Title: Crystal Cloudbursts
Author: AntipodeanOpaleye
Rating: PG-13
Summary: We fear the uncertain, the indefinite. But know this; the future is not predetermined. Your destiny is your own. And there is never a point where you have strayed too far to regain your footing. It is never too late for redemption. RotS AU. One-Shot.
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize from any other source either doesn't belong to me or is a purely coincidental occurrence. Anything that you've never previously encountered most likely belongs to me. I write for enjoyment and no copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: The idea for this fic came to me when a friend of mine was utterly devastated by Anakin's slaughter of the Younglings. I think that she's still in denial that it even occurred, actually. In any case, I was later inspired to write this AU, beginning from the duel between Mace Windu and Darth Sidious, and Anakin's interference in their battle. I suppose I thought that if there was a true point of no return for Anakin as he made the transition from light to darkness, it was then, and if I planned on changing the course of the plot, that would be the most likely and believable place to start.
It's not quite my style, really; much less angsty than my normal work - not that this isn't angsty, because it is. Yet, while I've delved in the absolutely wondrous world of Star Wars fanfic for some time now, I've only just begun to dabble in the writing end of it, and regardless of it's less-than-signature nature, I much enjoyed working on this particular fic.
I'm sure that there are a number of plot holes, idiosyncrasies in regards to cannon, typos, etc., that have escaped my proof-reading efforts. So I'll apologize for those in advance. I did the best I could on the numerous trips to the theater I made to see Episode III and my own knowledge of the Star Wars Universe, as well as a good amount of time spent studying the online version of the script.
Regardless, I do hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please review; they make my day.
Thanks :D
He had heard it often: that before you die, you see your life flash before your very eyes. It was a notion that had faded some time ago; faded with the teachings of the Jedi and his knowledge of the Force, and with the simple acknowledgement that it was merely child's play; one of many among the concoctions of a curious mind, seeking to stimulate cognition and interest at times when the small amusements in life were scarce.
And yet as he raised his lightsaber, knowing full well the consequences of striking to either the right or the left, he faced not death, but destiny, and he saw not what had already come to pass, but visions that, somehow, he knew were predicting that which had not yet come to be. He was certain; more certain, even, than he was of any premonition he had previously experienced. This was real; this would happen. He saw Jedi dying, slaughtered in mass numbers - even the Younglings. He saw widespread destruction of both life and livelihood that permeated throughout the galaxy; never ceasing and increasingly annihilative. He saw darkness, evil, hatred - felt it corrupting each scene that flashed before him, sensed it orchestrating each horror that came to pass.
He saw these things, and he knew what must be done.
Defensively, but not aggressively, he parried Master Mace Windu's impending blow to Chancellor Palpatine, and with a command of the Force he could not often bring himself to exercise, he raised his hand and lightly Force-pushed the Council Member to the side - luckily for him, Master Windu seemed too stunned at this turn of events to put up much of an opposition. Immediately, he drew his lightsaber back again, dismembering the Sith Lord's left hand at the wrist with a deft wave of the sapphire blade. Palpatine wailed miserably at the loss of the appendage, staring at the remaining stump with shock and malice. Anakin lowered his lightsaber to hover dangerously at the Chancellor's throat, warning him of his fate should he fail to cooperate.
"You are under arrest, Chancellor. You will be detained until the Courts are prepared to try you impartially."
Palpatine fell silent; his completely stoic countenance as he stared up in response at his would-be protégé was staggering.
"Regrettable, young Skywalker, that you have chosen to deny me. But more so; regrettable that you have not only forfeited the life of your beloved Padmé," the Sith Lord smirked sinisterly at the flash of alarm that passed fleetingly across the young Jedi's features, "but also the life of your dear Master Kenobi."
Anakin paused only a moment, fear consuming him in that single instant as the notion of the two people that meant the most to him being targeted for death by the Sith permeated his consciousness. As he shook the thought from his head, fury immediately replaced his trepidation; something akin to the anger he felt at his mother's death, but different - evolved somehow into a pure and utter hatred that consumed his very being, and yet did not control him. Instead, it afforded him a frightening clarity, and as he lifted his lightsaber from it's place near the Chancellor's throat, he was well aware of his actions as he slowly lifted the weapon above him, reaching the apex of his extension before bringing down the lethal blade with a determination and force he had never before experienced.
His aim was perfect, and had he made contact, Darth Sidious would have been decapitated with frightening precision on impact. However, it seemed that the Sith Lord was not beneath accurately estimating his adversaries, and even in his compromising position, he was prepared for the attack. Raising his remaining palm threateningly, the mortal bolts of Force-lightening sprung forth once again at his will, shocking Anakin into convulsions as he stumbled backwards from the agonizing jolts. He fell to his knees, shaking uncontrollably at the will of the Chancellor, who was slowly advancing upon him as the intensity of the electric currents increased and his mind became hazy with the pain. He cried out pathetically, trying to gather the concentration and will to raise his lightsaber to deflect the offending forks of pure, dark energy. He trembled feebly with a combination of his attempt to move of his own volition and the cobalt bolts that wracked his countenance. He lifted hooded eyes towards his former mentor, their sapphire hue now a deep midnight, almost black as they burned with loathing and barely concealed anguish. With a final burst of self-mastery, he managed to lift his lightsaber only slightly before he dropped it as he again writhed in misery, the blade disappearing as the hilt clanked to the floor, rolling out of sight as Anakin finally succumbed to the contortions of his body against the offensive jolts. He shook without relent, unable to fight against the attacks any longer; the only control he retained being the ability to keep the tears of pain that were welling continuously in his cerulean orbs from falling.
Palpatine laughed menacingly. "As I said, Anakin, it's quite a shame you've chosen to uphold the farce that is the Jedi Order. Your ability would have been put to great use as a part of my Empire. Unfortunately, now your promising talent will be forfeited to the netherworld." The smirk left his face in an instant, exchanged for a terrible resolution that foretold the Chancellor's intentions without words. "Prepare to become one with your Force, Skywalker."
Darth Sidious scowled, rage consuming his features as he summoned Anakin's lightsaber to his existing hand, activating the azure sword and moving to impale his enemy through the chest his with his own weapon.
A flash of violet from the side stalled his strike, and Palpatine let out a startled cry as Mace Windu leaped towards him with his own lightsaber drawn, prepared to deliver a lethal blow to the Sith Lord. However, Mace's movements were sluggish and weak due to the effort he had put into deflecting the Force lightning himself only minutes earlier, and he was not quick enough to kill the Chancellor. Evaluating his predicament, Palpatine snarled threateningly, terminating the blade he held and dropping it, flipping backwards with the assistance of the Force. With a final smirk at both Jedi, he vaulted from the room and out of the shattered window, dropping down onto the next level and steadying himself upon the precariously thin scaffold. Master Windu moved to pursue him, but moments later a Clone-operated starfighter flew up beside him, taking Sidious as a passenger before speeding away across the twilit horizon of Coruscant - escaping to freedom and safety.
And it was Anakin's fault that he was afforded the chance.
Anger battled fiercely with doubt, threatening to overtake his mind. He had been irresolute, indefinite - his ambivalence had prevented him from administering justice properly to either party. And when he had acted, had he been correct? He felt certain that siding with Palpatine would have caused his emotional ruin, and the Sith Lord had been most prompt in denouncing Anakin when he had struck against him, but had he just forsaken the only way to save his wife? Would losing her not inevitably lead to his demise as well? Not to mention the Jedi - were they truly so praetorian; plotting to overthrow the Republic? Some pieces seemed to fit, yet the puzzle was still incomplete, and ever so difficult to place together. So many unanswered questions; countless lingering uncertainties...
