Obi-wan and Anakin had somehow ended up out in the hallway. Anakin had somehow gotten hold of a broom. He held it like a lightsaber, stance perfect despite the alcohol he'd ingested.

"On guard," he challenged.

"Oh, Anakin, no."

But Anakin struck out, and Obi-wan dodged on instinct. With an intense look of concentration, Anakin continued in his attempt to land a blow. Obi-wan had no weapon, but he was fast and Anakin had thus far been unsuccessful. He jumped over, then dodged under so close that the handle of the broom brushed through the tip of his beard. He danced around Anakin on the balls of his feet.

"You're going to get tired of this eventually," said Obi-wan. "I say quit while you're ahead."

The sparring stopped momentarily as the two men circled each other. Some bystanders were watching, cheering them on. There was an artistic way to how the two Jedi moved, like they were dancing.

"How about this?" Anakin asked. "I hit you and you have to take one of those flaming shots with me."

"I already said no. If I get any drunker who will stop the three of you from doing anything stupid."

Anakin's only response was to swing the broom at Obi-wan's chest. Startled, the Jedi master jumped back just in time.

"Don't lose your focus," Anakin teased.

Back in the canteen, Padme was engaging in civilized conversation with several nice woman she'd met. Rex had just wandered over to the bar. He was less of a lightweight than the two Jedi as he drank more regularly. The 501st would go out together whenever they were on leave. He'd just sat down and was waiting for the bartender to make his way over, when Rel sat down next to him.

He was dark skinned, and the curling tattoos which covered his face and shaved head came in both white and black. They altered his appearance to such an extent that he looked barely human.

"I thought I recognized your face," he said, and Rex stiffened. "Now I'm sure. You're a clone, aren't you?"

"I've gotten that before, but no."

"Oh, come on," Rel rolled his eyes. "Do I look like the sort to turn you over to the Republic?"

"So what if I am, then?" Rex conceded.

"It's just curious, what you're trying to do. Did they mess up with our programming or something?"

Rex didn't dignify that with a response.

"Who are they, those people you're traveling with?" Rel pushed. "Do they know?"

"Of course. They're my family."

Rel laughed, and Rex's self-control began slipping. "That's so adorable. You think you're a person."

It wasn't so much of a conscious decision as an automatic response. Rex punched Rel square in the face.

Suddenly the canteen was in an uproar. Rex didn't have time to look around for his companions, because Rel was coming back at him. He went for his face, and Rex easily caught his wrist. When the tattooed man swung his other arm around, Rex caught this as well. Before he could shove Rel away from him a knee buried itself in his gut. As Rex stumbled backwards, doubled over, a square kick to the shoulder send him crashing to the ground.

Rex rolled easily to the side, as Rel went to kick him. Deciding to end this quickly Rex grabbed one of his blasters. He was drunk, but he knew his aim would be true.

"So we're going there are we?" Rel asked, drawing his blaster as well. "Leave it to a clone not to fight like a man."

Getting to his feet, Rex took the bait. He flung both his blasters to the side, beckoning at Rel to come at him.

The man feigned surprise. "What an idiot," he taunted. "Now there's nothing stopping me from blowing your brains out."

Rex tackled him, slamming Rel against the bar. They grappled for control of the weapon, and a blast was sent off inadvertently, denting the metal ceiling. Rex squeezed Rel's wrist, and he was forced to release the blaster. It clattered to the floor behind the bar.

"Stand and fight me like a clone," Rex hissed, punching Rel in the face.

That was when the fight sped up. Rex was a highly trained combat veteran, but Rel was obviously no stranger to a fight either. What he was doing on a refugee ship was unknown, but it was obvious he'd done something in his past which would have required combat: like a smuggler or even a bounty hunter.

They blocked each other's blows, barely ever landing a hit. The whole canteen was watching. There were cheers and shouts, mostly in Rex's favour. As Rel swung for his face again, Rex dropped low and drove an elbow into his gut. Then he uppercut, fist connecting with the soft skin under his chin. Rel's head snapped back, and he crumpled to the ground. Rex put a foot on his chest, smiling down smugly.

There were cheers from the patrons as they had been putting up with the troublemakers all night.

"Look out!" someone yelled, but it was too late.

Ztherr had stepped out of the crowd, striking Rex in the back. He wore what had appeared to be a normal black glove, but when his hand touched Rex's back it delivered a stored electrical charge. The clone's body convulsed, dropping to the floor. There were boos from the crowed, but Ztherr brandished his blaster, barring his fangs at them. The glove could only store enough energy for one use. It would be unusable until it was recharged.

