mouth.

What in all the core worlds was that? He'd felt... The Force. But twisted. Dark and Decayed. He couldn't see anything, it was all covered in a shroud of darkness...

The hairs on the back of Quinlan's neck rise again. His chest burns with his lack of breathing, but Quinlan finds himself holding his breath anyway, like a small prey animal hiding from a predator. The Sith Lord.

"What are you doing, Van?"

La's voice rips Quinlan out of his stupor.

"I, uh, I was just..." He coughs, trying to find some form of excuse for his reaction.

"Is this some Jedi mumbo jumbo?"

Quinlan freezes. "Excuse me?" How the fuck…? If all his precautions were for naught, he's going to be really put out.

"Look, Van, I don't know what the fuck the Jedi want with Daesha, but I know you're a Jedi.” She sighs. “We didn't have any clues, whoever did this got through all our regular safeguards. We were desperate enough to trust a Jedi." She crosses her arms across her chest. "You're good at hiding it, but you're just a bit too fast. A bit too strong. And some of the shit you pulled during tracking looked like straight up magic. I'm not an idiot."

Quinlan presses his lips together in frustration. He could continue to deny it, but by the look of La's face, there's nothing he can say that would make her believe it, and there's no way he'd manage a Force suggestion on her.

He groans and scrubs a hand across his face, careful to not rub off the makeup or the dirt that hides his tattoos.

"I'm pretty sure your lady here was responsible for the bombing in the Senate.”

La flinches backwards just the slightest bit, before she bares her teeth again.

"So that's why you wanted to find her?" Her face falls placid and most of the previous passion in her seems to drain away. Though Quinlan can still feel the tension and frustration radiate from her in the Force. Still, she does a good job of appearing unaffected.

"Yep. And since I'm interested in knowing who hired her, I had to find her, didn't I?"

La crosses her arms across her chest and looks away.

"Her dead drop never came in. Nor did she activate her distress signal, as far as we could tell. Before that, her backup lost track of her. Her signal started bouncing across the entire city. We were completely unable to assist her, and now..."

For a guild that prides itself on having each other's backs, that must be a harsh blow. Well, Quinlan has limited empathy for them, they're assassins after all, and it's not like they're some particularly altruistic type of guild only taking hits on corrupt politicians or actual criminals.

"In other words, whoever did this played you like a fiddle."

La just closes her eyes, and doesn't deign to respond to the words—light taunt, if Quinlan's being honest with himself.

He turns his attention back to the dead body, and reaches out to it with the Force. He doesn't know much about the healing arts, but he can do some minor checks—like looking for broken bones and shit like that. It's kind of necessary at times when you're on your own a lot.

The bones in her neck are crushed.

Despite the lack of outside signs of trauma, localised trauma anyway, her neck is clearly snapped and the bones mostly crushed. Judging from the scratch marks around her throat, someone was pawing at it.

Quinlan reaches out for her hand again and turns it over. Skin beneath the fingernails, as he thought. He's surprised that she isn't wearing gloves, but on the other hand, it's lucky for him.

So the Sith Lord used the Force to kill her. But why snap her neck so violently? He could just have choked her, or thrown her into a wall or something similar to better disguise the use of the Force.

"Can you tell what killed her?" La is looking at him when Quinlan turns his head to her again.

He debates how much he should tell her. She's a criminal, he could likely walk her into any bounty office and they'd take her off his hands and pay him for it, but there's also the risk that she knows something he may need for the investigation. Considering that this is about the Sith Lord... Quinlan doesn't want to miss anything.

"Snapped neck," he says, finally. It is far from all the details, but it should be enough to satisfy her.

La frowns then and her eyes narrow. "Do you think I'm stupid? There's no way she died from a snapped neck."

What?

Quinlan stares at her for a moment, not quite sure what to make of her sudden denial. Especially since the cause of death was a snapped neck, he's not even lying to her right now.

"Uh... She died from a snapped neck. Why would you think that's impossible?" He looks at the body again, but he can't see any reason why La wouldn't believe it.

"She fired her custom blaster—which a Hissleet Endai will only do if they realise that they're about to die—and there are no proximity marks on the blaster, nor any signs of her shot having missed. So she must have hit her target, without her blaster—or her hand—taking any proximity damage. That means that her assailant must have been standing decently far away, and there's no way you can snap someone's neck from a distance like that." She stares at him unblinkingly. "So, are you still saying she died from a snapped neck?"

There is... something about that custom blaster that he needs to get more information about, clearly.

"Considering the fact that I'm pretty sure a Sith Lord was the one to kill her? Yeah, looks really fucking likely that it was a snapped neck."

The stoic look on La's face morphs into a look of confusion.

"What, exactly, is a Sith Lord?"

Well... fuck. It's not quite surprising that a non-Jedi wouldn't know what a Sith Lord is—before the Battle of Naboo, there hadn't been any in the public eye, or the Jedi's, for a millennium—but it's still frustrating to have to explain everything. Few enough people even know what a Jedi is, despite them having been the Republic's peacekeepers since its formation, so explaining an opposing... religious community? What the fuck would you even call the Sith? Anyway, explaining the opposite of the Jedi to someone who doesn't even know what a Jedi is...

"Greedy, murderous Force users who hate Jedi above everything else and would happily destroy planets for the sake of power... according to my history lessons anyway." He shrugs his shoulders. “Let’s just say that they’re fucking evil sons of gundarks and leave it at that, shall we?”

Short and sweet.

La looks both confused and worried. Considering all the rumours that seem to go around about Jedi, having an evil version of them may seem scary to people. Which, honestly, it is in Quinlan's opinion. Sith are terrifying and he doesn't really want anything to do with them at all.

And here he is. Following in the Sith lord's footsteps, trying to figure out what their game plan is—beyond "kill Kenobi", obviously.

"Regardless whether or not you know what a Sith Lord is, you seem to put a lot of stock into your woman's usage of her blaster. In fact, you said she'd only do it if she were dying, and you seemed very certain of it. Explain."

This is why he let her come along in the first place. He needed her as a starting point and he needs any and all information she has that can be useful in the investigation.

La seems less than willing to be forthcoming, but she seems aware that she may not have too many choices—unless she wants to go toe-to-toe with a Jedi.

"The custom blasters all Hissleet Endai carry is one of several... safeguard is the wrong word to use. They do not keep us safe, but they make sure our deaths are avenged by our sisters." She turns her back on Quinlan. "Each blaster bolt from our specially created blasters embed a sort of nano-machine into the target. These machines act as a form of identification."

La picks something out of her small hip bag, and holds it aloft so Quinlan can see it, though she's turned away from him. "We carry these identifiers with us at all times, when the nano-machines come into range of the machine, it will beep, and the nano-machines will start to emit light. This is to help us identify any who may have harmed our sisters so that we can take revenge for their loss."

Quinlan's brain stalls out. A machine that will react to the person who attacked the assassin currently lying dead by his feet. A machine that would identify the Sith Lord if it came within range of them.

"These nano-machines cannot be washed off, once they've been released they will seek their way until they reach living organic material—thus they will not stay on clothing and risk being lost. Though some will stay behind as residue on other materials, in case a droid is the culprit. Besides, the blaster is strong enough to go through most protective material for a chance to injure."

If Quinlan was second guessing his decision to let La come along before, he's now well aware that it was the right choice. Not only is this information that's exceedingly useful, he needs that machine.

Chapter Text

Mace Windu sits down in one of the reading rooms of the Temple Library to catch up on the investigation into the bombing of the senate. While he knows that he will soon have to ship out with his fleet again, he likes to keep himself updated on important occurrences. And as a member of the council, it's his duty to stay on top of things that affect his fellow Jedi.

He skims over the report from Knight Shiana, her psychometry so far has not been able to give any conclusive information beyond the yellow skin-tone of the person who placed the bombs which suggests a non human race, likely a Twi'lek, Togruta, or Zabrak.

He nods to himself. It's not much to go on, but if they end up finding several possible candidates, it will help them narrow it down to find the true culprit.

Even so… Mace sighs a bit, and pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache. Knight Vos would have been a good fit for the investigation, but he was off Coruscant on a mission when it started, so he was put on the duty of going into the Coruscant underworld to see if he could find any information about the bombing—once he got back from his mission of course.

They're spread so thin it's a minor miracle Vos was just finishing up a mission and quickly capable of taking another, but they can't continue like this for much longer. Back to back missions are no one's friend and dangerous for everyone.

But needs must.

Turning back to the reports, Mace tries not to let their unfortunate circumstances distract him for too long; he has too much to do to spend too much time brooding. It will have to wait until he has time to meditate and sort through his feelings properly. For now he must put it aside and focus on other topics.

Knight M'na writes that the bombs were built on a lynchpin model, where one had a timer, and as soon as that went off, the signal went from the first bomb to the others, they all blew up at the same time.

Mace pauses. A timer... that's imprecise when it comes to victim surety. Setting a bomb on a timer means anything unforeseen can end up making the plan fail. After all, if the intended victim just happens to leave the room for a trip to the bathroom, they would be spared from being directly the blast.

An imprecise method used in an assassination attempt on a republic senator that just happens to catch the Supreme Chancellor in the blast as well... An amazing coincidence, and just a little bit too coincidental, somehow.

Mace frowns.

Something about it doesn't fit, and Mace doesn't like it at all. He has no proof of something being wrong, but his feelings tell him that something is wrong about it. Something does not add up, all things considered. There is something more to this than what is apparent at first glance, Mace is sure of it, though he has no evidence to back it up.

The investigations of the epicentre isn't finished yet, so drawing conclusions will have to wait lest they risk being too hasty and making incorrect assumptions about what happened.

He puts the datapad down on the table to bring up some other reports from the GAR when his comm starts beeping. Mace frowns deeper and picks it up from its place on the table. The number comes up as one of the encrypted undercover comm numbers the Order employs.

Who in the Core Worlds could it be? Mace isn't expecting any report from an undercover operative... Unless...

Vos cannot have found anything already yet, can he? It seems preposterous, but perhaps...

Sighing, Mace accepts the voice-only comm.

"Yes?" While he'd like to identify himself further, the call comes from an undercover comm, and protocol is to do everything to avoid potentially blowing the cover of the person on the other end, so rude greeting it is.

"Master Wi, it's me, Van," Vos's voice comes through clearly, clearly enough that Mace can hear slight hesitance beneath the confidence in it.

Suspicious.

"Why are you calling, Knight Van?" Mace goes along with Vos's chosen code name without even really thinking about it. Years of experience with working with undercover operatives and diplomats from worlds with languages Mace’s tongue cannot accurately pronounce has long since taught him to use whatever name he is given for someone.

"Well..." Vos draws out the sound, almost stalling for time. "I've found our bomber."

Mace blinks in shock. Already? By the Force, how? That is far faster that Mace could even have dreamed.

He pauses. Vos didn't sound excited nor smug. Mace has a hunch of why, and with it he feels a headache coming on.

"Dead, I presume?" Just like the other two. Gives more credence to the thought that Obi-Wan was the true target, proof or no. Of course, they will have to find proof if they’re to take the mastermind to trial and ensure that they get locked up.

"Yep." Vos pops the last sound. "And, uh..." He hesitates, and Mace narrows his eyes. "The Sith Lord did it."

Like ice bits thrown inside his tunic, Mace feels shivers run down his spine. The Sith Lord. On Coruscant. And they haven't felt him. Even as the Force has lightened, it's still too darkened and muddled for them to even be close to seeing clearly, that much has become very obvious.

"You're sure?" Please, no.

"Felt it, yeah. And the assassin was killed from afar with a broken neck, with no visible bruising from hands or anything like it. So... Had to be the Force, there."

Sith spit.

Topical curse, but hardly appropriate.

Deep breaths.

In. Out.

In. Out.

In. Out.

"So we have a dead assassin killed by the Sith Lord on Coruscant. Without us knowing the Sith Lord was here at all. Do you have any other bad news for me, or is that all?"

Complete silence, but soon he can hear someone moving around from the other end of the comm. Is Vos not alone?

"The assassin is from a well known assassin's guild. And, uh, they were looking for her rather desperately."

Mace closes his eyes. Blast it.

"What did you do."

"Well... I needed somewhere to start. I'm good, but even I can't find someone when they could be anywhere on a planet the size of Coruscant and I don't know who they are, so... One of the other assassins tagged along."

Ah. So he has an assassin with him at this moment. Well, good thing Mace followed protocol then.

Mace rubs his forehead, trying to decide what to say. It’s far from ideal, but he has no doubt that Vos did it out of necessity. For all that his attitude to most things is laid back, he would not jeopardise something as important as this. Thus Mace will trust his judgement call in this situation… Unless a time comes where it becomes clear that it was a mistake.

“I see…”

Stall for time until you have something proper to say, or until Vos keeps talking to fill the silence, really.

"Whoever we're dealing with, they're good. They used a trail of scramblers to throw off the tracking device the assassin was wearing, to get her alone without backup. And they managed to not only stop her dead-drop, they also blocked out her distress signal. We've been able to confirm that the distress signal was activated on her part, even if her backup never received the signal."

While Mace had little hope of their target being incompetent, it's still slightly disheartening. With the state of the galaxy as it is, is a bit of ease on their path through life that much to ask for? Even if only just once in a while?

He shakes his head ruefully. Nothing worth pondering or focusing on. Life is as the Force wills it, and the galaxy proceeds as it will. The stream of time will continue onward no matter how they feel about it, and the only thing they can do is try to move with it, unless they need to try and change the direction of its flow.

"Unfortunate. Keep meticulous records of everything, including holoscans and pictures of the surrounding area and the body in its current state. Even if we get an investigation squad out to your position as quickly as possible, it's better if we have as much of it already documented as possible to avoid any information being lost."

"As you say, Master," Vos agrees, before he mumbles something to whoever is with him.

“Anyway, La—that’s the assassin who tagged along—told me something very interesting: the dead assassin, Daesha, managed to shoot her assailant with a custom blaster which emits nano-machines that can be used as an identifier. And since nothing in this place is reacting to the machine, it’s clear that our dead assassin didn’t miss her shot…”

Mace’s thoughts grind to a halt. “Which means the Sith Lord was hit by this traceable blast…” he breathes, barely able to believe it. If it wasn't for the fact that Mace Windu does not believe in luck, like most Jedi, he is almost tempted to do so at this moment.

"Got it in one, Master Wi."

It is, however, too easy. What, exactly, does the assassin get out of this?

"What's the catch, Van?" Mace stops himself from sighing, it would look less than ideal to do so when he knows this La can hear him. There's no point in making an enemy out of her when they need her help moving forward.

"Well... so far, in return for being given a tracking machine set to Daesha's blaster nano-machines, La has requested being let in on who the culprit is, possibly being there at the time of arrest, and immunity from persecution during the ongoing investigation."

Interesting.

"For herself or her entire guild?"

"For myself, Master Wi," an unknown voice suddenly cuts in. La. "I'm well aware that you Jedi cannot promise me immunity for my entire guild, you know us as criminals, and while you are not the regular police forces, as peacekeepers you're bound to hand criminals in to the Justice system... Even if you don't have any proof of any crimes, of course."

Mace suppresses a snort. Of course not.

"So, would you help out in the investigation, give us this identification tool, and as much information as you can regarding your associate's movements, in return for not being arrested and allowed to leave at the end of it, but with no protection or immunity after that?" A sudden thought strikes him, "And no immunity from being arrested by someone else if you are caught for any crimes during the investigation."

La snorts. "Yes. I wasn't expecting much else from you, and don't worry about me being caught and prosecuted, I've done nothing wrong for such a worry. I'm merely asking since I'm acquainted with Daesha, who... Well, we all know what she did."

"And if we find out you were in part responsible for the bombing during the investigation?" Mace cannot help but press her.

"Then our deal would be null and void and you may arrest me."

Confident. So either she is innocent and without involvement in this particular crime, or she believes she's covered her tracks well enough for it not to matter.

"Very well. I will have to discuss it with the Council before I can get back to you with a definitive answer, so please either stay with Van or make sure the two of you can get in contact at a later time once we've reached a decision."

"Of course."

Shuffling noises on the other end of the comm-call.

"I'll be contacting Shi regarding my current coordinates, since this is now part of her investigation as well," Vos says, clearly not planning on wasting any time with the investigation, regardless of the outcome of this deal.

"Good, very good. I will contact you once I've discussed the deal with the Council. May the Force be with you."

"And also with you, Master."

The call ends, and Mace stares at his comm unit. Is he really considering striking a deal with an assassin from the galaxy’s underworld? Would any court in the Republic find evidence gathered with her help admissible in court...?

The Sith Lord.

He nearly forgot. This is not just a bounty hunter to be brought to justice, this is the Sith Lord. Mace has little hope for a peaceful resolution with a Sith. Odds are it will come down to a battle and no telling how many lives will be lost in the meantime.

He'll discuss it with the Council. This may be their only chance of truly being able to ascertain the identity of the Sith Lord, as they seem capable of hiding their Force presence.

Two wrongs do not make a right and it is very possible that this La has committed an untold amount of crimes, and will continue to do so after a partnership with the Jedi has ended... But they have no evidence against her so they have no basis to arrest her except suspicion of collusion with the bomber, but even then they have no proof beyond that they know each other and by word-of-mouth belong to the same guild.

He really needs to speak with the Council. This is not a decision Mace can make on his own.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes in and out deeply.

If things continue to go down this road of complications even as the war continues to rage, he's not sure there's enough time in the world for him to sort it all out through meditation.

He leans back in his chair and rests both arms on his lap.

Sith spit.

Chapter Text

Rig Nema steps out of the transport, glad to be back on solid ground again—gladder still to be back at the Temple at last. The Coruscant air is as it always is, filtered and almost polluted.

She turns back to her troopers and watches them carefully; they’ve done their work well despite the long months of harrowing field work. They stand there, their armour hastily wiped clean but still dirty, alert despite months of harrowing work. They more than deserve the rest.

“Troopers, thank you for your hard work these past months. Take your rest. Sleep. Relax. The medical corps need you at your best, and we all want you healthy.” She smiles and bows slightly to her boys before heading towards the Temple, their cheers and goodbyes echoing behind her.

She heads into the Temple, soaking in the peace and tranquility suffused within its air and walls. She has missed this place as she headed the healer corps to back up the GAR to ensure that as few lives as possible are lost—none if it were close to possible. A worthy mission, but still she has missed this place… and the people in it.

She heads to her rooms for a shower and a light snack, everything else can wait until she feels slightly less wrung out. Vokara is sure to have everything well at hand, and if Rig’s immediate assistance were necessary, she would have contacted her. And really, if she went to see Vokara in this state, she’d be more likely to get a lecture on the importance of self-care than anything else.

Still… Rig smiles to herself. It will be good to see Vokara again, she's missed her sorely these past months. Their duties as chief medics and head healers mean they're rarely in the Temple at the same time these days, so they make sure to treasure the time they are given.

It is enough.

The flow of the galaxy cannot be controlled or stopped, everyone is swept away in its current. And while it may be possible to redirect its course, it will always come at a cost and one must ask oneself: is it worth it? Is the gain worth more than the cost?

If she forsakes her duty for her own selfish desires, does their fulfillment outweigh the harm caused to those she forsook—those she should have aided?

She shakes her head. If she had even considered such an action, Vokara would never have forgiven her for it. An action done for someone against their wishes is no favour to them.

She hums an old tune she learned when she was in the crèche as she goes to the cupboards in her small kitchen. The maintenance droids have kept them filled with non-perishables when they received news that she was returning, she can see.

She makes a small meal of porridge and drinks a large glass of water, pleased with the taste of something other than rations.

Once she's eaten and taken her shower she still feels a bit too out of sorts to be dealing with the reality of the Halls of Healing; she needs a bit more rest, she needs to meditate.

She settles down on the floor, legs crossed and her hands on her thighs—her favourite meditation pose—and breathes in deeply.

She counts her breaths as she takes them.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Slowly she finds herself relaxing. The strain in her neck lessens, the ache in her sides fades, her connection to the Force sharpens.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

The Temple hums with life. It makes Rig’s heart hurt to feel that it has lessened so much since the start of the war, so many good Jedi and clones lost—and the darkness of the Force ever deepening.

She shivers as she feels the ever encroaching Darkness outside the Temple. It seems to be pressing ever closer, reaching, grasping. The imbalance between Light and Dark frightens her, at times. Of course you cannot have one without the other, much like you cannot have day without night, but for there to be so much more Dark than Light…

More anger than joy. More selfishness than compassion. More passion than serenity. More hate than love.

All of it part of what makes a person. And yet, too much of one side…

There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
There is no death, there is the Force.

She recites the mantra to herself, again and again, to clear her mind.

She continues her meditation, her breathing steady and even.

When she finally opens her eyes again, she smiles to find that she's spent two hours in meditation. Sometimes it’s simply too easy to lose track of time when you are inside yourself and your thoughts, surrounded by the Force.

She smoothes her hands over her face and smiles. She feels better, more centered, and ready to face her duties.

And she looks forward to seeing the people connected to said duties.

Senator Halth is an idiot, and Palpatine is relieved that he has had no contact with the man for months. Otherwise his suggestion that Palpatine be reinstated—now! When Kenobi still lives!—would likely have caused immense suspicion to fall on Palpatine.

He’s already been interrogated, and has happily handed over his comm logs to prove that he had nothing to do with that particular bit of hamfisted political maneuvering. As if Palpatine would ever be so sloppy.

It has, however, caused Palpatine to need to move his timeline up. He would happily have waited a bit longer before making his move, but he cannot take any chances. He simply needs to act.

Palpatine moves through his second-and-off-the-record apartment slowly, his side still aching despite the bacta patch. He heads towards his work room, teeth gritted and nostrils flaring.

It’s time to end this. Time to end Kenobi.

He can see that everything is as he left it as he enters: a large and smooth stone slab on the floor on which the ritual dagger, the bowl, the specially made incense lie ready… And in the middle of it all, the focus object.

Palpatine snorts. Jedi are so incredibly hard to find focus objects for; they have so very few possessions, and the ones they have they never leave behind. If you manage to take a Jedi’s lightsaber—sometimes their only possession—you hardly need a focus object, the Jedi will perish at your hands anyway.

All he managed to get from Kenobi during his visit to the Chancellor’s office is a small belt-clip from a belt set given to him by Skywalker—thus not standard issue and an actual object belonging to Kenobi.

A single belt-clip from an entire office. What is the point of life if you take no pleasure in anything? If you eschew power, ownership… Truly, what is the point of it all? Only the weak and feeble minded could possibly be content as such.

Palpatine holds the belt-clip up and looks at it. This is his only chance; Kenobi is still weak from the assassination attempt and will not be able to fight an attack through the Force. At any other time, this ritual would only be useful for a Force-blind person, or someone young, and Jedi padawans are absolutely not worth the effort or the risk.

Palpatine sits down and places the clip back on the stone slab. A quick snap of the fingers and the incense catches fire, the smoke curling towards the ceiling.

He takes the knife and quickly makes a cut in the pad of every fingertip of his left hand, letting the blood gather in the bowl.

He picks up the clip, and hisses, his hatred colouring each syllable “Obi-Wan Kenobi” before he drops it into the blood in the bowl.

He picks the bowl up with his right hand, and presses his still gently bleeding fingertips to his forehead, closing his eyes. He gathers Power to himself, ready to activate the ritual.

He will rip Kenobi’s spirit from its flesh.

Chapter Text

Vokara moves around the Halls of Healing. She talks with the other doctors and healers, helps with a few patients and moves through her daily routine. She looks at a clock and notes that it's about an hour before the Council representatives will come by the Halls to get an update on Master Kenobi's condition.

She hums a low note to herself, going over his file and current status in preparation. Most of his values look good, his lung is regenerating its tissue and the wound is mostly healed. He's out of the danger zone.

She smiles to herself in relief. It was touch and go at the start and during and after the operation, but the odds improved dramatically once he was submerged in bacta. And now, well, he's gaining strength every day.

"Vokara!"

The sound of a voice calling her name makes her look up from her datapad and turn around to face the direction the sound came from. On the other end of the hall she sees a very familiar and much missed figure. Her smile widens.

"Rig!"

Vokara waits where she is as Rig comes ever closer, and once she's almost there, Vokara puts the datapad down on a nearby table.

Rigs arms slide around Vokara's shoulders as Vokara's slide around Rig's waist.

Forehead to forehead, eyes closed, noses nestled close, breathing the same air, Force presences brushing against each other.

Reunited at last.

Vokara feels a small part of herself relaxing in a way it only ever does when they're both safe in the haven that is the Temple; the one place where the war cannot take them.

"I've missed you," Rig breathes out, low and gentle.

"I've missed you too," Vokara answers, thanking the Force that they’ve met again.

Every time either of them leave the Temple for missions, Vokara is well aware that it may be the last time they ever see each other. While she accepts the inevitability of death and the fact that it can happen at any time, she's so grateful for being given more time.

They draw back, eyes meeting, staring.

Vokara takes one hand from Rig's waist and presses it against her cheek instead. They smile at each other and Rig leans into the touch just briefly.

"Do you have time to meet with me, or are you too busy?" Rig asks as they move apart.

"I have about an hour," Vokara says with a small laugh. An hour is not much, before duty calls again, but it is more than nothing. And they will take what they can get, duty coming before anything else; as is the way of the Jedi.

Rig and Vokara head towards Master Kenobi's room. The Council members should be there soon and it wouldn't do to be late. As they step into the room, they find that Master Yoda, Mace, Plo, and Fisto are already waiting for them.

Vokara blinks in surprise and looks at the time on her datapad.

"Early, are we, Master Che, Doctor Nema. Late, you are not," Master Yoda says with an impish smile, his ears wiggling.

His good mood makes Vokara smile, perhaps Master Yoda can tell that Master Kenobi is stronger. He's looked so old lately, it's good to see him smile and have energy again. The war has taken its toll on him, as much as all the Jedi... Perhaps more so than others due to his advanced age.

Hm, that is a thought. Vokara doesn't actually know how old is typical for Master Yoda's species, but she cannot do anything other than presume that he's reached old age. He talks about being old enough for that to be true.

"Would you be willing to start early, since we're already here, or do you want the last few minutes to prepare?" Dear Mace, ever considerate. Vokara smiles at him

"I prepared earlier, we can start now." She heads over to the side of the bacta tank.

"Would it be alright if I stay?" Rig says, looking at the gathered Masters.

"Stay, you may, Doctor Nema. Up to speed, you should be," Master Yoda says and leans back in his hover chair.

"Thank you, Master," Rig says and looks to Vokara, alert and clearly interested to hear more about Master Kenobi's condition.

Master Yoda has a good point; as the other head healer of the Halls of Healing, it's good if Rig knows the details of Master Kenobi's case. If Vokara needs to leave the Halls, it's best if another knows what has been done and how far along in the healing process he is.

She brings up a holo image of a human male.

"Master Kenobi shielded himself and those closest to him with the Force, just before the explosion struck. This is clear since they were close enough to the epicentre of the blast that if he hadn't done so, there would be far more damage to his lungs and the hollow organs of his gastrointestinal tract.” She points at the appropriate points of the holo image. “However, his eardrums still ruptured. They're healing well, but at the time of explosion it seems he lost his hearing. Luckily, this is unlikely to remain a problem and was merely a symptom of the rupture."

She pauses for a bit, debating whether or not to discuss the other patients as well.

"The other patients all suffered from ruptured eardrums as well, though the symptoms varied among them. Boil, the clone trooper we found with Master Kenobi, for example, suffered both fluid discharge as well as loss of hearing." She glances up to see her audience nod in understanding. Good.

Her lekku twitch slightly as she looks down on her datapad. Moving her finger across the screen, she looks over the catalogue of Master Kenobi's injuries and nods to herself slightly. Time to discuss the big one.

"The durasteel rebar pierced Master Kenobi straight through the chest, collapsing his lung. We were lucky that it also mostly stemmed the blood flow as well as did a good job of keeping air from leaking into the chest cavity. The operation to remove the rod as well as repair the lung and his chest went well, and he was soon after that submerged in bacta. I wasn't sure at first if he would live or not, as his presence in the Force wavered heavily the first hours and days after the operation, however, he's been recovering well, and all his vitals are strong."

She smiles, relieved.

"Master Kenobi will, I believe, make a full recovery. He is still weak, but we should be able to remove him from the bacta tank in about a week. While he has been mostly sleeping since the operation, he's been regaining strength steadily and has been conscious, if not entirely lucid, as well. All in all, his prognosis looks very good."

She can feel the Force lighten in the room, as the other people in the room relax and are cheered up by the good prognosis. She hands the datapad to Rig, to let her look more closely at the numbers and information rather than rely entirely on Vokara's verbal report.