"Anakin," the deep voice rumbled from behind him as a dark hand came to rest on his shoulder. His head turned slowly to meet the strangely compassionate countenance of Mace Windu, who, besides appearing wearier than was normal for him, looked to be quite all right. Anakin continued to tremble slightly, struggling to his feet with the assistance of the man next to him. He met the elder Jedi's gaze meaningfully, thanking him for the support as Mace silently returned the sentiment.
"Come," the Jedi Master beckoned as he allowed Anakin to continue to lean upon him with increasingly less dependence as he began to regain his strength. It was nearly miraculous, Mace observed, that he seemed to be recovering so quickly from such trauma. For someone so tainted by confusion and anger, the Force appeared to be healing him with great speed and dexterity. Letting go of Mace's shoulder, Anakin steadied himself and began to walk on his own as they exited the Chancellor's quarters.
Mace pondered the Knight as Anakin paused to collect his thoughts and feelings, reigning them in before continuing on. So multi-faceted, his emotions were; and yet it was the fear that stuck the Master most prevalently.
Perhaps he had been wrong about the boy.
And perhaps not.
Darth Sidious considered himself to be many things. Unfortunately, accepting of defeat was not one of them.
And as he sat in his personal starship contemplating the events that had just taken place, he worked vigorously to rectify the situation in a manner that would produce an outcome of a much more advantageous nature.
He had sensed the boy's hesitance, his confusion and his wavering; he saw the manner in which Skywalker teetered dangerously on the edge of Dark and Light. And when the young Jedi faltered, he saw that certainty was far from his mind.
The Sith Lord contemplated the situation. He had seen Anakin's power; his ability and potential - he knew what the boy could be capable of should he embrace the Dark Side. Finding a replacement for him would be a difficult task indeed - perhaps impossible, given Skywalker's immense natural talent. Sidious had formulated his plan based upon the idea that Anakin would unthinkingly; willingly devote himself to the Dark Side, and to the will of his new Master. And yet, he had refused. Irate, Palpatine scowled to himself. Could the boy not see that it was to his benefit to join the Sith? That instead of suppressing and forfeiting his rage, that he might learn to harness it, to use it to his advantage?
Sidious paused. He would need to convince him. There had been an obvious breech in the trust he had so labored to established between himself and the young Jedi. He could not expect follow the same path as he had already failed to succeed in while pursuing. He would need to be firm; threatening; and leave Anakin without a choice but to join him - reveal to him that it was only sensible to join the Sith.
It was imperative that he first eliminate the opposition - anyone close enough to the boy to seduce him away from his destiny. He had already seen to the senator; he was almost regretful that a woman of her potential and political ability had been reduced to such an emotional devotee by a concept as insipid as love. He had shrouded his identity with the Force, and had sensed that she had not recognized his presence, in so allowing him to continue to lure her husband to his cause whether he discovered her or not. He expected that she would not last long in her current state; and her offspring would die with her as she withered away in her grief - eliminating all of Skywalker's blood ties; leaving only one allegiance left to his name. One lingering attachment to sever.
Their current course towards Utapau would rectify that.
"Commander Lichen," Palpatine barked at the soldier standing silently near the door of the chamber. He must continue weaving the other threads in the tapestry of his Empire; Skywalker alone, as powerful as he was in the Force, could not ensure the successful subjugation of democracy. There were more tasks at hand to be dealt with.
"My Lord," came the predictable reply.
"Contact Commander 2155 of the Clone Battalion currently on duty nearest the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Transmit the communication for him to execute Order 66, and subsequently forward the order to all units. Have him also infiltrate the senatorial apartments; the body of Padmé Amidala has been reported to have been found there, and I would appreciate it being dealt with without incident."
"Yes, my Lord."
"The Grand Army of the Republic shall bring about democracy's demise. How utterly ironic," he whispered menacingly to himself before dismissing the Clone.
He turned to the control panel, focusing upon the communications dock to his right. Debating silently for a brief moment, he sat regally before the conglomeration of keys and determinants, staring directly into the holocam mounted above. There was a message he needed to record.
The pair of Jedi exited the Senatorial complex with great caution, unsure of what dangers might lurk in the shadows of the evening that was descending upon them, and knowing only the apocalyptic sense of foreboding that the Force alerted them to. Turning their attention towards the Temple nearby, both froze at the unfathomable sight that met their eyes.
Battalions of Clone Troopers stood at the ready before the front entrances to the Jedi stronghold, apparently awaiting further instruction.
"They're going to storm the Temple," Anakin whispered incredulously, not quite registering, and thoroughly not believing that the seemingly unending garrison before his eyes was actually headed for the Jedi Temple, with the intent to…
"We must warn them," Master Windu spoke with a pained resolution that radiated the sorrow that he felt at the sight; the sorrow that all Jedi should feel, would feel, upon seeing the destruction of a place that had been like a home to them all…
The sorrow that Anakin felt, as well.
His eyes trailed briefly towards the docking bay where he had recently left his speeder, before he turned back to the elder Jedi with a strained nod and followed at a run into the Temple, calculating the path of least resistance and gripping the lightsaber at his waist firmly. He knew that this was only a single occurrence in the maelstrom of deadly events that would befall them with his rejection of Palpatine. He could foresee evil coming to all that he held dear, wresting all he cared for from his grasp until he had lost everything, until he was broken. And yet uncertainty had cost him dearly in the past, and as he watched more troops begin to storm the Temple, he knew that his obligation was here and now; and whether he wished it thus or not, he must act. He only hoped that this disturbance could be rectified with minimal bloodshed, and more importantly, before he was too late to reach his beloved wife.
And his master.
The image of the honorable Jedi Master parading in on an absurd-looking scaled creature would have been highly amusing to a normal bystander. For a clone, however, it was only mildly out of place, and as Obi-Wan Kenobi approached the Clone dubbed Cody, neither displayed undue mirth at the situation. "Commander, contact your troops. Tell them to move to the higher levels."
Something akin to satisfaction could be heard in Commander Cody's voice as he replied. "Very good, sir."
With a nod, he began to move away, looking to carry out the instructions just administered to him, but quickly returned to his General.
"Oh, by the way, I think you'll be needing this," the Clone replied helpfully, handing the Jedi Master his lightsaber.
With a grin, Obi-Wan gratefully accepted the previously-lost weapon. "Thank you, Cody. Now let's get a move on. We've got a battle to win here."
"Yes, sir!" came the enthusiastic response. After all, a clone's existence was battle. Obi-Wan began to leave upon his lizard-like transport, riding down the near the wall and preparing to continue onward to lead the ranks.
The Clone Commander 2224, affectionately known as Cody, watched as General Kenobi paced upon the creature before him, petting the beast referred to as Boga at intervals as she grew impatient, shouting orders as they became necessary. He began to walk back towards the soldiers assembling behind him when he noticed he was reviving a message. Obediently, he extracted his comlink from his uniform and summoned the hologram image that accompanied the transfer. A dark, ominous figure appeared before him, and Commander Cody looked ahead, noticing that the Jedi Officer that had been before him moments ago had moved to lower ground as he sought out a nearby landing platform. Convinced of the security of the location, the Clone returned his attention to the figure before him.
