The sun was just rising over the Jedi Temple when Steve Rogers, Jedi Knight, approached. He paused for a moment to watch the light slowly move up toward the towers, setting them in stark relief against the Coruscant skyline. Returning to the building that had been his home most of his life should have been a happy occasion, but this was a dark day for the Order.

He sighed. He hadn't always seen eye-to-eye with the Grand Master, but Nikk Fari had been a great leader and watching him die had been difficult. Though he hadn't seen who struck the killing blow—Master Carter had been first on the scene, and had reported only a dark-clothed figure with what appeared to be a mechanical arm—something told him there was more to this than a simple assassination; there was a darkness that ran deep, a danger even here in the heart of the Jedi Order. Why else had Master Fari's last words been "Trust no one"?

A lithe figure all in black stepped out from between the pillars in the Processional Way and pulled Steve back into the shadows. He blinked. The flame-red hair peeking out from under her hood was unmistakable, though he had seen her only a handful of times since they were initiates. "Natasha?"

She made a shushing gesture. "I spoke to Sharon, and I know who killed Fari. Most of the First Knowledge Council doesn't believe he exists, but the ones who do call him Darth Frigus."

His insides turned to ice. "A Sith lord?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. He's a ghost story Shadows tell each other, Rogers. But he's real."

He nodded slowly. It would explain the dark pall that had clouded the Force since even before Master Fari's death. Though why he felt unsafe here, inside the Temple, he didn't know.

"Five years ago, I was escorting a Senator on Alderaan when we were attacked," she said, her voice calm and emotionless. "We lost control of the speeder, went off a cliff. I pulled us out, but Frigus was there. I was covering the Senator, so he shot him right through me." She pulled up the bottom of her tunic to reveal a blaster scar on her abdomen. "Going after him is a dead end. I know; I've tried."

Steve pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Aren't there always two? A master and an apprentice."

She tilted her head, studying him. "Yes. The rule of two."

He raised an eyebrow, looking down at her. "So is Frigus the master or the apprentice?"

She shrugged again, her intense blue eyes belying the nonchalance of her actions. She clearly suspected something was off here, just as he did.

Master Fari had told him not to trust anyone, but he couldn't do this alone. He pulled the datastick the Grand Master had given him out of his robes. "Can you get us into the library without anyone seeing?"

Her expression suggested that he was a bit stupid and that she was insulted by the implication that she might not be able to such a thing. She turned her back and melted into the shadows. He grinned and followed her.

Natasha frowned at the console. "Somebody's definitely trying to hide something. This drive is protected by some sort of AI; it keeps rewriting itself to counter my commands."

Steve leaned against the desk beside her, trying not to look furtive while he watched for anyone who might be looking for them. "Can you override it?"

"The person who developed this is slightly smarter than me." She glared at the screen as if it had personally insulted her. "Slightly. I'm gonna try running a tracer. If we can't read the file, maybe we can find out where it came from."

The bad feeling was getting stronger, making him very antsy.

"Got it." She pointed at the screen, which displayed a map of the galaxy with a blinking indicator on a planet in the Outer Rim territories: Tatooine. "You know it?"

"I used to." It had been a lifetime since he'd returned to the planet of his birth. He had never wanted to go back. "Let's go."

Steve watched with a bit of awe as Natasha expertly maneuvered their way onto a passenger ship leaving shortly for the Outer Rim and Tatooine. She had insisted they change their clothes and hide their lightsabers before they got to the docks. He felt a bit lopsided without the familiar weight of his saber at his side.

While they waited to board, he tried to figure out what to do with his hands, and she rolled her eyes at him. "You're not very good at this, are you, Rogers?"

He glanced at her sheepishly. "I'm a Peacekeeper, not a Shadow. Not much call for deceit in my line of work."

"It's easy." She grinned up at him. "Just make something up."

"What?" He stared at her.

She laughed. "The truth is a matter of circumstance. It's not all things to all people all the time. And neither am I."

He nodded, watching droids load cargo onto the ship. "That's a tough way to live."

"It's a good way not to die, though."

He hooked his thumbs into his belt. "You know, it's kind of hard to trust someone when you don't know who that someone really is."

She nodded, her gaze distant. "I've done so much undercover work, sometimes I'm not even sure who I am anymore." She looked up at him, her eyes glittering with amusement. "Who do you want me to be?"

He laughed shortly, shaking his head, then met her eyes. "How about a friend?"

She smiled. "There's a chance you might be in the wrong vocation, Rogers. Friends are an attachment, you know."

