The most difficult thing for me was learning to think through the emotions. All of my life, I had learned to accept my emotions and then to give them up before I made a decision. When that no longer became an option, I very suddenly found myself having to learn from scratch to think despite my emotions. It may have been the one area of my personality that actually improved after I fell.

The Clone War, as all wars throughout history, had created far more than its fair share of victims. Unlike other wars in recent times, the Jedi did not escape this. If anything, it was just the opposite. The centuries old Jedi Order, which had helped to bring about the peace that was now being systematically destroyed, would of course be at the forefront of every battle, fighting for harmony again…at least, that's what the news channels stated. After all, one of the many reasons why the Jedi were allowed the privileges they were was because of their neutral defense of peace. As protectors of the galaxy, they were expected to fight for that peace as well. Most Jedi agreed to this propaganda to some extent, but they also didn't see how keeping peace meant fighting and destroying. For the Jedi Order had indoctrinated a certain level of pacifism into its Jedi for longer than any current member had lived, and that was a hard thing to let go of.

Truthfully, destroying droids wasn't so bad. Slicing into Force-dead machinery and electronics would never be anything that really hung on any Jedi's conscious or made them question who their enemy was off the battlefield. The real problem was that Jedi were also losing comrades and civilians and the clones that supported them (who were alive in and of themselves—and thus to be cherished and protected).

Thus, almost from the beginning, the war had felt extremely one-sided to the Republic and many in the Order itself. The enemy leaders never had to relent or worry about the cost of lives as more than production numbers, whereas the Jedi had to deal with a near crippling level of loss not felt in generations. This caused them to find themselves, even if only in the deepest part of their hearts, truly caring for the Jedi lost to battle and the people underneath them coupled with a growing reluctance to lose anyone else.

It seemed there wasn't a week that went by without at least five new casualties among the Jedi Knights or Padawans. The Order may not have been encouraged to form attachments, but none could deny that that the holes those Jedi left at home were aching, gaping sores that many found difficult to deal with. Who would be the next person on the list of dead or missing? Or worse, as some of them whispered. A few Jedi that came home, driven to pain or cowardice by a loss that they had been unable to bear, had been forever changed—and not in any way positive. Far too many veterens disappeared into meditation chambers—refusing to surface—or had to be placed under heavy sedation with the Healers for their own good. Such situations were becoming far too common, and each Jedi's loss would only force another into the field, possibly never to be seen again.

And yet, not fighting seemed just as wrong to their mindset, because the Jedi were meant to protect—to help and support and keep other beings alive. If they pulled out of the war, no matter how much healing they needed, what then? Who would they be protecting? What right would they have to face the spirits of the people cut down by the droids in the afterlife because they weren't there as they had promised to be?

The only answer seemed to be nothing other than 'end the war'. So that was what they strove for. They would carry on, despite the stabs of pain and sadness that the entire temple seemed to feel every time one of their own fell. They would mourn for their losses, release their emotions to the Force as best they could and move on to the next battle.

And yet, some wounds seemed as if they would never truly heal. One such sore inflicted was when General Obi-wan Kenobi—the man who seemed to be able to talk or maneuver his way out of anything and the renowned Sith Killer—had gone missing, presumed dead. It had become even worse when his Padawan, the hope of the Order's future, the fabled 'Chosen One' who could practically bulldoze his way through any situation his Master couldn't talk them out of, also vanished in a similar manner. Their losses had been enormous blows both to the war effort and to almost every Knight, Padawan and Master personally. The news had been demoralizing to the Jedi that saw the two leaders as pillars of strength, figures standing tall that broke the war around them rather than letting the war break them. Losing them had felt—yes felt, even if none would admit it aloud—like losing what little faith they had that the Order would be able to come through this war still mostly intact.

