A/N: Torli: There's a little section in here you might enjoy. Probably not exactly what you had wanted but hopefully it satisfies just the same. And thanks to the rest of you for your kind words about the story and the video. It means a lot. It's your reviews that keep me going.

DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One.

STAR WARS: THE CLONE WARS

Episode 1A

Death's Shade

Chapter Four

Down the Rabbit Hole

Anakin stood to the side of the room, watching Barriss work on Obi-wan. It took time but eventually the convulsions ceased again and his breath evened out, still shallow and short, but not straining. Obi-wan's eyes were closed, his body limp against the sheets.

Barriss straightened, removing the healing crystal from the Jedi's chest. She looked wrung out, but she turned to Anakin. "He's sleeping now."

"His vision--?"

"Lost. Each passing second brings him closer to a casualty of war. His only hope is the antidote."

The young General nodded. He knew he should be elsewhere, helping in the hunt for Obi-wan's cure, but something was keeping him here. Perhaps it was fear that prevented Anakin from leaving, dread of this being the last time he'd see Obi-wan. That possibility never seemed so real. The same fear that he had experienced the night he saw his mother for the last time and felt her slowly slip from him, unable to do anything to keep her from dying. He felt tears prick at his eyes and swallowed hard. He released the fear into the Force; the danger of it leading to the dark side imminently real with the black thoughts that plagued him.

"I must rest," Barriss told him as she slipped past him out the door.

Barely hearing her, Anakin didn't move. It was as if he was waiting for something, but he didn't know what. Moving to stand closer to Obi-wan, he stared at the man who had for all intents and purposes been his father since he was nine years old. When the Jedi council granted Qui-gon's dying wish and made him Obi-wan's apprentice, Obi-wan had to be more than just a teacher to one so young. Under normal circumstances, all younglings were cared for as a clan at the temple, but because he was so far behind the studies of the Jedi, despite his body being inundated with the Force, he was placed in the care of Obi-wan. The newly Knighted Jedi literally raised Anakin, and became a substitute parent at a young age also. Anakin had always respected that, and yet railed against that also to some degree.

A small smile tugged at his lips. Memories surfaced of his numerous temper tantrums and, Obi-wan's exasperation of a headstrong child, untrained yet gifted beyond measure. There had been many times where Obi-wan's authority over him had gone beyond merely being a teacher/student lesson. Obi-wan had to learn to be a dedicated father overnight. Anakin wondered if the man had ever resented the responsibility that Qui-gon had forced upon him.

If he did, it never showed, and for that Anakin was grateful. It meant everything to him to have Obi-wan's respect. He longed to make his Master proud of him, to show he had learned everything Obi-wan had tried to teach him. Even when he had argued against the rules and Obi-wan's sound reasoning, he had been listening and learning. It had been a long journey, longer than most Master/Padawan journeys due to his young age, and so it was difficult to sever that bond even now.

The muscles in Obi-wan's hand twitched though he didn't open his eyes, only a low moan slipped through his lips. Anakin covered the hand with his own, squeezing gently, wanting the other man to know he was not alone.

"I won't let you down," he whispered. And with that he turned and headed for the bridge, desperate to find a solution before he lost his sole remaining parent.

As the door closed, Obi-wan muttered caught in the wake of some hellish dream. "Not alone…no more…. can't listen…." But there was no one to hear his plea.

***

The day went by all too quickly and with little accomplished in Anakin's mind. The Defender wasn't even moving. Just sitting dead in space. Waiting.

He hated waiting.

They had done what research they could from the depths of space, but the rest of the footwork was being done by others. Another thing Anakin hated, relying on others. At the start of the war it had taken an act of massive willpower to trust clones much less utter strangers, especially when so much was on the line. How hard would they push for the vital information? Did they understand what was at stake? How could they?

But it was foolish to try and make it back to the Core Worlds to do the legwork themselves. Precious time would be lost. Time Obi-wan didn't have. He understood that, but it didn't make it easier to swallow.

He hated waiting.

Thankfully, Jedi Knight Aayla Secura was on the planet Orron where the trail that started with Zoltara ended with a snitch named Barta. The intel had come from six different sources, all more impeccable than the last. Even Barta was someone the Jedi used often and paid well for his information, but one of them was the key; they had to be.