Always the diligent researcher.

"Good news this is, Master Che," Master Yoda says, leaning forward into his hover chair.

"Indeed, it's good to hear that he will recover. We've been worried, all of us." Mace rubs his chin.

Young Skywalker having been the most worried of all, Vokara is willing to bet. She's heard rumours of his fleet being set to return to the Temple ahead of time, but she's not sure of the validity of it. It’s rather unimportant, all things considered.

"That is all we needed to know, isn't it, Master Yoda?" Master Fisto looks at the old master, hands clasped behind his back.

"So it is, Master Fisto. Determine what to tell the Senate and the troops, we must."

The group of Council members start heading towards the door in better spirits than they arrived.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

The bacta tank starts screeching suddenly, before they can clear the room.

Vokara feels like her stomach drops to her toes. She hurries to the datapad connected to the bacta tank and furiously scans the warning text.

Values dropping, heart rate dropping, respiratory system struggling...

"By the Force, why?" she finds herself whispering. There's no reason for this to be happening, Master Kenobi shouldn't be crashing. He's been steadily improving and there's nothing that could have caused a sudden collapse.

"Vokara, what's happening?" Mace calls out.

She looks up, eyes wild, and finds herself strangely out of breath as she answers, "He's dying. There's no reason... I don't understand... His values are just dropping, all of a sudden he's just rapidly dying."

Rig's shoulder presses against her own as she comes closer to look at the datapad, trying to make sense of the situation.

"What in all the deep seas of Mon Calamari..." she mumbles, as they read over the text and information.

For a brief instant, Vokara... feels something.

Something dark.

Something wrong.

She throws herself against the bacta tank, pressing her palms and her forehead against the glass and searching for Kenobi’s spirit with her own.

The Force rises around her, twisting and whipping like an angry gale when she feels it: the Darkness of one so corrupt she can nary believe they still inhabit living flesh. And they must still live, or else their presence could not… not…

The presence is trying to drain Master Kenobi’s life-force out of his weakened body.

No!

Heedless of the danger, she throws herself into the fight, pitting the strength of her mind and spirit against that of the presence.

She feels hatred—a pit of hatred so deep it shakes her to her very bones and cold sweat breaks out on her skin—wash over her, and the presence seems to snarl at her.

“Stay out of this, Jedi, and I will let you live.”

“No.”

“There is no Death, there is the Force. Isn’t that what you Jedi say? Why would you fight his end if you Jedi accept death as something natural and necessary? Stop fighting me, woman, and I will not rip your mind asunder.”

She shivers at the malice in those words, but her resolve remains firm. She will not falter.

“Death is as natural as Life; you cannot have one without the other. But this... this is not his time. Accepting Death as a natural part of the order of the galaxy does not mean to stand idly by and allow murder.”

“Fool.”

The presence lashes out at her, and Vokara’s breathing nearly stops. She gasps for breath, shallow and hurting, as the other mind presses against her.

The strength of this mind, the putrid hatred of this presence, the utter decay and Dark of it teaches her a very important fact: she is facing the Sith Master, and it is not Dooku. She has felt Dooku’s presence before, many times, and this is not it. If they have ever wondered if Dooku is the Sith Master or not, she can now confidently say that he is not.

Her arms shake from how hard she presses her hands against the glass. Her head aches with the pressure of this battle.

Vokara knows she is weaker than the Sith Lord, and she is weaker by far. In a one-against-one battle, she is hopelessly outmatched. She cannot even begin to compete.

However.

Vokara is not a Sith. She is not alone. She is not a maleficent and hateful monster, alone in this wide galaxy aside from an apprentice she cannot hope to trust. The way of the Sith is betrayal.

But Vokara is not a Sith.

She feels beloved Rig’s body pressing close—her arms wrapping around Vokara, one hand above her heart and the other on her hip—just as her mind joins Vokara’s and lends her its strength.

Dear Mace’s hand tangles their fingers together and squeezes, just as his powerful mind slots in next to Rig, bolstering Vokara with its incredible strength.

Vokara pushes back against the Sith Lord. She gains ground. She rips its talons out of her mind and breathes freely again.

Master Yoda’s clawed hand gently touches her knee and his mind, old and wise—strong as the ancient trees of Haa’ndu and as deep reaching as their roots—wraps around them, a shield against the dark.

Plo’s hand closes around her wrist, and his mind joins the others, Fisto close behind him, hand nestled next to his.

One heartbeat.

Two.

Vokara Che is a Jedi. She is not alone. She has love, friendship, family, and community. She has people who will guide her when she falters, who will reach out to her and help her back to her feet if she falls.

Vokara Che is not strong enough to face the Sith Lord alone.

But she doesn’t have to be.

She rips the Sith Lord’s talons out of Master Kenobi’s spirit, and pushes it away, as far as she can with the combined strength of all their minds.

It fades with a screech so hateful and deep she shudders anew.

It’s gone.

United, they drove it away.

She turns the strength of their minds to Kenobi instead, and feels the wounds in his spirit. Together, they heal them, gently, carefully, before they start to move apart from each other.

She feels Master Yoda seems to almost… set up a shield around Master Kenobi’s spirit, before she draws away fully.

She comes back to her physical self panting, her legs weak and most of her weight entirely in Rig’s arms.

“Did well you did, Vokara,” Master Yoda says, “Fortunate for your presence here at this time, and quick reactions, we all were. Rest now, you should. Discuss this incident later, we will. Stand guard here, the rest of us will.”

“I will take her to our rooms, Master Yoda,” Rig says, voice soft. Vokara leans back heavily in her embrace.

“Thank you, Rig,” Mace says, his voice soft and far-away sounding. As if there are a million things on his mind. He squeezes Vokara’s hand one last time as their eyes meet before Rig gently leads her out of Master Kenobi’s room.

Vokara presses the side of her face against Rig’s, their breaths mingling, and allows herself to be swept away from the Halls of Healing.

Palpatine flies backwards from the psychic attack, his hand leaving his forehead and his head smashing against the floor.

Foiled.

At every turn.

He will tear the Jedi asunder. And she, the Jedi healer who fought him, will suffer at his hand. Her death will not be easy. He saw her mind, he saw her defiance. Defiance. From a Twi’lek. A female Twi’lek. Perhaps he will make her into what she should be: no more than a pretty thing to look at and enjoy—powerless and in chains.

Blood trickles from his nose—the strain of the ritual must have caused a blood vessel to burst—and Palpatine brushes it away with his hand, his teeth grinding together.

He ignores the incessant throbbing in his head. The strain of the ritual should have been worth it, but now… Wasted time and effort. And the focus object is ruined, only good for one attempt.

All these pesky flies, all these women and non-humans, getting in his way, disrupting his plans. So far beneath him they should be nary a speck on the horizon, and yet they rise up and disrupt a plan that has moved smoothly for decades.

He moves to a mirror and looks to ensure that the strain hasn’t caused any decay to his appearance. An unexplainable disfigurement is the last thing he needs right now.

Aside from the blood, he still looks like a harmless old man. Good.

He wipes more blood from his nose and draws a deep breath, his rage coiling inside him.

The further the Jedi delay the inevitable, the worse their end will be. Order 66 will commence, the Temple will burn.

Younglings first. As the adults watch.

The women will fall last.

The Twi’lek healer and Kenobi. Forced to watch their entire people perish and one of their own turn against them… again. Just like Dooku, but so much worse.

Dooku might have betrayed him, but he too will fall.

Palpatine will make sure everyone gets just what they deserve.

Chapter Text

Mace scrubs a hand across his face, trying to keep a clear head even as the council meeting drags on.

In the face of the other council members, he can see the same feelings he harbours himself: uncertainty, worry, hints of anger, fierce determination... but all of it marked by a strong sense of fatigue.

They barely have time to so much as consider an event and its consequences before something new comes flying their way, metaphorically hitting them in the face.

The discovery of a clone army apparently requested by a dead member of the Jedi, the discovery of a droid army, the utter betrayal of one of their own, war, ever deepening and disheartening war efforts, Obi-Wan is made Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, the first assassination attempt against him, the second assassination attempt, the discovery of an old plot against the Jedi going back at least a decade, an explosion in the Senate, the discovery of the assassin making it clear that the explosion was caused by the Sith Lord, and before Mace could even notify the Council about the other assassin's offer regarding a tool to identify the Sith Lord, said Sith Lord makes another attempt on Obi-Wan's life through some form of Force usage Mace has never seen before.

If things could calm down and let him take a breather, just for a few weeks, that would be very much appreciated.

He sighs deeply. He needs to discuss their next steps with the Council. They need to decide whether to take La up on her offer or not—can they compromise themselves in this way?

"Say something, you want to, Master Windu, hmmm?" Of course Master Yoda would notice.

Mace draws a deep steadying breath. It must be done and they should not waste time.

"Knight Vos contacted me through his undercover comm yesterday," he begins, allowing his fellow council members some time. "As you know, once he returned from his mission on S'aleth, he was sent into Coruscant's lower levels to see what he could find out regarding the bombing of the Senate."

He watches the others nod their heads, clearly remembering.

"So he had news already?" Ki-Adi-Mundi leans forward in his chair as he strokes his chin in contemplation.

"That was fast, even for Knight Vos," Master Rancisis says, twirling his hair around one clawed finger.

"And unfortunately, it was not good news." Well, perhaps Mace is being slightly too harsh there, there were some news that weren't exactly bad, but on the whole...

"Another dead would-be assassin then?" Adi crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her hair before she makes brief eye-contact with her cousin. "None of our recent investigations have been able to yield any real results, all of them ending with another dead body, so if you say you have bad news..."

Mace holds back a sigh. "I'm afraid so. Knight Vos found the body of an assassin who he's certain was the one to enact the Senate bombing. Further, he believes—and I agree with him—that despite all the evidence to the contrary, the attempt was directed at Master Kenobi and not Senator Biwa."

Silence.

"Knight Vos made that deduction based on a psychometric vision as well as the manner in which the assassin was killed: a broken neck from a long distance."

He watches as comprehension and dawning horror fills the faces of the other council members.

"The Sith Lord," Master Yoda says gravely, his voice filled with steel.

"Yes." Mace closes his eyes.

"So he is on Coruscant then, and yet we haven't sensed him at all," Allie says, one hand rubbing her forehead. "Everywhere we turn there is another dead end and the spectre of the Sith Lord hovering over us."

"And even if we know that Master Kenobi is the true target—" Gallia interjects—"We have no proof that will hold up in front of the galactic courts. Our testimonies as Jedi, especially when it's based on the Force, hold little and ever lessening weight." She glances at her cousin again before leaning back in her chair again and closing her eyes, breathing deeply and working on dispersing the frustration she's projecting in the Force around her.

"There is... something." Mace opens his eyes again to find all of the other members of the Council watching him intently. "In order to find the dead assassin in the first place, Knight Vos used one of her guild mates as a starting point. This other woman, who calls herself La, had an offer for us."

"Tell us." Plo's face is grave.

"If we get help from an assassin it will never be admissible in a court of law!"

"If we don't take the help, where would it leave us? Do we have any choice in this matter?"

"This may be our only chance of finding the Sith Lord. They're clearly capable of hiding their Force presence!"

"Will we even be able to bring the Sith Lord in front of a court of law at all?"

"If we allow a murderer to continue on her way unhindered..."

"We have no proof of her supposed identity as an assassin, and if we don't accept her help we may never progress in the investigation at all!"

"We will have to weigh letting an assassin who we have no proof against go versus risking that the Sith Lord escapes us again."

"I will not claim that an assassin is no danger, but I will say that she pales in comparison to an actual Sith Lord. Who knows what atrocities they have committed and will continue to commit the longer they move unhindered and unseen!"

"We already know several of the Sith Lord's crimes but none of this La's. How can we risk it?"

"She did not request complete immunity either, only from us and only temporarily. If someone else wishes to take her into custody we are not to interfere."

"That means she either doesn't have anything to worry about, or she's certain that her crimes cannot be traced back to her."

"Even so, we only know that she's a member of an assassin's guild. That is, in and of itself, not exactly a crime. For all we know, she’s working there as a secretary. We don't have anything to charge her with and take her to the judicial forces for either!"

"Before we come to our final decision, we should consult some Jedi who are more knowledgeable of the underworld. We should also likely ask Knight Vos about his opinion on the matter.

"Agreed. We should gather as much information as we can, and use the resources we have."

"So it's agreed then?"

"I don't see what other choice we have."

"Knight Vos, after much deliberation and thought, the Council has decided that we have no choice but to take La up on her offer."

Chapter Text

Returning to the Temple seems almost unreal. Despite everything going on in the galaxy, the Temple has always been a point of calm, the eye of the storm. But now when Anakin walks these familiar halls again—his second home, the one not built of sand and stone in the hottest of deserts, and not the one in an upper Coruscant apartment that smells of perfume—it seems as if the very air of it has changed. The sense of peace of tranquillity that usually suffuses the place, even in the midst of war, has been shattered and the pieces lay around his feet.

Ahsoka's presence at his side is not as grounding as it should be. Her shields are up high, held so tightly around her he cannot sense her emotions at all. He can see that she shivers and she has her arms wrapped around herself. They've spoken many times since he brought her the news of... of Obi-Wan... but she has been unusually tight-lipped. She won't meet his eyes, and the spark he saw in her when they sparred—one blade against two—is gone completely.

She won't speak to him. Why won't she speak to him? No matter how much he presses, she stays silent, and the more he tries the further back she retreats.

Perhaps he should have tried harder, more, used his status as her master to make her tell him—it's Ahsoka, his padawan, he loves her so much of course she must tell him—but he's been... distracted. Unable to keep his own thoughts centred and away from Obi-Wan.

He's heard no more news from Master Windu. No updates. Neither good nor bad. Master Windu promised to contact him if something happened... But it's been days. Nothing. Is Obi-Wan that badly off? Is he really...?

He catches the briefest glimpse of Master Billaba down a hallway—she looks pale and drawn and for the briefest of instants his stomach clenches in dread. He knows that she's a friend of Obi-Wan's, even though she's much older, if she looks like that, has something—?

Beep beep beep

He startles at the sound of his comm signalling an incoming voice-comm. He struggles to get it off his belt, and fumbles with it, nearly dropping it several times before he finally has it steadily in his hand and ready by his mouth.

Ahsoka would normally have laughed at him. Why isn't she laughing? If she can't even laugh...

"Skywalker," he says once he's answered the comm, casting his thoughts of Ahsoka aside again for now.

"Yoda, this is. Arrived on Coruscant, you have, yes?" The old Jedi's voice should be calming in its familiarity, but in the current state of everything, it just sends a spike of anxiety through Anakin. Please no.

"Yes, we have." Please don't say something has happened. Please.

"Come to the Halls of Healing, you should, once rested you have. Awake, Master Obi-Wan is not, but feel your presence, I think he would like."

Anakin only just barely refrains from expressing his relief loudly, but as he relaxes, in the corner of his eye he can also see some tension leave Ahsoka's frame.

"Do you want to rest first, Snips, or do you want to go to the Halls immediately?" He says, turning to her.

She bites her lip and still won't meet his eyes.

"I'd like to go now, Master," she says, voice unusually subdued. Anakin frowns. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like it at all. Still, it will have to wait, Obi-Wan is more important right now. Ahsoka seems mostly fine, it's probably just the whole thing with Obi-Wan that has her out of sorts. That's probably it.

With a start, Anakin remembers that Master Yoda asked him a question. "We'll head over immediately, Master," he rushes to say, nearly blurting out the words.

"Wait for you here, I will." Amusement is clear in Master Yoda's voice, and... if he sounds calm, then... Maybe there's no reason to worry? Maybe Obi-Wan really is fine.

Anakin changes direction, heading right down a corridor instead of going straight, to move towards the Halls instead of the living quarters.

"You keeping up okay, Snips?" He keeps his voice calm and collected through sheer force of will, even though he's still worried. Still upset.

He can't help but worry... What if they arrive in the Halls and it's just Obi-Wan looking disappointed, and the Council telling him he failed the test? Even though he had to fail it. For Ahsoka.

It... it seems absolutely overkill, and he doesn't think they would do such a thing to Anakin's entire battalion, but... But what if they do?

He tries not to think of the anxiety churning of his stomach as he keeps walking, but it's hard.

What will happen if he has failed some sort of test?

The only sound in the room when Anakin and Ahsoka enter is the gentle hum of machines, and the only light source is the bluish glow of the bacta tank.

Master Obi-Wan seems somehow... smaller than usual. It's hard for Ahsoka to put into words properly, but he seems diminished where he floats in the bacta, eyes closed—probably sleeping. She can't decide what she should do, or say. Part of her feels like she’s intruding, she's not as close to Master Obi-Wan as Skyguy is, so being here feels... Wrong, maybe?

Or perhaps that is her guilt. The knowledge that she'd felt something, sensed that something would happen, and despite years of training, years of being told that she should trust her emotions and search her feelings... She ignored it. She assumed that it was simply a flight of fancy, something she was imagining.

And now Master Obi-Wan nearly died in an explosion.

She's afraid of what would happen if she tells Anakin about it. Would he be mad at her? Renounce her? She doesn't think so, normally she wouldn't even contemplate it, it's not who Anakin is as a person, but... But... This is different, isn't it? Master has been different ever since he got the news. She's been different.

She looks around the room, Master Yoda is sitting in a hover chair, eyes closed and his head is resting against his hands, leaning on his gimer stick. He seems so calm, so peaceful.

Is everything really okay?

"We're here, Master Yoda," Anakin says, drawing Ahsoka's attention to him for a brief moment.

"Hmmhmm, here you are. Welcome back, you are."

"Thank you, Master..." Anakin trails off, and looks at the bacta tank. Ahsoka bites her lip and doesn't say anything.

"Wonder how he is, do you?" Master Yoda still hasn't opened his eyes, and seems to be humming something under his breath in between speaking.

Ahsoka wonders what he's doing. Is this some sort of master thing that she can't hope to understand yet? Or maybe it's just a Master Yoda thing...

"Yeah... I've been worried" Anakin doesn't usually admit to anything like that, so the words take Ahsoka by surprise. She finds herself staring at him openly. He really doesn't usually talk about his feelings openly, at least not when it comes to things like worry or fear.

"Worried, we all were. But live, he will. Despite the Sith Lord's last attempt."

The Sith Lord?

Ahsoka draws in a sharp breath, and her heart starts pounding in her chest. She can feel and hear her own pulse in her ears. The Sith Lord.

"What?" The anger in Anakin's voice is almost frightening in its sudden intensity. He seemed calm just moments before, but now... Ahsoka finds herself shying away from him, just slightly.

"Attacked, he did. Spirit to spirit. But here, we were, and repelled the attack, Master Vokara Che did."

Ahsoka feels cold, like something dark just washed over her. She freezes in place, her eyes trained on her master's almost deceptively still body.

"The Sith Lord tried to kill Obi-Wan?" Anakin's voice wavers, it sounds fragile in a way she doesn't expect from him. But the situation they're in is so far from the norm that she's almost not surprised.

"Believe he orchestrated the bombing at the senate, we have reason to," Master Yoda says, his voice still calm. He still hasn't opened his eyes, Ahsoka can see from the corner of her eyes. She wonders what he's doing, is he meditating? But if he is, why here?

"So the Sith Lord is deliberately targeting Obi-Wan?"

"Believe so, we do. Hate him, they do. Why, we know not. Secret, the attack must stay. Deserve to know, you do, but speak of it, you must not."

Ahsoka stares at Master Obi-Wan where he floats in the bacta tank. He's not safe, not even here, in the middle of the Temple.

Even the Temple isn't safe.

She stops paying attention to the conversation going on, their voices become just background noise as she stares at the master of her master. Could this have been avoided, if she'd only said something? Would the Temple still be safe, if the bombing had been stopped?

"Is this my fault?" The words fall out of her mouth softly, without thought.

The sudden silence in the room is almost oppressive.

"Ahsoka, why would you ever think something like that? This is the work of the Sith Lord! Unless you're secretly them, this is not something you did." Anakin's voice seems far away, but it's stronger again. Less frail. As if he suddenly found new strength.

"But I... I felt... I ignored the warning. The Force warned me that something was wrong, that something would happen to Master Obi-Wan... and I ignored it. I told myself I was imagining it! How is it not my fault that Master Obi-Wan was hurt? If I'd followed what I've been taught since I came to the Temple as a child I would have told someone! And then, and then—!"

"Knew something would happen, we did," Master Yoda interrupts her. His voice breaks through her panicked litany and leaves her head ringing with confusion, with the sudden silence of her thoughts.

"W-what?" Anakin's voice is dripping with disbelief. "You knew something was going to happen and you didn't stop it?" Anger. Familiar.

"Sense something, Obi-Wan and I did. Muddled, diminished, our view of the future is. Sense it well we cannot. But sense something we did. Prepare, we did. Ready, the Halls were. Brought troopers with him, Obi-Wan did. Had we not acted as such, survived he would not have."

Ahsoka stumbles into a seat.

"Your fault, this is not, Ahsoka." Master Yoda's face is solemn, his eyes finally open, as she looks at him. "Sense the future before, have you?"

She pauses, struggles to think of a time when she's felt something like that before.

She comes up blank.

"No..."

"Late, it is, for blooming prescience, but unheard of it is not. If never felt it before, have you, recognise it, how would you?"

A heavy hand lands on her shoulder, and she looks up to find Anakin staring at her.

"I, uh, had something similar. I started having dreams... Ultimately those dreams led to a vision. I've never had anything before or since, though." Anakin seems reluctant to mention the topic at all. "They're hard to recognise when you don't know what they're like, Ahsoka. I'm not sure I would recognise it if it happened again."

"But I... I didn't trust my feelings! I should have!"

"Careful, one must be, when sensing the future. Chasing vague feelings, foolish it is. Your fault, this could never be."

"If it happens again... I will tell someone." She makes the promise to them as much as herself. The guilt she's carried since she got the news, thinking that maybe she could have changed it somehow, is hard to let go of. But there's a sort of relief in knowing that she wasn't the only one. That Master Obi-Wan didn't stand or fall depending on her choice. That would have been... too heavy.

Too heavy.

"That's good, Ahsoka. That's all anyone could ask of you. Master once said that you often don't recognise your first visions as visions, even if you have them often."

She nods, unsure. She's had some instruction about visions, everyone does, since anyone can have one—though some are more prone than others—but she still feels wrong footed with how she did not recognise it. She should have, shouldn't she?

"Speak to a mind healer, do you wish?" Master Yoda's face is kind, but she can sense some worry.

"No!" she blurts, unable to stop herself. "No. It's not that bad, I've just... felt a bit guilty. I'm fine. It's not bad enough that I'd need to talk to a mind healer!" She's fine, just fine.

"Serious, to talk to mind healer, it need not be." Master Yoda suddenly looks sad. "Shameful, to speak with a mind healer, it is not."

Of course not. She knows that. She just doesn't need to. She's fine.

"I used to go to a mind healer," Anakin suddenly says.

What?

Ahsoka finds herself staring at him. He doesn't even like going to the regular healers, but he went to a mind healer?

"I, uh, came to the Temple in an unusual way... And I was part of the Battle of Naboo." He scratches the back of his head. "Everyone just... Wanted to make sure I was okay, give me a helping hand if I needed it." He shrugs one shoulder.

"Oh. Yes... See Master Hestish, you did, yes?" Master Yoda looks... sad. Even more so than before. And Anakin, his eyes turn to the ground, and she can feel the sadness coming off him too.

"I did, yeah. Until she died."

Oh.

"She died?" It must have been a long time ago, because Ahsoka doesn't really recognise the name.

"Yeah, I was around twelve at the time. She went on a mission and just... Never came back. I was given the option of grief counselling and finding a new healer to talk to, if I wanted to, but I decided not to."

"To help mediate a conflict, she went. Traumatised children, there were. Calm, it was supposed to be, but wrong, something went. Renewed, the hostilities did, and caught in the crossfire, Master Hestish was." Master Yoda's ears droop slightly.

"Oh... I see," Anakin says, looking far away. "They never told me what happened, really, just that she'd returned to the Force."

Ahsoka feels oddly like an outsider, as if she’s listening to a conversation she shouldn’t be hearing, as if she was eavesdropping. She curls in on herself, unsure of what she should do.

"Master Obi-Wan went for grief counselling right after Master Qui-Gon died, so we went to the mind healers together, the first few months." Anakin nods to himself. "There's... really no shame in going to talk to them, Ahsoka, and it doesn't have to be bad for you to do it. Sometimes, it helps to talk to someone who's been trained to be objective... I even developed an affinity for the sound of someone writing with a britsel pen on flimsi, because Master Hestish would always take notes like that. I find the sound comforting, really."

He laughs, rather awkwardly, but it does make Ahsoka feel better. Maybe... Maybe she should. But later.

She looks at the bacta tank again, and her chest hurts.

Even the Temple isn't safe.

Anakin feels kinda bad. Here he is, telling his padawan how good it can be to talk to a mind healer, even when it's not something big, even though he's been avoiding it since he was nineteen and mom died.

He should probably go, Master Hestish would probably think it would be beneficial for him, but... Mind healers take notes. They probably share those with the Council. How could he possibly talk about what's really bothering him if the person he's talking to will report it to the Council?

If it'd been Master Hestish... Well, he could probably convince her to keep it secret, but... Anyone else...

No.

It's better if he just keeps it to himself. He doesn't want to be kicked out of the Order. He doesn't want to lose his second home. While he knows that his home with Padmé would still be there, how could he possibly do his best for the Galaxy, the kind of thing that drew Padmé to him in the first place, if he's no longer with the Jedi? How can he be a hero if he’s not a Jedi? He left his mother to become a Jedi. How could he ever leave it behind?

Leaving Tatooine, leaving his mother, he left the culture he was raised in. Sure, it was the culture of slaves, beings who don't even own their own bodies, but it was theirs. Secret and precious.

Having to leave the Jedi... The home he's had for most of his life...

He can't bear the thought of losing it.

Just like he can't bear the thought of losing Padmé.

He wants all of it; his place with the Jedi, his friendship with Obi-Wan, his marriage with Padmé... Losing any of it would be intolerable. And if that means that he can't go talk to a mind healer and instead has to keep his worries on the inside, then so be it. Better to carry some worry around with him, and struggle with his emotions on occasion, than lose everything he has and loves.

Chapter Text

Worried, Yoda is. Brought up a terrible thought, his conversation with young Skywalker and Tano did.

Sabotaged, young Anakin's padawanship was. Know this, the Council does. Investigating it, they are. Much they have uncovered, but much still in the dark, Yoda now believes. Know what truly happened, they do not. Know why it happened, they do not.

Help Skywalker with his trauma, Master Hestish did. On a mission to help other traumatised children, she went. Died, she did. Coincidence, it could be. But worry that it was not, Yoda does. If sent on more than his share of missions, Obi-Wan was, why so? To separate him from Skywalker, perhaps? If so, get rid of Skywalker's other closest support pillar, his mind healer, why not?

A former war zone with traumatised children. Send Master Hestish, obvious, the choice was. But if falsified the report was... If former war zone, former was not... then sent to her death, Master Hestish was. Murdered, she would have been.

See it, they did not. Unfortunate and tragic circumstance, they believed it. Followed Senate information and demands, they did. They do. They have for centuries.

If under a Sith Lord, the Senate is, murdered Jedi, how many are there then?

Trap of the Sith, the Senate has become? If so, escape the trap, how can they? Simply leave, they cannot. If try, they do, close, the jaws of this trap no doubt would.

Worried, Yoda is. Let the feeling go, he cannot yet. Meditate, he needs to. But task before him, he has first.

Talk to Master Namun and young Ellé, he must.

Ellé continues crossing off reports on the long long lists of completed cross-checks. The work is almost mind-numbing in it's repetitiveness, but Master Namun is great company. Whenever they take a break, she regales Ellé with a story from the Temple, a Jedi myth, some of her research, or a mission she's been on in the past.

There is a part of Ellé that worries, however. She's been away from her lady's side so much lately, and while she trusts her handmaiden sisters implicitly, she cannot shake the feeling that she's somehow neglecting her duty. However, she understands why her lady deemed this so important. There are so many reports that come up with inconsistencies when compared to the automatically saved-copies from the secondary backup hard drives shared by Naboo and several of its neighbouring systems. The automated systems create a copy of all Republic reports, mission specs, and bills as soon as they're uploaded to the Senate system, meaning it's a copy of the first version of everything. It also saves all updated versions as a subsection file, to track changes in documents. The system and hard drives compiling the information will make a list of all changes done to the copied files, and require Senator specific passwords.