Which was why when a message with Padawan Skywalker's personal code came to the Temple, most of the Jedi who heard could only stare in disbelief at the holo-projector displaying the visage of the supposedly lost boy. His return from the dead brought a desperate relief from the nigh overwhelming losses that they had suffered under, and rekindled a hope that had vanished from the steadily declining moral of the Jedi. Then the news he brought back of Knight Kenobi's survival spread, causing even more surprise and all masters turned blind eyes to the quiet displays of joy, hope and renewed vigor that sprung up among the younger ranks.

His announcement also cemented his position as the 'Chosen One' in the minds of several of the more skeptical residents of the Temple, for Anakin had had faith in one of their brightest brothers when all others had lost it. He had held hope and trust in his heart and his steady dedication had been rewarded. The fact that Obi-wan was in seclusion and recovering was of little consequence. The fact that Padawan Skywalker refused to reveal his Master's location, while worrying to the truly jaded that felt he might have lost his mind rather than found his Master, was something others found as an example of dedication, understanding and acceptance. After all, the older man needed time to heal and Anakin seemed determined to see that he received it.

The story the boy related regarding the pair's whereabouts was nothing short of amazing, and half of the Jedi felt that what he remembered had to be influenced by either drugs or pain (or both). Either that, or he was purposefully embellishing. Still, despite the fact that only two months earlier no one had believed Obi-wan Kenobi lived—no matter what Anakin had said at the time—few disbelieved him now. His desperate determination from before had melted into a calm certainty that few could deny, and as such, they looked forward to celebrating a favorite general's return home, to help assuage that much more of the loss.

People only started to become wary when, about a month after Padawan Skywalker's return, the boy revealed that he couldn't reach his Master. After a week or so of this, Anakin informed the Council that he would return to the planet his Master was supposed to be recovering on. The wariness turned to anxiousness within the Order when Anakin returned with the information that the Knight had, once again, vanished, practically cleaning out the funds in the account he had been using up until that point. What was their General doing? Did he find a new house of healing? Or did he abandon them? Would he leave them to suffer losses that he could have prevented because of their lack of faith in him?

Only those with the highest clearance became seriously concerned for the man as Padawan Skywalker had not only returned with news, he had also brought home a note left for him in place of the funds in the depleted account.

Dear Padawan,

There is so much to say that I cannot really begin to put it all into words. As such, I will only say this and hope that you come to understand one day.

Anakin…I'm sorry.

-Obi-wan

Unlike the Council, Padawan Skywalker refused to guess at the reason for the words, stating that he would ask his Master when he came home. Then, as if deliberately to counter the maturity that he had recently displayed, the boy then showed his age and lack of experience by throwing almost every extra moment into locating his master again instead of focusing more on the war. Really, it only confirmed to the Council that he was not ready to move up to the station of a Knight, and though his esteem in their eyes had grown, no one there argued otherwise, and thus he remained a Padawan.

xXx

Coming up with basic plans for his general goals weren't that difficult, especially for someone of Obi-wan's mental caliber. Finding the right people to manipulate into helping him with his plan and contacting them was also surprisingly easy but extremely time-consuming. Designing contingencies for his plan took more thought and time due to his refusal to leave more to chance than he had to. Still, he had always known that the true difficulty would lay in the execution.

He could plan for centuries and never come up with everything that could happen, and the thought of the unknown, something he couldn't design an option for, was something he knew he couldn't truly plan for. Plans rarely survived first contact, after all, whether the plan was a war strategy or a carefully laid, step-by-step progression towards a goal. Before, that would have bothered him. Now, it angered him…and he hated that.

So he hashed and rehashed every single plot he designed, no matter how frustrated it made him or how he just wanted to throw everything to the wind and pull an Anakin—charge in with his lightsaber blazing and simply make everyone see sense. Eventually, he reached a point where he was satisfied enough with what he had to stop losing sleep. Ironically enough, that was when he really began to make progress in his physical therapy.