"Incoming transmission from Master Yoda, General," announced the deck officer.

Mace walked over to stand beside him as Anakin nodded for the lines of communication to open.

The wizened Jedi's form wavered into view. "Reached me Secura's report has and more dire news it is. Sadly, Barta is dead."

"What? How?" snapped Anakin. So much hope had been resting on this.

"Murdered. Many days ago."

"Prior to the intel?" Mace inquired.

Yoda nodded gravely.

"So someone impersonated Barta and related the intel so that it reached Zoltara Thalar and then the Jedi," Anakin reasoned.

"So it would seem." Mace folded his arms.

"Any clues on the body to indicate the murderer?

"Lightsaber his end was," replied Yoda.

"Ventress." Anakin fumed, swearing that he would kill the assassin one day and it would be a pleasure.

Mace regarded Anakin, almost as if he sensed the hatred rolling off him, but he directed his words at Master Yoda. "A simple computer program to mimic the deceased and the plan was set into motion."

"That leaves us with no direction, Master Yoda," Anakin retorted, desperate to get his mind back on track.

"For the moment the truth you speak. But there yet may be another direction to take. A great deal of chemicals someone amasses. Perhaps a trail is there. Till the trail is found where you are you must remain."

The transmission ended.

Anakin stood there, his fists clenched. "We can't just sit here," he ground out.

"And where would you suggest we go, Master Skywalker? Without a head, the body merely moves in circles."

Such words of wisdom only irritated Anakin. Patience always sounded like giving up. He had been all set to leap into action as soon as Yoda contacted them, but instead they were locked down yet again. And all the while, Obi-wan slipped further and further away. "We have to do something!"

"I intend to."

***

Captain Lock and Lieutenant Rex walked down the hallway of Defender toward the training room, a large bay designed to keep the fighting skills of its army in superlative shape. There were many of them in the ship; this one was designated strictly for officers. The clones were not surprised to hear the sounds of combat coming from within, but they were surprised to see General Skywalker in the midst of a feverish workout that included spins, flips, lightsaber slashes, performed mainly in midair. The Jedi alighted to the ground or wall or ceiling for only a second before bounding into the air once more to deal with remote drones designed to play the part of the enemy. They spun about him in a macabre dance.

The two clones paused in the hanger doorway and watched.

"Should we let him know we're here?" Rex asked his Captain.

"He knows. If he wants to talk to us he'll do so. Otherwise, we'll just move on and talk to him later."

Rex nodded. His Captain had a sure way of knowing everything. Rex only hoped he could garner a fraction of that knowledge himself someday soon. His gaze never left the General, mesmerized by the acrobatic motions and the flashing glow of his weapon as it deflected every stun bolt. The clones had no fear of one of the bolts heading their way. As Lock had said, General Skywalker knew they were here and he had complete control over where he was directing the bolts he deflected.

Rex felt sorry for the drones. The General was relentless and almost cruel. They stood no chance and fell to the ground in molten pieces. They were expensive pieces of equipment but at the moment that didn't seem to matter to the driven Jedi.

Eventually, Skywalker alighted with his eyes closed and with a wave of his hand shut down the simulation. The remaining intact drones sank lifeless to the floor around him. His face was damp with sweat but that was all. He wasn't blowing hard or hunched over with fatigue, though his face was locked tight into a grimace. Rex wasn't sure if it was pain or anger. He wondered how long the simulation had been going on. He had witnessed Jedi constitution out in the battlefield. They never seemed to tire. The Lieutenant wouldn't have been surprised to hear the General had been at this for hours.

Skywalker's glanced at the two clones, and for a moment Rex glimpsed wrenching emotion embedded deep like shrapnel in the man's eyes. He had never seen such despair and fury on a Jedi's face. They were always emotionless warriors, calm and serene even in battle. The Jedi's sudden humanity shook Rex to his core.

Then Skywalker turned away, straightened and when he looked back at them the pain passed from his features. He acknowledged them with a nod, deactivating his saber and securing it to his waist. "The room is yours, gentlemen." His voice was clipped and irate.

Lock shook his head. "Actually, General, we just wanted to talk to you about General Kenobi. The medcenter is off limits suddenly. We couldn't get in to see how he was doing."