While Ellé wasn't sure why Lady Amidala had asked her to set it up together with the neighbouring systems when she first took office as Senator at the time, she's now very glad that Lady Amidala had the idea at all. She might have heard about it from someone else, perhaps there are more caches like this, but Ellé doesn't know for sure. They are working from the Naboo cache for the time being, but she knows it’s limited in how far back it goes. When they reach the end… What will they do then?

The number of altered reports sent to the Jedi are staggering. One or two would be nothing, but it is not just one or two. The more they look, the more they find. So very many. The more they found, the grimmer the look on Master Namun's face. The details vary, some have very few alterations, some have many. Only a minority has logged alterations in the main system—meaning they were altered legally and above-board—while most have had their logs erased.

She doesn't like it at all. That the Senate's record keeping and reports are this easy to change, this easy to fake... It's worrying. Has this been exploited in other ways? More than just to target the Jedi? They are currently looking at files that relate to the Jedi specifically, but if they took on the senate as a whole… What sort of corruption would they uncover?

The sound of knocking on the private study room's door breaks Ellé out of her thoughts. Who would come to visit them here? The room is set to do-not-disturb, and most wouldn't even know who is in here at all...

"I'll see who it is, Master Namun," she says, and gets to her feet.

"Thank you." Master Namun remains seated, her crutches leaning against the table.

While Ellé wasn't sure what, or who, she was expecting, it certainly wasn't the person in front of her.

"Master Yoda!"

The small Jedi Master hobbles inside as Ellé quickly steps aside to let him inside, the door sliding shut behind him.

"Master Namun, Young Ellé... A request for you, I have."

A request?

"Absolutely, Master Yoda. What can we help you with?" Master Namun's voice is calm, but Ellé has spent enough time in her presence to recognise the slightest hint of worry in the stiffness of her shoulders.

"A specific mission, I would like for you to look into. Whether details were changed, I want to know."

So, a specific mission. That's both interesting and worrying. Ellé finds herself moving her weight from foot to foot, unable to stand entirely still. There's a nagging feeling of worry in her gut. The Jedi have been friends of Naboo ever since the Battle, and to see the horrors that have been inflicted on them under Senate watch has been awful. If Master Yoda is looking for a specific mission... It cannot be anything good.

"What are the details, Master Yoda? I will write them down and look into it as quickly as possible," Master Namun says as she pulls a piece of flimsi closer, britsel pen ready in her hand.

"Around 14 years ago, it would be. A mission to Imenth. Went on it, Master Hestish and Padawan Areeth did."

Master Namun visibly startles, her eyes widen and her mouth drops open. It's obvious that she recognises the mission Master Yoda is talking about.

"Master Hestish... Bharani Hestish... and Padawan Areeth... They died on that mission to Imenth. You believe...?" she trails off, but her implied question is clear.

"Know, I do not. Make hasty judgements, I do not wish to. But possible, I believe it is." Master Yoda's ears droop, and his eyes are trained at the floor.

Master Namun draws a deep shuddering breath and nods. "Absolutely, Master Yoda. I will look into it as soon as I finish with the report I'm currently working on. How do I divulge my results?"

Sensitive information cannot be sent over a comm. It's only ever spoken of in private rooms with jammers running.

"Schedule a meeting with me, you should. If something of note there is, take it to the Council I will. If not, then leave it be, we shall."

The words hang heavy in the air for the briefest of moments.

"Understood, Master Yoda," Master Namun says and nods her head once.

They say their goodbyes before Master Yoda heads off again and Ellé takes her place at the table again.

Master Namun's eyes are far away, but they are also shinier than usual—a hint of tears.

"Master Namun?" Ellé breathes, worried.

Master Nmun doesn't turn to face Ellé, barely reacts to her presence at all.

"Bharani Hestish was a good friend of mine. Her loss was terrible. If she was murdered..." She doesn't finish the sentence.

Ellé bites her lip and feels an ice cold lump form in her stomach. All of this is... remote, to her. It's horrible, but it is also slightly unreal. It's names of people she doesn't know and have mostly never met. But Master Namun must know some of these people... How much worse mustn't it be for her?

Chapter Text

Anakin Skywalker walks through the halls of the Jedi Temple, his padawan by his side.

"Where are we heading, Master?" Ahsoka has regained some of the bounce to her step. She looks better than she has in days, and it makes Anakin smile. He’s glad to see that she’s doing better, though he suspects she hasn’t fully bounced back yet.

"I wanted to go visit Master Che, thank her for all her help." He takes a left turn for the apartment wing Master Che lives in. He made sure to look that up on the Temple map before he headed off. "She saved Obi-Wan's life... That means a lot to me."

Ahsoka hums slightly and nods. "Yeah, I'm... I'm really grateful too."

Anakin is glad that his master and his padawan are so close. They're both so important to him so he's glad that they're important to each other as well. And since Obi-Wan will be alright... Will live... Well, perhaps he'll get to see Snips's eyes shine with excitement as she trains Jar'Kai again.

Soon enough they're outside Master Che's room.

Master Vokara Che, Master Healer

Knight Rig Nema, Head Doctor

Anakin stares at the datapad by the door in surprise. He didn't know that some people shared rooms… Not unless they were in Master-Padawan suites.

"What are you waiting for, Skyguy? Are you gonna request entry or not?" Snips gives him a look, as if she's caught him spacing out and feeling smug about it. He doesn’t think of her as ‘Snips’ often these days, but every now and then she reminds him why he gave her that nickname in the first place.

Anakin shakes himself to clear his thoughts, and presses the button to request entry.

A few moments pass, Ahsoka hums as she moves from foot to foot next to him, seemingly entirely at ease. Why is Anakin the only one who feels slightly uncomfortable? He wants to thank Master Che, but he doesn't know her all that well, so he feels awkward about being at her door. Shouldn't Ahsoka feel the same? She doesn't really know Master Che either, not to mention that she’s much younger. When Anakin was her age, he was really awkward around Masters of the Order he didn’t know...

The door opens and...

"Knight Skywalker? Padawan Tano?" Master Windu looks surprised to see them, but he’s likely not as surprised as Anakin feels. What's Mace Windu doing here?

"Uh... We uh..." Anakin stumbles over his words, he hadn't expected to talk to Mace Windu today, or he would have prepared himself more. The man can be intimidating at the best of times, really, and he's on the Council.

"We wanted to thank Master Che for saving Master Obi-Wan!" Ahsoka pipes up, a bright smile on her face.

Master Windu's face softens and he nods. "Of course, come in. She's resting, but I doubt she'll mind." He turns away from them and heads inside with a small wave of his hand, indicating for them to follow.

Clearly Master Windu must know Master Che very well if he’s casually inviting someone else into her rooms like this. Or is it because he’s on the Council? Maybe that gives master the confidence to casually do a lot of things most wouldn’t dream of?

Anakin looks around the room as he steps inside. Like most rooms in the Temple it's not very large—though it is slightly larger than usual, perhaps because there are two people living here. It's very clean, with little clutter and not much in the way of personal belongings. It's mostly just furniture and plants... Kind of reminds Anakin of some of the meditation rooms, really.

Doctor Nema is seated on the sofa, upright but sunken into the sofa cushions. Master Che leaning against her, legs stretched out on the sofa in a half-reclined position. She looks tired, but healthy... Well, as far as Anakin can tell, anyway. He's not an expert on Twi'leks.

Master Windu takes a seat on the far end of the sofa, lifting Master Che's feet and lays them in his lap as Anakin looks on in surprise. That's a... very familiar thing to do. Does Master Windu and Master Che really know each other well, then? He didn't really know Master Windu even had... friends... Which, now that he thinks about it, seems kind of stupid.

Not even Master Windu could be entirely without friends, could he? Why would he be? He must have been in the Crèche too, once upon a time.

"Knight Skywalker, Padawan Tano, what a lovely surprise." Master Che sounds tired, but there's a smile on her face. "What brings you here? Please, sit down." She gestures to some chairs on the opposite side of the sofa.

Anakin takes his seat with a mumbled thank you, uncertain in how he should act, but wanting to be polite.

"I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For saving Obi-Wan." He scratches his cheek and finds it hard to meet her eyes. "You went toe-to-toe with the Sith Lord for him and... I just wanted to say thanks, it means a lot to me."

"Yes, really, Master Che! We're so grateful," Ahsoka chimes in, drawing her socked feet up into the chair for a lotus position.

Master Che smiles. "You're very welcome. Master Kenobi is very important to us all, I believe." She briefly turns her head to share a smile with Doctor Nema, and Anakin sees how they twine their fingers together, squeezing their hands together.

What?

He's... He's not sure but... that seems... And coupled with their position... Are they...?

Anakin casts a furtive glance at master Windu, who doesn't seem to think anything is amiss at all. His face is calm, and he has one hand resting on Master Che's ankles. Which... which seems more intimate than Anakin has seen him be with anyone else before.

Are they all...?

They can't be!

"Dear Mace came to see how I am too," Master Che says with a small smile towards Master Windu. "As one of my oldest and closest friends, I believe he's been conspiring with my Rig to make sure I don't move one more muscle than I absolutely should until I'm ready." She laughs, it reminds Anakin oddly of Padmé. Both Doctor Nema—is she Rig, then? That's what it said outside the door, right? Rig Nema?—and Master Windu suddenly has an air of slight embarrassment, but all Anakin can sense from them in the Force is... so much love and fondness.

He feels slightly blindsided.

What in all the core worlds?

He's never seen Master Windu like this before!

And Master Che is a Master. Shouldn't she be more... remote? Detached?

Anakin finds himself reeling, struggling to keep it all pushed down and contained. He doesn't allow it to spread into the Force at all, he's gotten good at that, or at least much better, not letting anyone sense him properly. He’s improving on filtering what leaks out at least.

The conversation continues for a while, and Anakin finds himself watching his elders with sharp eyes, trying to understand them.

But by the time he and Ahsoka bid their goodbyes and leave... he still doesn't.

They're acting so differently from what he expected...

He doesn't understand them at all.

He'll talk to Padmé. She might know or at least understand more than he does. She’s generally better when it comes to social situations than he is.

He misses her.

Chapter Text

Something about Senator Mandai's words and the emergency session at the Senate has bothered Padmé for days.

No matter how hard she tries to think of why, tries to understand what exactly it is, it seems to slip out of her fingers.

Former Chancellor Valorum. Padmé having been under Palpatine's influence since she was very young...

Something about the two topics are supposed to... connect, somehow. She knows it. But they don't, and it's making her more and more frustrated. Senator Mandai would not have brought up both of those things if she did not see them as inexplicably linked.

Padmé just needs to find the connection.

She lounges on her sofa nursing a hot cup of tea, feeling out of sorts. She's had a headache ever since the emergency session, a deep pressure on the inside of her skull. It's as if she's thinking so hard it's causing her pain. Which is ridiculous, clearly, but even so she can't quite let the thought go.

Regardless, the more prominent issue is that senators who do not trust Palpatine do not trust Padmé. The reason for it goes beyond simply being because they share a home planet and she became his successor upon his ascension to Supreme Chancellor—it must.

She's looked over old reports, old legislation, old notes, all of it from when she's worked with Palpatine. But... she can't find a pattern that would discredit her. Almost everything is entirely in line with her politics—with a few outliers where she had needed to compromise for the sake of avoiding a worse outcome. She hasn't worked with him on anything that would cast doubt on her position on different topics, so why would her cooperation with Former Chancellor Palpatine cast her in a bad light?

Palpatine was respected as Chancellor for many years before the war finally took enough toll on his leadership. People have been praising him ever since he was elected after Valorum was ousted in the midst of the Battle of Naboo. Palpatine becoming chancellor helped strengthen Naboo's position in the Senate, which in turn had helped them in the aftermath of the war, which clearly Valorum couldn't... Couldn't...

Her head hurts.

She puts her cup down on the table to massage her temples, trying to stave off the headache that threatens to overtake her.

Valorum couldn't have helped Naboo once the battle was over...

Valorum... was ousted on her request... before the battle ever took place...

On Palpatine's recommendation... She called for the Vote... In hopes of a stronger Chancellor... Who could...

Who could...

Who could stop the Trade Federation and end her people's oppression.

Padmé stares at the table.

That... that doesn't make any logical sense.

Palpatine was elected, but hardly in time to do anything for Naboo. In fact, she hadn't even stayed on Coruscant for the outcome of the election at all… She had left, with nothing but the promise that a new Chancellor would be elected and absolutely no guarantees that they would be any more sympathetic to her cause than Chancellor Valorum. And certainly no guarantee that they would be willing to do something.

Ultimately, riding the sympathy of other worlds, Palpatine was elected. He was not especially prominent before that, just one of many other mid-rim senators—praised for his competence, yes, but not unusually so—just as Naboo was far from a star system of prominence.

Had she still been holding her cup of tea, she would have dropped it.

Had she been standing, she would have collapsed to the floor.

'He used me.'

The thought is so horrifying in its clarity, but she cannot deny the truth of it.

'He used me and the suffering of our people for his own political gain. I was but a puppet in his rise to power and esteem.'

Her hand shakes as she uses it to cover her mouth, choking down on the wail that wants to leave her throat.

She had been young, naive. He had been a mentor and someone far more experienced, of course she had looked to him for help. But now... looking back on it now...

He had spoken of Valorum's lack of power, lack of agency. He had spoken of the bureaucrats who held the "true" power of the Chancellor... And when Valorum had received news from his aide and Palpatine had told her that the bureaucrats were showing their power again... She had believed him.

But of course Valorum hadn't been able to act. To just... tell the Trade Federation to withdraw their fleet from Naboo... She had presented no evidence except her own testimony.

She had been young and naive enough to believe that her word as a planetary leader would be enough to sway the Senate. Palpatine had used that, had preyed on that... He didn't correct her, he threw her to the gundarks and gave her advice that was of no gain to anyone but himself. He knew the Senate would not be able to act in time, but he also knew that he could still use it to his advantage.

Padmé finds herself laughing, a breathy high pitched laugh of panic.

How foolish she had been. She'd truly believed... Oh how she suddenly understands Obi-Wan's disdain for politicians.

She laughs only so that she won't cry.

She had believed Valorum unwilling to act, unsympathetic to her cause. After all, her trusted Senator had told her as much; told her that he was bogged down in legislation and without power, that he couldn't possibly help. And perhaps he was, perhaps his power was hampered, she hasn't looked into it, she cannot know. But even so...

Even so...

It was Valorum—not Palpatine, not the Senate—who sent the Jedi to aid her.

Valorum had the Jedi come to Naboo as mediators as a personal favour.

Without the Jedi, she would not have escaped Naboo.

Without the Jedi, she would not have met Jar Jar Binks.

Without the Jedi, she would not have met Anakin on Tatooine.

Without the Jedi, she would not have made it to Coruscant.

Without the Jedi, she would not have known to ask the gungans for help.

Without the Jedi, Naboo would have either been destroyed or usurped by the Trade Federation.

Valorum had done what he could to aid her world—even gone so far as to bend the rules to call in a personal favour when he could do nothing officially—and in return she had stripped him of all credibility as a politician and thrown him out of the Senate for good.

Palpatine may have given her much good advice since, may have helped her reach her position as Senator, may have been a good mentor in many aspects... But his very first action towards her had been to take advantage of her.

Her first appearance on the galactic stage... and she had been played a fool by someone she should have been able to trust.

Palpatine had likely seen that there was no hope for help from the Senate, that there was nothing they could—would—do quickly enough. She has long since learned how slow the Senate can be to act, to no fault of the Chancellor—after all, a chancellor without emergency powers cannot act alone. Palpatine had seen it from the second she arrived at his doorstep, if not long before then, and he had seen how he could use it for his own gain.

He may not have been able to sway the Senate to help their planet, he may not have been able to do more than give her a chance to do so... And even if they had, it would have been too late. By the time they returned to Naboo it was already a full-scale invasion. If not for the gungans' presence on the planet... Would a republic fleet even have made it through? Would they even have cared to try?

After all, the Republic at the time had no standing army. They would have needed to mount a fleet of some form, using the citizens of the Republic—there were no clones for them to foist off the responsibility of fighting and dying in a war for them back then… Would they have cared to do so to help Naboo? Could they have done so, quickly enough?

Or would the Trade Federation have been able to play the Republic as fools, convincing them that there was no occupation, merely a trade dispute? They had more or less already succeeded, especially as they also have a seat in the Republic Senate—never before has Padmé cursed that fact more, she thinks—and their influence far greater than Naboos.

Or would she have been captured, forced to sign an agreement, and doom her planet? Would they have killed her, forced an election of a puppet queen or king who would sign it, and then declared the dispute ended—a happy resolution for all.

Palpatine had seen it. He'd known that there was nothing the Senate could, or would, do in time.

But he'd also seen his chance to gain power. And without hesitation he'd taken it.

Curse him.

Curse him.

She's once more grateful she does not hold her teacup in her hand or she may have thrown it at the wall in the fit of rage that overtakes her.

A frietchel bug hiding in the sand, as Anakin would say.

Oh… Oh no...

Anakin... who trusts Palpatine as much, if not more, than he does Obi-Wan.

Anakin who looks up to Palpatine, who cherishes him as a beloved mentor.

The thought sends a chill through her.

What should she do?

What can she do?

Chapter Text

Everything feels fuzzy, indistinct, with a backdrop of almost-pain that he cannot explain.

He tries to remember what happened, why he's feeling so weak and out of it, but he can't. It's a blank spot in his mind. He doesn't remember how he ended up... Well, judging by what he can feel, he's wearing a breathing mask, which implies bacta immersion, which in turn implies rather serious injuries.

His eyelids feel heavy, so very heavy, but there is something in him that tells him that it's time to wake up. That he's slept for a long time already. Perhaps it is the Force, perhaps it's just his body telling him it’s had enough sleep now.

Finally his eyelids decide to cooperate, and Obi-Wan opens his eyes to stare at an empty hospital room, slightly blurry due to the fact that he's looking at it through bacta.

Well, he supposes that someone will come sooner or later, and lets his eyes close again.

He floats, counting his breathing, and gently reaches for the Force.

It feels... oddly like stretching a scar, or a stiff muscle.

He dozes, existing in that state just on the edge between wakefulness and true sleep.

The next time Obi-Wan opens his eyes, it's because he can hear the sound of low voices talking, and he's greeted by the sight of Doctor Nema and Mace Windu standing in front of the bacta tank, watching him.

Though his body is slow to respond, sluggish and tired, he manages to lift an arm, it moves smoothly through the thickness of the bacta, to wave slightly at them.

A small smile spreads on Mace's lips and he looks relieved as he places one palm on the glass. Doctor Nema says something, but Obi-Wan can't hear what it is.

He falls asleep again, weary unto his very soul—though he doesn't know why.

When he wakes once more, he's no longer in a bacta tank and instead resting on a soft hospital bed. The sensation of fabric against his skin seems almost foreign—he must truly have been in that bacta tank for quite some time.

How disconcerting.

He blinks up at the ceiling, trying to take this new development in.

He remembers... fear and grief, a feeling of loneliness, the warmth of a large palm on his forehead, a voice that's thin like a faded echo, and then... some measure of peace.

A blurry image of Boil's dirty and tear stained face makes its appearance, the feeling of a calloused hand gripping his own, but it's faded at the edges and could well be a dream.

He feels more awake now, stronger—physically at least—but somehow he also feels like his spirit has been raked over blades and shredded before it was then carefully sewn back together again.

The thought is disquieting, and Obi-Wan feels a shiver run through him.

What in the Core Worlds happened?

He closes his eyes and slowly reaches for the Force, trying to feel it, gently and carefully. It responds immediately and a feeling-sound much like twinkling bells washes over him as he draws the Force close around him, just enjoying the feel of it.

He hears voices from far away, but doesn't pay them any attention. He's clearly in the Halls, so hearing voices is not odd. Besides, if they want something with him they'll enter the room and speak with him—as such he can enjoy the peace in the meantime.

The sound of a door opening draws Obi-Wan's attention, and he opens his eyes again.

Mace, Master Yoda, Anakin and Ahsoka step inside, Doctor Nema behind them with a datapad in her hand.

"Hello there," Obi-Wan croaks, voice far dryer than he would have expected.

He sees them startle, and then all of them seem to light up, almost flutter, in the Force at the same time.

"Obi-Wan!"

The familiar feeling of friends and family surrounding him does his spirit good. He feels them in the Force and cannot help but to revel in it.

"Good to see you awake, it is." Master Yoda's voice is soft.

"It's good to be awake, Master," he says in return, voice still weak and hoarse.

Without a word, Mace offers him a glass of water, which he gratefully takes with a slightly trembling hand.

It's hard to imagine how thirsty one can be until one is utterly parched from presumably a long time in a bacta tank.

He drains the glass in its entirety before he hands it back to Mace.

"How long...?" He doesn't finish the sentence and instead lets the words trail off.

"About two weeks, Master," Anakin says, voice low and hushed. He's leaning forward, eyes raking over Obi-Wan's face as if he's trying to memorise every crevice. He must have been worried, scared.

Obi-Wan reaches out and gently takes Anakin's hand, unsurprised when Anakin grips it back as if it were his only life-line.

"We almost lost you, Master Obi-Wan," Ahsoka says. She opens her mouth to say something more, but closes it again when Anakin uses his free hand to pull her into a sideways hug.

"But you didn't, and that, I believe, is something to be grateful for." He smiles at them. They're warm in the Force, their joy and relief like a balm to his soul, but he is also very aware of the undercurrents of their emotions—twisting and heavy. However, now is not the time nor the place, and Obi-Wan is not in a state where he can help them deal with whatever is bothering them right now.

"Good to see you recovered, it is," Master Yoda says as he settles down next to Obi-Wan on the bed.

Reminded of the times Master Yoda has stayed by his side as he's slept, keeping watch, Obi-Wan smiles at the old master and takes his clawed hand in his own free one. Perhaps he is slightly more tactile than he usually is, but he feels an almost startlingly strong need to anchor himself physically to the real world—to the people he loves in it.

He doesn't say anything about the slight tremors he feels in Master Yoda's hand; everyone has a right to their privacy and Master Yoda would hardly be happy to have something like hand tremors be brought up in the company of others. No matter the reason for them.

"Quite a few things have happened during the time you've been unconscious, Obi-Wan, but we won't bother you with them right now. You still need to rest for a while before anything strenuous like politics and investigations," Mace says as he takes a seat next to the bed.

"Quite right, Master Windu," Doctor Nema says without looking up from her datapad.

"Well then," Obi-Wan says, "Is there anything you can tell me?" and lets his friends and family do the rest of the talking as he basks in their presence.

Chapter Text

Sabé helps her lady through her morning routine. There is no meeting in the senate today, and since the office building is still closed due to the investigation and repairs, she has worked mostly from the apartment these days. As such, there is no need for Padmé to have her hair done in an intricate Naboo style, or squeeze herself into formal senatorial garb.

Instead, they spend much of breakfast on the sofa, talking softly and drinking tea from a shared pot. The days where Padmé allows herself to simply be, sheds her Amidala persona, are few and far in between. So very precious due to the scarcity of them. Still, Sabé will stand by her Lady, her best friend, through thick and thin. As, she knows, will the rest of the handmaidens. They're all very loyal and take much pride in their work.

There's a knock on the door that interrupts their conversation.

Sabé gets to her feet swiftly, leaving her tea cup on the table.

When she opens the door, she's met with… Knight Skywalker. On the outside, Sabé keeps her expression calm and placid, but she's not quite pleased to see him here. She has her suspicions about his relationship with the Lady, in fact she's almost certain, but as Padmé has not spoken of it… Well, Sabé can keep a secret, even one she hasn't been explicitly asked to keep.

Anything for her lady.

"Knight Skywalker. How can I help you?" In the corner of her eye, Sabé can see the Lady get out of her seat, the shawl she had around her shoulders falling to the couch.

"Hello Miss Sabé, I was hoping I could speak to Senator Amidala?"

Well, Sabé will give him that, he's always been very good at remembering who is who among Padmé's handmaidens. That's more than can be said for most people they meet. Though now that she thinks about it, it may be a Jedi trait.

Most Jedi she's met seem to find it very important to address her as she prefers, seem incredibly intuitive when it comes to telling them all apart, even in disguise. She has wondered, ever since they fled Naboo when the Trade Federation invaded, if the Jedi were never fooled at all. She thinks it is likely they knew all along that she was not the real Queen.

Of course, there’s not much need to speculate, really. Ellé's been working with Jedi for some time now, she'll probably know if Sabé asks her opinion. And besides that there’s no real worry regarding it, Sabé or her lady hardly have anything to fear from Jedi.

"Knight Skywalker!" Padmé's voice is pleasantly surprised as she sidles up to Sabé. "Thank you, Sabé. I'll take it from here."

A gentle dismissal.

"Yes, my lady." She bows and steps away, heading farther into the room, while still keeping her eye on her lady, as is her duty as bodyguard.

They speak in low tones as they move to the couch, too low… Low enough that Sabé cannot hear what is being said. It is not unusual for them, and she wonders how long it will take until she is asked to leave the room entirely.

She will keep her eye on them until then.

~~~~

"Anakin! I wasn't expecting you back so soon," Padmé says, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Sabé. She hates keeping secrets from her friend and trusted confidant, but… She's made her bed and now she must lie in it.

"I got called back early because of what happened at the Senate." Anakin's voice is hoarse, and he looks tired, but there's also something… happy about him. Something she cannot quite put her finger on.

"Are you heading up the investigation?" That could be why. Padmé knows that Anakin usually feels better if he's actively working and trying to figure out things that have harmed people he knows. All she needs to do is remember Tatooine, remember getting the message about Obi-Wan being captured, to know that. Her love is a man of action.

"No, nothing like that. But… Obi-Wan's awake." He smiles then, a smile that lights up his entire face and soothes her soul. It's like facing the midday sun. She's always loved his smile.

She lets out a long breath. "I'm so relieved to hear that. I've been so worried, ever since it happened. And then a Senator tried to suggest that we should reinstate Palpatine as Supreme Chancellor if he didn't make it, an—" before she can finish her sentence, Anakin cuts her off.

"That sounds like a good idea. Palpatine knows the job better than anyone else, and he's very dedicated to the Republic. He'd probably accept the responsibility even though he's been enjoying the peace and rest he's had since he left office."

Padmé swallows her words. Anakin… Anakin trusts Palpatine. More than anyone, perhaps. How does she explain to him what she's realised about the man?

He's not a good person, no matter what Anakin thinks… At the very least not the way Anakin thinks. She's very aware that her husband thinks Palpatine is nothing but honest and forthright, caring and always willing to sacrifice for the sake of others. She knows now, she has realised now, that it’s not true. But Palpatine has also been there for Ani for so long… How could she possibly try to take him away from Anakin?

No, it's better if she doesn't say anything. At least not until she has some concrete proof to show him. She doesn’t want to hurt him until she can show him that she’s right and telling the truth.

"Yes, well, it wasn't a feasible suggestion. And I had to protest on principle." She cannot say that she feared his return to power.

"You protested? But it's Palpatine! He's been your mentor for years!" There's something in Anakin's expression, something almost betrayed, and she hates that she put it there.

"Anakin, if the Senate suddenly just goes and revokes a majority decision on a whim, it would set a dangerous precedent. Especially when it comes to reinstating a Chancellor who has already served the maximum amount of years they can and more. Regardless of who it was, I couldn't have accepted it purely for that. Besides, Acting Vice-Chancellor Ha'han-ash stands to take over should Obi-Wan… There was never a reason to bring the suggestion up in the first place."

He looks slightly mollified and Padmé smiles at him, brushing a lock of hair from her face, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

The smile returns on his face, and the slightest of blushes form.

She loves him so much it echoes inside her.

We should never have married.

The thought comes unbidden, horrifying and awful. But once she's had it she cannot release it.

It's true.

They shouldn't have married.

"You said Obi-Wan is awake now, please tell me more. I've been so worried about him, he's a good friend to me, just as he is to you." She motions towards the sofa and Anakin follows her over and they sit down.

She wants all the information she can get.

Information is power, and Padmé has felt helpless when it comes to the situation with Obi-Wan.

She hates feeling helpless. It brings her back to the Battle of Naboo, and the fear that she cannot help her people.

"Well," Anakin starts, and as he launches into the story, Padmé lets herself be swept away in his words and stops thinking of the past.

The future still lays ahead of them, and it's more important than what once was.

~~~~

Anakin speaks of Obi-Wan’s recovery for a while—though he holds back the details of the Sith Master, he doesn't want to worry Padmé unduly—but he cannot help the restlessness he feels down to his very bones. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about Master Che and Doctor Nema... and Master Windu.

"Anakin? Is something wrong?" Padmé says, her hand coming to rest over Anakin's own. He smiles at her and bites his lip.