At the center of all his plans stood Count Dooku. Really, who else could possibly have the answers Obi-wan needed: why the Sith had really started this war, what their end goal was (besides destruction of the Republic and the Order), how they planned on accomplishing this, etc. A lot of those questions weren't that difficult to really come up with an answer to, especially now. Still, Obi-wan had been able to sense that something deeper and darker was going on since before Geonosis. Many Jedi had felt the same. Now that he was more or less a Dark Jedi, that feeling had only increased, which didn't exactly lay Obi-wan's suspicions to rest.

His plots and plans for the whole month he had spent on Haadrian after Anakin left were hatched and refined in a small recovery facility that catered to richer clients. They had the individual attention that Obi-wan had needed and it made all the difference. His rehabilitation had progressed in leaps and bounds, and they had been far more lenient on who Obi-wan could and couldn't contact than the hospital would have been, which made his ability to scheme far easier.

That month had also been instrumental in Obi-wan coming to a rather tenuous truce with himself. The heart of the matter lay in the fact that he still wanted to be a Jedi. If he could find the will to turn from the Dark Side and all of its enticing power and wild energy, he would jump at the chance in a heartbeat. The problem was that he still could not seem to do so…and he couldn't help but wonder if that meant some subconscious part of him truly wanting the power the Dark Side gave him. The thought bothered him, and so he avoided touching the Force as he could almost feel the new energy twisting and corrupting him. Already he wasn't even sure if he really was still Obi-wan Kenobi at all, which gave him a new perspective on why Sith chose to take new names.

Once he had his course of action more or less solidified, he knew he would have to broach the subject of what Dooku's responses to his actions would be. It hadn't been something he'd been looking forward to figuring out as the fact of the matter was Obi-wan was positive he could not hide his new status from the man, and really, he did not want to put up with the smug superiority that the older ex-Jedi would undoubtedly exude. However, that line of thinking led him back to their meeting on Geonosis, when Dooku had asked Obi-wan to join him. It had been far more subtle than that, but once all of the pleasantries and supposedly casual observations were stripped away, that had essentially been what he'd asked. Obi-wan had little doubt that the other man would ask him again if they met face-to-face. If he went into the situation without having decided before hand what his response would be, he knew he could easily be swept up in Dooku's offers. The man had charisma, control, class…and all of them would be far more appealing to Obi-wan now. Especially considering that the man essentially had the power to stop the war if he so chose plus his knowledge and experience using both sides of the Force.

Obi-wan had never sought power, but he had always held a weakness for knowledge—especially when it could possibly help him to feel less adrift than he currently did. Still, he was stubborn too, and Obi-wan refused to simply 'go along' with anything. He wouldn't be able to protect Anakin like that, so he seriously asked himself if he could ever see himself joining the Sith—a question he was not happy to ask, but one he knew he honestly had to consider.

The answer had been a surprisingly firm 'no'. The cold, hard truth really came down to the fact that the Sith had put Anakin's life in danger, and Obi-wan couldn't forgive them for that. They had also—either directly or indirectly—threatened the lives of every other person who meant anything to Obi-wan and he couldn't see that stopping any time soon. From what he could recall from his lessons as a youngling, to join the Sith Order, one had to murder someone close to them in cold blood, and that was simply something Obi-wan was unwilling to do. He didn't feel the same towards anyone who had meant something to him now, but he did still harbor emotions towards them and the memory of what he had once felt for them was something that seemed to be able to keep him on some semblance of a moral path. He had no delusions that he could always rely on that—eventually, the darkness would corrupt that too—but for now, he did have it and he would cling to it.

So he had come to the conclusion that, dark or not, a Jedi he would remain after all. It was funny, but after he'd taken the leap into the darkness he'd expected to be…well, different. It surprised him that he still seemed to be only slowly descending into the miasma—inevitably and constantly as he could not turn and go back, no matter how he tried, but somehow he felt that when most dark-siders fell, they would do so very quickly.