"Commander Cody," the voice of Darth Sidious was deep and imperious. "The time has come. Execute Order Sixty-Six."
It was not a matter of conscience, nor a matter of loyalty or camaraderie for the Clone Commander. It was only a matter of duty, and of ensuring that what was required was accomplished. "It will be done, My Lord," he assured the Sith Lord before his image disappeared. He knew what he must now do.
"Blast him!" The Clone cried the order to his troops, directing them to fire on General Obi-Wan Kenobi as he attacked the droid armies below them with his flashing cobalt sword. The blaster fire was accurate and swift as it flew from the weapons in the hands of the Clone Troopers towards the Jedi who was now their sworn enemy. Commander Cody watched as the General tumbled along with his now-defunct reptilian carrier through the air, falling to his untimely doom.
The Clone had no lingering thoughts on the matter as he returned to the ranks and prepared to carry out their remaining defensive strikes.
"Senator Organa," the young Alderaanian enlistee by the name of Craden addressed him with a blind sort of respect, and Bail turned instinctively from his window-view, rousing himself from his pensive silence and staring expectantly at the man - no, the boy. He was no more than a boy.
"Sir, we've docked and received the passengers you requested. Senators Mothma, Taneel and Danu are now aboard and accounted for."
"Thank you, Craden," Bail replied mildly. "Any news on why the Clone Troopers are turning away incoming craft at the capital?"
"We intercepted a military transmission recently mentioning the implementation of an Order 66, indicating all Jedi as enemies of the Republic. The order seems to be slowly making its way to all troops, though the initiator remains anonymous."
"Have you alerted the Jedi generals leading the companies on all neighboring systems within our range?"
"A coded message has been broadcast to all non-clone parties, sir. They've been directed to evacuate and rendezvous with our cruiser as quickly as possible." He nodded his head in respect as he turned to leave.
"Craden," Bail called back to the retreating aide. "Any luck contacting Senator Amidala?"
"No, sir. There's no response from her quarters, and her ship is still on Coruscant. If she hasn't already…" he trailed off, clearing his throat deliberately - they both knew well enough what he had intended to say. "We're locked onto her vessel, sir. If she leaves the planet in her craft, we'll be the first to know."
"Thank you, Craden."
"And sir? It hasn't been confirmed, but we've received reports that Clone Armies have begun an assault on the Jedi Temple."
The senator was silent for only a moment, his eyes shifting to the ground in an uncharacteristic moment of doubt as his fingers massaged the bridge of his nose. Quickly regaining his composure, he glanced upwards, rising swiftly. "We shall continue to transmit the warning to the Jedi. In the meantime, we shall attempt to locate Master Yoda on Kashyyyk; perhaps he will be able to help us find the others."
With that, the two of them moved quickly towards the bridge to speak to Captain Antilles in reference to the homing beacon he had been attempting to intercept.
Jedi Master Shaak Ti was at a loss.
She had been alone, meditating in her quarters, when the Clone Troopers had infiltrated the Temple, and eventually had made their way to her apartments. The commotion beyond her door had roused her from her contemplation, and she had risen swiftly to investigate the disturbance that had broken out so late in the evening.
She had barely made it past the kitchenette when her door came crashing to the floor, followed by a deluge of blaster fire.
She hit the floor, landing rather awkwardly out of sight as she heard the white-clad soldiers begin to file into her living space. Calling upon the Force, she summoned her lightsaber to her palm from her waist, and closing her eyes, reached out mentally to locate the nearest of her enemies. Noting that a pair of Clones was about to round the island towards her cabinet-lined sanctuary, she activated her weapon and in a single wave of blue cut both men down. Their counterparts reacted instantaneously, and Shaak was immediately on the defensive, reflecting their attacks back at them with skillful ease. They continued to advance upon her, and she was soon backed into an unforgiving position again the closest wall. Left with little other option, she Force-pushed the remaining warriors to the ground, quickly springing over their temporarily subdued forms and taking to the hallway.
She had done what she could to quell the pandemonium that was erupting about her, directing Younglings into any empty chamber that was secure or appeared to have already been raided. She had run into few Padawan learners, and even fewer Knights, as most were stationed with Clones on other systems. Clones who are most likely going to turn upon them as well… she thought, almost bitterly. The handful of able-bodied Jedi she had managed to find that had not already been victimized she had assigned to protect the perimeter, instructing them to treat all Clone Troopers as enemies of the peace, and to persecute them as such should they pose a threat.
She was now rushing through another corridor, glancing behind her and motioning to a frightened young boy to close the door behind him and remain hidden with the rest of the young ones barricaded inside. She sensed a presence in front of her, and spun her lightsaber around to take the intruder down.
Sapphire met its twin as the two glowing blades collided.
"Knight Skywalker," Shaak sighed in relief as she disengaged her weapon, Anakin quickly following suit.
"Master Ti," Anakin addressed her with nothing more or less than due reverence. She was a council-member. In so, she had never invested much trust in him. "The Clones seem to have targeted all Jedi for attack. Their numbers are far too great; we must evacuate the Temple. Master Windu has already begun removing Younglings in the far corridors with the help of some of the Padawans who had taken to that area. The others have congregated near the rear of the Temple; the Clone armies have already begun to set fire to the main entrances. We must work quickly, and save as many as we can," his eyes moved sadly to the bodies of fellow Knights, and even youths that littered the floor down the hall. Shaking his head, he drew his lightsaber again, glancing sidelong towards the female Jedi Master beside him. She met his gaze, nodding slowly.
"There are at least eight rooms of Younglings down this hall and the next; led them to safety. I shall continue onwards," she instructed the young Knight before her; he nodded before moving swiftly down the hall. She, too, turned to leave in the opposite direction.
Their situation was dire. She must be quick.
They had reached the defensive position she had chosen for this squad after more time than she had anticipated. Luminara Unduli and the Wookiee she had enlisted to accompany her, the battle-ripe Salporin, had moved ahead of the company of Clone warriors to scout the terrain ahead. In a flash of emerald, she disabled her lightsaber, preparing to contact the swarm of soldiers left behind them with the affirmative to proceed.
It was then that the Mirialan received an urgent message from a Senator of Alderaan via her comlink.
"Watch for the Commander, Salporin; I must see to this contact." Met with a nod and a strange groan from the Wookiee, Luminara stepped to the higher ground, crouching gracefully to retrieve the transmission.
She returned moments later, the apprehensive expression adorning her usually stoic features providing cause for even the Wookiee to be concerned as he questioned her with a muffled cry.
"I must leave," Luminara replied quickly, guardedly. Her eyes flashed up at the towering furry creature with worry. "Protect your people. I sense that things are about to go horribly amiss." She touched his bowcaster meaningfully, and began to execute her escape, yet paused, knowing that her time had come. The Clone Troopers had caught up to them.
"Wait, General Unduli. The Commander is receiving a message."
The Jedi Master paused, her eyes searching the sky for a moment before a serene semblance of a smile formed on her lips. "My apologies, soldier," she spoke with an almost regal formality. "It seems I am expected elsewhere."