Anakin had entered the room about a minute before the end of the fight. Up to this point, he had been watching proudly, not interfering as he knew Rex would want to finish what he'd started. After the dirty move the trandoshan had just pulled, however, he knew even Obi-wan couldn't say intervention wasn't necessary. He was drunk, running on adrenaline and bravado. Silently, he thanked Rex for giving him a reason.

Ztherr had caught Rex's falling body in a headlock. Though he was already unconscious, Rel punched him in the stomach as he got to his feet. The human man's eyes widened as Anakin stepped forward into the circle which had formed around the combatants.

Before either could react Anakin went for the hand of Ztherr's which held the blaster. Pointing it forcibly towards the ceiling, he punched him in the face. The metal of his hand collided with Ztherr's scaly snout, and he went down. The blaster clattered to the floor, and Anakin kicked it away. No simple punch could have broken the trandoshan's tough hide, but when Ztherr looked up his face was marred with blood.

"You've made a mistake," Anakin hissed, only to have the words knocked right out of his mouth.

Ztherr had not stayed down as long as he'd expected. Instead he'd charged, head colliding with Anakin's chest. Anakin slid backwards across the floor—the crowd breaking hurriedly to let them pass—until he was slammed hard against the wall. This was going to be more difficult than he'd expected, but Anakin wasn't fazed.

Grabbing a good hold of Ztherr's shoulders he flipped him, slamming the trandoshan against the ground, looking up just in time to dodge the punch Rel flung at him. Smoothly he slid under the man's arm, driving an elbow into his gut then slamming his metal fist backwards into his face. Rel stumbled back, face now bloody as well. From the ground Ztherr grabbed his leg, and suddenly Anakin's face was making hard contact with the metal floor. He rolled to the side, Ztherr's clawed foot slamming down where he'd been seconds before.

Anakin wanted more than anything to unsheathe the lightsaber which was hidden strapped to his back, but even drunk he was not that stupid. Jumping nimbly to his feet he high-kicked Ztherr in the neck, at the same time blocking Rel's attack from the other side. Grabbing hold of both Rel's arms, he threw him as hard as he could, using the momentum to put more distance between himself and Ztherr.

As a human, Anakin did not naturally have this kind of strength. What enabled him to lift the larger man, or even the trandoshan was a subtle use of the force. It was a technique he had never been required to use before, and he was inventing and refining it as he fought. He worked on infusing small force pushes into his blows. If he was doing this right then no one in the room should be able to tell, aside for Obi-wan of course. Anakin knew he'd entered the room after he'd already engaged in the fight. His master either thought he could handle it, or was waiting until he truly needed help to teach him a lesson. It would be the first, he would insure that.

He'd been so involved in fighting Ztherr—who was a highly skilled brawler—he'd almost completely stopped paying attention to Rel. A minute or so earlier he'd delivered a few direct punches to the human's face, and it had appeared he had gone down for good.

It was the force that warned him. Rel had picked one of Rex's blasters off of the ground. At the same moment that he pulled the trigger Anakin jumped to the side, sliding over the top of the bar. As he dropped to the floor behind it, the shot missed his head by only centimeters.

He was cornered. Use of the force had pushed most of the alcohol from his system and he realized now that Obi-wan had been right. This was a mistake. It had escalated too quickly. He could not utilize his entire skillset without revealing them, and a full on firefight was a bad idea with the number of civilians packed together so tightly. All the same, he crawled towards where Rel had dropped his gun.

Suddenly there was the sound of blaster fire ricocheting off of the metal ceiling.

"Enough!" someone barked.

Cautiously, gun clutched in hand, Anakin peered over the top of the bar. The bartender stood in the doorway, with him several of the ship's crew. They all carried large blasters. Behind them was Obi-wan.

"I am the captain of this ship," boomed a grey haired man with an impressive beard, "and this is the one and only warning I will be giving. Any more fighting of any kind will result in those involved being left on Cafra. You are on my ship, and if you wish to reach Korono you will follow my rules."

Ztherr and Rel were steaming, but Anakin could sense he was safe. Standing up, he placed Rel's gun on the bar.

"Trade back?" he asked. "I know my cousin is rather partial to that blaster."

He could see how close Rel was to shooting him, and tensed in case he'd misjudged the situation. Ztherr leaned in, whispering something in his partner's ear. With a grunt of frustration, Rel slammed the pistol down on the bar, grabbing his own weapon before heading for the door. The pair shoved disrespectfully past the crew, disappearing into the bowls of the ship.

"Sorry about the mess," Anakin apologized to the bartender sheepishly, looking behind him at the shattered wall of bottles.