He figured that this difference in him lay in his path to the Dark Side—the ever encompassing, crushing guilt that he had more or less learned to accept as a constant in his life now. It was funny in a rather grim sort of way that that which had lead him to the darkness now also kept him somehow connected to the light. He felt guilty for turning his back on everything he had ever known, which connected him to the darkness but also encouraged him to look back. He felt guilty for manipulating and practically abandoning his Padawan, which made him want to keep tabs on him and ensure the boy's future instead of destroying or eradicating it. He felt guilty for having been so weak as to have been captured by a Sith Acolyte, which had given him the power to kill her but had also rid her evil from the Galaxy and thus gave him a small sense of accomplishment and peace that lay buried beneath the lust for power and the steadily growing anger that he had never before equated with himself.

The double-edged result of his actions tended to give him a headache whenever he thought about it, so he tried to avoid doing so. Still, Obi-wan had never considered himself a coward, and so he refused to back away from the realizations permanently, and thus he had eventually forced himself to examine the situation from that view point.

One thing the Dark Side seemed to encourage that the normal Force didn't was the sheer possibility and potential that lay at the very core of the nigh-untamable (and yet surprisingly pliable at the same time) energy. The darkness did not lend itself to healing or peace, but the very ideas of what Obi-wan could do with it if he so chose was something that both intrigued him and made him extremely wary. He had no doubt that more than one person had lost themselves to that very idea. Just because he could do something didn't mean he should, although that thought seemed so…obsolete now. The techniques he could discover could change the universe! So why should it matter who got in his way and who he had to destroy or torture to discover them?

And then he would remember Anakin and the sheer worry on the boy's face, or he would think back to those two women who meant so much to him even now, or Mace Windu who he'd thought of as a mentor and friend, or Master Yoda who had always been the most powerful being that Obi-wan had ever known, and he'd done so with the warmth and light, not the darkness. It always managed to put everything into perspective. He concluded that he could experiment as long as those he had cared for would not be hurt—which meant he could learn control and techniques only through what he already knew and what he could conceivably do by/to himself, because he had little doubt that they would all find out what he had done eventually and he wanted to minimize the pain and betrayal they would undoubtedly feel. If he'd hurt anyone else at that point, they would never forgive him, and he couldn't live with that.

He had already adapted most what he knew of his lighter techniques to the darkness and had been practicing control—which was another beast in and of itself. Control of the light had meant a mastery of oneself. Obi-wan had only recently realized with an insight that he doubted he could have achieved any other way just how internalized the normal Force was. The Dark Side, however, was external. It required a complete knowledge of one's will and superiority over it to control. Of the Force, one asked. Of the Dark Side, one demanded. The light lent itself to commonalities and working together. The dark lent itself to hierarchies and levels, which was why, Obi-wan realized after several weeks of contemplation, the Sith strove to always be the best. When one controlled others, in their mind, it meant that no one had control over them. When no one had control over them, supposedly freedom had been obtained.

It was a ridiculous notion to the Former Jedi because by gaining that supposed freedom from others, they had enslaved themselves to the Dark Side; become a tool only useful to the darkness and at that point, they had no real will of their own. If he ever fell that far, he hoped that someone would have the will and ability to end his existence. Sadly, he feared it was only a matter of time.

He knew he could not put off enacting his plans for long. Not only did he not trust himself in the long run, but he also wanted to end the war as quickly as possible, which was why he found himself approaching the Seperatist planet of Serenno not two months after he and Anakin had escaped from Ventress, and a month and a half after he had woken in the facility at Haadrian. The long-term care facility had not been pleased when he had informed them that he would be checking out early. They had insisted that he needed rehabilitation for at least another month, even with the rapid healing rate he'd been advancing at (which had actually surprised him, but wasn't something he would question at the moment). At that point, he had simply told them that he would continue with his exercises, thanked them for their services, paid them a rather hefty tip and left. They really couldn't stop him, and he wouldn't have tolerated them trying.

By the time he'd found and bought a small ship that would serve his purposes, his plan had almost been complete and he'd only needed to oversee a few matters personally. Now everything he needed for implementation had been put in place and he himself would be the catalyst.