A sleek blue and silver fighter promptly flew into their line of sight, piloted by none but the astromech droid situated near the cockpit. It emitted a series of barely-audible whistles, pausing the flight of the craft in order to permit the Jedi to board. Bounding splendidly with the aid of the Force, she drew her lightsaber in midair, deflecting the blaster fire that was now being directed towards her with elegance and ease as she landed solidly on the craft, balancing cautiously as it took off again, dodging the increasing amount of enemy fire.
"Contact Knight Barriss Offee on Felucia," she called to the droid as she situated herself in the cockpit and took the controls, disabling the auto-pilot mechanisms and securing the pod. "Warn her of this trap, and then broadcast the alert to all systems within communications range." Ascending higher, and preparing to exit the planet's atmosphere in exchange for the haven of hyperspace, she whispered into the star-studded blackness that began to surround her; "I only hope it's not too late."
Aayla Secura trudged majestically through the underbrush of Felucia, leading a sizable following of Clone infantrymen into a secure Separatist strong-hold she herself had scouted at dawn. Weary, but enthusiastic about the upcoming confrontation, she exuded confidence in the troops she led. She did not doubt that the upcoming raid would result in some kind of defensive ambush from the opposition, but she believed that they were ready to face whatever was awaiting them. Burdened with only her comlink and lightsaber, she was equipped for the battle, and made certain that the soldiers marching behind her shared in that preparedness.
"Steady. . . . steady . . ." she whispered to the ranks, sating them with a motion of her hand.
"It won't be much longer now…" she started to address Clone Commander Bly, who was the foremost of the regiment, as she began to receive a message. "One moment," she dismissed the interruption along with herself placidly as she walked a few paces away from the congregation of white-armored units, retrieving the communication swiftly.
She returned with no expression, making her way silently through the suddenly innumerable ranks of Clone Troopers. The Twi'lek female carried herself with strength and dignity, though she was ill at ease - any moment they would each become her enemy, and only the will of the Force had any influence over whether she would be safely removed from their proximity by that time or not.
"General," the commanding officer addressed her with polite curiosity, "where are you going?"
"There's been a crucial development. I'm needed at the base. Continue forth to the east until you reach the camp and carry out your orders," and she continued on her way without a second glance.
And the soldiers obeyed without question, marching forth until a command of their own altered their objective.
The crystalline terrene that was Mygeeto would likely have never been encountered by Ki-Adi-Mundi had it not been for the war, and if nothing else, having been granted the opportunity to experience the beauty of the planet was something he was thankful for, even if the circumstances were less than preferable.
Their efforts thus far had been almost entirely successful, and for that he was grateful. He was not a military analyst or an expert battle strategist, yet he knew his way around a skirmish well enough, and with the assistance of the Clone armies, he had been able to execute a great deal of victorious strikes against the Separatists.
So far, it appeared as if his current involvement would add another tally in the winning column.
Slashing through the center of one droid before spinning his lightsaber around to sever the top of another, the Cerean Jedi Master was completely engrossed in the heat of battle; focusing on each step, each turn, each deviation from the original path and goal as he quickly amended his plans in order to properly address the target at hand. He quickly reached the city's central plaza, which appeared as a much larger arena for battle, and in so led to inherent advantages and complications. More room meant more flexibility for attack on both sides, and more ability for movement in order to surround one's prey. He took comfort in the approaching legion of Clone Troopers - it had become a war of attrition, and he who possessed the ally of numbers often was the one who lived to see daybreak once more.
Yet something was not quite right as the white-armored warriors approached, and he paused his charge abruptly - tentatively - remaining pensive and concentrating on the irregularity he sensed as long as the ranging battle about him would allow. He sensed the danger as he turned, hesitating to draw his lightsaber. The Clones were loyal, but he wished only to cut down droids; he had no desire to harm any innocent bystanders. It may be war, and he may now be the leader of a ruthless charge with the aim of annihilation - but above all things, he was undeniably a Jedi, and in so was a peaceful being, and desired said peace whenever he could manage to see it instilled. If he could spare the life of one blameless soul, he would have been satisfied with his efforts.
He looked at the mask of the Clone nearest to him, and he knew in an instant what was happening. Somehow he was able to read his fate in the expressionless façade, and for a moment he thought to resist. But it was too late, and he was prepared for the blaster shots before he felt them penetrate his skin, ripping through his body and stealing away his consciousness as he melted into the Force.
He had done his utmost; and now it was over.
Perhaps it was only Anakin's imagination, but it seemed as if the Force was extracting revenge upon him as he searched for the last sect of Younglings hiding within the endless halls of chambers. He knew there could only be one group remaining; Shaak Ti had said there were eight, and he had already sent seven of the huddling masses towards the back of the Temple with a female Initiate he recognized but could not name. Sighing, he pressed onwards, opening each door quickly and peering inside before abandoning it's deserted contents for the next room. If the Force wanted to shroud the youths from him, that was fine. He could search the old-fashioned way. But he knew all too well that he was running out time.
Robes swishing rhythmically behind him as he moved swiftly down the hall, he glanced up through his lashes at nothing in particular; sensing something he could not quite place. Immediately drawing his hood about his head, he spun to ensure his surroundings and, determining them to be secure at present, turned the handle of the next room's door - the Council Chamber. Time was even scarcer than he had thought.
He stepped into the chamber, and instantly detected the nearly inaudible rustling from within the shadows - felt the apprehension from the figures hidden about the room. But not fear - these children were blessed enough to have never properly learned the emotion, and in so were incapable of truly experiencing it. He envied them that.
"Master Skywalker?" a small voice came from his right, frightened and nervous. Anakin turned slightly, following the sound to a pair of eyes peeking out from behind a large dais in the darkened chamber. He glanced guardedly at the child from underneath his hood, encouraging the youth to continue wordlessly; seriously - formidably.
"Master Skywalker, there are too many of them. What are we going to do?"
Anakin was silent. He still felt the presence from the hall; indeterminable and yet increasingly overbearing. What could he tell these children? "You shall follow me, silently," he emphasized, "and I will show you to safety." He knew he should be thinking only of protecting them; and truly he was. And yet he knew he was basking far too much in the radiance of the adoration that shone in their eyes as they stared up at him in gratitude. He felt far too much self-satisfaction as they regarded him with such respect; such idolatry.
"Come," he spoke softly, motioning to the Younglings to follow him closely and without question. They obeyed in true Jedi form, Anakin standing guard before the open door as they followed out and migrated towards the back exits as Anakin directed. They did not pause to watch as a trio of Clone Troopers turned the corner and the Jedi Knight strode forward to dispose of them efficiently, running his lightsaber through them each in turn without thought or hesitation. Breathing heavily, though not in exertion, he took in the sight before him. Bodies of his fallen comrades desecrated as if they meant nothing. Suits of clone armor, harboring the dead, strew in like fashion. But it was the smaller, more helpless looking corpses that effected him most grievously; that created a stir of emotions within that ranged from hatred and vengefulness, to hopelessness and despair. He weighed his distrust, even his abhorrence, of the Jedi Order in its most extreme forms - yes; these children where a part of that institution that had caused him so much frustration and rage; such confusion - and yet, they were innocent. They had done nothing to deserve such wholesale slaughter.
He looked down at the face of the nearest body; a girl of no more than seven. The expression frozen upon her face was not one of horror or fear, but one of resolution; it was obvious that she believed that this was the will of the Force, that it was her time, and she appeared ready to confront her fate with dignity and submission. His mind lingered briefly on the thought that such a child would have made an excellent Padawan learner for any Master someday, and he was saddened that such a day would never come to pass for her. But it was the thought that followed in its stead that caused Anakin to truly feel pained.