He shakes his head.

"Not wrong, per se," he mutters and runs a hand through his hair. "It's just... I went to visit Master Che, the healer who saved Obi-Wan's life, and... She lives with another Jedi, a Knight."

Padmé tilts her head to the side. "Yes? Is that unusual?" She doesn't understand, Anakin realises. Of course she doesn't; she's not a Jedi. Anakin is her window into the Jedi and the Order, how can she know something if he doesn’t? How can she understand something he’s never explained to her?

He frowns.

"I don't... know, exactly. Padawans and their Masters usually live together, but once the Padawan is Knighted they move out to their own apartment... And, actually, Ahsoka has her own apartment, we don't share one. I think it's because we're not in the Temple very often... and war time has changed Jedi traditions a lot... Ahsoka became my Padawan in the field, after all, not during a small ceremony in the Temple which is the most common way. Or well, it used to be, anyway." He turns his hand over and closes his fingers over Padmé's hand.

"So, is this Knight a former Padawan of Master Che's?"

Anakin considers the idea. It could be true, he supposes. Perhaps Nema just didn't move out after her Knighting because of the war? He really has no idea how old she or Master Che is, after all... But if they're both close friends with Master Windu...

"I don't know. I don't think so, but I can't be sure. Master Che is a Twi’Lek and Knight Nema is a Halaisi, and I have to be honest: I’m not quite sure how they age and all. I don’t really know… much."

But perhaps that is why they're so close? But it seemed... It felt... Anakin sighs in frustration, not sure how to express himself even in his own head. It didn’t feel like a former Master and Padawan relationship.

"So they live together, and they're likely not a former Master and Padawan... I assume the living arrangement is unusual. Are they... in a relationship?" Padmé's voice is hesitant, almost timid, as if she's not sure what will happen if she says the words aloud.

"I... I don't... They can't be. It's not allowed. Attachment is forbidden. That's why no one knows about our marriage." It hurts, the truth of it hurts. Or maybe that's just Anakin's head.

Padmé nods, her gaze at the floor and her mouth downturned. She looks sad, as if she's hurting too.

"You once... You once said that Jedi are encouraged to love... Do you remember? That’s what you told me before we went to Naboo on the eve of this war." Her voice shakes.

Anakin nods. It's true, he did say that. Because it's true. Compassion, unconditional love, is part of what makes a Jedi. One of the most important things that separate them from the Sith.

'You cannot free yourself of the Dark Side, Anakin, we can all of us fall victim to it, because it comes from our negative emotions and as emotional beings, of course it’s there. The strength of a Jedi comes from the ability to resist its lure and hold compassion and calm as central aspects of our selves over the likes of selfishness or anger.

‘The Force is powerful, and so the Dark Side can be powerful—if you can control it, if you can keep yourself from being swept away, you can potentially get a small boost in strength through the tunnel vision of the Dark Side because you no longer care about any bystanders, anyone who might be hurt by your actions. Just the same way as anger can temporarily make you stronger even without the Force, just as fear can. But it’s not controlled, it’s wild, it’s mindless, and you are in a feedback loop with your own negative emotions. And that, Anakin, is where the danger lies. Because you cannot control it for a prolonged time and you will lose yourself to it if you try. An instant, a moment, certainly you can come back from that. Just as a mother’s fear for her child can enable her to do feats she’d never normally be able to, like rushing through a burning building or lifting a crashed speeder.

‘But remember, that same mother is unlikely to feel the pain of any injuries she sustains in the course of it, and thus risks severely injuring herself, or even perishing.

‘Not to mention that the more you reach for the Dark Side, even briefly, the more you teach yourself to reach for it… and the easier it is to lose your footing. The Dark Side is also the Force, but it is based on terrible things and nothing good can come from it, in the end.'

He shudders at the memory, but shakes the thought off. It's not really important right now, is it? The Dark side and the Sith have nothing to do with Padmé and their marriage.

"Perhaps that is their way? Love can come in many forms..." Padmé's fingers close around Anakin's hand, and they gaze at each other for a long moment.

Anakin nods slowly.

"Perhaps."

She smiles. "I don't know the Jedi, I know it only as an outsider. What I know I've learned as your wife, Obi-Wan's friend, Ahsoka, by interacting with Jedi in the Senate... But I don't know it the way you do."

Anakin returns her smile. "You're right." There really isn't much Padmé can say here, is there? She's right that she doesn't know the Jedi, that she can only base her ideas and thoughts on what she's learned from others. She hasn't lived it, and unlike Palpatine she hasn't studied it either.

Still...

"Thank you," he whispers, and pulls her into his arms.

He'll figure it out, one way or another. Perhaps he can try to talk to someone about it... maybe he can suss some details out from Master Windu!

It'll be fine, one way or another.

Chapter Text

Jocasta Nu has been the Head Librarian of the Jedi Temple for many years now. There is no one who knows the Temple library and its different ways of searching for information better than she does, no one who knows the contents of this library better than she does. Now, of course she has looked for someone to take over after her, but so far she has only narrowed it down to a few possible candidates.

So. Jocasta is a librarian, a scholar, and a researcher. She is not, however, a mind healer or a healer of any sort.

However, Jocasta Nu also grew up with Yan Dooku, and as one of his best friends—oh how it grieves her what he has become—she became very familiar with the feeling of anxiety in the Force. After all, Yan was an absolute perfectionist and somehow, despite how smart he was, stupid enough to believe that Master Yoda wanted him to be perfect.

Whenever he had a score on a test that was less than one hundred percent, he'd visit her in the library, the Force around him swirling with anxiety as he babbled on about how Master Yoda would surely be angry because he only got a ninety-nine percent score on his astro-navigation exam. Of course, she'd smack him over the head, tell him to talk to his damn master about it instead of fretting, and then send him on his way.

Lo and behold, a few hours later he'd be back, anxiety gone, laughing and embarrassed about how ridiculous he'd been because of course Master Yoda's reaction to Dooku's scores was never anything besides joy and pride.

Yan had been an anxious perfectionist for a long time until he outgrew it. Well, mostly outgrew it, at least. The anxiety mostly went away and he became more self-assured. Sometimes she wonders if his occasional bouts of arrogance was overcompensation from anxiety.

Still, their childhood taught Jocasta how to recognise fear and anxiety in the Force very well, even when the person feeling it is trying to shield it from their surroundings out of politeness.

Which is why Jocasta is very aware that whatever it is Master Namun—one of her candidates for next Head Librarian—is researching for the Council, it is upsetting her a great deal. Enough so that she's starting to bleed through her own shields. Which is rather worrisome considering how experienced Master Namun is.

With the state of everything as it is, it worries Jocasta. Master Namun has always been very stable and solid, far from easily shaken. So whatever it is she and the young lady with her is researching, it must be most distressing.

While Jocasta knows that she has not been given the clearance to speak to Namun about the research, she knows it is her duty as a member of Master Namun's community to at least bring up her worry with a council member in private, to ensure that they discuss it with her.

While she'd prefer talking directly with Master Namun, she knows that she likely cannot speak to anyone outside of certain authorised people about it, and Jocasta would prefer not to make her fret over having "leaked" her emotions on top of everything else, as it were.

Besides, Master Yoda is sure to be discreet and kind about it.

Master Yoda asks her to meet him in the Council meditation chamber when she asks him for a private conversation. She's been there before and she's trusted with the codes to the Council chamber, so she arrives with little fanfare and even less trouble.

The sight she comes across is... slightly worrying. Master Yoda is staring out the windows—for once the blinds haven't been drawn and you can clearly see the Coruscant skyline through them—clearly distracted and deep in thought.

"Master Yoda," she says to call his attention.

He doesn't startle, but he does finally turn from the window to look at her.

"Jocasta, good to see you, it is. Speak with me, you wanted to?"

It's not the first time she's come to him for help or guidance, so this is not a novel situation for her, though it's been a while since last. A perk of being friends with Yan had been a more direct route to the old master if she felt she needed more guidance than her own master could give. It was rare, certainly, but it happened.

"Yes, Master, it's on a... sensitive subject, so I'd like to request you keep it to yourself unless absolutely necessary."

"Do so, I will, unless reason to do otherwise, I have," he says, always giving himself an out should he be given... disturbing news that should not be kept secret.

"Very well," she takes a seat on one of the nearby meditation pillows and centres herself. "I know the Council has tasked Master Namun with a research mission. However, I worry about her. Through the Force I have been able to sense that whatever it is she's researching, it is upsetting her greatly. As such, I wished to mention it to you, Master, so you can perhaps speak with Master Namun directly." She pauses briefly to gather her thoughts. "I would have done so myself if it hadn't been for the fact that I know her work is confidential and I do not want to put her in a situation where she feels torn between needing to talk and not betraying the confidence the Council has put in her."

"Compassionate, you are, Jocasta. A good friend, you've always been." Master Yoda doesn't need to mention the name for both of them to feel the spectre of a man they loved and lost hang over them.

She inclines her head in thanks, accepting the compliment, but says nothing, instead awaiting further words from Master Yoda.

"Spoken with Master Namun, I have. Speak with the Council, I will. Perhaps include you in the investigation, we should. Know the library and its resources better than anyone else, do you."

"If that is the will of the Council, I would do so. I am relieved to hear that you've already spoken with Master Namun, and I won't ask anything further, I understand that you will not speak of private conversations." She smiles, Master Yoda has always been willing to lend an ear when possible.

"More to speak of, have you?" Master Yoda's ears twitch, and his face is kind. Jocasta swears she can feel just a hint of loneliness in the Force around him.

She... isn't fully surprised. He was sad after Yan left for good, directly after Qui-Gon's tragic loss. Losing both of them at the same time was a harsh blow to him, and with Master Kenobi now in the Halls... Well, Master Yoda's lineage has seen better days.

She smiles, and stays just where she is.

"I would like to tell you a story of what a young initiate named Im did in the library the other day."

She has missed speaking with him.

As she takes a seat in Master Yoda's room, she smiles to herself. The only thing still missing is a man who will never return. But such is the way of the Galaxy and as she cannot change it, she must accept it.

Chapter Text

When Bant steps into Obi-Wan’s room in the Halls, it's like a balm to his nerves. She's one of his oldest friends, and her familiar presence is so very soothing. He really has missed her, they see each other too rarely these days, what with the war.

"Obi-Wan!" Her face breaks into a large smile. "Oh, it's so good to see you awake. We've all been so worried about you. Seeing those images on the holonet..." He face falls and she takes a seat next to his bed. "It was horrible. Please never do that to me again."

Obi-Wan gives her a weak smile. "I promise to try my very best to keep my next near-death-experience from being publicised on the holonet."

"Your sense of humour is terrible." She pushes him gently, but a smile returns to her face. She really does look her best when she smiles, and it always seems to light up the entire room around her.

"How have you been? Besides worried, I mean."

She worries the hem of her robes slightly before she looks up at him again. "Busy. Wartime is... difficult." Her big eyes are sad.

Obi-Wan feels a lump in his throat. He nods his head, unable to force any words out of his mouth.

He wishes he were stronger, that he could comfort her... But he can't. It's moments like these he misses Master Qui-Gon the most, he thinks. He was always so good at seeming calm and certain, a large, unmovable mountain in the midst of all the chaos.

"Garen's been stressed. The investigation isn't going well, I think." Bant looks away and sighs. "He can't talk to me about it, obviously, but I know him well enough to be able to tell."

Obi-Wan takes her hand in his. "If anyone can do it, it's Garen. He's one of our best investigators and you know it, Bant. Besides, I'm sure the Council is making sure he gets as much support as he needs."

Bant smiles weakly. "I have heard rumours that Vos is back on Coruscant. I'm sure the Council will have him use his tracking to find some clues or help Garen put things together and find the culprit!" She looks cheered by the idea, so Obi-Wan refrains from rolling his eyes.

"Right, Vos."

At least Vos's crazy ways are unlikely to make an impression on Garen. After all, Garen has his own brand of crazy and since he hasn't before now, he's unlikely to change it up—even if he always did think Vos was cool when they were younger.

Force. It seems so long ago.

Bant laughs and swats Obi-Wan's shoulder. "You love Quinlan, just admit it. He's your friend and you like him! I'm on to you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan only laughs.

It was nice to see Obi-Wan smile and roll his eyes at their friends, Bant thinks. He looks frail in a way that she's not used to—this near-death experience was much closer than any other he's ever had, she thinks—but he is at least awake and aware. Alive.

She had almost been certain that she'd lose him, that she'd never speak to her best friend ever again. She meditated on it a lot during the weeks he was unconscious and the healers couldn't say for certain what his fate would be.

She meditated, she consulted the Force... But she never reached a conclusion. She never did manage to make peace with the fact that she may lose him,

It's a weakness of hers, she thinks, and the knowledge of this weakness is a gift she will take with her as she continues on her path as a Jedi.

Obi-Wan is the only Master among their group, but he's also the only one of them who has taken and trained a Padawan. The rest of them have concentrated on other things, focused on other paths within the Order. And she knows that they have not yet shown the sort of understanding of the Force that Obi-Wan has, nor have they found their way among the Jedi quite as clearly.

Not that Obi-Wan never doubts or reconsiders—to do so would be to reject change, and that is an anathema for Jedi. Change is inevitable, and though it may sometimes be bitter, it must always be accepted even when it cannot be embraced.

Bant knows now that her own greatest struggle is letting go of the past, letting go of those she loves.

Reeft, she knows, struggles with change in general. He likes structure and predictability. He likes it best when everything is as it's always been. The war hit him so hard he had to leave the front lines, incapable of doing his duty properly out there, and has instead taken up teaching in the crèche.

Garen... Garen is slightly too reckless, too excitable, too eager for an adventure. He forgets to consider all the angles. Which is ironic considering what an excellent investigator he is. Bant has never been able to understand how he can have such a split personality. When working a case he's meticulous and misses nothing, but when his mission isn't in detail oriented investigation he loses track of details and forgets himself. She supposes he'll learn to temper himself, learn to bring some of his considerable focus into other aspects of himself as well.

It's not that Obi-Wan doesn't have any faults, certainly not. No person is without fault. But Obi-Wan has learned to temper his, he accepts them and understands them in a way that Bant admires.

Though she must admit that she sometimes misses the firebrand of an initiate he once was, always leaping to her defence even against opponents more than twice his size.

The first time she heard some older initiates whisper about how Master Kenobi was the perfect Jedi and must have been exemplary throughout his entire path in the Order, she nearly split her side laughing so hard.

The path that is always smooth will not teach you nearly as much as the one twisting with turns and uneven with rocks.

Obi-Wan was forced to mature faster than she would have liked, responsibility fell on him far faster than it should have... But as always he's carried the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders without complaint. Well, without much complaint, anyway.

Well... They have time yet. Once the war is over, they'll have time to be young still—despite the fact that Obi-Wan is a Master.

They have time.

Chapter Text

"News, I have, from the investigation into the altered mission reports from the Senate."

The Council looks grim at the reminder of the investigation, but they wait for Yoda to continue. Mace finds himself leaning forward in his seat.

"When speaking to Knight Skywalker, reminded I was, of the death of his trauma counsellor, Master Hestish."

The council startles, almost as one, and murmurs start up. Mace frowns deeply, not liking at all where this is going. Master Hestish's death was a tragedy that hit the Temple hard. She was one of the best Jedi they had when it came to one-on-one counselling for the Jedi who needed extra support beyond what their teachings and own master or friends could provide. However, if Master Yoda is bringing it up now... In relation to this particular investigation...

"Realise, I did, that if taking away his main support—his master—the saboteur did, take away his mind healer, they may too." Master Yoda stares at the floor, ears drooping, and he leans heavily on his gimer stick.

If Master Yoda is telling them about this hunch, then it was likely correct. If it had been wrong, he likely wouldn't have bothered to bring it up at all.

"I assume that your theory was proven correct?" Agen Kolar says, leaning forward in his chair.

"Changed, the details of Master Hestish's last mission were. Traumatised children, mentioned were not. Calmed down, the hostilities had not. Request a larger group of Jedi, the report did." He pauses briefly enough that no one has a chance to react. "Thus murdered, she and Padawan Areeth were."

Mace closes his eyes and buries his face in his hands. His worst fears realised.

How many more Jedi have died like this? Senselessly and at the hands of a saboteur? How many more have been sent to their deaths unwittingly?

How tight is the Sith's noose around the Jedi's necks?

While there has been no chance for the Jedi to realise that something was wrong—there hasn't been, has there?—beyond possibly bad information gathering on the side of the Senate... How has the Senate not noticed? How has no one seen that the reports returned do not match the reports originally sent out?

Is the corruption so widespread and deeply entrenched that they do not even care about something as important at that? Or has the Sith Lord somehow managed to manipulate things into letting them go undiscovered? For it is very likely that the Sith Lord has a hand in this. Who else would stand to gain as much from the death of Jedi? From the possible destruction of the Jedi Order?

But at the same time... what would the Sith Lord stand to gain from sabotaging Skywalker's padawanship?

Mace closes his eyes and draws a deep, calming breath. This is worse than he feared.

It would be easy for someone to miss that a request for a specific Jedi has been added to a mission where there was previously no mention of such a thing, that is excusable, but to miss the level of changed details as what Master Yoda just described... That is unforgivable, unconscionable. The entire mission had been misrepresented, most of the report must have been rewritten.

How has this happened? Is there anything they can do about it or are they trapped in the Sith's game?

How can they possibly take missions from the Senate now that they don't know if they're real or fake?

And the war... How much of it comes from a legitimate wish to leave from the Separatist worlds, and how much of it is Sith machinations? How many of their legitimate grievances have been created by the Sith solely for this reason?

With Dooku at the helm, a confirmed Sith... It's not a coincidence. This, like everything else, must be the Sith Lord's plan. How large is this plot? How have things managed to get so bad so quickly?

Or have they just missed it?

They've known that the Senate has been... slow to act, that there have been corruption in places. They've known that the Republic has been far from perfect, but this... this is worse than they could have ever imagined.

How long has the Sith been planning this? How long have they lain hidden in the shadows, waiting for a time to strike?

Mace has wanted to believe that the resurgence of the Sith was due to someone Force sensitive stumbling upon old texts and resurrecting a lost practice... But with all that is happening, it seems unlikely.

Perhaps the Sith didn't destroy themselves entirely, perhaps there were still survivors. Perhaps Darth Bane was not the last Sith after all... Perhaps there was an apprentice… And so the Line of Bane lives still?

Whoever followed him, whoever his apprentice was, they must have realised that they themselves would have no chance against the Jedi, and so they hid. And shielded by the Jedi's ignorance of their existence, they survived to raise their own apprentice, to continue to twist the Force throughout the centuries up until this day.

That they succeeded in hiding, that they survived, is the failure of the Jedi.

If only they had known.

Perhaps much suffering could have been avoided, because Force knows what blights the Sith has unleashed on the galaxy even in hiding.

What has happened, has happened. Dwelling on the past will not change it, all they can do is look forward towards the future.

Mace drums his fingers against the armrest of his chair.

He returns to an earlier train of thought: why did the Sith Lord want to sabotage Skywalker's padawanship? Why Skywalker in particular?

Did they want him due to his strength in the Force? Were they hoping for an apprentice? Did they think that because he came late, because of his previous experiences, he would be easier to sway to their side?

But how would they have known? Not even the Council had known at first that Skywalker had been a slave that Qui-Gon freed to take to the Temple. In fact, Skywalker's background as a freed slave is in the redacted sections of his profile, not the public one that's open to other Jedi. And even if it had been in the public Jedi records, the Sith Lord would have to be a Jedi to access those records anyway...

No, it doesn't make sense. If that's it, then how did the Sith Lord know? Or perhaps they didn't? Perhaps they only saw a child that came late, and thought that made him vulnerable?

He pauses.

No, Skywalker wasn't inherently vulnerable. A child who comes late is at a disadvantage, will struggle with teachings that would have come much easier to them had they arrived early… but he would not be the first late-comer, though perhaps the first to who had such results for their test who were still accepted.

The first to be rejected, but later accepted anyway. No one else would have had a backer such as Qui-Gon, and later Obi-Wan.

Even so, Mace believes Skywalker would not necessarily have been outright vulnerable. The Sith made him vulnerable.

And with how much time he spent with former Chancellor Palpatine and thus around the Senate in general... it wouldn't have been hard for the Sith Lord to gain access to him, would it?

Was Palpatine manipulated by the Sith Lord? Was that why he had such great interest in Skywalker? To go so far as to demand access to the boy, using his station as leverage... To Mace it seems like the interest goes beyond just gratitude for Anakin's role in saving his home planet.

Could Palpatine have been under a Force compulsion to get Anakin out of the Temple walls without his Master present?

Well, even if that were the case, the Sith Lord has clearly failed.

While unorthodox and with some bad habits—and Skywalker is not the only Jedi with bad habits—Skywalker is still a Jedi.

Shaking his head, Mace sighs. He needs to stop speculating. The investigation regarding the missions and Skywalker's padawanship hasn't finished yet.

Time will tell just how far the sabotage went—though it's already clear that it went more than far enough.

Chapter Text

"Anakin, my boy, please come in!" Palpatine motions for Anakin to step further inside his rooms.

"Thank you, Sir, and thank you for having me over," Anakin says with a smile.

Palpatine nods repeatedly. "Of course, my boy, think nothing of it. I do so enjoy your company," he says with a smile. "It's hardly a challenge to have you over for tea."

They take their seats in the lounge, and Palpatine carefully watches the young man. Foolishly trusting. So very useful, so very very useful.

"How… are you? I know that they finally set the date for the, uh, the trial and presentation of evidence from the…" he stumbles over his words, scratching the back of his neck with a wince on his face. "From the corruption investigation."

Palpatine takes a long sip of caff and resists the urge to throw the cup across the room. Damn Kenobi for setting that whole ridiculous farse in motion at all. He knows there's not enough to find to truly implicate Palpatine of anything, but if they find anything at all it may succeed in damaging his credibility a bit.

Truly, Kenobi has thrown so many wrenches in the wheels of Palpatine's plans that just thinking about it threatens to give him a migraine.

How can one single Jedi be so much trouble?

"Well, I know my innocence, so I feel that I have little to fear…" he trails off artfully, a quick glance confirming that his audience is captivated by his words. "Unless, of course, someone has tampered with evidence or files to implicate me, of course." He takes another drink of caff.

"But why would anyone want to do that, Sir? You're very well respected, and you've done so much for the Republic!"

Ah, how Palpatine savours the sweet victory of Skywalker's faith in him, his utter belief in Palpatine's character. Oh how beautiful it will be when everything finally falls into place, and the curtain finally falls on this wretched play.

"Well, dear boy, one does not spend years as the Supreme Chancellor without gaining a few enemies, simply by nature of doing one's job, I'm afraid." He coughs gently. "It's a bit par for the course when it comes to politics, I'm afraid." Truly, Skywalker really doesn't have a head for politics. Too straightforward, too staunch a believer in that things should be fair.

Things are never fair in politics, and any politician trying to make it so will either find themselves ousted from their position or at worst outright killed.

"But that's…" Skywalker stumbles over the words, his face contorting in a frown. "Is that why the Senate is so slow to act? Because they fight each other more than they cooperate?"

Excellent. Just the right train of thought.

"I'm afraid so, my friend. Political posturing and in-fighting leads to slow procedures and little progress. It's what has led us to this war in the first place." Palpatine fakes a put-upon sigh, even though he's laughing on the inside. The corruption and in-fighting is certainly what has led to this galactic civil war, but the Republic had a helping hand in getting here. Skywalker doesn't need to know that, of course.

"It would be better, wouldn't it, if a single person could just tell everyone what to do?" He scratches the back of his head. "That... that's why the senate kept voting for more executive orders for the Supreme Chancellor, isn't it? To make sure that decision-making went faster?"

"It is. Very astute of you. You have a head for politics." Palpatine smiles. Stroking the boy's ego has always done wonders for strengthening the "bond" between them. Self-assured, but brittle. Strong, but anxious. Such a lovely combination of traits.

"I don't know about that, Sir, but thank you." Skywalker looks pleased.

Palpatine smiles again.

Excellent.

"Tell me, have you heard any news about Master Kenobi, my boy? I've been so worried."

Might as well get this over with. Hopefully the man has fallen into a coma and looks unlikely to ever wake up again, but considering that Skywalker isn't on a rampage…

Well, it seems unlikely.

"He woke up recently," Anakin says, a wide smile spreading on his lips. "I've been so worried, it was such a relief to see him sit up in bed. Getting the news was… rough." He looks away from Palpatine then, mouth turning down in a frown.

Blast it.

"I'm glad to hear it, so glad to hear it. I'm sure the entire republic has been worried about your Master's health since the incident."

After Skywalker leaves, Palpatine lets out a deep sigh. It's a fine balance to walk. He has to pretend to know less than what he does, and he has to keep catering to the boy's own interests and wishes; he's not yet ready to be harvested, and the plan cannot come to fruition yet either.

Damn Kenobi and all other interferences.

Palpatine absently rubs against his side. The bacta patch has done an excellent job of patching the wound up, but it left a rather ugly scar. If he'd been able to take it to a proper clinic, he'd be scar free. However, he cannot risk it. The former Supreme Chancellor coming into a clinic with a blaster wound?

The investigation would never end, and Palpatine cannot risk it.

The plan is in danger, and Kenobi still lives.

Despite it all, Kenobi still lives.

Hate burns like knives of ice, shredding his insides, but Palpatine doesn't let a single muscle in his face move.

He will succeed, even if it will take longer than he'd like.

Chapter Text

Being out of commission for two weeks when you're the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic is... ill-advised at best and a minor disaster at worst. If you add the duties of a Jedi General and a member of the Jedi Council on top of that...

Buried beneath flimsi notes and messages on quite a few datapads, Obi-Wan finds himself almost wishing he could go back to sleeping a few more weeks away.

Still, there's a niggling in the back of his head, as if he's forgotten something. Something very important.

But no matter how hard he tries to remember, he cannot for the life of him think of what it could possibly have been. He's missing some time between the meeting he had with Senators Biwa, Himesh, Ha'han-Ash, and Chuchi and the brief flashes he remembers from after the explosion. Besides the flashes, his first memory is from waking up in the Halls of Healing.

He'll need to meditate on it, see if he can somehow remember the missing pieces. He trusts his feelings, so he knows there's something in what happened that is very important. Likely even more important than he can even imagine at the moment.

He leans back in his chair, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. He grows tired far easier now than usual, since he's still recuperating from nearly losing his life. The Force is a powerful ally, and he can usually depend on it to help keep himself going for longer than what most humans can manage, but his body is still very weak right now, so he must refrain from pushing himself too hard. If he chooses to ignore his limits right now, his healers are likely to be very cross with him, which will no doubt end up being more trouble than it's worth.

He shifts out of his chair and hobbles over to the couch instead, lying down with a deep sigh.

He hasn't been taking this many naps since he was in the créche, but it is what it is.

The door slides open and through the Force, Obi-Wan feels the familiar presence of Blast entering the room. With him comes the aroma of tea, breaking through the smells of the flowers and greenery in the room.

"General?" Blast's voice is soft, clearly trying to see if Obi-Wan is awake without waking him should he be asleep.

"I'm on the couch, Blast. Just taking a nap," he mutters, trying to keep his exhaustion out of his voice. He just woke up, he shouldn't still be tired.

Blast's footsteps come closer and then he's there, kneeling by the side of the couch holding a cup of tea.

"Tea, General?" He holds the cup out, and Obi-Wan struggles to sit up with a wince.

"That's very kind of you, Blast, thank you. You know you don't have to bring me tea..." It's almost awkward how his men have been waiting on him since the explosion. It's not in their job description, but they do so anyway...

"I know, General, but I also wanted to see if you're feeling alright."

Obi-Wan smiles and accepts the tea cup. "Thank you, Blast. I’m feeling just fine, merely a bit tired."

The easy camaraderie they once had is strained now, awkward and fumbling, and Obi-Wan has no doubt that it's entirely due to the recent events.

Obi-Wan can only begin to imagine how Cody must feel. The man has been by Obi-Wan's side longer than anyone else, and he always does take failures like this rather personally. Besides, he almost lost both Boil and Waxer as well...

It can't have been an easy few weeks for Obi-Wan's men, not at all.

He winces slightly as he takes a sip from his tea, breathing deeply and attempting to find some calm, some peace. It's difficult to consider how close it was, knowing that he almost died.

He's not, in particular, afraid of death. It's merely another facet of the way of the galaxy, and returning to the Force is what all living things do, sooner or later.