He kept a steady course as he waited for the planet security to contact him. He got surprisingly close to the planet before they did.

"Unidentified shuttle, this is Serreno Planet Security. Transmit your identification documents now or you will be shot. Over."

"Acknowledged, Planet Security," he replied calmly and sent the documents for the craft over. He wasn't really trying to hide anything and knew they would know the name and other personal identifications would be false.

Right on time, they responded. "The name of the owner of the shuttle has been proven to be false. You must provide your personal documentation immediately! This is your last warning!" Obi-wan couldn't tell if the voice was male or female or simply a droid. It sounded metallic and harsh over the static of the com. Somehow, that annoyed him.

"Planet Security, I read you. Those documents will be sent through momentarily. Please keep in mind that I request an audience with Count Dooku."

"Lord Dooku is not on planet at the moment," came the almost immediate reply. Obi-wan rolled his eyes. He knew that was a lie.

"I can wait," he responded. "Documentation transmitting."

He transferred his real identification documents as his entire plan revolved around blatantly pronouncing his presence to Dooku. He had debated long and hard between going in quietly and going in Anakin-style. Eventually he'd chosen the latter simply because it would be unexpected, and anything he could do to keep Dooku off balance would benefit him.

"Shuttle Mikoromin, do not deviate from your current course or you will be shot. All passengers will be taken into custody upon arrival. Over."

"Understood," Obi-wan replied. "You will not find any resistance. Over."

For a moment he amused himself with imagining the looks on the faces of the beings manning the station before he stood and made his final preparations. Yes, he had everything in place for a quick escape if necessary and he checked over his plans for the umpteenth time that hour before completely erasing them from the data pad he'd poured over for the last several days, removing the hard drive and crushing it in his hand to completely eradicate any trace.

Then he slowly and calmly piloted the shuttle down between the escort ships that had surrounded him long before they'd begun to enter into the atmosphere. Upon landing, he grabbed his bag, stepped to the door and opened it calmly. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, keeping his hands in sight. He wasn't disappointed. About three dozen droids met his gaze and he could see several security squads behind them, all with their blasters pointed towards him.

"Well," he commented, "this is quite the welcome." It was nice to see that he hadn't lost all of his humor. Actually he was grateful that it had begun to make a sort of comeback, even if his tastes had become darker and more morbid.

"General Obi-wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight and enemy to the Confederacy of Independent Systems, you are under arrest," one of the men with many decorations on his chest said calmly as he stepped through the robots towards the shuttle's ramp.

"I expected as much, commander," Obi-wan said with a forced smile. "After all, I did come here to turn myself in."

He'd been expecting that declaration to be met with shock and skepticism. Yet again, he wasn't disappointed.

xXx

He hadn't been in the holding cell for more than twenty minutes before the man he'd come to meet arrived. Obi-wan had been trying (yet again) to meditate with little success. The Dark Side didn't exactly promote calm meditation. Obi-wan didn't really know what else to do, though, so he simply sat there and tried to reach out to the light only to grab hold the darkness yet again. Sometimes he didn't know why he still tried, really.

"Well, well, well," a smooth voice came to him. He didn't open his eyes. "If it isn't Master Kenobi."

"Count Dooku," Obi-wan said in a falsely pleasant voice. He had worked very hard in the recent weeks to build a façade that seemed similar to his old self. "I see your reception hasn't changed much." He finally opened his eyes and indicated the cell around him.

"But you have," Dooku said, brushing his beard thoughtfully.

Obi-wan's wry expression disappeared and he allowed his eyes to fall a little. "So I have."

"I assume that is why you came to me. If you had truly been taken by force, I doubt I would have found this cell occupied."

At that, Obi-wan frowned and then smiled. "It is not the entire reason."

"Oh?"

"I came to negotiate," he said, closing his eyes again.

"You did?" Dooku sounded entirely too pleased. "Then perhaps you should abandon that pathetic attempt at meditation and follow me back to my residence where I can at least show you true manners."