What of his own child? Would his son or daughter too face such hatred and violence? And if he could not save these Younglings, how did he expect to protect his own flesh and blood? His heart ached at the thought; he had failed so many people in his short lifetime - disappointed those he respected, and more importantly, those he loved. And though he cared deeply, he so often managed to fall short of the mark, even in the direst of situations. His affection was not enough.
Love alone would save no one.
And as he turned to follow the children, he wondered, not for the first time that evening, if he had made the right choice in denying the Dark Side.
Obi-Wan was in no condition to even attempt to make sense of the situation. There he had been, successfully fending off torrents of droids with his trusty reptile friend, when out of nowhere, his own Clone Troopers began to fire upon him. He had attempted to make sense of the situation - rationalize it - but it was impossible. That was no friendly fire that had rained down upon him from above; his Clones had mutinied, turned on him with the blink of an eye. There was no other explanation for this unfavorable turn of events.
And now he was plummeting towards a very ominous, very liquid-filled sinkhole where he would likely meet his end upon, or shortly following, impact.
What he wouldn't have given to suffer Anakin's suicidal piloting skills instead.
A sizable cruiser sped past him, though he probably wouldn't have noticed even the rumbling of its engines had it not passed so close to him as to have disturbed the already-rushing air about his person. His eyes flashed upwards, taking in the metallic underbelly of the craft as it seemed to descend towards him. Perhaps the attack upon him had, somehow, been a mistake…
His gaze had returned to the ever-approaching water below him when he felt arms engulf him and pull him to a halt in his free-fall. He sensed danger in his rescuer, yet given the circumstances, he reasoned that it would probably be prudent to deal with said peril later, and choose the apparently less-pressing of the two evils. So he submitted to being pulled, quite aggressively, into the passing craft.
He felt a weight lifted from his belt as he was relieved of his lightsaber, instinctively resisting the restraining hands upon his shoulders as he fought to retain his weapon. He realized it was futile, however, as he noticed that not one, nor two, but three pairs of arms were holding him in place at present. Attempting to call upon the Force to aid him, he was dumbfounded when there was no response. His eyes trailed down to his wrists, which he only now recognized were not being held by a live captor, but were bound in a set of metal cuffs, lined in bright red illuminated buttons and humming with a certain power that Obi-Wan suspected was inhibiting his communication with the Force. He tensed as he was wrenched upwards, his hair brushed brusquely off of his back and gathered over one shoulder, exposing his neck. He was seized by the chest and felt a small pin-prick against his skin before he was tossed roughly to the floor of the shuttle.
He rolled languidly, suddenly very tired and becoming increasingly weaker as the seconds progressed. The last thing he saw swimming in his fading vision was the suddenly disconcerting helmet of a Clone Trooper, and the last words he could discern were, "He's out, Sir" before darkness became him.
After ensuring the safety of the Younglings, as well as the few Masters and Padawans that had been dwelling at present in the Temple, Anakin had swiftly taken his leave, heading straight for the hanger that housed his speeder, and taking off immediately to find his wife and ensure her wellbeing. He had barely landed before he was out of the craft and approaching Padmé's Senatorial living quarters at a run. He saw no one moving within the complex, and it worried him. He could sense his wife, weak though she was, and that was enough to calm him away from the point of frenzy; yet he feared the state he might find her in. He entered, running towards the bedroom they so often shared, knowing that she would be there upon the bed even before his eyes fell upon the battered-looking frame spread carelessly upon the negligently placed sheets.
"Padmé?" he trembled as he approached her still figure upon the bed, reaching out to stroke her cheek. A single tear leaked from his eye as he took in her battered form, the darkening bruises that shined upon her perfect flesh. Her eyes fluttered open at his touch, and she met his stare with sadness and regret; her apologetically despondent gaze relaying more to her husband than she could have possibly conveyed with words.
"Who did this to you, my darling?"
Her voice was barely audible as she answered him. "I didn't see his face. He stood there," she pointed a shaky finger behind him. "He was robed an-and hooded," she faltered, and began again in an even more hushed tone; "I did not see his face."
Anakin turned livid, in fury over his wife's torment, yet also in uncertainty over the identity of the one who caused her such pain. Robed… hooded. The two sources that it may have been were the two he was torn between - the two he managed to both trust and suspect most. The Jedi and the Sith.
But which one?
"He should never have laid a hand upon you; he will pay," were the words that followed from him as he contemplated the possibilities.
"He didn't touch me," came the soft, shaky reply. Anakin looked sharply at her, his questioning gaze infused with fury. "He threw me with the Force." This only seemed to upset her husband further, and she continued rather helplessly. "It wasn't the physical pain that hurt most; it was his words. He said… he said…" Padmé choked back a sob as she began to weep. The heart-wrenching display placed her almost immediately in Anakin's arms, where he cradled her gently, yet protectively, stroking her back as she sobbed.
"Shh, my love. It's over now," he repeated quietly, whispering reassurances into her ear and nuzzling her delicate neck. As her cries subsided, and she regained some semblance of her normal composure, Anakin could not refrain from asking her: "Darling, what did he say to you?"
She shuddered, shifting her head without meeting his gaze and steadying herself before she spoke. "He told me that you'd," her voice faltered momentarily. "That you'd turned to the Dark Side… that you'd murdered, that you'd become someone… else. That you were no longer the man I loved. The man I love…" she stared at him with wide eyes, rimmed in crimson and brimming with unshed tears.
Anakin felt rage begin to consume him at the thought of someone lying to her; threatening her; yet the pleading with which she gazed upon him was enough to temporarily quell his anger - she was all that mattered now. He leaned forward instinctively, capturing her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss, pouring all of his need, tension, and fear into it as he massaged her mouth with his own. His hands snaked possessively around the back of her neck, kneading her silken skin as she relaxed into him and responded with equal fervency. Suddenly, she broke away, her expression apprehensive as her hands flew to her abdomen.
"The baby?" she whispered, her fear barely contained as she conveyed all of the unspoken implications of her question. She silently begged him to be honest with her, to tell her truthfully what she could not discern for herself. Feeling the cold palm of dread stroke his own heart, he closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force, uncertain of what he would do if life no longer dwelt within his precious wife's womb.
The pounding pulse that resonated so deafeningly throughout his being began to slow; his heart steadying itself as the apprehension that had fueled it disappeared, only to be replaced by an awe and joy that he had never before experienced; that warmed him to his core and caused him to laugh aloud in exaltation; in gratefulness - in relief.
Beneath Padmé's racing heart he had felt not one life, but two.
Senator Amidala's starship and Anakin's much smaller driod-piloted fighter were parked side by side, stationed far enough from the dwelling to prevent disturbing its occupants, but close enough as not to inconvenience Padmé in her delicate state. He had been insistent that they leave Coruscant immediately, and so he had placed R-2 in control of his starfighter, and had personally piloted the larger ship to the only place he could even begin to associate the idea of safety with.
And so, Anakin trudged alone through the warm twilight, the sandy topography of Tatooine beckoning countless memories of his childhood to resurface in his mind. Quelling them for the time being, Anakin begrudgingly continued onwards towards the door before him, knocking heavily upon it, still questioning his judgement in coming to this place as he waited.
"Beru," he sighed gently as he greeted the obviously surprised young woman as she answered his beckoning. "I regret to impose upon you so unexpectedly."