However, he's not particularly eager for it either. He enjoys living—well, for the most part, he's not especially fond of being at war nor being the Supreme Chancellor—and he would certainly not want his friends and loved ones to miss him, or be sad for losing the chance to make more memories together. More than that though, he has a mission right now. Something so vitally important that he simply cannot allow himself to pass on.

Not yet.

Still, he wonders what it is he's forgotten. There is something, he knows there is. Likely he thought of something around the time of the explosion, because he is missing time there—all of it is so hazy—but it's gone now. Only the feeling of once having had the thought remains.

The fact that he now has a million more things to try and sort out—you're never really off work when you're the Supreme Chancellor, are you—likely does not help at all. Quite the opposite, Obi-Wan is quite sure.

Still, it's unlikely that he'll be able to force it, no matter how often he comes back to it, no matter how much he dwells on it.

He will either remember, or he won't.

Chapter Text

When the news of Supreme Chancellor Kenobi's recovery hits the holonet, the reactions didn't wait. They are many and varied: elation, anger, worry, fear, and relief.

Obi-Wan stays away from the news, he has little interest in hearing what the news think of him on a continuous basis—some of his men have taken it upon themselves to make a rundown of the most commonly expressed opinions to help Obi-Wan know what the people seem to be thinking—instead he needs to keep his focus on doing his duty and try to help facilitate the return of peace to the galaxy.

Nothing is more important than peace. Certainly not Obi-Wan's reputation.

Asajj stares at the holoprojector, anger bubbling in her gut.

The urge to take her lightsabers to the damn machine and cause a rain of sparks and clumps of melted metal all around is almost impossible to contain, but a quick glance at her master's calm manner leaves her clutching at the tatters of her self control.

She was certain he'd finally die, and yet, here he is. Still alive.

She hasn't met him in battle for a long time now, not since he got elected—what a joke—but the mere memories of his jokes and flirting and gentle beseeching to her "better nature" makes her want to punch him in the face.

Destroy those who would try to sway you from the Dark Path, forsake those who would forsake you in turn.

The Jedi can preach unity and peace and speak of camaraderie... But she knows their treachery intimately. She knows what it's like to be thrown away by them. She was a Padawan once, but the Jedi left her Master to die... Left her to die.

They're all better off dead for the betrayal.

By her hand if she can achieve it, but she'll take it in any manner it's willing to come.

Death to the Jedi.

Long live the Separatists.

She glances at her master once more.

One day he will take her as his Sith Apprentice officially.

He will.

Dooku can feel the emotions coming off Asajj in waves, though she's doing an admirable attempt at keeping herself in check. She's young yet, with much to learn still.

So Kenobi lives.

He suppresses the small smile that twitches in the corners of his mouth. His former master must be positively frothing at the mouth. Another attempt failed. If he keeps at it like this, failure after failure, not even the blinded Jedi will think it's anything resembling a coincidence or an attempt at someone else. In fact, Dooku cannot help but wonder if they've already ascertained that the attempt was aimed for Kenobi, and will soon be on Sidious's trail.

Whatever control he once had over the situation is slipping out of Sidious's hands as water through a sieve.

The last bit of Qui-Gon Jinn, his legacy, remains in the galaxy.

Dooku has plans to make. The war still rages even as more and more in the Separatist senate are clamouring for a cease fire and a re-opening of negotiations. He quashes an undignified snort at the thought. As if any peace negotiation could ever happen without the Republic demanding Dooku's death or incarceration.

He won't stand for it.

He will not become a prisoner among the Jedi, among people who were once his friends, family, and community.

He has chosen a new path, and life among them—prisoner or no—is not an option. Will never again be an option.

He cannot return to them.

Cody has, of course, already received news from the Temple itself regarding General Kenobi's recovery, but seeing it on the holonet somehow makes it even more real. He's not so stupid that he doesn't realise that it would be possible the Jedi could have faked the General's survival, had him withdraw as Chancellor for "health reasons" and pretended he needed to stay in the Temple to keep morale among the troops up.

However, the General is back in the Senate, has been caught on holovideo walking around—Blast as an ever-present shadow these days—and that cannot be faked.

The relief he feels is almost overwhelming.

He's not sure how he'd handle knowing that he'd failed his General, knowing that he'd lost his Jedi when he wasn't even there. That he wasn't there to protect him... That he wasn't even there to give his life for him.

He's quite certain the shame and loss would have killed him.

He looks towards his personal comm, remembering the message Rex sent him, and smiles.

His brothers would have helped him get through, no doubt.

Still, he's relieved it isn't necessary after all. The General will continue to do his duty, and so too will Cody.

It's what he was made for, after all.

Palpatine knew it was coming, Skywalker had told him as much after all... And yet, he cannot quell the rage that threatens to boil over as he watches the holonet report with joy at Kenobi's survival.

News anchors talking about how hope of peace has not been lost for Kenobi still lives and is recuperating.

As if Palpatine will allow peace to return to the galaxy as long as he lives. The only way the galaxy will know any resemblance of peace is under Palpatine's heel, once he's finally ascended the throne as Emperor of the Galactic Empire...

There's little he can do about it for now.

If he can't get rid of Kenobi directly, then he'll need to find some other way to damage the man's powers—some other way to stop him from mucking everything up.

Pesky Jedi.

Chapter Text

When the first arrests happen, there is chaos in the Senate.

Members of the Coruscant Security Force, flanked by members of the Jedi Order and the Galactic Senate, entered the chamber and called for several senators to hand themselves over for interviews and to allow the investigation proceedings to continue.

Several had tried to escape in the pandemonium that erupted, but the Jedi had been quick to stop any escape attempts.

Regardless of how many times Obi-Wan called for order, the Senate would not settle down.

He tries, again and again, but ultimately it is no use, and he is forced to instead end the day's session. Acting Vice-Chancellor Ha'han-ash makes eye-contact with him, and he can sense both her frustration, her elation, and her indignation.

He wonders if she hoped that the investigation would come up empty; that there was nothing to be found, that while the Senate is slow to act, there is no corruption happening. He's quite certain that there's more than one Senator who is of that mind—see no evil, hear no evil, thus there is no evil.

Thinking of the changed missions found by the off-the-books investigation currently underway... Obi-Wan wonders if anything regarding Jedi missions will come up for the hearings of these Senators as well. Will there be something regarding the Jedi, and how they've been impacted by Senate control in recent years?

Perhaps Palpatine is not the only one who's gotten involved in changing and altering Jedi missions as he sees fit.

Perhaps there are more of them out there, all of them...

All of them what? Under the thumb of the Sith Lord?

It seems almost ridiculous. One Senator falling under the Sith Lord's thumb certainly makes sense... But several? It seems... unlikely. At the very least it seems unlikely that the Sith Lord would split their attention between multiple Senators, rather than focus on a single one—the one in the best position to make their plans, whatever they may be—happen.

Still, something about the thought niggles him, and he feels himself trying to follow the logic through. If there are multiple Senators under the Sith Lord's thumb... The Sith Lord would need to be influential, somehow. They have to be able to blend in within the Senate, they cannot go unnoticed unless they're hiding in plain sight. They can hardly be walking around with a dark hood over their head and cackling maniacally. Even with their senses dulled and their ability to reach the Force lessened in these dark times, the Jedi would have noticed something like that. Obi-Wan is sure of it.

Still... Hiding in plain sight within the Senate... Could be a Senator's aide, certainly, but they're hardly influential enough. Could be some rich and famous person known for rubbing elbows with politicians, that too wouldn't stand out too much and would certainly mean a larger sphere of influence than that of an aide.

Another possibility... A senator. If a senator was the Sith Lord... Well then... that would be an entirely different ball game, wouldn't it? Obi-Wan strokes his beard and considers it. Palpatine himself would be a candidate for such a thing, certainly, but... Well, wouldn't it be more likely for the Sith Lord to pick a more influential planet than Naboo? After all, before Palpatine was elected, it was just another small mid-rim system, bordering on the outer rim.

It was the Battle of Naboo that gave Palpatine enough sympathy votes to get elected in the first place, wasn't it? Everything Obi-Wan has read on the topic since seems to suggest as much, though most sources agree that Palpatine then proceeded to prove himself a very capable Chancellor...

Until Senator Mandai had enough, that is.

Obi-Wan fights a smile, forcing his face to remain neutral. Well, it's certainly an interesting line of thought, isn't it? Though while it's entirely possible that Palpatine could fit the profile of who the Sith Lord could be... Well, Obi-Wan has never been able to sense nor catch the slightest of hints of any particular Force sensitivity in the man.

If he were a Sith Lord, he would need to be very adept at hiding that fact. Most people trained to use the Force tends to do so almost unconsciously in some ways. But Palpatine has given not even the slightest hint of enhanced senses or reflexes. But if he were capable of reigning in even his reflexes…

Which is, indeed, a quite frightening thought in and of itself.

Still, Obi-Wan will need to think more on this later. Right now he has other work to do.

With the session suspended, Obi-Wan heads back to his office, Ha'han-ash at his heels. If they cannot get any work done in the Senate today, then they will have to do so in the office instead.

They both have much to catch up on, after all, and duty never waits.

The holonet is ablaze with the news of the senatorial arrests. Speculation abounds—are they being arrested in connection with the Amedda-Palpatine investigation? Is this a separate investigation into corruption? What consequences will this have going forward?

There is, of course, no way to keep the news out of Separatist hands, and soon the Separatist Senate too is discussing the news. Whispers begin among them, that perhaps not all of the corrupted Senate members stayed with the Republic... Perhaps the Republic is truly working on mending its ways, of becoming something worthy to be a part of—for every member-world, not just the core.

Dooku watches and listens, but remains silent, as more and more of the senators of the Separatist Senate whisper about the Republic finally starting to root out the corruption.

More and more have already returned to the Republic, with negotiation deals that leave them with better terms now than before they left, rather than the other way around.

He clenches his teeth.

Kenobi is far too good at reining in the idiots of the Senate, and if he can get rid of the most corrupt ones... Perhaps he can create change in the Republic after all. Perhaps he truly can change the galaxy.

Dooku has believed it impossible for too long to have any true hope, but even so...

There's an ache in his chest, suddenly, one he doesn't understand. And he would swear he hears the briefest of whispers from the Force, so different from the type he's gotten used to since he Fell—rather than an aching hunger, and ever deepening need for more... This whisper is soft and gentle... and somehow familiar.

It almost reminds him of...

He frowns.

It's useless sentimentality to ponder and meditate on the nature of the Force and the things it would like to show him. It's merely remnants of what he once was, before he made his choice to enact change properly, to ensure the galaxy could be recreated into something better than it was. He made the choice, knowing the people who had been his community for almost all of his life would never understand it.

It was a sacrifice worth making, for the outcome he strives for.

What is a few dead Jedi against the peace and prosperity of the whole galaxy? A few dead Jedi against the prosperity of the Temple as a whole? Against a future for their children?

Even the Council itself would admit that the good of the many outweighs the good of the few. That Yan Dooku himself may benefit more than most others, well, that wasn't his primary goal.

He has power, and he will gain more of it. He will reshape the galaxy. He knows what it needs.

If his fellow Jedi had only seen what he saw, or at least listened when he spoke of it... perhaps he could have gone about it differently.

But no, that is not how it is, and as a Sith it's no longer something he can change.

Nor does he want to.

After all, he's a Jedi no longer, so the affairs of the Jedi no longer concern him.

Still... The whispers in the Separatist Senate are worrying and he cannot allow it to go on unchecked... But at the same time, he cannot simply do away with everyone who whispers. Too many dead senators will lead to nothing but a weakened Separatist movement and a lot of headaches for Yan himself.

He'll figure something out, sooner or later.

In the meantime, he can at least enjoy his former master's plans continuously blowing up in his face.

Perhaps Dooku won't even have to be the one to get rid of the man after all, perhaps someone will simply do it for him.

Wouldn't that just be grand?

Chapter Text

More and more senators get arrested, the holonet is in an uproar, and more and more planets find themselves suddenly needing to elect new representation for the Senate.

Obi-Wan and Ha'han-ash find themselves buried in paperwork and running like headless tookas trying to ensure a safe democratic process taking place in each of the affected planets—easier said than done considering many of the arrested senators were never democratically elected in the first place!

Couple the chaos of high-ranking Senators being arrested and tried in the courts for corruption, and in a few horrifying cases even treason due to the senators in question selling weapons to the Separatists, with more Separatist worlds clamouring for negotiations of rejoining the Republic... Well, Obi-Wan is starting to feel as strung out and exhausted as he did just before Cody went and spoke with Master Yoda.

Which, of course, can only mean one thing: Obi-Wan needs to sleep. He needs rest. He's working himself to the bone, despite the fact that he's still recovering from an injury that almost killed him.

In all of the chaos that's going on, he hasn't had much time to lie down and rest. He has no doubt that if Vokara finds out, she'll have him by the neck and drag him to bed and sit on him for a week if that's what it takes.

He really does appreciate her and her fire much more when they're peers than he ever did when he was a padawan, he thinks with a chuckle.

He stares at the murgröna-rose on his desk, strokes its leaves and considers his options for a moment.

Perhaps he should just... swallow his pride and ask Master Yoda for help... Again. It rankles, it does, but he's in no shape of doing this any other way. Asking for help is not something to be embarrassed about—regardless of what you're asking for help with.

Obi-Wan shuts down his holopad before the news report can unload more information that will no doubt cause an uproar that he'll be forced to deal with, and starts heading out.

Blast falls in step with him without saying anything, just as he's been wont to do ever since the explosion. Obi-Wan has heard him talk with Cody, however, to ensure him of Obi-Wan's recovery as well as that of Waxer and Boil. Which was an enormous relief when Obi-Wan was told. They are good men, and he would have hated to lose them.

He allows Blast to escort him back to the Temple, there are few men he would trust more, and he is not yet in any condition to think he should handle himself. Another opportunistic assassin and it may just be the end of the line for him.

Take not your life for granted.

“There is something I would like to say, though I am not sure if I should.” Plo Koon’s hologram looked conflicted, his brow lowered.

“Tell us, you should. Let the thoughts fester, you should not. Bad, it would be.” Master Yoda leans forward, tapping his gimer stick once.

“It seems like the Separatists are… floundering. Their plans are weaker, they’ve seen through far fewer of our strategies and we’ve experienced far fewer setbacks than usual.” Plo pauses and rubs his chin. “It’s… almost as if they’ve lost an important source of information.”

There’s a pause, complete silence stretches on. Obi-Wan strokes his beard thoughtfully.

There’s a horrible niggling suspicion taking root in his mind. A few months ago he couldn’t even have considered it for a second, but in the light of everything else.

“As if the CIS has had an inside informer from the start—one who’s been able to feed them many of our plans and strategies—but in recent times said informant is lost to them?” He glances around the Council chamber, curious to see the reactions.

Plo nods slowly.

“That would fit, yes.”

There's an itching in the back of Obi-Wan's head, as if there's something he's missing. Something important. The feeling hasn't left him since he woke up from his coma, and regardless of what information he finds or is given, it doesn't go away. There is something.

Putting it out of his mind for now, he turns his attention back to the meeting. Considering how prolonged the war effort has been, considering how ineffectual Palpatine was... Considering the Jedi missions... Is it possible that Palpatine was a spy for the Separatists?

His sudden rise to power, the fact that a Sith lord is the head of the Separatists—sometimes Obi-Wan wonders how Qui-Gon would have taken the news of his old master's fall—and combining that with the fact that Palpatine likely has been a pawn to the Sith as well... Has he been leaking battle plans to Dooku? Or the Sith Master who in turn gave it to Dooku?

But what would Palpatine stand to gain from aiding the Separatists? Even if he’s a pawn of the Sith… His time in office was prolonged for the sake of stability during the war… would that be why? Was he so greedy for power that he would rather have the galaxy be at war than let his term in office end?

"Considering something, are you?" Yoda's voice breaks into his thoughts.

Obi-Wan looks up and realises that the entire council is looking at him with curious expressions.

"I... may have a suspicion regarding who the spy might be, but I have no solid proof. It makes sense, but I do not want to affect everyone else's ability to look at the situation with clear and unbiased eyes, so I must keep my silence for the time being."

Perhaps once the corruption investigation is finished he'll know more...

"Very well, that is a very reasonable position to take, Master Kenobi." Mace's voice is grave, but he doesn't seem upset. He likely knows as well as anyone the tightrope they walk.

The discussion continues and Obi-Wan listens intently to his fellow council members as they detail the necessary levels of clearance the spy would need—or at the very least what kind of person the spy would need access to in order to get information from them.

When Mace brings up the ecological damage to worlds where fighting has taken place, and the importance of helping the biological life on them recover, Obi-Wan is instantly and horribly reminded of the Zillo beast, and Mace's attempts to get it—the last surviving member of its species—relocated to a safe home. Only for those hopes to be dashed by Palpatine demanding it be taken to Coruscant for study... Coruscant where the beast ultimately was killed to save the members of the Galactic Senate.

Obi-Wan still cannot fathom what went through Palpatine's mind when he made that decision, that demand, but he knows that Mace is still working on letting go of his regret over what happened.

The regret of the innocents you failed to help, failed so save, are usually the regrets that weigh the heaviest on your mind and spirit.

Obi-Wan knows the feeling well and it's one many Jedi meditate on long and often.

"Well then," Master Ti says and folds her hands in her lap, "If we've finished today's session I believe it is time for me to return to the troops. There have been some irregularities that I need to address. For their own safety and that of the rest of their companies."

At the mention of the clone troopers, the itching in the back of Obi-Wan's head suddenly gives way to remembrance: the chips.

That’s what he had forgotten! He was going to look in the backups to see if there are mentions regarding those chips he saw a stray mention of.

"Master Ti, a moment please!"

The entire council freezes on the spot, and Master Ti's hand hovers in the air from where she was just about to shut off the holotransmission.

"Master Kenobi?" She blinks rapidly, and Obi-Wan doesn't think he's ever seen her look that surprised before. She's usually entirely unflappable.

"My apologies for the abruptness, I just..." He coughs. "I remembered something I've been meaning to speak to the Council about, and I think it’s best you remain. It’s regarding the troopers."

Master Ti leans back in her chair and she places her hands in her lap.

"Absolutely, Master Kenobi. If there's anything I can help you with..." She recovers quickly, which is very typical of her and Obi-Wan suppresses a smile at the thought.

He strokes his beard. "Some of the correspondence I saw between former Chancellor Palpatine and the Kaminoans mentioned... Microchips installed in the brains of every single trooper." He frowns. "There was nothing regarding their usage, but their presence worries me. Have the Kaminoans spoken to you about it?"

Master Ti's face changes from serene to grave and she purses her lips briefly. "No, they have not." She glances off to the side.

“I was planning on asking Ellé and Master Namun to look into the backups and see if there are more mentions of the chips there and if the virus Ellé stopped managed to overwrite them all.” He clears his throat. “But then the explosion happened and I didn’t remember anything about the chips until now.”

“How interesting,” Stass Allie says, holding her chin.

“What if there is nothing in the backups either?” Plo Koon leans forward in his chair. “It’s entirely possible that it has never been mentioned in writing besides that one bit of correspondence you already found, Master Kenobi.”

“We would need to go to the source, wouldn’t we?” Adi Gallia gives a meaningful look at Shaak Ti.

“Of course. The one place where information should exist for sure would be Kamino. Who would know better than the Kaminoans who made the clones in the first place?” Master Rancisis says with a nod.

Shaak Ti inclines her head to them.

"I will speak to them about it... But I will also do my own research. If they give me a benign answer for their presence, considering all of the conspiracies against us we've found so far... Well, I don't trust it. Especially since they have not been upfront about them."

"I agree," Mace says suddenly. "Utmost carefulness is imperative. As soon as you know more, Master Ti, please contact the council with your report."

"Of course, Master Windu." Master Ti gives him a small bow.

"Dark, these times are. Dangerous, they are. And yet lightened, the Force has. What dangers stepped past unknowingly, have we?"

Master Yoda's words send a shiver through Obi-Wan's body, and the council meeting ends on that most chilling of thoughts.

Chapter Text

Dooku snarls at the latest news. Slowly but surely his hold of the separatist worlds is slipping. Many have already left, and once the Republic proved that they would be reasonable during peace talks—there is no doubt in Dooku’s mind that that is entirely because of Kenobi—even more saw it as their chance to return to an improved Republic. The winds are shifting, the trajectory of the corrupt Republic is changing, unjust laws are being brought back to the Senate floor and retracted.

Somehow... Somehow Obi-Wan Kenobi has managed to turn the Republic from a cesspool of corruption to a place that is slowly but surely starting to try and drag itself out of the mud. it's not there yet, not nearly... But Dooku can see it happening.

And so can the Separatists worlds under his rule. They see the change happening, they see the possibility of returning to what was once a stable—if corrupt—government that was without war and is now starting to fix itself. They can almost taste the possibility of return, of being part of that change. And they want to, many many worlds want to, because of Kenobi, because of the changes already taking place in the Republic. Especially now that corrupt senators of the Republic are starting to face the proper consequences of their actions.

It was so easy before, to look at the terrible things plaguing the galaxy and point the finger at a scapegoat: it was them Jedi, they're the problem. If the Jedi were not so complacent, if Master Yoda was not so old, they would do what was needed to root out slavery in the galaxy. It used to be so easy to twist people's opinions to such obvious falsehoods, by hiding behind real issues, but pointing at the wrong source.

The Jedi has never had the capability to root out slavery, they do not have the numbers or the power to do it themselves—even if they were only to root it out in Hutt space, they'd still need an whole army to do it, and then somehow manage to instil a stable governance in the old system's place—and the Republic has never cared what happens outside its borders. Why would the Republic go to war with the Hutts over slavery, when that slavery benefits many of the most powerful senators in it?

And yet, now, these same corrupt senators are facing consequences for their actions. For their greed and corruption.

It is something Dooku could only have dreamed of. Something he never thought he'd see before the end of his life.

There are whispers in the Separatist Senate, about the Confederacy slowly losing ground to the Republic, of the Jedi’s tireless attempts and returning order to the Galaxy—that story slowly starting to overshadow the stories of the Jedi’s warmongering and the clone trooper's valiance against impossible odds—and Chancellor Kenobi’s tireless efforts to start peace talks.

It’s frustrating to realise how much of the Separatist Generals depended so much on the intel Dooku gave them, intel coming directly from Sidious. Without Sidious, without that additional information, the Jedi are starting to prove themselves superior. There are other leaks, of course there are. The Banking Clan and the Trade Federation are doing very well in this war economy, and Dooku has no illusions regarding their greed and wishes of prolonging this war. They may pretend to be on the Republic's side... But, well, corporations are always going to be looking towards their bottom line. Giving them equal presentation in the Senate is, and always has been, madness.

But even so, the Jedi are gaining grounds. They are raised as peacekeepers, but “peacekeeper” means more than simply “trained diplomat”; especially when it comes to the Jedi.

He joined the Sith to root out the corruption in the Galaxy and show the Jedi that they’ve lost their way, gotten complacent; he Fell to purge the old and pave way for something new and healthy to grow in its stead—like burning down and ripping up and replanting a garden overrun with weeds and plagued by infection. He Fell because he knew what needed to be done, and he knew it was the only way to ensure it would be done. He would remake the galaxy in his image, purging the corruption and bringing out something stronger from it.

Dooku was certain of his path and his choices. Now, however, Dooku sees Kenobi’s work, and he wonders...

A shift in the Force.

Dooku frowns and shakes his head.

No such thing. Merely a flight of fancy. Besides, it's not as if Kenobi would ever have gotten the chance to do any of this if Dooku hadn't Fallen in the first place, if the war had never happened. Dooku is not wrong. He cannot be. He breathes deeply and turns back to the list of potential troublemaking planets.

He cannot stay idle, cannot do nothing, but he also cannot do anything before the star systems show their hands. Too strong preventive action and the entire Confederacy may slip through his fingers.

And yet... Despite his efforts, they all seem to be for naught. Slowly but surely his carefully laid plans are failing. Slowly but surely it's all falling apart. This must be what Sidious feels, no doubt. This rage and frustration with no proper outlet.

And yet... a small part of him, a part he thought he'd destroyed years ago, is glad. There's joy and fierce pride in watching your padawan's legacy reach such tremendous heights.

Oh, if only Qui-Gon could have been here to see it.

He reaches for the Force, wants to draw it in to bolster his hate and anger. He cannot let these soft feelings stay, it's not proper or useful for a Sith. Calm nostalgia is nothing compared to burning passion and ocean deep hatred in terms of strength. He reaches to the Force to amplify his feelings, start a loop to rage ever increasing.

Instead...

He touches warmth.

The gentle kind of warmth of the early spring sun on Serenno, not the heat that comes from extreme cold. It is a warmth he thought he'd forgotten the feel of as it is far from what the Dark side usually feels like.

It's breathtaking.

For the briefest of moments, Dooku finds himself thrown back in time, standing on a lush plain of Serenno with his still braid-wearing padawan at his side. He remembers showing the Coruscant-born young Jedi his master's home planet. He remembers the awe on Qui-Gon's face, the way he'd lain down on the ground and closed his eyes, almost overwhelmed with the feel of so much life.

For the briefest of moments, Dooku remembers peaceful days long gone, and the love of a child still alive—one now ripped from his side.

He's warm.

But only briefly.

The joy of the vision is soon overtaken by the icy chill of grief and devastation.

Qui-Gon's memory is ripped from him once more, and Dooku finds himself alone in his castle.

He grits his teeth and clenches his fist.

His nostrils flare.

They will all pay.

Every single one of them.

If he must rip them asunder with his bare hands.

Once more, Yan Dooku steps aside, and Darth Tyrannus takes his place.

There will be no mercy.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan stares blankly at the list in front of him, the list which details every single arrested Senator so far. The list is almost ludicrously long and the charges showing such horrid depths of corruption that Obi-Wan feels faint. He wonders how it will spread. Will the Senators already being prosecuted try to cut deals by giving up information on others?

He puts the list down and gets to his feet; he needs to move, he cannot bear to sit still any longer right now. As he moves through the office space, he lets his fingers trail over the plants covering most of the free space in the room. It's a small, artificial jungle, but one that almost seems to glow in the Force anyway. He heads over to the Haa'ndunian Hydrangea and stares at the bright blue flowers.

Perhaps if he stares hard enough, the solutions to all his problems can be found on its petals.

Many planets have returned to the Republic from the Separatists. The Republic is finally taking steps to root out the corruption that has been rotting its foundation.

He should be hopeful that now, finally, peace talks with the Separatists can open. That the worlds who have tried to leave the Republic—the planets Palpatine and the Senate refused to let free—will find that their grievances are being met. He should be hopeful that this horrific civil war can finally reach a conclusion, and a peaceful one at that.

He should be hopeful that no more lives will be lost. No more clones created and thrown onto the front lines by the Republic to face droids and lose their lives before they could even begin to live them.

He should be.

But he is not.

Yan Dooku is still the head of the Separatists, he still holds the ultimate authority in their Senate... He's still their equivalent to Obi-Wan's current position. And Yan Dooku will never allow a peaceful resolution to stand. He is a Lord of the Sith, and one who has more to lose than most should this war end in any way but in his favour. He'll no doubt do everything he can to block any and all attempts at brokering a lasting peace.

Dooku is also far from likely to give up any information on his master. On the other Sith Lord, the one who's been having the Senate dance as their puppet for only Force knows how long. And that Sith Lord is even less likely to allow a peaceful resolution than Dooku.

Obi-Wan remembers his first meeting with his Master's former Master well. He's considered it and reflected over it more than a few times over the years that have passed since.

Dooku had already been a Sith Lord at the time, and yet he had spoken of Qui-Gon with such affection, with nostalgia. Enough so that Obi-Wan had felt it in the Force, despite not knowing the man well at all.

Clearly Dooku has not thrown away everything he had been before he chose the way of the Sith. Perhaps... Perhaps there could be some way to bring him back?

He almost laughs at himself for the thought. There's no way to bring someone back from the Dark side. They can only do that themselves, it is not a choice anyone else can make for them. Depa's Fall and return proves that well enough.

Perhaps... Perhaps if Dooku could be taken back to the Temple, perhaps he could find peace and his way back from the Dark.

It is a nice thought, if nothing else.

If they could manage to capture Dooku, not only would it keep him from interfering and stopping any potential peace talks with the Separatists, but it would help give them an incentive to try for peace talks in the first place. Not to mention that perhaps the Jedi could convince Dooku to give up information on his master.

All things considered, capturing Dooku has always been an important goal for the war effort, but it may have become more important than ever now.

As Obi-Wan continues to stare at the flowers, still lost in thought, he lets out a small laugh.