"I'm not going to lie and say those two weren't asking for it," the man grunted. "But I know your type: headstrong, looking for a fight. You're as much trouble as they are."

To that, there was nothing Anakin could say. On the floor, Rex was coming to. Before going to him Anakin left some credits on the bar. The bartender was right. He'd been looking for a fight, and for that he felt shame.

"How you feeling?" Anakin asked, offering Rex his hand.

The captain's only response was a grunt, but he accepted the help getting to his feet.

Suddenly Padme was beside them as well. "Are you two alright?" her voice was heavy with worry, and Anakin's guilt only increased.

"Don't worry about us," Rex scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "We're just a couple of soldiers who don't know how to stop fighting." He looked at Anakin. "Isn't that right?"

The following conversation with Obi-wan was rather uncomfortable for both the clone and his general. Thankfully the master was still drunk, and his attitude was more unsurprised than outright reprimanding. Rex attempted to absolve Anakin of blame, explaining he had started the fight, though it was mostly unsuccessful.

"We got lucky," Obi-wan said, "the force seems to have been on our side tonight, but this sort of thing can't happen again."

There were no arguments from anyone.

The man who Ztherr and Rel and tripped earlier that night bought them a pitcher of dreg with a few other bystanders, which they accepted grudgingly. The mood was less lighthearted now but they sat and talked as they drank, not wishing to leave an overall pleasant night on such a bad note.

Padme carried the conversation which stayed mostly on the interesting characters who dwelt in and around the galactic senate. The pitcher was nearing empty when she began to feel sick to her stomach. She did not think she would throw up, but the room was certainly spinning a little, and the previously pleasing music was starting to hurt her head. The boys just kept on drinking, and it had been her mistake to attempt to keep up.

"I think I'll head to bed," she said, attempting to get to her feet, stumbling a little and having to catch herself on the edge of the table.

"I think I better come with you," Anakin said, placing a stabilizing hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine, really," she protested, swaying slightly.

Her husband raised both eyebrows, and she grumbled quietly as he swung a supportive arm around her. Out in the hall, away from Obi-wan's watchful eye, she leaned her head against him.

"We should do this more often," she murmured, "go out, I mean. Go dancing, or something. Not in Galactic City, somewhere no one will know our faces, on the other side of the planet."

"I'd like that," he said, as they entered the elevator.

Once the doors closed firmly behind them, he pressed his lips to her, slamming her against the wall. Padme gasped, pulling him closer without thinking. Anakin was filled with alcohol and adrenaline left over from his fight. He kissed her hard and she clutched at the front of his robe, wanting more than anything not to have to pull away. But in this relationship one of them had to not be an idiot.

"Anakin!" she pulled away, breathless.

He'd moved to her neck, biting softly between kisses.

Suppressing a groan, Padme forced herself to speak. "Stop. Not here, not now." Hand on his chest, she moved him away from her gently.

"But I need you."

"And I you. That's why it's cruel that you force me to be the one to do this. It is you with everything to lose if we are discovered."

The elevator door slid open.

"You're too good for me," he said, "too understanding of this mess I've made of your life."

"You're the most exciting thing about my life," Padme admitted, "and I've been pursuing adventure for all of it."

Back in the bunk room, Padme produced a canteen of water from her pack. She chugged it before forcing it into Anakin's hands.

"Drink. I don't know if the galaxy could survive you with a hangover."

She passed out almost instantly, leaving Anakin turning restlessly in the bunk above her. He felt drunker now than he had downstairs, but could not quite collect the will to get up. He tried to focus on the force, but got bored. He watched her sleep for a while, her rhythmic breathing helping to calm him down. He wished he was sleeping beside her.

Eventually he managed to fall into a light sleep: one plagued with blurred snippets which could be called neither dreams nor nightmares. The day he'd met Ahsoka, her wide blue eyes staring up at him expectantly. The twisting alleys of what he now knew was Korono. Sparring with Obi-wan, advancing until he had his master pinned back against the wall. Kissing Padme, the desire he'd had to repress that evening manifesting in his dreams. Spearing Ztherr through the head, and feeling a deep, perverse pleasure. Ahsoka screaming. Screaming. Why was she screaming? Then the air was excruciatingly hot, stinking of sulfur, and he felt anger like nothing he'd felt before. He was drowning in it.

Anakin jerked awake, almost hitting his head on Obi-wan's bunk above him. He knew he had not been asleep long. For one, he was still clearly drunk. Sliding softly to the floor, as not to wake Padme, he had to take a few seconds to fully regain his balance. For a few seconds it had been sickening obvious that the ship was moving. Rex's form was visible above him in the fourth bunk. Obi-wan's still sat empty. So it appeared his master could not sleep either. Anakin set out to find him.