"It's no imposition, Master Jedi," she stammered, her eyes lowered. She was frightened to realize that she found the Anakin standing before her intimidating; his silhouette, illuminated by the small lights that brightened the entryway, appeared towering, and his tone was formal, determined - curt. His billowing robes fell about him majestically, his arms folded across his chest and hidden within the deep folds of the fabric - his lightsaber hilt gleamed dangerously in the dim luminescence. He appeared positively formidable, and she couldn't bring herself to suppress the effect he was having upon her.
He grasped her hands in desperation as she stepped slightly beyond the door. "Anakin, Beru. My name is Anakin. Please; call me as such." Little did she know that somehow, he did not feel much like a Jedi at the moment. Perhaps he hadn't ever felt truly like a Jedi… not recently, at least.
"Anakin," she muttered, staring up at him questioningly as she opened the door further and ushered him inside. "Owen," she called softly into the adjoining living area, and moments later the younger Lars emerged into the foyer space.
"Owen, I apologize for the late hour," Anakin spoke quietly; almost timidly. He had not wanted to come here; had not wished to depend upon their kindness, or count upon their assistance. He had seen neither of them since the death of his mother; a tragedy that still weighed heavily upon his soul; and even then he had not interacted positively with the only legal relations he was left claim to in this world. His family was comprised of his wife - and the children she carried - and his Master. But these people? What did they mean to him? What could he ask of them?
He quelled his uncertainty with a much stronger sense of resolve. He could ask them to protect the woman who meant the world to him; was more precious to him than his own life; the woman who was his everything. He could ask them to protect his unborn children. He could ask this, because of the love he felt when he thought of Padmé, and because of the warmth the thought of being a father brought to him. He could ask this.
"I've come to ask for your help," he voiced, more assuredly. Owen glanced strangely at him, and Anakin felt a flash of agitation that was only intensified by the embarrassment that was threatening to cause him to turn back to the ship without another word to the couple in front of him. 'No,' he admonished himself, forcing the negative emotions down and focusing on the present - on what needed to be done.
He paused and turned momentarily, sensing Padmé's approach, accompanied by the rather bothered C-3PO, who was currently fussing over 'Miss Padmé's condition in this objectionable climate.' Anakin almost grinned at the protocol droid's fretting, but under the circumstances instead maintained a grim expression of resolution. He faced Owen and Beru once more as he awaited his wife's arrival.
"I've come to ask you to watch over my wife, Padmé," he said softly, curling his arm about her back and resting his hand on her pronounced stomach as she came to stand beside him. He glanced down tenderly at her, and she looked upon him with a combination of adoration and fear. He kissed her gently on the cheek, continuing to pull her ever so slightly into his embrace. He again focused his attention on the Lars'.
"Circumstances have come to require my presence elsewhere. The danger involved is such that I refuse to allow Padmé to endanger herself by accompanying me, let alone in her condition. When I thought of her safety, I could think only of here, and of your kindness and hospitality to us when last we stayed. I ask you, please, to watch over my wife and the children she bears, until I may return to her. I ask you this as a brother." He paused, uncomfortable with having displayed such weakness. If he could not even protect his own family, what kind of a man was he? Anger began to swell in him as he contemplated this shortcoming. But it was her protection that was at hand now, and he halted it, determined to confront it later. But not now. His mind again turned to Owen and Beru, who remained silent before him. Disposing of any outward semblance of stability, he whispered somewhat brokenly,
"Please. I am desperate. I cannot bear to lose her." And then even softer, with an edge of formidable passion: "I will not."
"We'll watch over her, Anakin," Owen answered finally. "Did you really think we wouldn't?"
"Of course we will," Beru interjected, stepping forward to take Padmé's hands in her own, leading her just inside the entryway and removing her own shawl to cover the pregnant woman's shoulder's.
Anakin stood still, watching his wife retreat beyond the door. Was it so simple? They would simply do for her what they could, without requiring something in return; without demanding compensation as a condition? Padmé did this, for she was his angel, and the most compassionate woman he knew. Obi-Wan did this, for he was a Jedi wiser and more selfless than any Anakin had ever encountered, though he had never admitted this to his former Master. And yet, Owen and Beru had no obligation to him; owed him nothing as a result of lifestyle or personal attachments. They were not blood; they could deny him now that his mother was gone. And yet they hadn't. It was somewhat amazing for him to consider.
"Thank you," were the only words he could manage as he followed them into their home; he could only linger a short time, and that would have to be enough.
Obi-Wan was not fully aware of the span of time he had spent unconscious, but he was certain that his surroundings had changed drastically while he had been unaware. He was now properly restrained, and it appeared he was being held above the ground - perhaps to be transported? He couldn't tell for certain. Yet, his assessments became entirely unimportant as he recognized the dark form that stood before him, and everything began to fall into place.
"Palpatine," he spat viciously at the Sith lord. "You vermin. You will not get away with this! The Jedi Order never trusted you, and now they have proof of your treachery!" He shook with open defiance, tugging ferociously at his restraints as he attempted to free himself not only of the cuffs about his wrists, but the grasp of his captors: two particularly formidable clones that somehow seemed much more towering than any he had previously worked with. With a mysterious nod from the black-cloaked Sith before them, they dropped the Jedi to the icy floor, allowing him to fall heavily in an undignified heap, his head whipping painfully onto the cold ground. Obi-Wan stifled a moan as he struggled to regain his footing, only to be crippled by a powerful Force-blow at the knees, sending him tumbling downward once more.
"Hold your tongue, Jedi," Sidious sneered derisively. "In all actuality, I have already 'gotten away with this,' as you so put it. I have the Clone Army at my command, I have the Senate under my influence, I have you, who I will dispose of soon enough. And I have my apprentice en route, who will be named officially so upon his arrival," Sidious smirked secretively, bating the Jedi Master bound before him.
Obi-Wan tried to remain passive, but he sensed something amiss in the Chancellor's words. "Your apprentice?"
"Oh yes," Palpatine replied with a mock regret that smacked of sarcasm. "I do believe you know him; yes… in fact, if I'm not mistaken, you're very intimately acquainted with him. A certain Anakin Skywalker?" He finished in askance, reveling in the Jedi Master's reaction.
It was shock that first laced the Jedi's usually stoic features; the words that had just been uttered had a jaw-dropping quality that effectively rendered Obi-Wan speechless. Then denial; Anakin would not; could not do such a thing! But as he reached out with the Force, he realized it to be true. And with that comprehension descended a blanket of sorrow upon his mind; an ebony snowfall that shrouded all light from his consciousness; a crystal cloudburst; each infinitesimal shard of glass drawing a delicate web of crimson upon his heart and soul, permeating his being with an anguish that nearly broke him instantly. He fought back a terrible sob, forcing it to retreat along with the tears that stung the back of his eyes. He would not give the monstrous agent of the Dark Side that stood before him the satisfaction of witnessing his grief.
Yet there was no rage, nor anger; nor hatred as he contemplated this turn of events.
Never hatred.
Only remorse; only suffering - regret.
Only love.
Slowly, he began to reign in his emotions. He could not allow them to distract him as he sought his goal. He could not submit to the pain and misery that was threatening to engulf him - the impending force that was waiting to swallow him whole. No - he must continue. He must not falter. He must not fail.
Not again.