Yan Dooku, Darth Tyrannus, may just be the single most important piece on the entire board. Capturing him may just help bring an end to everything, help return peace to the galaxy in a way it wouldn't have just a year ago.

Before the return negotiations, the investigation, before actual strides were made in combating the corruption in the Senate, capturing Dooku would certainly have had an effect, but no doubt would the other Sith Lord be able to simply step in and take the reins. As it is now, however, there's incentive for peace. There's a precedent for reasonable and compassionate peace talks and negotiations.

If they capture Dooku now...

Mind made up, Obi-Wan turns away from the Haa'ndunian Hydrangea and looks across his office at all the plants and flowers in the room. He'll need to discuss it with the Council, but setting together a task force specifically for capturing Dooku seems like their next and most important step.

Not that it will be easy, not hardly.

Dooku is formidable, and he has Ventress at his side.

Not to mention, finding him and finding him somewhere he can be captured in the first place is going to be a task of immeasurable proportions.

He's almost relieved that it cannot be given to him.

Chapter Text

When the news breaks that the case against Mas Amedda and Former-Chancellor Palpatine for corruption charges will go to court, it explodes across the holonet like a supernova.

The recent arrests and trials of Senators from all over the Republic, the arrests-in-absence of Senators formerly of the Republic and currently of the Separatists have been making headlines for weeks, but before now there has been nothing about Mas Amedda or Palpatine themselves.

If there had been nothing to substantiate the claims, the investigation would have ended now with no charges being brought forward against them. The investigation would only have caught these other people, and so far only sent other people to trial. So for this too to come a trial... Well, clearly that means that there is a case against them. There is evidence to be found.

The people start to wonder how far the corruption goes, how big a web it has woven, and how many of the already arrested and sentenced Senators have testimonies against Amedda and Palpatine.

News anchors argue and debate each other into exhaustion regarding what this means not just for Amedda and Palpatine themselves, but for the Republic and Senate at large. If the two who were the most powerful beings in the Republic are found guilty on corruption charges... Does that mean that the Separatist worlds who chose to try and leave the Republic in protest are right?

Or does it mean that someone, Count Dooku perhaps, saw an opportunity to gain power by playing on the corruption they saw in the Senate rather than work towards eliminating those issues from the inside?

Obi-Wan doesn't have much time to spend watching the holonet, but what little he sees is enough to exhaust him. He's unsurprised, but he's also worried. He doesn't know what the investigation has found—as he shouldn't, per due process—but he knows the possible ramifications of a guilty verdict.

Yes, the Republic is under new leadership, certainly, but many, if not most, senators remain unchanged. How many of them were in Palpatine or Amedda's pockets? There’s no guarantee that those already arrested are the only ones. How will this affect the peace discussions and reintegration of returning separatist worlds?

How, exactly, will the neutral systems—if there truly can be such a thing in a conflict like this—react? Will some of them finally take a stance beyond "we will not fight"? And if they do, will they do so on the Separatists’ side?

He shakes his head and moves out of his chair, to sit down on the floor instead.

He moves into his most favoured meditation position, and tries to clear his mind. He'll need to work through his emotions and thoughts one by one, lest he gets overwhelmed.

He's needed more meditation than he's needed since childhood after his near-death experience. His connection to the force has been shaken, and he's been shaken. It takes him far more effort than usual to calm down.

Perhaps he'll speak to one of the Temple's mind healers when he gets the chance. It is usually a good thing to do after you've faced your death in such a stark way, he knows that.

Still. He's so busy. It feels almost wrong to take any sort of time off between all of his responsibilities.

Hah, no doubt Master Yoda would hit him in the shin if he heard that, and then give him a long-winded lecture on the impossibility of helping others if you do not care for yourself.

"There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force," he mutters the mantra over and over as he sinks deeper into meditation. Blast and the others will keep watch, and Obi-Wan has it on good authority that Waxer and Boil's treatments are over and they're back on duty as well. He has good men at his back.

There is no need to worry.

Anakin stares at the newsreel, uncomprehending.

Mister Palpatine has been arrested, awaiting trial.

It's as if all of his thoughts need to force their way through stone to make sense. He's... blank.

This can't be!

This can't be!

There's no way Palpatine is guilty! The investigation is probably just arresting him and Amedda and setting a trial date due to outside pressure. That's it. Of course.

The trial will just prove Palpatine innocent. They just have to do it. Perhaps there's some doubt in his position due to corruption among his aides. That has to be it.

Palpatine wouldn't do something like this. Anakin knows he wouldn't.

He paces back and forth in his rooms, unable to settle down. He's close to bursting with frustration and agitation and he can't hope to meditate on his emotions as Obi-Wan would tell him to when he's this upset. Meditation is for calmer mindsets.

Perhaps he can talk to Obi-Wan... Or Padmé.

Or maybe both of them?

That... That would be good. That's what he needs right now.

He picks up his comm and sends a group message to them. Byt the Force how he hopes they'll agree. There's no way he can deal with this alone. Palpatine has been his friend and mentor since he was a child... This is just too much to deal with.

Obi-Wan said it was his duty to start the investigation due to the Vote of No-Confidence, but there's no way he thought it would find anything. He can't have. Palpatine is one of the only politicians worth trusting in the Senate.

Surely Obi-Wan knows that?

He's always allowed Anakin to go visit Palpatine, even when he was a child, so he couldn't have thought anything was suspicious. The same goes for the Council for that matter!

They would have stepped in and refused Palpatine's requests for Anakin to visit if they thought he was corrupt. The Council hates politics outside the Order, and they always speak of the need to root out corruption.

They must have found Palpatine trustworthy then, and he's done his best since he became chancellor—no matter what Senator Mandai thinks.

It'll... It'll be fine.

Anakin swallows harshly and clenches his fists in his hair. He just needs to talk to Padmé and Obi-Wan.

He's too ashamed to face Palpatine—Obi-Wan got him into this situation, and Anakin has always vouched for him with the former chancellor—even though he knows his friend probably could use the support. Palpatine is strong, he can no doubt manage until Anakin gets a grip on himself.

Padmé watches the news as they break. Former Chancellor Palpatine has been arrested and placed on house arrest pending the trial.

She presses her lips together and fights down the fear and anxiety she feels at the news. She knows Palpatine used the occupation of Naboo to further his career, so in a way she's not... She's not surprised that the investigation has found something...

But at the same time... Using an existing tragedy that you cannot make undone anyway is not the same as actively corrupting the system. Padmé should know, her own career has been helped by her hard work in disaster zones. So even though she knows that Palpatine used her—used Naboo—the thought that he may be entirely corrupt...

It feels foreign. It feels wrong.

It's as if there's an itch in the back of her head, as if there's a voice whispering to her to tread carefully, to doubt everything, because who knows who's truly to be trusted?

Her head hurts.

Her heart hurts when she considers how conflicted and hurt Anakin must feel right now. As if her husband needs more on his plate. One of his dearest friends possibly being a criminal of a terrible degree won't be a devastating blow to him.

She picks up her comm and looks at it, wondering if she should send him a message. He probably needs her, right now.

They never should have married.

At least then that would be one less thing weighing on him. At least then there might be a chance for them, for the dream of a happy ending.

She chokes back a sob. She must be strong.

Anakin will need her to be.

Bail listens intently to the report, drumming his fingers against the top of his desk. So the corruption reaches as far as this, does it?

He glances down at the files and notes Miss Marili gave him just before the explosion in the Senate Office Building. He's still going through them to verify their validity, but so far everything checks out, and her own notes and thoughts are very astute.

Bail has always known, taught as such at his mother's knee, that if you want to truly know what goes on in an institution, you ask the aides and the lower-ranks—those who fade into the background. After all, who thinks of what the secretary overhears when they walk inside with documents? Or even what they can piece together when they remain at their station simply by who comes and goes. Miss Marili, currently the aide of Senator Jacks of Belazura and the former aide of Senator Larr of Saram, is an excellent example.

Her information is very interesting indeed, and dates back decades.

Bail wonders just what it was that caught her eye, what sent her looking in the first place... But he's yet to hear that story from her. He's also curious as to why she came to him rather than Senator Jacks, but Bail thinks it's likely that it's due to his position as a Core World Senator. And possibly his known friendliness with the Jedi—definitely important considering the content of her information.

Still, Bail can't make any moves as of yet. The information may check out for now, but who knows if she's hidden some falsehoods that could prove damaging within it. After all, she is an unknown factor, and Bail knows very little about her.

In fact, Bail does not even know how she ended up as Senator Larr's aide in the first place, considering how young she must have been at the time. Perhaps her family moved to Saram at some point. That could, of course, be how Senator Larr found her in the first place since a Twi'lek family taking up residence rather than just going on holiday there would likely draw attention. Aside from the native human population few make Saram their permanent home despite its popularity as a vacation planet, as far as Bail knows.

Regardless, her mysterious past and everything else together makes for quite the puzzle.

Perhaps she'll trust him with the truth at a later time—though no doubt will he need to prove himself first.

All in all, the political situation on Coruscant is growing increasingly complex, even when you don't take the currently ongoing civil war into consideration.

So those cretins think they've found something on him, do they?

Well, they'll certainly see about that.

Palpatine has made damn sure that anything more than slightly frowned upon will fall entirely on Amedda. The fool was always set up to take the fall should something go wrong and Palpatine's plot was derailed—as it has been.

At most Palpatine himself will receive a slap on the wrist and an admonishment to hire better staff.

Even so, he suffers the utter humiliation of being stranded on Coruscant, wearing a prisoner's bracelet to ensure he cannot leave the planet. They'll all suffer for this humiliation, the lot of them. Palpatine will grind Kenobi's skull to dust for daring to set this farce in motion.

Blasted Jedi.

He'll bathe in their blood and relish in every single second of it.

Chapter Text

When Obi-Wan gets the comm message from Anakin, asking to meet, he immediately checks with Blast regarding his schedule. No doubt is Anakin upset regarding Palpatine's arrest and needs support.

Which, of course, Obi-Wan will take time out of his busy schedule for Anakin. Anything else would be unthinkable.

He makes sure his schedule is freed up for the rest of the day and then he sends Anakin an affirmation. Obi-Wan would have preferred to have this conversation in the Temple, at home, but Anakin’s message was urgent enough that Obi-Wan doesn’t want to cause any unnecessary delays.

He can only imagine how hard this must be for Anakin, after all. He’s always looked up to and trusted Palpatine implicitly. Regardless of Obi-Wan’s feelings regarding Palpatine in particular, he knows it’s hard to have your trust betrayed.

When Anakin finally arrives in Obi-Wan's office, he's pale faced and the Force around him roils with anger and sadness.

Obi-Wan suppresses a wince at the uncomfortable feeling. Perhaps he can lead Anakin through some meditation to help him deal with it, but he cannot be sure. Anakin has always been rather private about his meditation, sometimes uncomfortable with doing it in front of others. Obi-Wan has always tried to be respectful of that as soon as he had taught Anakin how to properly medidate, even when he's wanted to make sure that Anakin is continuing to managing well, but as Anakin’s grown older Obi-Wan has had to accept his independence and trust his words that his meditation goes well.

One of the hardest things for a teacher is learning to let go.

Until you do... you can never become a master. Learning to let your student go, letting them choose their own path, is an important step in becoming a Jedi Master. Only very rarely does anyone receive the title without having taken a Padawan for that exact reason. For most, the act of letting your Padawan go is the first time you’re ever truly faced with such a decision.

"Obi-Wan! Have you seen the news?" Anakin goes straight to the point, as always.

Obi-Wan smothers the smile that wants to break out on his face at his friend's predictability—he's well aware that it would not be well received right now.

"I have. Come, sit." Obi-Wan takes a seat on the sofa and pats the spot next to him. Anakin may want to pace, but Obi-Wan has always harboured the suspicion that rather than expend energy, it only makes Anakin twist himself into knots of increasing frustration and manic energy. If he can just help Anakin calm down, this conversation is no doubt going to go far better than otherwise.

“How are you, Anakin?” Obi-Wan knows that the answer may be quite obvious judging by how Anakin feels in the Force, like rolling thunder clouds spewing lightning everywhere, but he’d much rather ask than presume. Better to let Anakin use his own words—especially as he may not even be here to talk about this in particular.

“Angry. I’m… so angry.” Anakin’s face twists up in a snarl as he speaks, but he does take the offered seat, hands clenching in his trouser legs.

Obi-Wan lays a careful hand on his shoulder, but says nothing. Best to let Anakin get his thoughts sorted out properly and verbally expressed before Obi-Wan gets involved.

“I can’t believe they’re going to pull Mr Palpatine in front of a jury on corruption charges. It’s ridiculous!”

Obi-Wan hides a wince at those words. It’s… not ridiculous. Not at all. But Anakin doesn’t know just how not-ridiculous it is, because Obi-Wan has not had the strength or courage to explain it to him yet.

He’s let his fears of Anakin’s reaction hold him back, but he’s simply not certain if Anakin is ready to hear it.

Anakin idolises Palpatine in a way that seems neither healthy nor… earned, really. It makes Obi-Wan uncomfortable, and in his attempts to not drive Anakin away, he’s tamped down on his own unease around Palpatine.

He’s always been very careful of how he speaks of Palpatine, and he wonders now if that has been a mistake. If he’d been more frank about his unease while Anakin was still a child…

The past cannot be changed, and Obi-Wan must live with and accept the choices he’s made. Perhaps being more frank about Palpatine—regardless of how uncertain Obi-Wan was in his position as Jedi Knight in comparison to the most powerful man in the Republic—would have helped give Anakin a clearer view of the man… But there’s no saying whether or not it wouldn’t have the opposite effect, and instead drive Anakin away from Obi-Wan and the Jedi.

Anakin has had his doubts, but he’s always come back to the path of the Jedi in the end. Obi-Wan wouldn’t have wanted to sow hurt and mistrust, doubt and shame, when it wasn’t necessary. So he’s been careful, especially as he’s never truly had the ability to stop Palpatine from gaining access to Anakin. There’s never been anything odd during the visits he’s supervised, and many of them happened while Obi-Wan was not even on Coruscant in the first place.

What has been, has been. What has been done, has been done. Obi-Wan has to live with it as it is now. And if the fallout is grave, then he must be prepared to deal with it.

“I’m sure the investigators have good reasons for what they’re doing,” he says gently, eyeing Anakin closely. Anakin whose mouth drops open and whose face drains of blood.

“How can you say that?” Anakin snarls. “They’re pulling a man who’s given everything for the Republic, who put off his retirement from a high-stress and high-pressure position due to public support in front of a jury on made-up charges!”

Obi-Wan flinches back. Made-up? Why in all the Core Worlds does Anakin think that whatever charges that will be brought up against Palpatine are made up?

He flounders, uncertain how to voice his thoughts in a way that will not make Anakin angrier or even worse: defensive.

“I… Anakin. There are Jedi taking part in the investigation, they wouldn’t—!” He’s not allowed to finish his sentence before Anakin cuts him off.

“Hah! They don’t trust politicians either, just like you and the Council, most likely. So if some other part of the investigation fakes evidence, they won’t question it! I’m sure of it.”

Obi-Wan stares at Anakin in horror. Where are these horrific conspiracy theory thoughts coming from? Obi-Wan knows Anakin has always tended to keep himself separate from his peer group, and his close friends have always been few. But to actively distrust his community members to this level...?

How badly has Obi-Wan failed to help him integrate into the Jedi culture if he cannot imagine them taking their jobs seriously and working to look beyond their biases in a situation as critical as the investigation of the former Chancellor of the Galactic Republic…?

“You truly believe that your fellow Jedi would let their supposed biases blind them so completely that they wouldn’t be diligent in an investigation of this much importance? That they would allow for the investigation to proceed in bad faith?”

Anakin blinks, stops, and starts rubbing his forehead as if it’s hurting.

“Yes. No… I don’t… No. No, I don’t.” He sighs explosively and grips his hair with both hands. “I’m just frustrated, I suppose. I know Palpatine isn’t corrupt, and it just feels like they’re pulling him into court for something really small, or something made up.”

Obi-Wan sighs, partly in relief though his disquiet remains.

“For your sake, Anakin, I hope that there is nothing to find, that what I found was just coincidences.” However… Obi-Wan is almost entirely certain that it was not. There are just too many coincidences for it to seem real. The notes on the missions leading to the investigation into Jedi missions which has borne fruit, Obi-Wan’s findings that started the investigation into Mas Amedda and Palpatine which has led to so many arrests already.

Surely it cannot be a coincidence. All of it… it must be connected somehow. Somehow this all leads back to the Sith Lord, and Obi-Wan is becoming more certain that Palpatine is being manipulated by him. At best.

He cannot help but fear that Palpatine is not so much manipulated as an active collaborator.

Judging by the twisted grimace on Anakin’s face, however, that is a thought Obi-Wan should keep to himself for the time being. Best to lead him into this slowly rather than overwhelm him. If he ends up doing something inadvisable in a fit of emotion… The fallout could be too terrible to contemplate.

Anakin had… had almost forgotten that Obi-Wan started this whole investigation. Of course, he isn’t sympathetic to Anakin right now. He probably thinks this is what Palpatine deserves, or some bantha shit like that.

“You started this.” He doesn’t mean to say it, but the words fall out of his mouth before he can stop them. None of this would have happened if Obi-Wan had just let it be a regular power handover. But he didn't, he decided to go after Palpatine, accuse him of things...

"You started this whole thing," Anakin whispers again, staring at Obi-Wan. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't..."

"Anakin..." Obi-Wan both looks and sounds horrified. "I did my duty. I saw things that did not add up, and I reported it. If I had kept quiet about it... If I had done nothing, looked the other way... Anakin, that is precisely how corruption flourishes. How evil flourishes. By everyone else looking the other way and doing nothing."

Evil? Did... Did Obi-Wan just call Palpatine evil? Palpatine who's been by Anakin's side since childhood?

"How dare you!" he roars, taking some pleasure in watching Obi-Wan flinch backwards.

"Anakin, please, calm down." Obi-Wan raises his hands, a gesture of peace and proof of no ill intentions. Typical Obi-Wan, always so calm and bloody reasonable. As if he’s never had an upset emotion in his entire damn life.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Anakin is beyond listening now. He flies to his feet, rage is flaring up inside him so hot he cannot breathe past it; with every exhalation it pours out of him in a stream of angry words.

"I should have known you carry a grudge against him! That's all this is, isn't it? You're angry that he was there for me when you couldn't be!"

Obi-Wan rears backwards again, as if slapped in the face, but Anakin refuses to back down. He's not going to let Obi-Wan's feelings derail this argument. It's too important for that!

"Palpatine is trustworthy! He's done so much for the Republic, and you and the Council just refuse to see it!" he snarls. "It all just comes down to your dislike and distrust of politicians, doesn't it?"

"Anakin, please, that's not it! You don't understand," Obi-Wan pleads, hands in the air, spread and reaching, but he stays back, doesn't move closer to Anakin. Like he’s afraid.

Good.

"If you're so wrapped up in your dislike of politicians that you can't trust him, can't you at least trust me when I say he's trustworthy? He's been there for me for over a decade, Obi-Wan. I know I can trust him!" Anakin‘s heart pounds in his chest and he can feel his own pulse in his neck, heavy and wild.

He stares at Obi-Wan, hopes so much that he will just... See what Anakin sees. Understand that Palpatine is not the enemy, he's a good politician, one of the few of them. Anakin is sure of it. This whole corruption investigation will come away with nothing and Obi-Wan will feel foolish then. Yeah, it's going to trial, but Anakin just knows it's going to prove Palpatine innocent. Who knows what will happen with Mas Amedda, but Palpatine will surely be fine. If only Obi-Wan could see that!

"Anakin..." Obi-Wan's voice is heavy and he can't meet Anakin's eyes.

Anakin's heart drops to his stomach and his chest aches. No. No. Things were going so well, they were mending the gap... and now... Obi-Wan just refuses to...

Oh.

"You don't trust me." The truth of it is like a lightsaber through the chest.

Obi-Wan doesn't trust him.

"Anakin! What are you saying? Of course I—!" Obi-Wan begins, but Anakin cuts him off again, can’t bear to hear him try to lie his way out of this conversation.

"No. You care, I have felt in the Force how much you care about me, I'm not stupid so I know that's true... But just because you care about me doesn't mean you trust me." He tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. He wishes it wasn't true, he does, but he knows it is.

"That's not—Anakin, please, that's not tru—!"

"It is! You don't trust me! The Council doesn't either!" His rage keeps building in his chest, and he can feel a headache coming on with how hard his pulse is beating. "But it doesn't matter right now. I want to know why you refuse to trust Palpatine. You trust Bail, don't you?" He has to make Obi-Wan see that his position regarding Palpatine is ridiculous. How can he distrust Palpatine simply because he's a politician if he trusts other politicians?

"I do, but Anakin—!"

"And you trust Padmé!"

The briefest of hesitations.

Anakin's heart plummets.

"I d—!"

"You don't trust Padmé either." It feels like a betrayal. A complete and utter betrayal. Anakin's chest hurts. How can Obi-Wan distrust Padmé? Anakin has to know. It's like he's woken up in an upside-down galaxy where everything is just a horrible farce of what it should be; so very very wrong. "Why? You brought her in on the investigation regarding Jedi missions. Why would you do that if you don't trust her? That makes no sense, Obi-Wan!"

"I did trust her, Anakin. Even so that is not the point. Regardless of whether I trust you, her, Bail, Senator Ha'han-ash, Senator Chuchi or anyone else has no bearing what so ever on whether or not I trust Palpatine. I have my reasons, Anakin, it's not just... Anakin?" Obi-Wan steps closer.

Anakin can't listen to him anymore. His mind has centred on one thing and it's all he can think of.

"Did."

"Pardon?" Obi-Wan sounds baffled.

"Did. Not do. You did trust her." Anakin stares at Obi-Wan, his stomach is fit to boiling with anger and upset and soon he can't bear to even look at his friend anymore. His eyes fall away.

"Anakin..."

"I can't do this right now, Obi-Wan. I just... I need space. Come back to me once you've got your head on straight so you're actually capable of trusting people again. I cannot believe you, I just... No."

He turns on his heel and stalks out of the room, ignoring Obi-Wan calling for him.

He can't stand to even look at him anymore.

How could he?

Everything was... Everything was...

How could he?

Chapter Text

When Anakin bursts into her chambers, Padmé flinches back in surprise. She may not have any of the Jedi's abilities with the Force, she cannot sense emotion as they can, but even she can feel the rage and upset that rolls off her husband long before he properly enters her field of vision.

She swallows down her disquiet, wondering what in all the core worlds could have caused such a thing.

"Anakin?" she says, keeping her voice gentle and soft. If he's this upset, she'll no doubt need to calm him down and soothe him before she'll get any information out of him.

When he finally gets close, the expression on his face—scrunched up, red with rage and wet with tears—is one she's only seen once before. That one time, the first and only time, she's ever been afraid of him. She shies away from the thought, but being reminded of what he'd done on Tatooine, how he'd spoken and how he'd looked, sets her on edge.

She doesn't want to think about that. It happened. Of course he was so angry that time. And he's suffered the memory ever since.

But she dreads to hear what could have possibly made him this angry, so angry it reminds Padmé of that time...

"I cannot believe, Obi-Wan!" Anakin storms up to her, but stops just before he reaches her. His breathing is fast and heavy, and this close she can see how hard he's clenching his jaw.

Padmé swallows. "What has happened with Obi-Wan, Anakin? Has he been hurt again?" It hadn't sounded like that was the problem... Rather, it sounded as if Anakin was angry with Obi-Wan himself. Have they gotten into a fight?

"No, he... He's unreasonable! I can't believe he could be so... So... Argh!"

Unreasonable? Obi-Wan? Padmé blinks in surprise. Between Obi-Wan and Anakin, it is not Obi-Wan who tends to be unreasonable.

No matter how much Padmé loves her husband, she knows that being reasonable is not always his greatest strength. And right now, he's far too angry for them to be able to have a calm and rational discussion about this. It's likely best if she puts her efforts into calming him down, and then she can make him tell her just what it is Obi-Wan has done or said that is so unreasonable.

It is likely to be serious, considering how angry Anakin is, so she definitely wants to hear it once he's calmed down a bit first.

"Come Anakin, sit down with me." She pulls him down with her on the sofa. "Do you want some caff? Or tea?"

Anakin collapses in on himself where he sits on the sofa before he shakes his head. "No... No, I need to... Calm down."

"I'm here, Ani. I'm here for however long you need me to be."

Her paperwork can wait.

Her husband needs her right now.

"Can you tell me about what it is that has you so upset, Ani?" She leans against his side and strokes along his arm.

He breathes out noisily and takes a long sip of caff, having finally reined himself back from the towering rage he arrived in. She's still not sure what Obi-Wan could have done to cause such an extreme reaction...

"I was talking to Obi-Wan," he says, voice strangled, "And I found out that not only does he not trust Palpatine, despite everything he's done for me... he doesn't trust me at all! Despite everything we've gone through, he doesn't trust me. He cares for me, but he doesn't trust me. He also doesn't trust you."

Anakin's words hit her like a blow, and Padmé feels as if all of the air in her lungs is forced out of her. Everything she was thinking of saying is washed away in a wave of confusion at her husband’s last statement.

"How... Why...?" She stares at her husband, unable to comprehend what he just said. Surely he must be wrong? He must have misunderstood something. There's no reason for Obi-Wan to not trust her. If he didn't, he wouldn't have asked her and Bail for help! He wouldn't allow Ellé to be one of the primary investigators!

"I... I didn't stop to ask details." Anakin shakes his head.

Padmé closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing. Of course he didn't. No matter how important, how useful, that knowledge would be, her husband must have lost his head almost immediately. His temper wouldn't allow him to remain to ask regarding Obi-Wan's motivations.

"Then how do you know?" She must know. How can it possibly be true?

But at the same time... Anakin wouldn't lie to her. He wouldn't.

"I know he doesn't trust me, because if he did he would trust my feelings regarding Palpatine. I know he's just biased due to his hatred for politicians. And then I realised that he avoided talking about you. So I accused him, and he spoke of his trust for you in past tense. 'Of course I trusted Padmé', he said. Trusted," Anakin snarls the words.

She wants to believe that he's mistaken. That it was merely a slip of the tongue on Obi-Wan's part, that he of course didn't mean to use past tense. But somehow it feels hollow. Obi-Wan is so skilled with his words, a wordsmith if there ever was one. She can hardly believe him to make such a simple but fundamental mistake.

It hurts, almost as if she's been stabbed.

What could she possibly have done to make him lose his faith in her? What could possibly have happened?

They're friends. Why wouldn't he have told her?

"It just proves that we were right to keep us secret. Us and everything that happened on Tatooine," Anakin murmurs. "Not even Obi-Wan would help us, if his trust is so easily lost."

She curls around her husband and buries her face in his shoulder.

She hates that perhaps he's right about this.

She hates that this secret still remains.

One day it will tear their souls apart, she's sure of it.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and rests his head in his hands, trying to keep his breathing even.

He knew. He knew that Anakin would blow up if he found out... Perhaps it has been wrong of Obi-Wan to try and keep it from him, try and keep their relationship stable.

He's afraid for Anakin's sake.

If Palpatine turns out to be as destabilising an influence as Obi-Wan fears, if Palpatine is convicted, then Obi-Wan wanted Anakin to feel like he could still come to him for support. He wanted to make sure that Anakin had more people to talk to than just Padmé...

Perhaps it was wrong of him... But Anakin has never been objective when it comes to people he trusts and cares for.

Though Obi-Wan has to admit that it's possible that he's not the best at that either, but he tries. And perhaps Anakin is right... Perhaps no matter how much Obi-Wan loves Anakin, he does not trust him. After all... he's proven himself in many ways to be trustworthy, Obi-Wan would not hesitate a second to place his life in Anakin's hands... But he has also proven himself untrustworthy when it comes to information.

Just as Padmé has.

She promised, swore, that she would tell no one. And yet she did. She decided, without asking, that Anakin should be told. If she had asked, Obi-Wan would have told her the truth: that he was planning on telling Anakin. Even as he's now realised that perhaps it was for the best that Anakin heard it from Padmé and not from any Jedi... The fact that she did not ask remains troubling.

If she had asked him, Obi-Wan might even have given her permission to do so. Likely so, even. He knows, after all that Anakin loves her. Anakin loves her, and bad news from a loved one who isn't involved with the situation—the way Obi-Wan unfortunately was—can sometimes make the blow milder. Lessen its impact.

But she didn't ask.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes through the worry, the sorrow, and the anger.

Because he is angry. Angry that for all of his attempts to mitigate the damage, it has still come to this. Angry that Anakin would yell at Obi-Wan about a lack of trust when Anakin has continuously proven that he doesn't trust Obi-Wan either. Angry about the blatant hypocrisy in Anakin’s actions, but which he most likely does not even think exists.