The level of their ship which housed their bunkroom was quiet and empty; most people asleep. The lower levels of the ship however, were just as busy as they had been earlier. Those from different parts of the planet and the first moon were on different sleep cycles.

He found Obi-wan on the lowest level. Starting at the canteen, Anakin had gone where the force took him until he'd ended up in an empty cargo hold. The main cargo of the ship was passengers but they had a few small rooms filled with mismatched crates containing force knew what.

Obi-wan sat on one of these crates, staring out a large window. His master had certainly found the best view. They were in a high orbit, as they headed for Cafra, Lyran stretching out far below them—a stunning collage of browns and deep greens. Lyran's star was visible, only about the size of Obi-wan's ear from this distance. It glowed hot blue, though it did little to stave off the blackness of space now that they were outside the atmosphere.

"What are you thinking about?" Anakin asked, as he approached.

Obi-wan shook his head. "Nothing."

"Don't lie, Master. You're drunk. The only reason you're not passed out right now is because your mind is racing."

Anakin took a seat beside Obi-wan, letting the silence stretch on as he took in the dance of the cosmic bodies.

"It was a rather pleasant evening. I didn't want it to end."

He studied Obi-wan's face, waiting for him to continue. He could sense that there was more to say, and say it Obi-wan did.

"I didn't want to think about the repercussions of what we've done, though it appear that's exactly what I have come here to do. Not facing my own mistakes, foregoing my responsibilities in lieu of a person crusade… At times like these I'm supposed to offer you wisdom, but all I can say tonight is do not act as I have."

"Too late," Anakin cracked a smile, "I'm here with you, aren't I?"

"It's not the same. You're not the only Jedi Knight to disobey the council from time to time. There are some who barely come back to the temple, who do not command the clone army. A Jedi is still a Jedi as long as their decisions are made from a place of peace, not emotion. Do not take that to mean I agree with such choices, but I respect the place from which they are made. As a member of the council my responsibilities are different."

"You regret coming, then?" Anakin asked.

"No. If I woke tomorrow to find this had been a vision I would make the same plea before the council as I did before."

"You're worried what will happen when we get back," Anakin realized, "what will happen while we're gone."

He was unused to seeing Obi-wan so unsure, and begged his jumbled mind to produce some form of comfort, or Jedi wisdom.

Thankfully, it appeared his master did not need his help. "A Jedi does not worry. We must trust in the force and focus on the path which has been laid before us. We must release things we cannot control."

Anakin stayed silent, knowing that Obi-wan needed to talk through it.

"Blast this drink," Obi-wan exclaimed. "I've realized this already tonight, several times. I keep thinking in circles."

"You've been awake too long, trapping yourself in your head," Anakin offered. "You need to quiet your mind, and if meditation isn't working sleep's the next best thing. Maybe another drink will help."

"Not the healthiest method of dealing with one's problems."

"That's not a no."

Ten minutes later they were sitting on the ground, back against the crate. Anakin had brought back a bottle of dreg. Lyran's blue star was high above them now, almost disappearing from the top of the window.

Obi-wan made a toast before he took his first sip. "To leaving this odd and endless night behind us."

They passed the bottle back and forth as they talked. Their relationship was different now than it had been when Anakin was a child. Anakin was no longer just a student to Obi-wan, or even a younger brother. He was his best friend. Sure they didn't always show it when they were sober, but they greatly enjoyed each other's company.

Obi-wan was complimenting Anakin on how he was with Ahsoka. Anakin was too shocked to interrupt him or brush aside the praise. Was this really how his master felt?

"To see how much she's grown," he stared wistfully out the window, off into space, "it's like watching you grow up all over again. You were good for each other…" he paused "and I know I've said it before, but what happened wasn't your fault."

Anakin didn't know what he was feeling. He felt warm from the liquor, and a little tired. Everything was catching up to him all at once. The last two days had been such a blur, and the dream… something about the dream.

"You know that, right Anakin?" Obi-wan asked, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"We should do this more often," Anakin said, changing the subject completely, "hang out, I mean. It seems we only see each other in battle, or when we're training for it."

Obi-wan was taken aback. Anakin wasn't acting like himself. Unsure how to react, he laughed softly.

"It's war time, I'm not sure there is much more to our lives anymore," he said, "but yes, I think I'd enjoy that."