And as he turned a blank expression towards Palpatine once again, the resolve and determination that burned within the young Master at his feet was unwavering, and his intentions unmistakable. He was met with an almost cautious nod from the enemy that loomed above him; an acquiescence in the nature of a final lenience shown to a dying man.
"As much as I would have appreciated facing you on equal footing, Master Kenobi, I'm afraid that I will have to forego such a pleasure. Defeating you in a fair fight is something I would have enjoyed immensely, yet I am a man of duty, much like yourself, and know that my personal indulgences are not foremost in many circumstances." The Sith Lord removed Obi-Wan's shackles, which he noted were now much more customary, with a wave of his hand, and immediately his futile attempts at resistance were no longer required. He stood slowly - purposefully - and was caught off-guard as he faltered with dizziness.
"The sedative administered to you seems to be much more powerful than most," Sidious informed him with a barely concealed, highly sadistic delight. "I sincerely doubt that you'll meet your end at the height of your abilities, at any rate."
Obi-Wan reached out to steady himself with the Force, but it seemed that the drug that violated his bloodstream had been specially formulated to target motor function - while he could think most clearly, his body was no longer his own. His movements were sluggish and unfocused, and he could barely place one foot in front of the other. He had sensed the metal hilt hurtling through he air towards him, and yet he was unable to place his hand within its path fast enough, and his lightsaber impacted his chest most excruciatingly. Palpatine's deranged laughter could be heard as Obi-Wan tried to regain some sense of balance while overcoming the physical discomfort that the impact had caused.
"I would not want to battle an unarmed prisoner. To execute one in such a manner is against the 'Jedi way,' is it not?" he grinned as he repeated Anakin's own self-recriminations after killing Count Douku. "Pick it up," the Chancellor demanded, "and we shall finish this properly."
Obi-Wan bent cautiously to retrieve his weapon, and yet it seemed that holding it was almost too much to ask of his dazed limbs. The lightsaber felt unnaturally heavy in his hands, and as he called upon the blade of azure to defend him, he knew that holding it steady would be a challenge, and in so fighting with it was entirely out of the question. Shortly after Sidious had engaged his own lightsaber, the blinding shaft of light that illuminated Obi-Wan's disintegrated as the hilt fell from his useless fingers. The Sith Lord chuckled insanely for a moment, the action more of a bark than a laugh.
"It is high time that you found your place, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Time for you to fall into the fire, where all manner of failures burn in their guilt and their shortcomings. There is no one left to save you now, and the luck that has acted as your savior until this point has finally abandoned you. You are not strong enough to save yourself, nor anyone else. You are worthless. You do not deserve to live. In the simplest terms, you are a Jedi - and I've no use for such filth." With that, he dropped his ruby-hued blade and reached his single palm outward, wracking Obi-Wan's body with the evil jolts of electricity that he had used previously to subdue Anakin - yet with much more intensity. He watched as the Jedi writhed in agony for a long moment, pausing when his victim appeared completely despondent. Without hope, there was nothing to rob his prey of - nothing to glean from his torture. To stop the torment for even the shortest time was to restore even the smallest shred of optimism, and that was all he needed.
Believing that he had waited long enough, the Sith began to toss his prisoner with the Force, allowing him to impact one side of the chamber with such momentum that he was thrown back to the other with similar speed. With each collision the crack of bones resonated on the heels of the nearly inaudible groans coming from the now entirely incapacitated Obi-Wan, and as he teetered on the brink of consciousness, flirting ever so gently with the release of catalepsy, his groans faded into grunts of protest, and eventually into nothingness. It was at this point that Palpatine recognized that the end was near.
"It is time for you to die, Master Kenobi," Palpatine stared down at the trembling form of the great Jedi, his skin bruised in numerous welts about his body, small rivulets of blood beginning to spring from the countless wounds that marred his flesh. Obi-Wan gathered his last reserve of strength to meet his captor's eyes, knowing that those fiery orbs, swirling so with hatred and power-lust, would most likely be the last sight he would ever see. After everything, he had truly failed.
With that final thought, Darth Sidious plunged him into an entirely new world of pain, and he knew no more.
"Set a course for Utapau, R-2," Anakin ordered as he took the pilot's seat and began a rapid pre-flight check. As far was he knew, that was where his Master was reported to have been stationed last. And his Master was the only one left that he felt he could trust without question. Now all he had to do was hope that Obi-Wan would still help him once he found out about Padmé and the twins. "We're going to find Obi-Wan. And then, we're going to end this war."
He turned to the controls, inspecting the readouts provided therein, ensuring that they were ready to make the jump into hyperspace. Offhandedly, Anakin noted that he appeared to have received a transmission while still off-ship on Tatooine. With the press of a button, he retrieved it, giving birth to the blurry image of a sinister-looking figure robed in black; the distorted facial features of Darth Sidious only barely visible beneath his drawn hood. With an imperceptible shudder, Anakin listened to the message.
"You have eluded me, Anakin Skywalker," the recording spoke ominously. "You have fended me off, bested my intentions, and thwarted my plans. I do not take kindly to such insubordination, such disrespect." The hologram of the Sith Lord drew in a deep breath with an appalling hiss before continuing. "Against my better judgement, I offer you an option. You may redeem yourself by altering your course to Mustafar immediately, and upon your arrival pledging your allegiance to me, to my Galactic Empire, and assuming the identity of Darth Vader, my obedient apprentice." His voice became paternal, encouraging. "Join me. Utilize my knowledge to save you wife. She will die, Anakin; only your strength can save her - but only if you assert it in the right place. The Jedi cannot help you; they do not approve of attachments such as those you have formed with Padmé. They frown upon them; will look to break them at any cost. I do not wish to see you separated from her. Apply yourself; you can protect her, but only through me." His voice again grew harsh. "Refuse me again, and you will be targeted and hunted along with any other surviving Jedi as the animals they have proven themselves to be. Persecuted as the enemies of the Republic you are. Consider carefully, young Skywalker, but know that your time is wearing thin as my patience is further tried. Know that, and be mindful."
Anakin felt the familiar fear that resided within him began to once again take on a life of its own. It had lay dormant for a time, and for that he was grateful - it had allowed him to commit himself to the tasks at hand without distraction. But now it was returning with a vengeance; with a fervency that it had never before reached. It brought along with it a full-fledged wave of darkness, hatred, corruption, and the worst brand of suffering that he had ever known. A suffering that was borne of frustration, guilt, uncertainty, and absolute helplessness. A suffering that wore away at his very soul.
He became increasingly angry; angry with the Jedi council, for denying and humiliating him, and for forbidding him to love. At Mace Windu, for forcing him to turn on Palpatine in the first place, and placing him in the position he was in now. Anger at Padmé, for questioning his loyalties, his decisions - all of which were made with her best interests in mind. Anger at Obi-Wan, for stifling his potential, for not caring for him; not loving him as Anakin had so often yearned to be loved. Anger at himself for being so foolish to even consider that there was another way - another path besides the Darkness that would lead him to the knowledge with which he could save his beloved; for even entertaining the idea that there was an alternative to the Dark Side. It was folly, he began to realize. He had almost lost Padmé once, at the hands of either the Sith or the Jedi. And yet it was not the Jedi who were offering to help him now; offering to guide him. It was, instead, the Jedi who disapproved so strongly of his relationship in the first place. And while he still harbored reservations, it become most clear to him what needed to be done. He had whisked her away to safety; but how long would it last? It would not take a great effort from either of his prospective enemies to find her; to find them; and then it would matter not if she survived childbirth. No; if he wanted his wife to live, there were certain sacrifices that needed to be made. And he was more than willing to make them.