Obi-Wan would never demand that Anakin bares his deepest fears and emotions to anyone, least of all Obi-Wan himself... But to speak of a lack of trust from Obi-Wan's side when he refuses to trust someone just on Anakin's say so, when Anakin won't even admit that he's in love with Padmé… Won’t speak of his worries, or even admit that he and Padmé are friends sometimes...

Obi-Wan isn't even sure why Anakin would lie about it in the first place. He and Padmé aren't exactly subtle, and it's a bit of an open secret among the Council members. Though, that is the wrong way to put it. The Council certainly suspects, but they have no proof. They can hardly demand or make decisions based on suspicions and circumstantial evidence… But they’re all aware that Anakin is rarely subtle, so Obi-Wan at least is fairly certain that there’s more than meets the eyes when it comes to Anakin and Padmé’s relationship.

With no proof they cannot know for sure that there is a relationship or if it’s a case of one-sided emotions on Anakin’s side, or even that they have entirely misread the situation.

Though perhaps Anakin’s silence is because he's realised that a relationship with a Senator means he won't be able to go on any missions that are related to Naboo or Padmé and so he's using plausible deniability to keep doing so. Perhaps he’s decided that he’d rather not deal with the potential political fallout of a Senator being in a relationship with someone she technically holds power over...

It seems like a terribly unfair reading of Anakin's motives, but Obi-Wan simply doesn't have any idea what they actually are. Between him and Padmé, Padmé is the one who might look like she's trying to make use of her position to take a Jedi to bed or even try to influence his diplomatic choices.

Perhaps it's to protect her, Obi-Wan thinks. Anakin is very serious about keeping the people he loves safe after all.

Understandably so.

Nevertheless... It makes for a difficult situation.

If they cannot be trusted to actually keep information secret from each other because they believe the other deserves to know... How can Obi-Wan know for sure that they're not also telling other people? How can he know where it ends? If they cannot be trusted to keep to the strict need-to-know basis imposed, because they believe that someone deserves to know…

He shakes his head and sighs again.

He'll need to discuss it with someone else, get a different perspective on it.

Perhaps he is too involved in this to see clearly. That really is why you shouldn't be involved with missions or diplomatic situations that involve people you know closely and care a lot about—it makes it incredibly hard to stay unbiased. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened simply due to how few Jedi there are.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Obi-Wan sighs again.

He needs to think about something else for a while. He cannot keep tying himself up into knots over his personal relationships. As a Jedi, his duty to the galaxy must come first, even though he knows he would much rather rush after Anakin to try and fix this.

Besides, it's not unlikely that some distance and time apart will let them calm down. If they're both calm when they discuss it again, they're more likely to reach a solution.

Making too many decisions when you're in the grip of high emotion can be a difficult—not to mention dangerous—thing. Emotions are important, they're as much a part of a person as their body is, but just as they can sometimes guide you or help you see things more clearly, they can also sometimes overwhelm you and lead you astray.

He'll need to meditate on this; he needs to reflect over what he's feeling and sort himself out. Then he can try to talk to Anakin again.

Perhaps considering the problem that is Count Dooku and Asajj Ventress will help him get his mind off Anakin and Padmé for now.

Not that Dooku and Ventress are any less of a difficult problem, of course.

It really would be nice if something could go well and resolve itself without much difficulty.

Of course, it wouldn't be politics if it did, he supposes.

Chapter Text

In some ways, Quinlan is almost fucking impressed by how good La is at not admitting to anything at all. He knows that Hissleet Endai is an assassins' guild, he knows that La no doubt knows a lot of their targets... But she's also keeping mum so hard that Quinlan can't use her knowledge to narrow down the possible culprits.

It really would be impressive if it wasn't so fucking frustrating.

So. He's gonna need a plan B.

He discussed the scene with the other Jedi when they arrived and compared notes regarding what they'd discovered at the scene of the bombing... But they also concluded that it's probably for the best if Quinlan takes a trip there himself too.

He's felt the Sith Lord so clearly it nearly choked him. If there are any hints of him anywhere near that office, Quinlan will find them.

"Well, La. For all that you're helpful you're supremely unhelpful."

She rolls her eyes and gives him a wry smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Van."

Quinlan rolls his eyes right back at her and shakes his head.

"Nevermind." He rolls his shoulders. "Grab your identifier, we're going to visit the Senate and the Senate Office Building and if we run into the Sith Lord, I don't plan on missing it."

La snorts loudly. "And how are you expecting to get me inside without anyone getting suspicious? Or can Jedi just walk around the Senate Office Building with anyone they want?"

Quinlan gives her a sharp grin. "Not hardly. But—!" No doubt are his teeth glittering in the lamp light—"I've got a plan."

He watches with much amusement as La's face twists from confusion to horror as he holds up some regular Jedi robes he borrowed from the Temple.

This'll be easy.

"I'm genuinely surprised that these clothes are comfortable," La says under her breath as they head towards the main Senate building.

Quinlan snorts. "They're not expensive and generally of simple make—it's not like we need anything more—but they're also meant for us to wear in our daily lives or on missions. Of course, they're comfortable. You don’t want to get distracted by a wedgie on a mission."

He pauses and rolls his eyes and continues before La can say anything else. "Except for those few weirdos who think the clothes ought to itch and that it'll lead to a better understanding of the Force. But they're few and far in between, and honestly I think they just like being miserable."

La chokes on a laugh, and in the corner of his eye, Quinlan can see her struggling to keep her expression calm and collected.

He grins; he knows he's funny. Not to mention that it's easier now to crack jokes, now that he knows that Obi-Wan is fine. That he has recovered.

It's easier to deal with your emotions and let them go when everything is alright. It's always a struggle to handle your inner turmoil when the cause of it is still ongoing. Not that Quinlan lets himself dwell on that stuff too much. Sometimes you just need to relax and let things come as they will. Still, he's seen the struggle, he's heard about it...

He feels the pull sometimes, as everyone does, but he tries to keep himself and his emotions fairly laid back. Take things as they come, things'll work out one way or another, and if they don't then they probably weren't meant to. That, or he did his best and it just wasn't enough this time. That does happen, even though it sucks a lot when it does.

Sometimes you do your very best, and without a single mistake, you still fail. Doing, after all, is outside of its outcome. Doing does not mean certainty regarding succeeding or failing. Trying, however, saves the ego. If you fail when you “tried” then it’s okay, because you hadn’t really committed to it anyway, you were just trying, not doing.

Do or do not, there is no try, indeed.

Quinlan shakes himself. Now’s not the time to get philosophical and ruminate on Master Yoda’s words of wisdom; he’s got a job to do.

"So, got the scanner ready?"

La nods. "I've got it."

Quinlan grins and leads the way inside. He doesn't hang out in the Senate a lot—it's not his scene, he's a tracker and infiltrator, not really a diplomat—but he does know the basic rules for how to behave yourself. He's not sure about La, but she's probably trained to fade into the background wherever she is, so he's not that worried about her making a fool of herself.

If they're lucky, they might actually stumble upon the Sith Lord without him noticing and then they can get everyone else involved and get rid of most of the Sith problems they're having. Catching the Sith Lord won't stop Dooku, but they can probably deal with that at a later date. Killing the snake cradled to their breast is more important than killing the snake a few metres away in the sand.

Time to do this thing.

"Well. I don't want to say it's a waste of time..." La looks exhausted, and Quinlan can feel echoes of frustration from her in the Force.

He shrugs. "The Senate is huge. We've at least managed to rule out the Senators who took part in today's session, all we need now is to get the participation protocol and get them crossed off our list of suspects."

"But that's just the Senators! All of them have staff as well!" La's face twists and her canines become visible as she curls her lips in anger.

Quinlan just shrugs again. "If you thought this would be easy, sorry to disappoint you."

She lets out a huge sigh and her shoulders relax somewhat. Seeing that she's calmed down somewhat, Quinlan nods to himself.

"Well, time to head over to the Senate Office Building and take a look at the other crime scene." He rolls his shoulders. "I might be able to pick something up when we're there. Not necessarily, but maybe."

The reconstructions of the building are going well, though the epicentre of the blast is still kept in its destroyed state for the time being. But most of the building is back to being used. Quinlan wonders what the senators think about continuing to work in a building that was recently bombed and they lost coworkers in.

Then again, he’s sure at least some of them don’t care at all. He’s seen his fair share of ice cold politicians over the years, some who only care about how things affect them personally and nothing beyond that.

Obi-Wan, at least, is likely to be feeling at the very least uncomfortable being back in the building he nearly died in, Quinlan thinks.

Huh, actually, maybe he can check in on and annoy Kenobi for a bit? That'd do wonders for his nerves. Knowing something from being told and seeing it for yourself is very different after all.

Grinning to himself Quinlan sets off, La hot on his heels.

Sooner or later they'll find what they need, one way or another. They can't be sure that the solution will be easy and straightforward, life rarely is, but sometimes a surprising twist adds a little flavour to life.

It's like the food in the Temple: there's a huge variety in foods you can get, or you can get the bland highly nutritious but super boring fare that's designed to keep dietary restrictions and allergies in mind. A lot of the time that's good and fine, but sometimes you just really want some good Gardeenian sweat spices on your food and spend the rest of the evening sweating like a furnace from the heat of it all.

So.

Investigation first and then he can bother Obi-Wan.

Chapter Text

The Senate may have been a bust, and unfortunately the scene of the crime isn't shaping up to be much better. Quinlan had hoped that he'd stumble upon something his fellow Jedi had missed, however unlikely, but no such luck materialises as they move through the damaged rooms in the roped off area.

Quinlan hates not finding anything new. He doesn't like the way the whole investigation is slowing down. Even though they found the assassin, she's already been killed. Even though her guild is helping with the investigation... Their primary weapon, so to speak, has yet to bring any sort of results.

Not that Quinlan wasn't already aware that finding a single person in a sea of people like the Senate would be difficult, especially considering all the aides and extra personnel moving about, but he'd still had some hopes. As it is, he'll just go bother Kenobi a bit to get his mind off of everything.

Besides, it'll be good to see him up and about. Last Quinlan saw him, he was in a bacta tank and entirely unresponsive. Quinlan would very much like to override that memory with something nicer.

"Where are we going now, Van?" La says, anxiety bleeding into the Force around her. Nothing shows on her face so she likely would have fooled just about anyone else into thinking that she’s calm and unbothered. However, Quinlan isn’t just about anyone else. He’s a Jedi, and he knows.

Quinlan gives her a lazy grin. "I'm going to go visit an old friend of mine. You're just coming along."

She rolls her eyes, but Quinlan doesn't pay that any mind. He's got Kenobi to bother.

"By the Force, what are you doing here?" Obi-Wan looks extremely tired, but in a good way. Well, mostly a good way. In a way that's not "dying or close to death".

"Well, you know, La and I decided to get investigating, but we didn't find much. So I figured I'd pay you a visit!" He gives Kenobi a huge smile and takes more than a little pleasure in the arch look he receives in turn.

"Pleasure to meet you, La," Obi-Wan says, no doubt ignoring Quinlan now.

La, of course, is discomfited and anxious. No doubt she doesn't want to be anywhere near the Supreme Chancellor and all of his Clone Trooper bodyguards. Especially not when she's out in the open and they can see her. Quinlan knows her type. By the look on Obi-wan’s face—there and gone again—he knows it too.

"Pleasure," she says, voice faint.

Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, Obi-Wan sighs. "Well, I hate to be a bad host, but I'm afraid I'm swamped. I'm sure you can find some ways to enjoy yourself on your own. Please don't make a nuisance of yourself and let me get on with my work.”

He pauses. Quinlan Waits.

“Don’t try anything, you are being watched so don’t try to get into anything you shouldn’t."

Quinlan grins. "I'm sure we can manage. Especially considering all the plants you've got here. Want me to see if I can tell who sent them to you?"

"Plausible deniability, thank you." Kenobi doesn't even look up from his datapad.

Quinlan shrugs and turns his attention to the rest of the room instead. There's sure to be some interesting things to be found in here, especially since some of it is left-over from when Palpatine was still the Supreme Chancellor. Maybe there is some dirt to dig up from his stuff!

No matter how mostly-clean the investigation found him, Quinlan wouldn’t be surprised if there’s more. It tends to be the ones who seem the least suspicious who are hiding the biggest skeletons after all. If you can even say that Palpatine doesn’t seem suspicious. Quinlan, at least, has always been a bit suspicious about him.

Quinlan closes his eyes and stretches out his senses with the Force, seeking anything of interest. Sometimes you can find stuff like that before you even touch it at all. Some things are just… heavy in the Force, almost. Just like some people.

There's a sense of.. chill in the room, and a sense of danger from further inside. Frowning, Quinlan opens his eyes and starts moving towards the direction of the cold first.

When he comes upon it he finds himself slightly disappointed. It's... a chalice, of some sort. Not especially pretty to look at, and with not much in the way of distinguishing features. He’s not entirely sure what he was expecting, but definitely something more impressive than this.

"What is it, Van?" La murmurs, stepping in closer.

"There's something about this thing..." Quinlan isn't sure how to explain it to someone who doesn't have the Force. The fact that this thing feels cold in a way that isn't in the temperature sense is... Well, if Quinlan didn't have the Force he would probably think someone trying to explain it was crazy. After all, most people can't feel the way this thing seems to make you feel cold in your spirit because most people, people who aren't Force Sensitive, simply can't feel their own spirit. Can't feel their connection to the Force and the galaxy around them.

Sometimes Quinlan wonders what it must be like to be blind to this connection, but he finds it too alien and scary to linger on the thought for long.

"Is it some Force mumbo-jumbo that I can't hope to understand?" La does the Togrutan equivalent of a raised eyebrow and Quinlan lets out a small laugh. Despite the fact that she's a frustrating and closed-mouthed assassin, Quinlan finds himself liking La. He tries not to think too much about it, because they're hardly going to be able to be friends...

Then again, she'll most likely be a useful contact to have in the galactic underworld. And if he helps her find the person who hired and murdered her colleague, she and the Hissleet Endai might become very useful allies in the future... Though they wouldn’t be… Well, they would not exactly the kind of allies you speak about in polite company.

Dangerous times makes for strange bedfellows.

Not to mention that Quinlan is pretty much never in polite company anyway, so it hardly matters to him.

"If I say that this thing makes me experience a chill in my spirit, as if it's cold in a way that has nothing to do with temperature... Does that make sense to you or do I sound nuts?"

La makes a face. "I mean... I suppose it makes sense, in a way, but you also sound crazy."

Quinlan throws his head back in a laugh and shakes his head. Fair enough, he thinks. That's not so bad, it could be far worse than that.

Still... There's something about this thing. Where has Kenobi gotten it? Of course, considering Obi-Wan is sitting right over there, Quinlan can just ask him. Sure, Obi-Wan might have asked him to not make a bother of himself, but eh, this seems important. Even if it's possibly only important in the way of settling Quinlan's curiosity.

"Hey, Kenobi!" he calls out, leaning back slightly to try and see him from behind a large bush. Seriously, the number of plants in this office is ridiculous. Quinlan always thought it was Master Jinn who was crazy about plants, not Obi-Wan.

"What is it?" Man, Kenobi doesn't have to sound so tired and put upon.

La looks torn between amusement and horror. She's probably still not sure how to react to Quinlan's very much casual relationship with the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.

"This chalice thing! Where did you get it?"

As Quinlan watches, Obi-Wan freezes. Well now, isn't that an interesting reaction?

"What about it? It was here when I took over the office, it's part of the objects confiscated from former Chancellor Palpatine."

Well now, isn't that just a most delicious little morsel of information. Quinlan grins.

"Well, you've felt it, haven't you?" He's not going to let Kenobi play dumb about this. There's no way Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of the youngest Masters of the High Council in recent times and a well regarded Jedi Master hasn't been able to feel the weird vibes this thing is sending out.

"... I have. I wasn't sure if I was only imagining it, and I have no idea where it comes from. There are no records of information about it to be found, I'm afraid."

So it was Palpatine's before Obi-Wan commandeered his offices and that's all they know about it. That really is interesting. How does a regular man, no more Force Sensitive than any other random person, somehow get his hands on something as interesting as this? Not just that, but also decides to place it in a prominent position in their offices to boot. It's not exactly pretty or valuable looking, it’s not made from precious metals and there are no valuable stones...

Why did Palpatine have something like this on display?

Quinlan's not going to ask him personally, because if Palpatine is hiding something then he doesn't want to tip his hand... Well, he'll need to look into Palpatine more. Well, as soon as the investigation results come in and they know how well off he's gotten on the whole deal with the corruption charges. Because even if he gets off easy, that doesn't mean that he doesn't have other skeletons in his closet. It just means that whatever bodies remain, they're very well buried indeed.

Of course, there's nothing that says for sure that investigating Palpatine will be worth his time. After all, an investigation into his conduct was just concluded and is going to trial in just a few days' time. He doesn't think that they could have missed that much, could they?

Unless... Well, the investigation was into his professional conduct, not his personal business, wasn't it?

It's an interesting food for thought if nothing else. He'll run it by the Council later when he gives his report. That way they'll know the outcome of the already ongoing investigation and they can take some time to consider whether or not another investigation would be worth it. Better have them make the decisions than Quinlan. At least that way, they can't blame him if it blows up in their faces!

Rolling his shoulders, Quinlan starts looking around the office again. Maybe he should go search for whatever is giving off that warning feeling. Though again, he doubts Kenobi has missed it, and if he hasn't done anything about it yet...

Eh, he'll have to see when he finds it. Maybe he'll get something through his psychometry.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka feels her blades clash against Barriss's. It's been so long since they last saw each other. She's still not feeling up to talking about what happened with Master Obi-Wan with a mind healer or any of the adults in the Order but... She's sure that if she talks to Barriss, she'll understand.

After all, Barriss is still a Padawan too—though Ahsoka knows that she's getting close to being Knighted—so she'll understand the fear of losing your master better than anyone else. Not that Master Obi-Wan is Ahsoka's Master, exactly, but he's like an extra pseudo-Master, and that's more than enough to make it painful. He's close enough to Anakin, and involved enough in Ahsoka's training, that losing him would have been a much harsher blow than losing another Master of the Order.

Ahsoka just barely manages to dodge Barriss's blade, the feeling of its passing like a caress across her face.

"Pay attention, Ahsoka!" Barriss says with a small laugh. "I don't want to have to explain to Master Luminara why my sparring partner got a hole singed in her montrals!"

Shaking her head, Ahsoka laughs and dodges another swing from Barriss.

"We can't have that! How would you explain that to Master Luminara!" she shouts with a wide grin on her face.

They don't dissolve into giggles like little Initiates, but it is a near thing.

"You know that wasn't your fault, Ahsoka," Barriss says in a low voice, her face calm but grave.

Ahsoka shrugs one shoulder with a small sigh. "That's what Master Yoda and Master Anakin said too, but... I don't know, the guilt is hard to shake for some reason. I don't really know why."

Barriss nods. "It's like that sometimes." She bites her lip briefly, seemingly conflicted, before she nods to herself. "I once made a bad call in the field, and Master Luminara ended up having to rescue me from an ambush. We almost lost the battle, and her arm was so badly injured that they were close to needing to amputate it entirely and give her a robotic prosthetic instead."

Ahsoka draws in a sharp breath.

"Oh Barriss, I'm sorry." She can't imagine how scary that must have been. She never wants to make that sort of mistake, not ever. Her stomach hurts just at the thought of it.

"Master Luminara has never blamed me for it, and in fact has said that mistakes are unavoidable. That all you can do is learn and grow from them, and try your best to not repeat them." Barriss looks down at the floor. "But it's hard sometimes, to deal with the guilt. No matter how much you meditate and reflect on it, sometimes it's just hard to shut off that knowledge of what you could have, should have, done instead."

"Yeah... It is..." Ahsoka carefully moves closer until their shoulders press together. She does it slowly enough that Barriss can move away if she wants to, if she doesn't want Ahsoka's attempt at comfort.

Barriss doesn’t always want physical contact as comfort, but when she does Ahsoka is happy to give it.

"But I suppose that's part of what being a Jedi is all about. Learning, striving towards becoming a better version of yourself." Barriss tilts her head up, looking up from the floor and through the windows to the Coruscanti skyline instead. "Perhaps it's something you understand by the time you're a Master..."

Ahsoka grins. "Or maybe not even then!"

They laugh again and it feels good. Good to have shared, and good to laugh.

Ahsoka feels so lucky that she has a friend like Barriss, someone who is on a similar journey, if a bit farther ahead on the road.

She thinks of Master Obi-Wan and all of his friends from the creché, and finds herself hoping that she and Barriss will stick together like that for years to come. All the way through their Knighthood and when they take their own Padawans... Unless one of them decides to take a different path—like Doctor Nema.

"How about we go get some lunch, Ahsoka." Barriss gets to her feet. "I feel like we have a lot more to talk about, but I'm also quite famished.

Getting to her feet Ahsoka grins. "I can always eat!"

Things aren’t perfect—how could they be—but she still feels better. Barriss understands and hearing that it wasn’t Ahsoka’s fault from her somehow means more than anything else. The only person she’s missing hearing it from now is Master Obi-Wan.

They head off together, and for the first time in weeks, Ahsoka feels as if a load has been lifted off her shoulders.

Chapter Text

Mas Amedda's trial comes. The Republic and holonet wait with baited breath for the charges to be laid out, for the evidence to be presented, and finally for the verdict to be handed down.

Obi-Wan, having not had anything to do with the final investigation at all, is about as on edge as everyone else for Mas Amedda is the first step. As the Vice Chair of the Galactic Senate, he has held a great deal of power and sway over the Republic at large. If he's corrupt... Well. It won't reflect well on Palpatine, whose trial will happen sometime soon after Amedda's.

Palpatine’s trial is likely to be at the very least influenced by the outcome, after all, if Amedda gets convicted, it will mean that Palpatine either was involved or somehow didn't realise what was happening right under his nose for years. So no doubt is Palpatine hoping for a complete exoneration, for the evidence to show that Amedda has done nothing wrong. Regardless of the outcome of Palpatine's own trial, a conviction for Amedda will be a bad look for him.

When it comes to Palpatine, Obi-Wan isn't sure what outcome he's hoping for. For Anakin's sake, he hopes that the man isn't corrupt, that everything that Obi-Wan has found is simply a series of unfortunate coincidences.

However... He does not think that will be the case.

Not at all.

Amedda is convicted on multiple charges of corruption and abuse of power. His punishment becomes a mix of monetary reparation as well as prison time. As Obi-Wan watches the Chagrain be led out of the courtroom—flushed and wild-eyed—he cannot help but feel a sense of grim satisfaction.

The more corruption they can uncover and root out, the better the chance the Republic has to survive and thrive and the greater their chances of finding a peaceful resolution with the Separatists.

Obi-Wan cannot help but feel like the war itself is one huge tragic mistake, created due to the machinations of the Sith. His feelings tell him that the war did not come about organically, it was manipulated. Perhaps if there had been less corruption and greed within the Republic, this plan—whatever it truly is and whatever its as of yet unseen end goal—would never have been able to get off the ground. As it is, so many people have died in this war, needlessly and senselessly. Civilians, troopers, and Jedi alike.

In some ways, it's lucky that the Separatists use a droid army, because it is likely one of the reasons the Jedi have been able to fulfil what was made their duty against their will. If they had been forced to fight and kill living beings… Obi-Wan is not sure that any one of them would have been able to get through it.

Perhaps all Jedi would have been lost.

The Separatists having a droid army also means that there are less deaths on their side, which means less lives lost in total in this horrible war. It also gives the Jedi and their troopers a greater chance for the Republic forces to outsmart them since they're droids which are programmed to respond in specific ways.

Obi-Wan doesn't know if they have any sort of proper programming for the surrender of their enemies, if they have not been given an order from their non-droid generals regarding it.

Not all droids are built to learn and make decisions, many are simply made to follow specific programming and never go beyond that. Unlike the grunt droids, the strategist droids in charge of things have far more computational and reasoning power, he thinks, many of them nearing the sort of machine sapience that droids such as R2-D2 and C3PO possess.

They are dangerous and Obi-Wan thinks the Republic is lucky that they seem to be much harder to manufacture than the regular droids considering how few and far between they seem to be. The ones who have been successful generally seem to be accidents more than anything since R2-D2 certainly wasn’t originally built with that type of sapience in mind and yet Obi-Wan has seen the droid be clearly amused, hold grudges, and perform tasks that should almost definitely be outside of its intended purpose.

Obi-Wan thinks sometimes about how prepared it all seems to have been. Two armies just waiting to be found, two armies for a conflict with two sides. The odds for such a thing to be a coincidence is absolutely astronomical and such there is only one single conclusion to make: a Sith plot for sure, and yet they are still trapped in it.

As long as the war continues they have not yet managed to stop the Sith plan.

Sometimes Obi-Wan thinks he can feel a noose tighten around his neck. Sometimes he dreams of the sensation of rough fibre scratching against his neck as the pressure on his windpipe increases and the panic of it forces him violently awake.

He has hope though. As long as they try, as long as do not give up, they can see the end of this. Perhaps if they can uncover the Sith hiding in the Republic, if they can capture Dooku, they can end this war once and for all.

It is a future to dream of and hope for—as long as one doesn't lose sight of the present and what is.

Obi-Wan lowers himself into a meditation pose. Now he only needs to wait for Palpatine's own trial to see what will come of this whole investigation.

Perhaps once it's over, he and Anakin can repair their relationship and bridge the misunderstandings that clearly lie between them.

The charges against Palpatine are far less plentiful. In fact, there are barely any at all. It seems to be very few charges that the prosecutors think have any chance of sticking. However... Obi-Wan isn't sure if that's truly all there is, or if Palpatine has just managed to ensure that it looks like someone else is responsible for his actions... Though that may simply be Obi-Wan's own bias against the man. He truly does need to try and meditate on that.

The trial progresses; days of arguments, presentation of evidence and a seemingly endless parade of witness testimonies. Early on news sources seemed convinced that all the evidence was flimsy at best and that it was likely that Palpatine would be cleared of all charges, but as the prosecution presents more evidence, the tone changes. Some of the evidence is extremely compelling, if circumstantial, but the picture it all paints is ultimately one that has Palpatine convicted of a few minor infractions.

It is not a lot, in the grand scheme of things. but perhaps, just perhaps... It will be enough. As long as Palpatine has not been cleared of all charges, his previously pristine reputation has been tarnished and there are no doubts in the minds of the people in regards to both his character and his leadership.

However, it also brings something to mind for Obi-Wan, something he hadn’t considered at all before: Amedda was second behind only Palpatine. If there truly was a highly placed leak in the Senate, one that has now been taken out of action and left the Separatists floundering… Amedda was relieved of his duties at almost the exact same time Palpatine was.

He’s glad he held his words and kept back his suspicions and ideas as Palpatine has barely had anything levelled against him at all. Amedda, on the other hand, has been convicted on multiple grave points. Perhaps Obi-Wan did let his dislike of Palpatine get the better of him, perhaps he saw connections where there were none.

It would not be outrageous to consider that Amedda was using Palpatine’s clean and well-regarded reputation as a shield to hide his nefarious actions—some even so grave as to be outright treason due to collusion with the Separatists.

It makes sense. It’s a solid assumption, there’s more things that would point to that than the suggestion that Palpatine was the information leak. And yet…

Those reports.

The altered missions.

All those murdered Jedi.

All of it started with Palpatine. Obi-Wan cannot shake the feeling that it truly has been Palpatine’s doing. Even if right now, Amedda looks more likely to be a tool of the Sith—more biddable, no doubt more of a follower than Palpatine—Obi-Wan can still not rule out the possibility that it is Palpatine.

Regardless how few and minor the charges levied against him are.

Certainly, it could mean that there’s nothing else to find. He may very well be mostly clean except for those few spots.

However...

It could also mean that his skeletons are simply buried deeper. That he’s managed to keep his own actions without any sort of paper trails… Or even that he’s secretly enlisted the help of others, and so the mud ends up on their hemlines instead.

It is, perhaps, a paranoid line of thinking. Obi-Wan can certainly admit as much to himself. But with how uncertain the times are, with how dangerous the situation they’re in right now…

Obi-Wan cannot afford to give the benefit of the doubt. He cannot afford to take a chance on trusting someone. Not right now, not when everything is still so uncertain. The Sith Lord may well still be walking nearby, weaving their web and finding a new pawn to manipulate in their plans.

And if the time comes when the Sith Lord strikes again… Obi-Wan must be ready.

