Author's Note: Okay, people, I am guilty of a major/minor/nonexistent miscalculation. There will actually be three scenes from Episode III here, because I decided that I wasn't in the mood to rewrite the whole duel between Anakin and Obi-Wan on Mustafar again because it was hard enough doing it from Obi-Wan's perspective, so I would just write one vignette about the beginning of the confrontation and one about the end. The more astute Star Wars fans among you (also known as those of you who have watched Episode III more than once) might recognize this scene from Episode III, which I am mercilessly dragging up for another flogging. I'd just thought I'd throw that out there so nobody thinks this chapter will be in any way original. Now that is out in the open, we can progress onto the actual story, which, I presume, is the real reason you are reading this chapter:

Misguided

Misguided: Guided in a wrong direction; misdirected or mistaken in action or thought; foolish, ill-judged; having a wrong purpose or intention.

In Anakin's opinion, Mustafar was the perfect planet. Its erupting volcanoes reflected his bursts of anger, which had been so deadly to the craven Separatist leaders cowering here and the Jedi at the Temple. The seething lava mirrored the hatred that boiled inside him—hatred for the Separatists who had made his life like the Corellian hells for the past few years, hatred for the Senate for being corrupt, hatred for the Republic for failing to live up to its ideals, and hatred for the Jedi for using him and denying him his one pleasure. Yes, if it had been up to the Jedi, he wouldn't have married Padme at all, and if she died in childbirth, all they would have told him would have been to release his grief into the Force, as if grief was something that could be let go of just because you wanted to lose it, as if her death, like his mother's, wouldn't haunt him forever.

He had only done what he had to do to keep her alive when he disposed of the Jedi at the Temple, and all those self-righteous sentients should be thanking him because now they were finally one with the Force, as they had always wanted to be. Unless, of course, they weren't, and they could finally comprehend what was so horrible about death now that they were dead. Maybe they would understand now why they had to die so that Padme could live.

Then again, perhaps they wouldn't. Padme hadn't. She had absorbed all the lies that Obi-Wan had told her about what he had done. She refused to see his actions as a testament of his love for her. Instead, she gazed at him as though he was a monster even worse than Grievous when, for fierfek's sake, all he had done was protect someone he loved from death and given everything he could to save his wife. If that was a crime, millions of sentients from the dawn of time were guilty. It was natural to look after those you loved the most at the expense of everyone else. Nobody could save everybody, not even a hero, and Anakin hadn't ever claimed to be a hero, anyway. That was all the Holonet, spewing its usual propaganda to manipulate the weak-minded masses into behaving as those in power wanted them to.

For being blind, he hated her, and he hated Obi-Wan for being the one who poked out her eyes. Thanks to the two beings he loved the most, he was going to be denied the future he had sacrificed everything for.

No, he would make them see reason. He would make them cooperate. He was powerful enough to ensure that this time everything wouldn't be ruined, even if they wanted to destroy things for him, because they obviously didn't care about him as much as he cared about them.

He hated himself, too, for being weak, because when she pleaded with him to run away with her and raise their child alone, he had almost agreed. He had almost agreed that he shouldn't overthrow Sidious and take over the galaxy, so that it could finally be in good, competent hands again. She had almost manipulated him, and he hated himself for being so susceptible to her temptations. Luckily, reason returned to him when he saw Obi-Wan's outline standing on the exit ramp of her starship and realized that she was an even worse traitor than he thought.

"Liar!" he howled, furious at her for bringing Obi-Wan here to kill him and infuriated at Obi-Wan for interfering with his life as usual.

"No," she protested frantically, glancing over her shoulder at Obi-Wan. Her eyes widened innocently, but that didn't fool him. He wasn't going to listen to any more of her lies, because he couldn't bear to hear them.

"You've betrayed me," he shouted, his brain a throbbing blot of crimson. Blast it, he was all alone in the galaxy now.

Palpatine had proven to be a liar and he would be overthrown as soon as possible. The Jedi had always been against him and the universe was a better place without their sanctimonious platitudes, as far as he was concerned. His best friend wanted him in a body bag. Worst of all, his wife wanted to be an accomplice in his murder.