"R-2," Anakin's voice held a harsh edge as he addressed the astromech again, "Change course for the Mustafar system. There's been a change of plans."
Admiring his handiwork, Darth Sidious felt rather fulfilled. One of the most highly respected and well-trained Jedi lay motionless at his feet; he could not recover. He would not. Finally, he had disposed of the Jedi order; but more importantly, he had brought about the demise of the most meddling and troublesome of them all - the great and powerful Obi-Wan Kenobi. One of those well-bred peace keepers who lived in the ways of the light-side of the Force, epitomizing the selfless ways of the Jedi code; and such an idol had been proven as merely a man, now lying broken at the Sith Lord's feet.
It was a joyous occasion.
"Commanders," he beckoned to the Clones standing watch at the entrance of the conference room, and they obeyed his call quickly and without question. "Take him away; preferably near the landing strips. Perhaps luck will favor us, and he'll be incinerated. Or mistaken for trash by the waste receptacle transports."
The acquiescent "Yes, my lord" that ensued sealed his satisfaction.
"R-2," Anakin alerted the droid as he disabled the starfighter's Auto-Pilot and deftly convert the mechanisms to Manual. "Locate the nearest suitable landing field to these coordinates." He entered a series of digits into a nearby keypad for the astromech to interpret - the location indicated in Palpatine's transmission - before turning back to the controls. Steadily descending through the ashen atmosphere of the Outer Rim planet, he was greeted by a dismally macabre sight - the glowing crimson, copper, and gold terrain of Mustafar was sneering up at him, glowering with knowing satisfaction; gloating more deeply as he approached and subsequently succumbed to his fate as a Sith.
As he neared the landing strip R-2 had set course for, the craft removed itself from its current route, gaining altitude without indication from its pilot. Whirling about wildly, Anakin quickly assessed his surroundings, eyes scanning rapidly over the manual controls, the digital readouts, the technological reports, and the mechanical broadcasts. Nothing was malfunctioning, and yet he could not regain control.
"R-2, disengage the auto-pilot. You'll overshoot the landing if you don't recommence descent," Anakin's voice sounded through the cockpit. A series of whirs and beeps followed, and he quickly moved to read the interpretation.
"What do you mean, you're looking for a more suitable landing field? This one will do fine."
A melody of sharp tones emitted from the droid.
"I don't care what the transmission you picked up said; the Clone Troopers pose no threat to us. Don't worry." More beeps, most of which proved to sound rather frustrated.
"We need to touch down there, R-2," Anakin stated simply, his patience wearing thin. "I don't care what they 'disposed' of down there; nothing about it concerns us. Now take us down."
Little did he know that it would concern him more than he could imagine.
He knew before he reached the body.
Before he recognized the mangled lightsaber hilt strewn to the side; before he saw the ginger head of hair caked with blood - he knew whom it was that lay before him, lifeless, on the obsidian ground. And it wracked his soul with a guilt; a pain and grief that could only be described as tragic. Rushing forward and falling to his knees before the motionless figure, his heart hammered excruciatingly against his chest as his breathing hitched; tears streaming unchecked down his cheeks as he choked out the only word he could.
"Master?"
He brushed away the crimson-stained locks that obscured Obi-Wan's face, gently caressing the unnaturally cool flesh of his cheek amidst the flaming terrain. He passed his fingers tentatively above his former Master's mouth, hand hovering just above his lips, yet he could not discern whether the barely-perceptible movement of air was Obi-Wan's blessed breath or a shift in the occasional warm breeze that wafted from the lava pits. Or perhaps it was simply a product of his frantic mental state.
Desperate, he reached out with the Force, searching wildly for a sign. Distracted as he was, however, his grasp on the light side of the Force was weak; not astonishing given his serious contemplations - perhaps even intentions - of surrendering his soul to the Dark Side; and therefore he couldn't seem to sense anything clearly, let alone his Master's force-signature. Corruption and deceit called out to him, seducing him to believe the worst and cultivate his anger; to execute his malevolent response, and he was grievously tempted. Without Obi-Wan to speak the voice of reason; without Obi-Wan there; he was lost, and left to his own devices, he was entirely susceptible to the darkness that threatened to consume him.
He thought back to all of the anger that he had recently associated with his Master, and instantly he was overwhelmed with a wave of impenetrable guilt. How could he have thought such resentful things? And now, it seemed too late for redemption. Too late for guidance and appreciation, and devotion. Too late for him to unveil the emotions and sentiments he had so often longed to, and yet his pride had bid him to shield.
It appeared to be far too late for all that.
But it was not too late to avenge the man he so cared for. Not too late to be certain that the person he considered his brother, his best friend, his teacher, his father, had not suffered in vain.
He had not expected the drastic shift in the Force as he recognized Skywalker's presence approaching. The young man walked silently towards his conference chamber, his boots clicking metallically as he neared the secluded room. He entered momentarily, the form of Obi-Wan Kenobi hanging rather awkwardly in the crux of his interlocked arms.
"Anakin; I knew you would make the right decision."
He smiled shrewdly; he had foreseen this; it was why he had addressed the rouge Jedi before him with such familiarity; with something almost like pride. For he knew why Anakin had come. He knew beyond any shred of doubt that the boy had arrived to pledge his allegiance to the Empire. He was confident in this as he watched the young man carry his fallen former comrade - his former Master. The irony was absolutely exquisite, and Darth Sidious reveled in the hatred that continued to burn in the young man's eyes. That continued to course through his veins with his lifeblood. That drove him to fulfil his destiny.
He rose from his elevated seat, moving to meet his new apprentice where he had paused in the doorway. His eyes were fixed upon the man he held, and Sidious sensed a wave of very strong emotion pass through Anakin's consciousness as he did so. The nature of the emotion he could not quiet place, but it's intensity was enough. For such passion, such fervor - such power was very rarely used for good. Hate was the only emotion that Sidious had ever known to be felt with such force and vigor.
"The right decision?" came the almost maniacally hypothetical reply. "Indeed." The hint of madness in his tone and manner dissipated instantly.
Sidious had barely a moment to think before the lance of sapphire light came hurtling towards his neck, and his own lightsaber had only just reached his hand as his head was detached from his body. He had blindly trusted in this boy - his faith in young Skywalker had never wavered, despite the hesitation he had displayed. He had portents of the greatness Anakin would achieve; the marvelous deeds of Lord Vader had permeated his visions since the day he met the boy at the tender age of nine. He had known that he would join him. That his loyalties would shift without a second thought; that he would unite with him without skepticism.
He had been mistaken.
He had thought that Anakin was enraged enough - felt betrayed enough - to resent his Master, to revel in Obi-Wan's broken body and spirit as he found it, forsaken as the lapping rivers of flame reflected brightly off of his split blood. He had thought that the boy was far enough gone to relinquish all attachment to those in his former life. He was wrong; Anakin had still questioned his path, somehow… in some way. And in that doubt, he had been swayed by the compassion and tenderness that he had been raised with; that he had been taught to exercise in all situations.
And he had mistaken that overwhelming emotion that had so absorbed Anakin Skywalker only moments before for uncompromising antipathy.
It had, in fact, been love.