Skywalker stiffened slightly. "There was a set back," he informed them tonelessly.

When the General didn't elaborate, the clones knew the man's condition was being closely guarded so idle gossip didn't make it to the enemy.

Lock sat down on some crates. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Skywalker didn't want to talk about this, shifting restlessly from one foot to the other, but then he stilled and took a seat also. Rex followed suit.

"Yes," the General told them. "We are no closer to finding a cure." His right fist encased in the heavy black glove tightened. Rex swore he heard the whine of machine gears. "All we hit are barriers and we're stuck here in the dead of space while--!" The rest of his words cut off abruptly as the man's throat tightened. The room echoed the sudden silence.

Picking up a cleaning cloth near him, Lock took out his blaster and began to wipe down the barrel. "Maybe we can go back aboard the factory, maybe we missed something."

"I feel the same way," Skywalker ground out; his hands gripped the edge of the metal crate he sat upon. "But General Windu has gone over with his squad to do just that."

Rex could feel the frustration coming off the Jedi in waves, battering them relentlessly. "Why weren't we called in? We're the best and General Kenobi is our commander!"

"It was felt that new eyes would see new things." It came out like gravel.

It was a slap in the face. Windu thought they had failed the first time.

Clearly General Skywalker didn't think much of the decision either. No wonder the man was in here working out like a madman, Rex thought. Right now, he wanted to do the same thing. Punch something, anything.

A groan of metal brought Rex's attention to Skywalker's hand. The crate beneath his right hand caved inward. The Lieutenant's eyes widened. The Jedi had bent the durasteel container with his bare hand. For a moment, such power terrified him.

Lock however remained calm and collected, methodically cleaning his weapon. He offered a new cloth to General Skywalker, nodding his head toward the lightsaber. It was a few seconds before Skywalker took it, but then he unhooked his saber and began wiping it clean of sweat and scorches.

After a moment of silence, Skywalker glanced at his Captain with an expression of thanks. The tense air stifling the room abated. Skywalker let out a deep sigh. "So tell me, Captain, why the moniker of Lock? What does it mean?" All clones now chose their own name above and beyond their clone designation.

Lock grinned wickedly and cocked the blaster with a resounding chachunk as the blaster purred to life, a whine building as the power cell activated. "Lock and load, sir." He held up his blaster. "This is Load."

A smile played around the edges of Skywalker's mouth. "You named your blaster?"

Lock pointed his hand toward the Jedi's weapon. "You haven't named that little beauty?"

Skywalker laughed quietly. "No."

"Maybe you should."

"Obi-wan would love that," Skywalker said. At that thought he sobered and another uncomfortable silence began.

"If you think we missed something, General, then we missed something," Rex finally said, hating the thought that the 501st was responsible for failing General Kenobi during this dark hour.

Skywalker regarded him sharply, blue eyes blazing. "This is not on you. If there were something on that factory, you would have found it. It's not there."

"Then where, sir?" Lock asked. "You just point us where you want us to go and we'll find it. You can trust us with this."

Skywalker nodded. "I do. And I will. The minute I know myself." He rose to his feet.

The two troopers rose with him and saluted.

Stay ready, boys," he told them.

"Yes sir!"

***

Anakin's resolve stirred as he left the training bay, overshadowing his anger at Master Windu's doubts. The young Jedi had absolute faith in his squad. There was nothing they had missed at the factory. But there was something. It skirted just outside of Anakin's consciousness. He could feel it, but he couldn't say what. It was just an indiscernible itch that crawled over his skin.

He had hoped that the workout would have made the elusive tendril of suspicion reveal itself, but it had not. It had merely burned off some of his lingering resentment and frustration over Master Windu's decision. He hadn't argued about it because he was desperate to try anything, but it still didn't quell the sense of failure that rose. The thought that a lapse could mean the end for Obi-wan sat no better with him than it did with Rex and Lock.

But he knew without a doubt that Master Windu would return empty handed. That factory held nothing more than shadows. It was as Master Yoda pointed out merely the trap, a cage meant to contain while Ventress carried out her orders. With her escape to who knows where, the trail ran as cold as death for Obi-wan.