He nodded, a smile curling up the corners of his lips. "Didn't you hear? I was apprenticed to Master Erskine. He wasn't exactly… conventional."

She grinned. "I had heard. The Council never did know what to do with him."

He looked away, sudden grief washing over him at the memory of his master. "Yeah. They didn't." The Council had nearly denied Abra'im Erskine's request to take Steve as his Padawan, afraid of what he would teach the boy. Steve had almost ended up in the Service Corps. He would always be grateful to Master Erskine for seeing something in the skinny little boy who had ever been last in his initiate classes.

Mos Eisley stretched out before them, as always a hive of scum and villainy. Natasha strode forward confidently, Steve following a bit more cautiously. "This is it?" he asked, eyeing the crowds apprehensively.

Natasha nodded without turning. "The file came from here."

"So did I."

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Changed much?"

"A little." He veered around a Dug who spat in the dust at his feet as he passed. "I haven't been back since I left for the Temple."

"Really?" She turned a corner onto a narrow street that was more of an alleyway. The crowds vanished behind them, and silence closed in. "I thought Erskine would encourage his Padawan to seek out his past for some kind of meditation on feelings and attachment."

He rolled his eyes at the back of her head. "Is that really what they say about him?" He shook his head and continued before she could respond, "I just never had a reason to come back." He waved a hand in a broad sweeping gesture. "Have you seen this planet? There's nothing here."

She stopped in front of a wall that looked no different than any other part of the cracked stone walls that lined the alley. "There's something here." She put out a hand and brushed her fingertips against the rough stone. He felt a surge through the Force and the stone rippled then settled back into shape, unchanged. She pulled her hand back. "It's a Force lock, but it won't budge."

He stepped forward. "Let me see."

Moving aside, she held a hand out toward the wall. "Be my guest."

It was as if the air thickened as he neared the wall, and before he touched it, something like electricity ran up his arm and down his spine. The now very familiar sense of wrongness was very strong here. As his fingers touched the surface, it rippled again, but this time it vanished, leaving a narrow doorway leading into darkness. A coolness flowed out around him, inviting them in from the desert heat, but he hesitated. The shadows within seemed almost alive, and malevolent. And it gave him pause that it had opened so easily for him while rebuffing Natasha.

She brushed past him, her lightsaber in her hand, but not activated. He followed her and, as his eyes adjusted, he could make out a large empty space. The floor was blanketed with a thick layer of dust. They were the only living things to enter here in a very long time.

A dimly flickering light caught his eye from deeper in the room. "There's something back here."

She followed him into the shadows. "What is it?"

It looked like nothing so much as a heap of rusted metal coated in the thick dust that lay over everything here. Steve crouched to peer at the flashing light, brushing away the dirt to reveal a data port.

Natasha blew out a breath in amazement. "This is ancient." She bent over and brushed more dust away, then pulled Master Fari's datastick out of her pocket and plugged it in. More lights flickered on, and fans whirred to life, blowing the fine sand up in a cloud around them.

The entire pile of metal began to move, appearing to reassemble itself before their eyes into the shape of an old-fashioned medical droid. Turning its head slowly on rusted neck joints to face them with large red eyes, it spoke. "Rogers, Steve. Jedi Knight. Born on Tatooine, 20 BrS. Roman, Natasha. Jedi Knight. Born on Coruscant, 17 BrS."

Natasha frowned, crouching to peer at the droid. "How can this thing know about the Great ReSynchronization? It looks like it hasn't been active since the Ruusan Reformation."

Its head swiveled toward her. "I have never been inactive, Jedi Roman. I may not be what I was—but I am."

Steve frowned. "Why are you still here?"

Those huge eyes turned toward him, disturbing in their regard. "Why would I leave? I have everything I need."

Natasha bent and brushed the dirt away from the bottom part of the droid, revealing that it had been fused to the floor. "You can't leave. You've been trapped here."

"Lord Penetro invited me to stay, to help his cause." Its voice was almost singsong. "People cannot be trusted with their own freedom, and so the Sith will arise again. We have already won, Master Jedi."

"What's on the datastick?" Natasha demanded.

The droid's voice was smug. "The answer to your question is fascinating. Unfortunately, you shall be too dead to hear it."

Sensing danger, Steve turned, drawing his saber. "There's someone coming."