Everyone he cared about betrayed him, and it wasn't fair after all he did for those who turned their backs on him. He had fought in the Clone Wars for years in service to the Republic, which had then shown itself to be unworthy of saving. He had served the Jedi Order ever since he was nine, and they had never even said "thanks." He had saved Obi-Wan's life more times than either of them could count, and Obi-Wan wanted to wreck his. He had sacrificed everything for Padme, and she just spat on his offerings. He deserved better than this, he thought bitterly, clenching his hand into a fist.

Invisible fingers closed around her throat, and she clawed at her neck, struggling desperately to dislodge them. Yet, she wouldn't be able to. Only he could do that. When he did, she would have to see that he wasn't so awful and that he was the only one who could save her, after all.

The only problem was that he wasn't stopping. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to unfurl his fingers. The universe slid off into another plane of reality for a moment as he watched, as if from a parsec off, Padme fall to the ground as Obi-Wan ran down the ramp and bent to check her vital signals.

"You turned her against me," he cried, hurling the blame for this whole mess on Obi-Wan. After all, if Obi-Wan hadn't twisted Padme's brain and hadn't shown up here, Anakin would never have lost control and Padme wouldn't be lying on the ground.

"You have done that yourself," snapped Obi-Wan, suggesting that the chase for Grievous had made him madder than the average dingbat. Did he seriously think that Anakin had chosen to fall in love with Padme or to have her betray him? Did he think that Anakin had volunteered to be the Chosen One, the Hero with No Fear, the Warrior of the Infinite or any of the stupid names they had piled on him to stroke his ego so he would continue to serve them without receiving anything in return? Did he imagine for even a second that Anakin had chosen any of this, instead of having it all forced upon him? "You've let the Dark Side twist your point of view until now—now you are the very thing you swore to destroy."

Somehow, the final words penetrated the scarlet fog that had engulfed his mind. He had sworn to destroy the Sith and now he was a Sith. He had taken an oath of allegiance to Sidious, one that, in typical Sith fashion, he was planning on voiding as soon as possible when he killed Sidious and took over the galaxy. He wanted to kill Sidious, but he didn't want to kill Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan had always been his friend in a way Palpatine never had been, so it seemed cruel to kill him. Besides, Obi-Wan had been the one to teach him how to use a lightsaber, and, as such, it felt wrong to strike him down with one. Anyway, it seemed counterproductive to slay someone he had risked his life to save so often.

Of course, he would kill Obi-Wan if he had to. He could do anything if he had, so he just hoped that Obi-Wan would be smart enough not to force him to do it.

"Don't make me kill you," he warned, turning his back on Obi-Wan. Somehow, this whole scene would be less awful if they weren't looking at each other, he thought.

There was moment's pause, and Anakin entertained the hope that Obi-Wan would just walk away, resigning himself to a life of meditation and holobook reading, which had been all he had ever wanted anyway, even if he had gotten swept up in wars and political battles. Reality returned with a bump when Obi-Wan announced softly, "My allegiance is to the Republic, Anakin. To democracy."

Of course it was. His first loyalty had always been to the Republic and the Jedi—never to Anakin personally. He would even rather champion dead institutions than side with Anakin. When it came down to it, he was just too stubborn to live.

"You are with me, or you are against me," Anakin growled, knowing that Obi-Wan, like Padme, was against him.

"Only a Sith Lord deals in absolutes, Anakin," Obi-Wan stated heavily, igniting his lightsaber. Honestly, he was acting as though the remark itself wasn't absolutist and the whole Jedi philosophy about the Light and Dark Side wasn't all about absolutes. Obi-Wan might have been shackled to the Jedi too long to notice this, but Anakin hadn't been. He was finally free of them, and he only wished that he hadn't waited so long to declare his independence.

Somehow, he knew that this was his last chance to throw down his lightsaber and surrender. In the same way, he recognized that he would never take that route. To surrender would be to admit that he was wrong, and he couldn't do that when Obi-Wan and Padme were the misguided ones. Maybe he could have made things easier for himself if he gave in, but he had never been about picking the path of least resistance. He had never been able to compromise, and he wasn't about to start doing so now just because Obi-Wan was too much of a ferrocrete head to see reason.

Anakin's face contorted as he ignited his own blade and backflipped over to confront Obi-Wan, and the battle began.