He cannot be taken by surprise again. He may have lived the first three times…

But there’s nothing that says he will survive the next one too.

Chapter Text

Anakin can't believe what he's hearing and seeing. He can't believe that the investigation really would find something on Palpatine. The man has been nothing but devoted to the welfare of the galaxy for years! There's no way that he would do something like this.

There just isn't.

Just then, something Palpatine said to him comes back with a vengeance. "Well, I know my innocence, so I feel that I have little to fear… Unless, of course, someone has tampered with evidence or files to implicate me, of course."

He feels cold, shudders and shivers running through him and immediately it's as if a hand is holding his throat. Not squeezing, just holding there, like a threat, making his throat feel clogged and his breathing speed up.

Could someone have interfered with the investigation and planted evidence against Palpatine? It is possible that all of this is a sham of a trial, held on false evidence? Palpatine suggested the possibility after all, surely that must mean that he suspected he might have a political rival willing to stop at nothing to smear him?

... It... It can't have been Obi-Wan, can it?

All of this began with Obi-Wan, after all. Obi-Wan took over Palpatine's position, ousting him from office without a shred of remorse. Obi-Wan locked himself in his room after that Senator had suggested it... Was he plotting something? Working on how to make his plans proceed even as he pretended that he was just an unwilling Jedi Master being put in an impossible situation his sense of duty wouldn't let him ignore?

Because... Obi-Wan was the one who confiscated Palpatine's possession and it was Obi-Wan who started this infernal investigation in the first place! Maybe he planted information while he did his "research" into Palpatine's conduct?

Maybe... Maybe this has all been a bid for power and Obi-Wan's been lying to Anakin all along? Maybe that's why he hasn't given up his place on the Jedi high Council or his place as a High General of the GAR?

Pressing his palms against his eyes, Anakin grits his teeth and breathes harshly through his nose, trying desperately to get it together. Is it really possible that Obi-Wan would do such a thing?

... He would if the Council ordered him to. But that... that doesn't make sense either, does it? Why would the Jedi want to be in charge of the Republic anyway? There's nothing in it for them, not really.

And the only thing Obi-Wan's really done since coming into office is being a stabilising influence on the political scene, start investigations he doesn't participate in, and send laws out to be deliberated on by groups of senators without his presence. Padmé has said all of that, has talked at length about what good she thinks Obi-Wan is doing in the Senate.

But... What if... What if...

He pulls his hands away and straightens, suddenly feeling the way Padmé's hand is rubbing his shoulder. He glances up at her, but her eyes are still trained at the screens.

There's a smile on her face. She looks pleased. There's a light in her eyes and Anakin can tell that she thinks this is right, that she doesn't harbour any sort of suspicions against the investigation.

But... But it all fits so neatly together. It makes sense that Obi-Wan would have set everything up.

Except then, like lightning from clear skies, he remembers something incredibly important, something he had overlooked.

Senator Mandai is a Naangni from the planet Haa'ndu.

All Naangni are impervious to Force suggestions.

Anakin knows that. He learned it in his class about the history of the Repulic when his teacher was talking about the expansion of the Republic back before the Sith wiped themselves out. He had told them some stories about Sith who put themselves in less than great positions trying it. Anakin had laughed about it with his classmates for weeks.

There is no way Obi-Wan could have influenced her into doing what she did, not unless he did it entirely without the Force. But that would have taken time and effort, and Obi-Wan had been away from Coruscant almost as much as Anakin had before that session ever happened.

It's as if a huge weight is lifted from his shoulders, and he almost wants to cry.

Obi-Wan hasn't orchestrated all of this in some mad bid for power.

It's such a relief to realise that he'd simply jumped to conclusions that Anakin nearly forgets that it means that Palpatine really must be guilty of these crimes. That he really must have abused his position and accepted bribes.

Anakin feels cold, like he can't breathe.

That means that Anakin was wrong.

And Obi-Wan was right.

Padmé feels like she's torn between satisfaction and dismay as she watches the results of the trial come in. On one hand, she feels like this further proves that her realisation that Palpatine used her when she was still queen is true, because clearly it was not the only time Palpatine decided to ignore convention, the law, and his duty to do something that improved his own standing above everything else.

On the other hand, however, she's watching a man she long considered a mentor be proved a corrupt liar, who missed the fact that his close colleague and the Vice Chair of the Galactic Senate was beyond corrupt.

It makes Senator Mandai's words during that fateful emergency session ring painfully true: "He’s been inefficient, slow to act, and allowed his own term to be dragged out without a new vote for far longer than any competent politician should have allowed! The war has dragged on because our Chancellor has done nothing to stop the powers that drive it, and it is the Jedi and the Clones that shoulder the weight of his incompetence!"

She has long since harboured worries regarding the usage of a Clone army, creating living and sapient beings simply for the sake of throwing them into war for a Republic they have never known... And this is just another layer of anxiety on top of that.

If Palpatine had been a better Chancellor... Would the war have ended already?

Or...

Perhaps the war never would have begun in the first place...

The news are all over the Holonet as soon as the sentence is handed down. Some quite large fines, but no jail time.

The people seem conflicted, as many of them had been holding on to what they've been told throughout Palpatine's time in office: that he's a hard working man who's doing his very best for the Republic to even his own detriment at some times.

Some are weeping and in denial, claiming that it cannot be true.

Others are mounting protests, that the punishment is too little for someone who abused the highest political office in the entire Republic.

And Palpatine...

Palpatine is locking down all of his rage and disgust, down as deep inside himself as he can, lest he ends up killing multiple people in an explosion in the Force.

As satisfying as he would find it, he can hardly expose himself like that. He remains hidden, his plans not yet ashes and he still has the ability to turn things around. He cannot lose his head now.

Regaining his reputation will be hard work, harder than he ever expected, but he cannot create more bodies to bury with no control. There are enough people that need to die without him adding random pathetic rabble to the list.

He'll take his time, things will blow over...

And when they do, he'll mount a charm offensive that will make everyone forget about these pesky little convictions. They're barely anything at all—though he's almost impressed that the investigation managed to pin them on him. Seems he might have underestimated the Jedi just a small amount.

It's not a mistake he will repeat.

And they will come to regret ever taking part in this farce in the first place.

Not that they would have been spared even if they hadn't put their noses where they don't belong.

Death to all Jedi...

Just as soon as he can formulate and enact a plan to enact Order 66. There must be some way...

As long as he can activate the chip in the mind of just one single commander, he can ensure that commander spreads it to the others and then the destruction of the Jedi will commence.

And the revenge of the Sith will finally be complete.

Chapter Text

Shaak Ti walks through the halls of Kamino, projecting the sort of calm she knows she's become known for over the years. In times of upheaval, anxiety, and unrest, being a source of calm and peace is helpful not just for yourself but also to the people around you. She's long since learned to keep a tight leash on her emotional responses.

It's not that she doesn't feel, to suggest such a thing would be ridiculous—she's hardly had the emotional centres of her brain damaged or removed after all—she's merely cautious with how she lets herself express it. If she becomes agitated, if she lashes out, she risks bleeding her own agitation into the Force and affecting other people and beings around her, stoking their agitation. Not to mention that she risks entering a feedback loop with the Force, where she projects her emotions into it, and it sends those emotions back to her causing a spiral into ever deepening loss of emotional control.

As a Force Sensitive being, allowing your emotions to get the better of you means you risk losing control of yourself entirely. Usually that means that people get hurt, and Shaak Ti has no interest in people coming to harm.

She locks her emotions down, catalogues them, acknowledges them, and leaves them for meditation later when she's alone and has the time to properly dissect what she's feeling and why she's feeling it.

A side effect of this is that she has an amazing poker face—which in turn unfortunately means that none of her fellow council members will play Correllian poker with her anymore—and as she tries to investigate the supposed chips inside the troopers' brains, it more than serves her well.

The people of Kamino have very limited emotional reflection in the Force, it seems to be an inherent trait of their species. That they're also so foreign to her that she still cannot accurately gauge their emotions from their facial expressions—limited as they are—means that she's always in a precarious situation when she speaks with them on sensitive matters. Being able to tell if they're deliberately hiding something from her or if they simply don't know is more than a little bit difficult.

But if Master Kenobi is correct, then they are deliberately hiding something from them all. Perhaps not all of them, but certainly some of them. Some may be ignorant of what is going on, but some certainly know something. Not to mention that it is something that Former Chancellor Palpatine likely knows about, was told about, but which they haven't shared with Master Kenobi despite him being the new Supreme Chancellor.

She doesn't like the sound of that, the idea that they wouldn't speak about it with any Supreme Chancellor, but rather only Palpatine. It gives her a bad feeling, and she wonders if, perhaps, the Former Chancellor is corrupt in a way they have yet to discover? She's been told by the rest of the Council that he's been found guilty of some milder charges—as far as any corruption charges are mild—but perhaps there's more to the whole thing. Perhaps there are things that the investigation couldn't find, because all evidence of it existed only in Kamino's data systems, far beyond the reach of the people conducting the investigation.

When Master Kenobi had first brought it up, she had agreed despite her own scepticism—she is not one for dismissing possible dangers off-hand, after all. With how things have developed... Well, she's starting to believe that he was on to something, even though her own research so far has not yielded much in terms of results.

Of course she realises that if the Kaminoans wish to hide these chips from them, her access codes would not give her access to anything that is related to the chips. But she had to look into it through official and open—to her—channels first. There is no good reason to treat people as untrustworthy criminals when you have not even the smallest bit of proof that they are that. She had originally planned to simply ask the Kaminoans about the chips, but once she was about to, a sudden feeling of unease swept over her, and she held her tongue.

As it is, her general research has failed, and now she's facing a very difficult choice: either she asks the Kaminoans directly regarding the chips thus tipping them off to the fact that she knows about their existence in the first place, thus risking them looking more closely at her actions following said discussion, or she tries to conduct covert and far from legal entrance into their systems before she so much as ask them about it.

Supposing, of course, that her initial open search hasn’t already tipped them off and made them more wary of her already.

She pauses and realises that she's made an error in judgement. While it's true that the Kaminoans would keep a closer eye on her if she were to bring any of her concerns up to them... They are unlikely to believe she would trust any trooper with the knowledge.

Of course, if the chips exist at all, then the problem comes in the form of what the chips do. She has never sensed any sort of duplicity or danger from any of the clones she's ever trained or interacted with. They are good and loyal men, men who deserve more life than what the Republic is willing to give them due to their status as clones—something she knows Master Kenobi is working on—so she does not fear trusting them.

The question is... Who should she ask?

There is sure to be capable and subtle troopers among those stationed here. All her men are capable of course, though not all of them are subtle.

She needs to find a trooper who can be trusted to work covertly, but also without being detected. They also need to be without pride, because if they get caught, they need to allow her to run interference in any way she can, and trust her to be doing so for their sake.

Perhaps she should lay a false trail, express worry about information leaks, and ask the Kaminoans regarding their security. Vaguely, not pressing for any details of course. However, just as with doing any clandestine breaking and entering the secure data centres of Kamino herself, she is too noticeable a figure. She cannot blend in or hide herself away, and if she asks too many questions, she risks making them suspicious.

If the Kaminoans are hiding something from the Jedi and the Chancellor—possible because the new chancellor is a Jedi—then she cannot tip them off to the fact that they are suspicious, that they are trying to investigate.

She would like to walk into this potential fire first, ahead of her men or at the very least with them as the Jedi do... But in this particular instance, she is quite certain that her presence at the metaphorical front would do more harm than good. She will need to send a trooper in her stead, and put her hope in their skills and strength.

She'll look into it, there are sure to be some who stand out as appropriate choices. Some who will be willing to help her with her covert mission. The clones have no love for the Kaminoans, as far as she knows, even though they seem to consider Kamino their home world. As far as she's been able to ascertain, their loyalty is with the Jedi and the Republic—even though the Republic has never given them anything, and the Jedi has never been able to give them anything except a clear command structure and the occasional meditation help and teachings about the Force.

Perhaps once this war is over, the clone troopers who still live can finally be given personhood and a place to live and stay. Perhaps when they're all finally free from this terrible war, her men can be allowed to flourish in any which way they want.

Not just on the battlefield.

For now she'll speak with the Council again. She cannot tell them openly, just in case the Kaminoans keep some sort of watch on their communication channels, set up to trigger on specific keywords. If they do, then they may already know that she is looking, so all the more important to not let them know any of what she's planning. But while she cannot speak plainly, she can speak in the kind of code that will have the Council send out a fleet to Kamino under some sort of pretence, and through that, she can send back a coded flimsi message containing any and all information she's found until then. Whichever trooper she finds for this mission will have to go with the fleet, and perhaps that will be the safest way for them all.

The Council will be able to request the trooper's aid far away from Kamino and the Kaminoans, and without any risk of them overhearing it. The Temple, at least, is safe enough that jammers alone will keep the information safe.

If she were to use any here, it would most likely make anyone looking to overhear her conversations suspicious.

The last thing they want is anyone trying to hide away the evidence.

They cannot afford any mistakes. It's too dangerous for that.

She lowers herself to her knees and places her hands gently in her lap, focusing on her breathing as she wraps the Force around her.

She will meditate on her next step before she makes any move at all. It wouldn't do to move too quickly and make a mistake.

Chapter Text

Palpatine leans back in his chair and laughs to himself.

Finally he knows how he'll enact Order 66 even before he regains his rightful position as Supreme Chancellor.

It would have been much easier if he'd set the order on some sort of password, rather than requiring it to come from the Chancellor, however, that would also have risked it activating in at least part of the army ahead of time. As is, it's going to take some work and experimentation, but Palpatine is sure it will be doable.

He cannot give the order himself, so he's just going to need to make Kenobi do it.

Well, a faked hologram of him at least. The point is that what is required for the chip to activate is for the Supreme Chancellor—or at least the person who the clone trooper recognises as the Supreme Chancellor—to give the order. Commanders can infect captains, captains can infect troopers, and so the activation spreads like the most virulent of viruses, like the plagues mentioned in old texts from times before bacta and more advanced medicinal technology.

He’s going to need to be careful in creating the hologram and unfortunately it’s not something he’s going to be able to outsource—the risk is simply too great this time—and then he’s going to need to test it.

Since he cannot guarantee that it’ll work immediately, he will need to work his way up the chain of command. Higher ranked clones are more likely to have met or at least seen a hologram of Kenobi, and thus will likely require a more accurate hologram to trick.

However, it shouldn’t be any problem for him to get a hold of a trooper to experiment on. There are far too many on Coruscant too, after all. He can just grab one and test it, and then discard the corpse of the trooper somewhere regardless of whether or not it worked.

He’ll start with any random trooper he can get his hands on and likely end with Commander Fox, as the highest ranking clone on Coruscant, and once that has succeeded… Well. Then he just needs to manoeuvrer himself into position and strike when the time is right.

He laughs again.

The Jedi don’t even know the ticking time bomb they’re carrying so lose to their chests.

Palpatine has seen more than enough of their disgusting camaraderie with the clones. Typical Jedi and their bleeding hearts and care for life.

It was a very deliberate part of the plan to make the Jedi commanders over living beings, so let them feel the clones as they die, over and over. Palpatine is well aware that had the intended armies been the other way around, it never would have worked. The Jedi wouldn’t have been able to do it, and he’s sure convincing the Senate of the necessity of the emergency powers would have been all the more difficult to pull off.

This whole unfortunate pause in his plans is frustrating, but it’s not going to be the end of them nor is it going to be the end of the Sith.

Sith do not give up and they do not surrender. Palpatine is a true Sith and he’s going to keep going until he ends the Jedi or meets his own end. Not that he has any plans on the latter, of course.

He knows what he’s owed, and it’s nothing short of complete galactic domination.

He will break the galaxy completely and step upon its mangled corpse and twist it into his empire. He will rule all. The galaxy is what he desires; what should be his.

Mandai’s defiance, Kenobi’s refusal to die, that damn little Jedi healer's interference when he was finally about to get rid of Kenobi for good… All of it will amount to nothing. He will tear them to pieces and use their bones as furniture, just for the desecration of it, just to lord his victory over them.

Chapter Text

Anakin can't sit still. He finds it hard to think, hard to breathe sometimes.

Palpatine got convicted on corruption charges.

Sure, not as many and not nearly as serious as those Mas Amedda was convicted of. Instead it seems like Amedda was running a lot of schemes and committing many acts of corruption to keep things in Mr Palpatine's favour... But the fact that Palpatine was involved in even just some corruption, the acceptance of bribes and...

It means Anakin was wrong and Obi-Wan was right.

He can't stand it. He can't believe it. It's not fair!

He fought for Palpatine with Obi-Wan. He pushed Obi-Wan away, raged and screamed at him for being distrustful... And it turns out that he was right not to trust Palpatine. That he was right not to trust in Anakin's trust in him.

And it hurts.

Especially since he'd seen it on Padmé's face when the conviction came. She was pleased. She thought it was right.

She must have been hiding something from him, something about Palpatine, and he almost hates her for it. How could she keep things from him when they promised never to lie to each other? Never to keep anything secret from each other considering how much they must keep secret from everyone else.

It feels like a betrayal and he doesn't know how to handle it.

Not for the first time he wishes that Master Hestish hadn't died, that she was still here to help him get a grip over his emotions, help him think things through.

He knows that Obi-Wan or Padmé would do their very best to help him if he only asks, but when they're the object of confusion... They can't help. If he's angry and upset with them, how can they possibly help him sort his feelings out?

Master Hestish and he had a good relationship, Anakin thinks. She was helpful, kind, and she never judged him. She helped him get himself under control sometimes, and because they only met during his sessions with her, because they didn't have a relationship outside of those sessions... She was always an unbiased and completely separate person. She was never entangled in his duties or his relationships or his school work... She was only ever there to be a rock in the sinking sand, helping him climb to safety until the Tatooine winds calmed themselves and the sinking sands could be safely traversed again.

He knows that if Obi-Wan knew he's feeling like this, he'd tell Anakin to find a new mind healer to talk to. Find someone else who can help him, but... Anakin doesn't want anyone else! He wants Master Hestish! He wants Bharani Hestish... In her white robes and with her so very odd appearance—like nothing Anakin had ever seen before, completely impossible to mistake for anyone else—and her calm acceptance of whatever he told her.

It's not fair that Anakin has to lose everyone! It's not fair that apparently he can't trust anyone he loves, because sooner or later they keep something from him. They lie to him.

Or they die.

He can only hope that Ahsoka hasn't lied to him too. That she isn't keeping secrets and going behind his back. He's not sure he could take it from his Padawan as well. Well... he knows that she didn't talk to him about her concerns that it might be her fault that Obi-Wan got caught in the blast, but... That's not quite the same thing, right?

He doesn't like it though. He doesn't like the fact that Ahsoka will keep something as important as her fears from him. He's her master and it's his duty to help guide her through her journey to becoming a Jedi Knight, and how can he do that if she keeps secrets and won't ask him for help when she needs it?

He should probably talk to her about that... But later. Later. When he's not as upset as he is now. He doesn't want to risk getting angry at her when it's not really where his frustration and anger is targeted right now.

He should...

He doesn't know what he should do.

He can't talk to Obi-Wan. He just can't. After all the things he said, all the accusations and assertions he did... That he was wrong about Palpatine, even just slightly... Of course Palpatine isn't as bad as Obi-Wan seems to think he is, Palpatine is a good man, isn't he? But...

Yes. That's it.

Of course Palpatine is a good man who's made a few mistakes. Even the court didn't think he'd done anything bad enough to warrant prison or anything like that. He just got some fines and a warning to be careful with what sort of contracts he enters and favours he does for others and asks for himself.

It's... It's not ideal, of course. But Palpatine is still trustworthy.

After all, he had more power than anyone else in the galaxy for years and he wasn't corrupted. He was still on the whole careful with his political power. Just a few mistakes doesn't just somehow make someone a bad person.

How could making a few mistakes make someone a bad person when there's the likes of Dooku or even just Mas Amedda out there—people who actually hurt others and cause destruction and chaos? Palpatine isn't anything like them.

Anakin lets out a frustrated breath. Even now that he's managed to sort himself out and his thoughts regarding Palpatine, he still feels restless and like he can't sit still.

He wants to talk to Obi-Wan... Wants to apologise for some of the things he said, but... No. He can't.

He should probably talk to Padmé instead, shouldn't he?

After all, Palpatine has been a mentor to her too. It must have been a harsh blow to her even though she thought it was deserved after she heard the evidence. Maybe they can comfort each other and then visit Palpatine together so he knows that they still support him, that they still know that he's a good person despite what has happened.

Nodding to himself, Anakin gets to his feet and rolls his shoulders. He needs to act swiftly, who knows when he'll be sent back into the field again. It's likely not far away considering how much better Obi-Wan is doing... Anakin knows he got extended leave due to that—which was really nice of the Council, really.

But he wants to make sure he's talked to Padmé so they've sorted everything out before he needs to leave Coruscant again.

Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan can wait.

Some distance will probably do them good.

Regardless of how much Anakin wants to apologise and for everything to just go back to the way things were when he was a child, before Obi-Wan got busy—before the saboteur took Obi-Wan from him—it's probably for the best if they have some distance now.

Obi-Wan probably wants some anyway; he's like that isn't he? He thinks that distance and letting your heads cool is always a much better idea than just getting out and aired immediately...

Ugh. Whatever.

Anakin will go talk to Padmé instead of driving himself crazy with all these thoughts.

He leaves his room and heads out of the Temple. He considers sending Ahsoka a comm message to let her know where he's gone... But it's probably for the best if he doesn't. At least then he'll have some plausible deniability if anyone tries to suggest he went to see Padmé for anything but platonic reasons. They won't even be able to prove that he specifically went out to see her!

He hates that they have to keep their marriage secret, but...

No, he can't think about this now. He pushes the thoughts away, they'll have to wait for later.

Now he just wants to see Padmé.

Chapter Text

Bail taps his finger against this desk and stairs unseeingly at the datapad in front of him.

He hadn't been sure if the information Aleena Yashi gave him, though she's worked as an assistant to multiple senators over the years, was true. But everything checks out. He briefly wondered why she would come to him about it, rather than Senator Lobos who she's currently working for... But perhaps it's because he's known to have a favourable view of the Jedi that she's done so. Perhaps it's because all of this information mostly pertains to the Jedi and the laws surrounding them, and she wanted a prominent Senator who she could trust not to hide the information away because they don't care for the Jedi.

Bail, a Core World Senator well known for his good relationship with the Jedi and friendship with the current Supreme Chancellor, must have seemed like the best option for her. He wonders who else would have been on her list, before she settled on him, but he chose not to ask when she visited him. Perhaps it's better if he doesn't know; it hardly matters now anyway.

He looks down at the datapad again and considers his options.

He should probably discuss her findings with her, and see what exactly her goal is. If he's to do something about this, then he wants her involved even as he gathers support from other senators.

He has no doubt that Padmé will agree to add her support to Bail to help sort this mess out, but considering that they've both been involved with the investigation they're conducting into Jedi missions being altered... Well, Bail wants more Senators involved this time. Just to ensure that it cannot be taken as some form of conspiracy in favour of the Jedi. As ridiculous as that notion seems, Bail is not blind to the way many Senators look at the Jedi, nor to the fact that many of them don't seem to believe that they're really capable of what they say they are.

Few people besides the Jedi truly believe in the Force, after all.

Few people could believe in something they cannot know for themselves when others supposedly have a direct connection to it. Bail is one of the few who does believe them, he's seen what the Jedi can do first-hand. There's nothing else that can account for that kind of power besides this Force they talk of. They and other groups out there, it’s not only the Jedi, after all.

Besides, he knows many of them personally, and while Bail may not understand or follow all of their beliefs or traditions, he also knows that they're not a bunch of charlatans faking it for power of money—though he knows some of his fellow senators believe that to be the case. Even senators on Coruscant, who've seen Jedi in real life, seem to believe them little more than myth.

Bail has been kept up to date on the investigation into the Jedi missions, though he’s not taking an active role in it right now, and he’s certain that he has been kept in the loop to give legitimacy to the investigation. Give it a proper paper trail, even if it’s done with the Senate’s highest level of security. A strictly need-to-know basis, and until it’s finished, no one else needs to know.

Of course, Bail asked Obi-Wan in private if he would be allowed to tell Breha. As his Queen and the leader of Bail’s planet, he found it important to clue her in on it. Besides, it’s another step of legitimacy. After all, if Breha takes an active stance on it, then so does Alderaan.

If anyone wants to accuse the investigation at a later date for being a sham… Well, they will need to accuse Alderaan of engaging in it in the first place. Bail isn’t stupid enough to think that it’s not one of the primary reasons Obi-Wan agreed with Bail’s request.

They’re friends, and Obi-Wan likes Breha, but this is not about being friends; this is about political allyship and keeping sensitive information on as tight a lock-down as they can until the time to reveal it comes.

Besides, as worried as Bail has become with Miss Yashi’s information, it’s even worse when considered together with the altered Jedi missions and not in the least… Well, the war time propaganda. There's no point in shying away from what it is, and the ramifications it has. Considering how most of the war time propaganda focuses almost exclusively on the clones and their efforts in the war, it's hardly strange that the general population neither know nor understand the Jedi or what they do for the Republic.

Further considering the information that Bail has now confirmed to be real and accurate... He understands that the omission of the Jedi is entirely deliberate. If you want to discredit and undermine the Jedi, why would you ever speak of their accomplishments and sacrifices? You wouldn't, as that would bring public support to them.

Bail sighs and rolls his shoulders.

He needs to build a following, he cannot properly push this alone. But he also understands why Miss Yashi brought it to him alone, first. A Core World Senator is far harder to make "disappear" than a Twi'lek Senatorial aide, no matter how awful that is to say. Bail can't go missing, and any attempt on his life would have a bit more trouble hitting its mark.

That's not to say that it would be impossible for someone to assassinate him, which is of course why he'll make sure that Breha is entirely up to speed on everything.

All of it together... There is some form of conspiracy to discredit or perhaps even get rid of the Jedi; Bail is sure of it, but he cannot see to what end. What are they trying to achieve?

For what reason would anyone work to discredit the Jedi? What is the end goal to strive for? There’s no way for the politicians to dissolve the Jedi Order, they are not in that way under Senate control. They could, of course, remove all of their backing, forcing the Jedi to become free agents, certainly…

But for what purpose? It would leave the Republic without the Jedi as peacekeepers, for the Jedi would hardly remain to do diplomacy work for the Senate without its backing. After all, what would the point be? Without the Senate’s backing, the Jedi would have far less ability to do anything. How could they negotiate treaties if the Senate won’t honour them?

They could, perhaps, be a neutral third party within discussions, but there’s no reason for anyone to listen to their input in such a case. It’s hard enough to get disagreeing parties to listen to external input when you come with powerful backing that could make you listen even if you refuse.

How could they function with no funding? They would need to work on commission, at which point only those who can afford their help can get it. That would be the opposite of an improvement!

To not even begin to talk about how few of them there are, how few of them there were even before the war. Their population is not even a hundredth of a percent of Alderaan’s population, and Alderaan is only a single planet within the tens of thousands of star systems that make up the Republic—nevermind the entire galaxy. There’s just not enough of them, and hasn’t that always been a problem even while they’re working under the Republic? Too few of them, spread far too thin.

No, if the Jedi became free agents, their ability to affect change would be greatly diminished. Bail is quite certain they’d work on much smaller scales, still trying to do what they can for the galaxy, bit by bit. Working with smaller communities on planets and moons… If they even had the ability to find out about disputes that may need their help in the first place.

Losing the Jedi as peacekeepers isn’t a win for the Republic either, as the budget for the Jedi was already miniscule even before it started being diminished—as Miss Yashi’s discovery shows. It cannot be an attempt at cost saving, or an idea of improvement for the Republic. Needing to train their own diplomats and ensure that they have skilled enough guards… That would be more expensive and it would not be able to guarantee that these diplomats are neutral in conflicts.

The Jedi have no specific allegiances the way diplomats and even Senators have. Even the least corrupt Senator will still place their own planet and star system first. It is part of their role, after all, it’s their job to do so.

So no, it cannot be something like that, not unless the people slowly enacting this are horribly misguided and foolish. Not to mention... Bail knows most Senators would simply call for making away with the Jedi entirely, rather than this slow plan to undercut them.

No… There must be something else going on here, some other primary goal whoever is pulling these strings is looking out to do.

He’ll need to figure it out, no doubt, Bail concludes.

But beyond that, he also needs to build a base to help him bring this information he’s been given to the Senate’s attention. He is quite sure already who he should be looking towards first: Senator Ach’ki Mandai of Haa’ndu.

Who better to help him bring this to Senate attention than the Senator who ensured a Jedi now sits as the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic?