Chapter Ten

"Come in," Sidious beckoned, his sickly sweet voice pulling them forward and setting Anakin's neck hair on end.

"Emperor Palpatine," Obi-Wan said, his humming blade rising. His knuckles looked white on the hilt. "You haven't answered for your crimes against the Galactic Republic."

"I have every right to be here, Master Jedi." Palpatine's terse smile did little to contain the snarl underneath. "The Galaxy asked for security."

"The Senate was led into your trap," Obi-Wan said. "You've been playing both sides of the war." They approached his desk, blades angled towards the puppeteer of years of conflict. "Millions have died because of your manipulations."

"Death is a… necessary part of war, of power," Palpatine said, with a levity that might have been dismissive if not for the way his eyes pierced Anakin. Suddenly, something precise and deadly in the statement was a knife twisting in Anakin's side.

"Your apprentice, of all people, knows that."

Anakin's hands grew cold and stiff. Powerless to help his fallen comrades in battle, cursing the Council's decision to enter the war, believing that as peacekeepers they had no place fighting the Senate's war… He'd made peace with his duty to the Republic—hadn't he?

He couldn't move his grasp on lightsaber, his hand glued to the cold metal.

If Obi-Wan was confused by the statement, he didn't react. He pulled his blade into vertical attack position. "We're here to cast you from office and take control of the Senate."

"Anakin," Palpatine's voice said softly. "See how the Jedi yearn for control. They've become corrupted, a mere shadow of their former glory—"

"The Jedi uphold peace and democracy in the galaxy," Obi-Wan said firmly. "We protect and defend its citizens from wrongdoing."

Palpatine's head turned to look at the Jedi Master. "Do you?"

Obi-Wan's hesitation was brief, but his words were firm when he replied, "Your deeds were in the pursuit of selfish gain, not the defense of others. It's the way of the Sith."

"If crimes make a Sith, Master Kenobi," Palpatine said softly, "look no farther than your side."

The knife twisted further. Obi-Wan shifted.

"Anakin is a better Jedi than I could hope to be."

"And how well do you know your apprentice, Master Kenobi?"

"He's done nothing but what the Council has instructed him."

"Anakin," Palpatine called softly, and Anakin's head snapped towards him. His spindly fingers stroked the slave chip disabler. "You never told your Master?"

The Tusken bodies lay in the sand, still in the darkness and shadowed by the glowing embers. His mother's corpse felt stiff in his arms, wrapped in tent canvas and tied with leather Bantha straps.

Jedi younglings sprawled over the Temple marble, limbs twisted and faces on fire. The smell of burning flesh—

"I—"

"Strange," Palpatine said, "that you should confide in me."

Now, Anakin's limbs burned and heat stifled his face and neck. He didn't want to remember—didn't want to relive that day…

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, voice low.

"I—"

"Anakin, what's he talking about?"

"I—I can't—"

"Genocide," Palpatine said, yellow eyes on Obi-Wan's blue, and Anakin suddenly couldn't think past the bile in his throat. "One of the crimes you accuse me of. One of the crimes your apprentice is guilty of."

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan's voice was sharp now.

"I didn't—I couldn't—"

"Tell him how you killed every single one of them," Palpatine said. "Tell him how you murdered my unarmed apprentice, how you fear the Dark Side's hold on you, and how you're not that different from me in the end…"

Out of the corner of Anakin's eye, he could see Obi-Wan trying to meet his gaze. "Anakin, it isn't true."

A cackle rose in Palpatine's throat as the Sith stood from his chair. A silver hilt shot from seemingly nowhere to his curved nails. Arodium, electrum, and phrik alloy strips curled around the gleaming bronze polish, untarnished and unscratched. "The Jedi are in my way now, Anakin. It's time to pick a side."

"We—we can't talk about this right now," Obi-Wan's voice said, far away. "This is a mission we have to complete."

"They—they killed my mother," Anakin forced past the mounting horror in his mind. "I—I didn't have a choice…"

"You are not like the Jedi—corrupt and power-hungry. You seek justice and peace." Palpatine approached slowly, and Anakin and Obi-Wan gave him a wide berth. "The galaxy looked for my leadership, Anakin. Ask yourself then what is best for the people—what the people want."

"He's twisting his words," Obi-Wan said sharply. "Don't listen to him—"

Palpatine circled them slowly, his yellow irises sickly against his red sclera. "You have an incredible gift, my friend. To waste talent like that would be… unfortunate."

"Anakin, whatever you've done, the Sith are the source of evil and suffering in this galaxy." Obi-Wan's gaze was steady. "Palpatine cares little for people—only for his own gain."

"The world is not a place of good and evil," Palpatine whispered. "When have you ever met one of one side or another? Even Master Yoda succumbs to his demons, even Obi-Wan, and even you."

Doubt spread like a poisonous vine in his mind. It clogged all his brain's crevices, and his his thoughts grew cloudy and confused and slow. "You—you've killed people. Killed Jedi."

"In order to create a safe space." Palpatine's smile was affectionate, almost like the ones he used to give Anakin when he was young. "We've all done things we find regrettable.

"I alone have unlimited power. I alone can help you keep your family safe. Your wife and children have separated, your twins on a distant planet. They will ever be in danger, because of the power that runs through their veins."

He knew. Somehow, the Sith knew Anakin's children were on Alderaan and his wife was only a little ways away at the Rotunda. His knowledge seemed to supersede all else; his power permeated everything…

"Anakin," the warning in Obi-Wan's voice shook Anakin's body to the core. "Don't listen to him—"

An invisible force hoisted Obi-Wan in the air, leaving his boots dangling, mouth agape, and hands scrambling for his throat. His extinguished lightsaber hilt clattered to the carpet.

"Anakin needs to decide," Palpatine snarled to the suffocating Jedi, wrist flicking.

"No!" said Anakin, as Obi-Wan's body flew across the room and landed hard against the far wall. He crumpled with a loud thump, groaned, and was still.

Anakin whirled back to the Sith, pointing his blade at his neck. "Don't touch him!"

"You need to make up your mind, Skywalker," snarled Palpatine. "It's Sith or Jedi and nothing in between. Power beyond anything you could imagine or living under the suppression of the Jedi."

Obi-Wan's limbs had sprawled in awkward directions, just like the body in Anakin's nightmares. In the Force, Anakin could sense his master's mind shifting in and out of consciousness. It would take him a few minutes to rebound.

Palpatine's Sith eyes followed Anakin closely as they circled each other. He looked hungry, like he'd been fasting for dozens of years.

"You don't want peace," Anakin said. "You would do anything for power."

"Power," Palpatine said, impatience seeping through in the bite of the word, "is the currency of the galaxy. There are those who work and bleed for it, and those too foolish to seek it."

"Your conquest has killed millions. It's not justified."

"You and I are the same, Anakin," he said, softened again by the curl of a smile. "I am offering you safety, peace, and recognition. You have power within you unsurpassed in millenniums. I'm offering you the galaxy."

He saw himself standing in the sun on a balcony before legions of troops, as they shouldered their blasters in salutes. He saw a fleet of gigantic Star Destroyers in the clouds. He saw Padmé in expensive robes, a crest on her breast, and his children in bassinets of silk.

"It—it's not real."

But his mind turned as scenes flooded his mind—tangible, with the crispness of the galaxy Palpatine offered him.

Imperial officers in stark gray uniforms, eyes bulging and fingers white, clutched their necks as an invisible force brought them to their knees, and then clattering to the ship deck.

A girl in white clothing in a dark cell flattened herself against the wall, head ducked, and feet inward to protect herself from the advancing needle of the probe droid. He stood unmoving and watched her face drain of color and her ankles begin to sink. She was haunting—features so familiar yet the arrangement just off…

"No! No!" Pain jarred at his knees, and whatever was in his numb fingers tumbled to the carpet. He gripped his skull, willing, needing the images to disappear. He had a job to do—he had a job—

"These visions you see," Palpatine's voice called. "Are your destiny. It's unavoidable."

"I—I can't—"

Wind whipped his long black cape as his gloved hand reached for a battered figure on a spire. At his wrist, where his hand should have been, a smooth amputation caused his face to contort. Emptiness sunk into his eyes—a hallowing desperation. Come with me, my son.

The white-knuckled fingers snapped open, and in mounting horror, he watched the boy fall.

"A powerful Sith will you become. More powerful than any before you."

"No—no—"

"Listen to me, boy. You have an opportunity here to make a difference… a difference the Order was never able to accomplish."

"They're not real—they're not real. You—you're lying. Everything you say is a lie."

"But they are real," Palpatine whispered. "You know. All that power… it pulls on you, doesn't it?"

"No," Anakin said. "I'm not a monster—I wouldn't—"

Palpatine's voice hardened. "I lose patience, Skywalker. Make your decision."

He was finding it harder to draw breath—Palpatine's presence pushed on him—cold, suffocating. His numb fingers groped for his lightsaber, pulling it into the curl of his palm.

He focused on Obi-Wan's warmth, the brush of his Master's mind against him, and familiarity of the touch…

Bracing his shaky knees and steeling the sickening turning in his mind, he pushed against himself and rose. His thumb found the ignition button. He centered in on the office.

Palpatine's gaze hardened in the glow of the blue blade. "Don't tempt me, boy," he said, and suddenly there was a dangerous edge in his voice.

Anakin brought his other hand to the blade, moving the hilt into the familiar spot in his palm. He took a deep breath and allowed his shoulders to fall squarely.

There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony.

"I haven't wasted years to watch this happen," Sidious hissed. His nails curled around his lightsaber hilt.

There is no death, there is the Force.

"So be it."

With the snap-hiss of pulsing red and an inhuman yell, Sidious twisted toward him and Anakin was forced to step back to meet his blade. The ends collided with a terrific crash and Anakin could not help the grunt that escaped his lips as he pushed against the Sith's falling weight.

The next exchanges were whirling blurs of color, so quick that Anakin wasn't conscious of how his arms leapt up to defend him and his boots clumsily stumbled away from dancing blows. He could be grateful for years of training burned into muscle memory, but more than that he was becoming increasingly conscious of the fact that he was losing control—or, perhaps, never had it in the first place.

Then, when he thought his concentration would break and a swing would slip past his defense, he heard a set of boots thundering toward then, and the snap-hiss of another lightsaber.

Obi-Wan and Sidious' blades collided before Anakin's neck.

"Kenobi," Palpatine hissed. "Long has your utility expired. I shall take pleasure in your death."

Obi-Wan pushed back against Palpatine's strength, teeth clenched. They broke apart to breathe for a moment. "I'm afraid your time as this galaxy's perpetrator has come to an end. You have no more tricks up your sleeve."

"Oh," Palpatine said, cackling, as the three joined together once more. Feet turning in dance, blades crackling, energy sizzling. "But I do."

In a twirl of speed that lasted less than a second, he ducked under Obi-Wan's swing, turned his back to them, reversed his lightsaber grip, and thrust the point behind him.

Anakin didn't see it happen, but he felt it—explosive pain in his shoulder that matched the screaming of the Force around him. The blistering smell of burning flesh rose to his nostrils, and he heard a shattered yell.

"Anakin!"

He stumbled backwards, tripping over the carpet and landing heavily on his knees, then falling forward briefly to all fours as his arm gave out.

An exchange of blows erupted behind him, increasing in speed and power but retaining control. Through the even crashes, the thump of footwork grew harder and the occasional grunts or hisses become more frequent.

The desk collapsed behind him, and all the instruments and holopads Palpatine had lined up on the face slid down the sloped surface. They crashed on the carpet in tinkling shards.

A hiss of pain and a flash of lightening through his and Obi-Wan's bond meant his master had been scraped, but the clashes didn't slow. Obi-Wan's Soresu let off firm and steady pulses throughout the space that dampened the fiery lace of Dark energy.

Anakin bit down on his side of their bond, willing to keep the stabbing in his shoulder as far away from Obi-Wan's consciousness as possible. Perhaps, if they made it a little longer, Shaak Ti would be on her way—

Then he heard a heavy grunt, a lightsaber extinguish, and the thump of knees hitting the ground. The office fell into silence, and only the hum of a single blade penetrated the chill of silence.

"Skywalker," said Palpatine, and Anakin was forced to look up. Obi-Wan—Obi-Wan—

The Sith held his red blade under Obi-Wan's chin. Obi-Wan's hand clutched his extinguished blade. His eyes looked flinty. His chest expanded and contracted with heavy breath.

"This is your choice, Anakin."

"Anakin, don't give in—"

"Quiet!"

The pain bit Anakin shoulder as he breathlessly pushed himself off his hands. "Don't touch him."

Palpatine's lip curled. The lightsaber inched towards Obi-Wan's neck, and Obi-Wan's brow twitched.

"Don't touch him."

Through the bond, Anakin could feel Obi-Wan's mind whirring. The retreat was there, almost imperceptible, and Obi-Wan's fingers twitched. His eyes lingered on his lightsaber hilt laying few inches away.

It all happened at once. Anakin lit his lightsaber and leapt forward, and Obi-Wan rolled to the side.

Palpatine was prepared. His blade missed Obi-Wan's head, but the tip sunk into his stomach, burning a black mark in the beige tunic.

Anakin gasped. "No!"

He felt it like a vibroblade had been shoved into his own gut, dissolving everything around it and turning his insides into char that rose in his mouth.

Obi-Wan's body, mouth still open, crumpled at Palpatine's feet, and suddenly all Anakin could see was red. His blood burned, and the pain leaking from Obi-Wan's side of their bond fueled it.

His muscles burning, he gathered his lightsaber above his head and brought it down on the Sith lord.

Sidious met it with a snarl, and if not for the rage in Anakin's blood, he might not have been prepared for the simple whirlwind of action that followed. He hammered at Sidious, blow by blow, frustration and desperation growing with every parry.

"Good," Sidious chuckled. "Good."

Anakin gritted his teeth as he stumbled back against Palpatine's desk. When he retaliated wildly, Palpatine practically slapped the blade from his hand. Anakin's fingers chased after the hilt, barely evading the red blade's counter-swipe.

"Come, boy. Release your anger."

Heat rushed all the way up to his ears. His heart thundered in his throat. His shoulder screamed.

"Kill me, and all of this will be over."

The poison seeped into his ears like slow, inky sap, taking root in his mind and sending his head spiraling away. Pain pulsed through his bond with Obi-Wan.

"Come on, kill me, boy."

"Stop it."

"Kill me."

"Stop it, stop it."

He broke away from Palpatine's reach, far enough that the Sith master couldn't reach him. There, Palpatine taunted him, "You don't know what you stand against. You don't know what power I have over you."

"You don't have power over me."

Palpatine smiled slowly. "Odd thing, attachment. It's as though another wears one's heart." His yellow eyes rose to meet Anakin's. "Perhaps that's why the Jedi forbade it."

Anakin concentrated on breathing—in, out. If Palpatine knew about the Tuskens and his mother's death and all of Anakin's struggles with the dark side, he also likely knew that Padmé and some others were breaking into the Senate Archives.

"First Master Kenobi, and now your lover."

"Where's Padmé?" he whispered. In, out.

Palpatine's fingers traced his lightsaber.

Dread spread its crippling branches through Anakin's mind. "Where is she?"

"Under my supervision."

Anakin could already see her broken body lying on the floor of the Senate Archives. "Where is she?"

Obi-Wan's let out a pained wheeze on the floor. Anakin's heart picked up, shoulder burning.

"Do you know what this is?"

Palpatine was holding something in his hand—the slave chip deactivator that had been Padmé's, which she'd brought to the Senate Archives…

"Interesting, this is," he said. "It was meant to be the chainbreaker of the galaxy. But the opposite can also be said…"

His thumb inched towards the activator. He pressed it, and the deactivator lit blue.

Anakin felt new warmth spread underneath his skin on his collarbone, where his slave chip had been placed so long ago. Deactivated but never removed, betraying him now in his moment of need. And like a Bantha hide falling from its skin in a rush of air, he felt the little remaining power he held over Palpatine slip away. He felt bare.

Palpatine smiled.

Don't try to run, his mother had told him once when he was a boy, and he could never forget the way her eyes went eyes wide and serious and desperate for him to understand the importance of it all. They're merciless—they won't hesitate to hurt you. Anakin had seen what happened when a slave disobeyed a master—the smell of rotting limbs in the desert heat had been enough to burn the memory into his mind forever.

He wanted to claw it out.

"I don't care what you do to me," he whispered, "but if you kill her or my children—"

"What will you do, Anakin?"

Desperate, Anakin threw himself at the Sith one last time. He got a boot in his chest for effort, knocking out all the air in his lungs, and when his burning shoulder failed to bring his lightsaber up for a complete strike, Palpatine's red blade scotched his forearm in reply.

No, no—this couldn't be how it all ended—nothing was supposed to happen this way—

If Palpatine won, Padmé and Obi-Wan would die and the Alliance would crumple and their allies executed and his children would be captured by the Sith—

"You can't touch her, you can't—"

"Everything dies, Anakin Skywalker. Even the stars burn out."

"No, no…"

"You're a slave, Anakin," Palpatine said. "To your lover, to attachment, to your Master. To me. To the Dark."

Anakin struggled to regulate his breathing through the heat of the pain. In, out. His chest burned.

"Surrender yourself to me. Your loved ones will live. Your children will be spared. All I ask is that you serve me."

Padmé would live, Obi-Wan could get medical help. His children would be safe and have everything in the galaxy.

"Anakin, no," came his master's weak voice.

But his muscles were already creaking and his shoulder already screaming as he slowly bent to the ground. His muscles gave out an inch from the carpet, so his knee his the ground with a heavy thud. The office swayed.

Palpatine's lips stretched across his teeth. "Good," he breathed. "Only through me can you achieve the power to save the ones you love."

Palpatine turned the chip deactivator in his hand. Over and over. Anakin chest burned. One wrong move and it could deactivate, blowing the office to bits—

Anakin stilled. His breathing might have stopped. He became suddenly conscious of the fact that his lightsaber hilt rested cool in his hand, and that it would only take a flex of his muscle to ignite it inside of him and detonate the slave chip.

"At last," Palpatine cackled. "You are mine."

His self—his body—and the choice of life or death was all he had left of his own…

His fingers curled around the hilt. Lingered over the ignition button.

"Anakin," whispered Obi-Wan.

He thrust his blade into the spot under his collarbone.

The pain burst like heat throughout him, so blinding and electrifying that it was if he was ripped from the inside out. Someone screamed as glass burst around them and the ground shook like an earthquake.

Through the cloud of Anakin's mind, the glass and wind whipped around him, until he wasn't sure what was real and what was delirium. Palpatine stood frozen, his mouth and eyes in into a gruesome twist—horrified and shocked and furious all at once. A vision? A dream?

Anakin had dared resist him—had dared to use his last grain of autonomy to defy him. He summoned the last remaining grains of strength in his limbs and resolve in his mind to swing at Palpatine's head.

As the light left his eyes, he heard Palpatine gurgle and felt his hilt leave his limp fingers. Then, the ground, as soft as pillows and as dark as the winter, met him.

This chapter took an age, sorry everybody! Talk about emotionally draining. Reviews/feedback for the effort are well-loved!