Obi-wan allowed himself to slump a little before rising smoothly to his feet. "Very well," he said, striding over to the red-tinged ray shield.

"But sir," one of the silent guards standing nearby spoke.

Dooku rounded on him. "Do not speak if you wish to continue to live," he warned. The man must have been particularly intelligent because he nodded and backed away. Dooku didn't bother to walk over to the controls, instead choosing to manipulate them with the Force. It was strictly for show, Obi-wan realized. He'd found that using the Dark Side in subtle ways was rather difficult. The fact that Dooku could do so was a testament to his training and skill. Despite himself, Obi-wan was impressed.

"This way, Master Kenobi," Dooku said and began to walk away.

"Don't call me that," Obi-wan said, his voice quiet but firm. Dooku peered over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised in question. "I'm not even a knight anymore, and I am no one's master." Okay, perhaps that had sounded a bit too bitter.

"As you wish. What would you like for me to call you, then?"

"Just Obi-wan is fine," he responded, making sure to put a depressed note into his voice. It wasn't difficult.

The Count turned forward again, but Obi-wan still caught the small but triumphant smile on the man's face. "Very well, Obi-wan."

Okay, perhaps he should have come up with something else, because hearing Dooku say his name like that grated on his nerves, which did little for his already thinning patience.

"Allow me to show you around my home planet, Obi-wan," Count Dooku said as he pushed open the double doors to the dull, gray building that had held Obi-wan's containment cell. The planet outside could not have been more different from the facility. The system's star shone down brightly, warming the stone and durocrete beneath them. A pleasant breeze wafted through the buildings, bringing a fresh wave of crisp air to the city. In the distance, Obi-wan could see several mountains and the breeze held just the hint of the smell of foliage in it, suggesting that the forests the planet was known for weren't too far away.

Dooku raised his hand and called over what must be his personal speeder. It had a removable cover on it and looked to be at least three or four times as long as the normal speeder on the market these days. Yes, the Sith was definitely showing off.

The Count gestured for Obi-wan to enter first, which he did, finding himself in a large, luxurious seating area. He made sure to keep any reaction strictly under his control and chose a seat that would allow for him to see all exits and windows in the vehicle. A few moments later, Dooku climbed into the area as well and seated himself across from Obi-wan, pulling a bottle of what looked like some sort of high-class alcoholic beverage over with the Force. Obi-wan had a hard time holding back a cringe at his blatant use of the Dark Side. Here was someone who had embraced the darkness fully and was more than comfortable with it. Just being in his presence and realizing that suddenly made Obi-wan feel both self-conscious and awkward.

"Now, I know you probably already know, but how about a brief history of my planet?"

"If you wish," Obi-wan said with a graceful nod of his head. Truthfully, he would prefer silence, but doubted the other man would acquiesce.

"Would you like something to drink? This is Caamian wine. Very rare these days." And undoubtedly very pricy. It irked Obi-wan that the man seemed to take every opportunity to flaunt his status and wealth, but then Obi-wan had never expected any different. With an inward sigh, the younger man began to realize just how long this trip would be and mentally prepared himself for it.

"Thank you, no. I'm afraid that I am still recovering from a medical condition and the alcohol would only aggravate it."

"I see," the older man said with a sagely nod of his head. At that point he pulled out a pitcher of filtered water so clear Obi-wan almost couldn't see it and poured it into a glass before handing it over. Obi-wan took it but did not drink. Dooku didn't seem to mind.

"So let us start with this city. It isn't the capitol city, but it takes most of the off-world traffic as it allows the skies over the capitol to remain far clearer…"

A very long ride indeed.

xXx

Note: I've decided that I want some sort of insight at the beginning of every chapter, something from Obi-wan's pov. As such, I'm going to be putting those at the beggining of every chapter, so you may want to go back and read them. They're just a few paragraphs long each. .

Also, thanks to Kuroi Atropos and Daricio for all their help on this chapter! Couldn't have done it without them! :D