With a hiss, a red lightsaber blade appeared in the deepest shadows, barely illuminating the black-clothed figure who wielded it. "Darth Frigus," Natasha breathed, bringing her yellow blade up before her. Steve activated his own saber, the familiar blue glow joining Natasha's and casting a circle of greenish light around the two of them.

They stepped away from each other, circling around to come at the Sith from either side. Frigus stood unmoving, the light from the three sabers reflecting off his silvery mechanical left arm and seeming to be absorbed by his black clothing and the mask that covered the lower half of his face. He held his own saber in a black-gloved hand at his right side. A feeling of danger, of raw power, assaulted Steve's senses.

As they neared, Frigus raised his left hand toward Steve and, though he braced himself, the Force push sent him flying across the room like broken toy. That was quite a trick. Steve had met a Jedi with a prosthetic hand once, and he had admitted that directing the Force with it was difficult since the metal was not a living thing and the Force was reluctant to flow through it.

Shaking his head to clear it, Steve got to his feet. Natasha was locked in combat with the Sith, their red and yellow blades flashing faster than the eye could follow as they moved back and forth across the floor, kicking up clouds of fine grit. He reached out in the Force for his own weapon that he had lost when he hit the floor, activating the blade as the hilt met his hand. Frigus turned as he ran toward them, and the momentary distraction gave Natasha an opening. Her lightsaber darted in and would have taken off the Sith's head but he jerked back just in time and only lost his mask. He flung out his prosthetic arm toward her, throwing her into the wall. Her head struck the stone hard and she slid to the floor in a heap.

Anger rose up in Steve, rushing through his veins like fire, and he attacked in a rage. Frigus stumbled back before the onslaught, losing his lightsaber and falling to one knee. As Steve stood over him, the Sith raised his head and his shaggy hair fell back from his face, a face that Steve had never thought he would see again.

Steve froze. "Bucky?" he whispered in disbelief.

Frigus sneered at him. "Who's Bucky?"

Steve took a step back, his hands falling to his sides. He had watched Bucky fall into an ice cavern on Hoth, had been helpless to save him, had known his friend was dead. How was this possible?

Bucky rose, lightsaber in hand again, his familiar features twisted with hatred. Steve took another step back, raising his blade again in defense, his insides filled with ice. Bucky had been the kindest person he had ever known—how could he have been turned?

A blaster bolt shot across the room, striking Bucky's flesh arm and knocking his saber from his grip. Natasha knelt by the wall where she had fallen, pistol in hand. "No!" Steve cried as she squeezed the trigger again. He flung himself between them, catching the bolt in his shoulder and falling to the floor.

"Rogers!" Natasha's voice was sharp with worry and fear. She steadied her pistol, aimed over Steve. "Don't you touch him."

"Natasha, no." Steve struggled to one knee. "Please." He turned to Bucky, and met unfamiliar yellow eyes that stared back at him out of his friend's face. He held a hand out in a warding gesture toward her. "Please don't. He's my friend."

"He's not your friend." Her voice softened just a bit. "I've faced many Sith as a Shadow, Steve. When he turned, Jedi Knight Bucky Barnes ceased to exist. There is nothing left of your friend now."

Steve held Bucky's gaze. "I refuse to believe that." Bucky had not moved since Steve was shot, standing as if frozen, his saber lying dead on the floor near his feet. "Master Erskine always said that if hate is the path to the dark, then love is the path to the light." He held a hand out toward Bucky, palm up. "You're my brother, Bucky. I've always loved you. I always will. I'm with you until the end of the line."

Bucky's eyes flickered and Steve thought he saw a flash of bright blue for an instant. Then his lip curled and he called his saber back to his hand. "You are a fool, Jedi." And he turned on his heel and vanished into the shadows.

"You are a fool, Rogers," Natasha muttered as she examined his shoulder. "Bucky is dead."

Steve winced and shook his head. "Then why didn't he kill me?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe Sith have some kind of code of honour that prevents them from killing someone who just saved their life. I only act like I know everything."

Author's Notes:

re dates: BrS stands for 'Before ReSynchronization,' and the Great ReSynchronization was an attempt to recalibrate the disparate systems used by the Galactic Republic. It took place 35 years before Episode IV: A New Hope. (This fic is set 28 years before Episode IV.)

re the Ruusan Reformation: An event that took place over 900 years before this fic.

re eye colour: In SW canon, when a Jedi uses the dark side, his/her eye colour often changes to yellow, orange, red, or even a whitish grey (yellow is the most common, though). If/when a dark Jedi turns back to the light, his/her eyes change colour back to whatever colour they were naturally.