Anakin took another deep swig from the bottle. Obi-wan had been so absorbed in himself he hadn't noticed until now, but there was something off about his former Padawan, just a slight quiver in the force. Anakin had been drinking much more heavily than he, and the bottle was almost empty though he'd had very little.

"Is there something bothering you?" he asked, "aside from the obvious, I mean."

"I thought we'd passed the therapy part of the night."

"I told you what was keeping me awake. Now it's your turn."

There was a long, drawn out pause. "I wasn't asleep long, but I had a dream. Not a vision, I don't think."

Obi-wan raised an eyebrow, and Anakin knew he could not get out of sharing. And maybe he wanted to. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he felt that tonight it would be a shoulder to lean on instead of a lecture he would get from his master.

"It was just drunken flashes," he said, "things that are weighing on my mind; nothing to worry about. I dreamed of Korono, and Ahsoka screaming. There was some random moments too: us sparring I think, and Padme…" he cut himself off. "But just was I was waking up, just for a few moments, I felt something."

There was a shift in the force as Anakin remembered, and it unnerved Obi-wan slightly.

"I don't want to say it was a vision. I didn't really see anything at all. It was clouded."

Obi-wan scratched his beard in concern. "Visions of the future can be clouded by the dark side. What did you feel?"

"It really was just a few seconds," Anakin insisted, almost fearful, "I don't know why I remember it at all." He massaged his temples, eyes scrunched closed. It looked as if he was in pain. "It was uncomfortably hot, and it smelled like sulfur and ash. I was so angry…"

He looked up and Obi-wan was trapped in his gaze. Why was he looking at him like that? For a moment it did not look like Anakin, as his hair fell forward into his eyes. Obi-wan could not continue this conversation. It was time to change the subject back to something else. What Anakin needed right now was to be distracted.

"So," he asked, "when you say we're going to start 'hanging out' I get the ominous feeling that means you plan on dragging me to some unpleasant corner of Coruscant's underbelly."

Just like that the moment had passed, and Anakin was smiling again, though there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. They talked of lighter things until both finally slipped into dreamless sleeps, passed out on the floor in a manner which was not at all elegant.

Obi-wan woke with a headache. He was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the cargo hold. Anakin's head rested on his stomach, lying perpendicular to him on his side. The young man breathed slowly, looking so at peace Obi-wan at first did not wish to wake him. What a mess the pair of them were. Regret washed over the Jedi master like a wave. He was not drinking again for a long time. He did not trust the judgment of the person he became.

Out of the window he could see Cafra looming, about the size of his head. They would be in orbit soon enough.

Suddenly the force flared, sending chills up his spine. Sitting up straight, he woke Anakin who grunted, clutching his head.

"Good—"

Obi-wan pushed a finger to his lips, conveying a warning through his eyes. It was clear that Anakin felt it too for he was suddenly on edge as well; listening. From their current position they could just barely hear a conversation coming through the wall from the next cargo hold. Whether they recognized the voices, or simply the way they felt, both Jedi automatically knew who it was.

Silently they crept to a grate in the wall, trying to catch some of the words.

"Help…" Making out a full sentence was near hopeless. "Kriff, Ztherr…"

"…so…?"

Above them another grate led up into the ventilation. Anakin moved it with the force, launching himself up into the crawl space. Not again, Obi-wan thought bitterly, before following.

As they crawled the voices became more distinct.

"A good hall, if I do say so myself." It was Rel's voice. "We'll be coming up on Cafra soon. Do you think we have the time to grab a few more?"

"If you hustle," Ztherr hissed, "get going before I decide to throw you in with the others."

Obi-wan and Anakin passed over a grate, seeing a cargo hold much like the one they'd slept in. Rel and Ztherr were standing beside a rather large crate. It opened on the side instead of the top, but they could not see inside from their angle.

"What's your issue?" Rel asked. "They job's gone perfect. We're going to be rich."

"You never should have picked a fight with that clone and his crazy friend. Nothing good is going to come of that, mark my words."

On the other side of the crate Obi-wan and Anakin found another hole through which to peer, and they finally saw what it was that Rel and Ztherr were stealing. Obi-wan felt Anakin's anger, red hot and choking. He grabbed a hold of his ankle, afraid that Anakin would go so far as to drop down through the grate and confront them.

The crate the pair of smugglers guarded was full of people. They were unconscious, obviously drugged, and stacked like cargo. It appeared that Rel and Ztherr were in the business of slavery. These were the people no one would miss, literally lost in translation. This was the perfect hunting ground for predators like these.

Twisting uncomfortably in the vent, Anakin met Obi-wan's eyes. It was time to get involved.